#i think that's why people were shitting their pants recently about a research paper/book on woman and female hunters

[uncanny-tranny]

I think many people conceptualize manhood as destruction and womanhood as creation in such a way that transition has been really wild to parse my experiences and how they fit.

I am simultaneously creating the self and destroying the self in such a way that people don't... know how to react sometimes. I've really noticed this as I've given less and less care as to what I present myself as, because now, I am truly only concerned with myself rather than my perception. Once I got over the bioessentialist idea that to be a man was to destroy, and I can't create because that's only for women (or, for those forced to create), I started caring much less.

I think that's interesting, is all

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #bioessentialism #i think it's no coincidence that it is now that i am getting into fiber arts #i am creating whilst being a man and that is what it means to be human<3 #i think that's why people were shitting their pants recently about a research paper/book on woman and female hunters #because hunting as an act of destruction? OBVIOUSLY for men 🙄 (sarcasm)

[attllhak]

Adoption AU: Midna

AKA: The one where Twilight got shot.

@tortilla-of-courage @ghostdragonace @sekiumiarashi @anadorablekiwi

Also, mind the tags for this one, since it is the fic where Twi gets shot I did look up the warnings list I gave my best friend when I shared it with them. It shouldn’t be too bad, but better safe than sorry.

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

Twilight wasn’t terribly happy about this arrangement. He understood what Keapora was trying to do, he did, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

It was a group project for their history class, about the French revolution. Everyone was assigned a historical figure to research, and at the end of two weeks they would need to present an argument on why their figure shouldn’t be executed. The class would vote, and if you lost then a carrot that Keapora’s daughter, Zelda, or Sun as his family called her since they knew so many Zeldas, dressed up to look like the figures would be executed. Twilight’s brother often helped her, and people didn’t usually survive since everyone loved watching Keapora execute carrot nobles with the tiny, functioning guillotine he had.

Twilight was one of the people that was really valuable in group projects because he actually did the work. He was especially sought after because he never made a big deal of it, unless the others did absolutely nothing, and even then he cornered the teacher after class instead of calling anyone out. Dusk, another Zelda, was another of these very valuable group project members. She was a little more vocal about being used, but only because she approached the teacher while class was still in and did so regardless of how little effort was put in. Twilight didn’t know Dusk personally, they didn’t run in the same circles very often, but they got along well enough.

Midna, however, was another story.

Midna was a foreign student, whose parents had immigrated not long after she was born. Her mother’s brother and his family moved with them. Twilight was more familiar with her, but only because they had ended up in the office for fighting once.

Not each other, they had never hit each other. In fact, they had been on the same side. The person they were fighting was Midna’s cousin Zant.

Zant was a grade above them, and a real piece of work. He thought because his family were immigrants that he could claim discrimination any time anyone wasn’t willing to do what he wanted. Plus, if you asked Twilight, he was just a bit loony, and every time he saw the guy he got a worse and worse feeling about him.

They’d met the year before, when Midna and Zant had switched schools. Zant had tried picking on one of Twilight’s little brothers, and Twilight was not having that. Midna had the same thought, apparently, since she was pretty quick to get involved too. Then Zant punched Twilight. Midna punched Zant. One of Zant’s cronies jumped in to defend him. Twilight’s brother Legend saw this going down and decided to lend his fists to the cause when he noticed Twi and Midna were outnumbered. Things devolved from there.

In the end, Zant’s cronies, and Legend, booked it before the teachers got there to break it up. All three of them got dragged into the office and had parents called. Twilight had been miserable until Midna leaned over to compliment him on his form and show him funny videos on her phone. They didn’t talk much, but there was a mutual respect there.

Midna was not like Twilight or Dusk. She was very useful to a group project, but also had a tendency to publicly call out everyone who didn’t help. During the presentation. Twilight had howled the first time she got to the ‘credits’ slide and it was all just her name, and then the other group members listed as ‘standing around looking pretty’. He wasn’t alone.

So he understood what Keapora was doing. By putting all the kids who were invaluable to group projects together it ensured that they wouldn’t get taken advantage of and that they’d all be able to only do their part.

He didn’t have to like it.

It was because he was on the soccer team, he figured. He knew the other sports kids used that as an excuse to get out of projects. And Dusk was on student council and in debate.

That was the only reason he could find that Midna didn’t trust them to do their part. Or maybe she was just jaded. He understood that feeling.

Either way, after the first ‘huddle’ to begin dividing the work where Midna had complained about doing all the work, Dusk pulled Twilight aside and they worked out a plan to get Midna to trust them.

A large part of this plan leveraged the fact Midna already seemed mostly cool with Twilight, so he’d be mostly on the charisma front (which had confused him, since he was far better with animals than he was people), and Dusk would focus more heavily on gathering and sorting research. This, worked less well than Dusk had hoped.

Fortunately, Midna came around the day they got kicked out of the library for getting into a screaming match about a few contradictory facts they dredged up. They left the room still steaming, but Midna was laughing pretty loudly. After that, the three of them got along pretty well.

The project went pretty smoothly after that as well, and they agreed if any more screaming was to happen they’d relocate outside. This worked really well, and soon enough they fell into a system. Dusk even offered them her house to get together after school to work on it. This worked well for Twilight, who had four and a half brothers and counting, and thus didn’t exactly live in a house conducive to group projects. Or any projects.

The three ended up spending a lot of time together working on it, and even managed to get to the point where they were well ahead of the rest of the class. Twilight was even hopeful their carrot might survive (though not so hopeful he thought it would, he knew better than that).

Of course, the universe didn’t seem to think he should be able to take a break. Ignoring that Wild had just gotten another cast off and he’d had to rescue Legend from a few more fist fights, he didn’t think anything big would end up happening. It was just the usual shit where his biggest break was going over to Dusk’s house to work or disappearing on his Epona for a few hours.

But, he wasn’t oblivious. He noticed the warning signs, he just dismissed them.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have done this.

Zant had always made Twilight uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he seemed to really hate Twilight after the fight they’d gotten into, and made worse by the fact Twilight got along well with Midna. Midna mentioned he was always a little jealous of her for various reasons, and that they’d never been close. So he didn’t think much of it when Zant started acting weirder than usual. He asked when he noticed Midna was getting more fidgety and nervous, but accepted it when she brushed him off. He paid no mind to the fact Zant started skipping school.

He never brushed things off like this again. His therapist said it was paranoia based on trauma, but Dusk agreed with him that it was a reasonable caution. After all, he was the one who got hurt.

They had finished the project early, after spending the entire weekend at Dusk’s place to work on it at Midna’s request. In hindsight, it should have been worrying that Midna was avoiding her home, but no one said anything about it since she just brushed them off.

The three were sitting in the library, sorting through the last few bits of information and the presentation to make sure they had everything. Twilight was sitting closest to the door, which is probably why he was the one who did the stupid thing.

They had been there for maybe ten minutes when an announcement for a lockdown came over the intercom. Lockdown drills had been happening since Twilight’s dad had been in school, after he’d done something really stupid and brave in the face of danger, so no one thought much of it. Mostly, they just moved all the papers and the laptop they were using under the table so they could keep working.

That is, until Twilight noticed how worried the librarians looked.

Suspicious now, Twilight rapped twice on the top of the table and hissed to the girls his concerns. Midna agreed, but looked suddenly really, really pale, and a little scared.

“Midna, are you alright?” Dusk hovered a hand over Midna’s shoulder, and Twilight crouched down next to them to watch as well.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Midna waved them off, but both of them could tell she was lying.

“Midna, do you know what’s going on?” Twilight asked her, glancing back at the librarians every so often.

“No, well, maybe,” she was now wringing her hands in her cloak, chewing on her lip.

“Midna, what’s going on? Is this for real?” Dusk set her hand down and Midna jumped, Dusk retracting her hand as she did.

“Well,” she hesitated, but Twilight offered her a smile and Dusk nodded. “There have been a few, issues, with my cousin. You know, Zant? He uh, he’s not been doing well recently,”

“Not been doing well?” Twilight led, hoping for something more.

“He’s been getting more violent,” Midna admitted quietly. “And, and he’s starting to scare me a little bit,”

Twilight and Dusk shared a look, both coming to the same conclusion.

Before anything more could be said, however, the library door was thrown open, and the librarians screamed and ducked behind the counters. Twilight jerked up to standing, having not slid under the table with the girls.

Sure enough, Zant was standing across the library, panting hard and looking more than a little crazed.

“Call the cops,” Twilight muttered to the girls, frozen where he stood and just waiting for Zant to spot him. “One of you call the police,”

“Link,” Midna hissed at him, probably well aware of what he was planning. “Don’t you even think about it!”

“Just make sure the police are on the way,” Twilight hissed back, ignoring the use of his real name.

“Link!”

“Twilight,”

He ignored both girls when Zant finally spotted him. He knew what people looked like when they were going to shoot. Legend and Wild both learned to shoot for fun a while back and would practice on old milk jugs in the yard. He had more than enough warning before Zant even brought the pistol up to aim.

Twilight took off at him at a dead run, knowing full well he was dead if there was enough distance, ignoring the cursing from the girls.

He shoulder checked Zant hard in the stomach and managed to duck beneath the first shot. Unfortunately, he was very close to the gun and it didn’t have a silencer. He stumbled back and rubbed his ears, trying to dispel the ringing in them. This gave Zant enough time to get back to his feet and regain his breath. Twilight noticed and pushed the ringing to the side and lunged for the gun.

The two tug-of-warred over the weapon for a few beats, Twilight trying to get it away from Zant and Zant trying to get it at an angle so he could shoot Twilight. Twilight kept trying to push the gun pointed down and Zant was desperately pulling on it and trying to shove and hit Twilight.

This went on for several long moments, though Twilight didn’t remember exactly how long. He was way more focussed on the fight than how long it was.

He most certainly remembered his hand slipping and the gun coming up, and the second gunshot was burned in his memory, never to be erased.

The pain didn’t register for a few heartbeats, and shock set in almost immediately. He lost his grip on the gun and stumbled back, eyes wide in shock and horror, mouth open in a silent scream.

Zant stumbled back as well, and both boys seemed frozen. Zant grinned, however, and lifted up the gun again to finish the job.

Twilight had never felt so scared before or after.

And then a loud crack sounded, and standing behind and over Zant’s now crumpled form was Midna, chair held by the legs over her head.

Midna caught sight of Twilight, and dropped the chair, swearing really loudly.

It was at this point Twilight lowered his hands to his stomach, and the hole that now existed there. He didn’t dare look down, instead keeping his eyes on Midna and the look of horror on her face.

“Is, is it bad?” He tried for a joke, but it probably fell flat. It was then that Twilight, a little dizzy, tipped over onto the floor.

He didn’t remember much after that. He remembered Midna screaming his name, his real name, and Dusk dropping into view, phone held up to her ear. He remembered vaguely being moved somewhere else, and then being rolled onto his side and pressure on his back and stomach. He thinks he cried out at that, but his head was already starting to swim a little, and the shock wasn’t helping. His next really clear memory was in the ambulance.

He blinked and groaned, and Dusk popped into view over him.

“Easy, Link,” she reached up and moved some of his hair out of his face, smiling but not able to hide how shaken up she still was. “It’ll be okay, you’re gonna be fine,” she sounded like she was convincing herself.

“Midna?” He asked, then blinked at the muffled sound of his voice.

Dusk held his hand down, chuckling at him. “A mask,” she explained, “to help your breathing. You were gasping. Midna needed to talk to the police, since it was her cousin. She’s going to meet us,”

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Dusk smiled and rubbed his shoulder. “We’re both okay. You’re the one we’re both worried about,”

Twilight just nodded, and sort of drifted out of focus again. There was a bit of activity when they arrived, but then Twilight was put under and rushed into surgery so he didn’t remember anything that happened afterwards.

He came to a few hours later in a hospital room with stitches in his stomach and back. Dusk had collapsed over his right arm, and Midna leaned on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid the IV in his arm. He couldn’t see any family, so he figured they hadn’t gotten there yet.

Midna looked up after a few beats, and Twilight smiled at her. That had her bolting up.

“Twilight!”

Dusk lifted her head on his other side, her own face breaking into a grin when she saw him too.

“You’re up!”

“Yup, I lived,” he paused. “Actually is my phone here? Can someone take a picture of me to send to my brothers? Wild always does it when he breaks a bone, and I wanna see why he finds it so funny,”

“You’re high on pain meds, aren’t you?” Midna deadpanned at him.

He laughed, until he realized that made his stomach hurt. “Ow,”

“Okay, maybe not,” Midna admitted, then handed him his phone. “What’s your passcode?”

“Midna!” Dusk cried.

“What? He asked!”

Twilight happily opened up his phone, ignoring Dusk.

“Say cheese!” Midna grinned at him, holding up the phone.

Twilight lifted both hands in a peace sign and grinned. Midna took the photo and sent it off into the group chat without another word, even as Dusk made disapproving noises next to them.

Immediately a string of excited and relieved texts started pouring in, and Twilight had to remind himself laughing hurt.

The injury wasn’t bad, he found out. He wasn’t sure how getting shot could be ‘not bad’, but apparently since the bullet went through the damage wasn’t severe. He was expected to be back at full in less than a year, but had to be pulled off the soccer team for the rest of the year, and discouraged from rejoining the next year. That was disappointing, but livable.

About half an hour before his parents arrived, Midna offered to paint his face for him.

This had confused Twilight quite a bit. What did getting paint on his face have to do with what had happened?

Midna explained that for the Twili, her people, facial markings were important parts of identity, and you can earn them for doing certain things or surviving awful events. Twilight argued that he wasn’t Twili, and Midna pointed out she was, and that Zant was as well, and since both of them were involved she got to make the call. At this point Twilight was mostly confused as to how he would have even earned facial markings.

Midna just sputtered. “You got shot! AND you defended me and Dusk from Zant. You fought my cousin for the gun so he wouldn’t shoot anyone else! That, as far as I’m concerned, makes you a hero! And heroes obviously get facial markings. Not to mention I’m pretty damn sure getting shot counts as a ‘pretty damn awful experience’. So yes, you qualify for markings.”

Twilight blinked at that. Well, he couldn’t really argue with that.

So he let Midna paint his face.

When his family, and Midna and Dusk’s parents, arrived Midna was sitting on the bed next to him, a paintbrush in hand and Dusk holding a small pot full of a specific kind of paint Midna had ducked out to get. Twilight had half a diamond shape on his head at this point. The three teenagers all froze to turn to look at the newcomers.

“Hi,” Twilight waved at them.

“What’s going on here?” Time asked, eye roving over the group.

“I’m painting his face,” Midna explained.

“Why?” Time asked, and Midna’s father, who also had an elaborate series of markings on his face, leaned around him.

“Yes, why are you doing that?”

“Because,” Midna explained, “he got shot. And he fought Zant to protect us from him, and as per tradition, that qualifies him for facial markings. So I’m doing them for him,”

“Zant?” Midna’s father asked.

“Yeah, he showed up and tried to shoot up the school,” Midna explained as she went back to applying paint to Twilight’s face. “He busted into the library where we were and Twilight tried to fight him to protect the rest of us. He got shot and I whacked Zant in the head with a chair. Then we huddled off somewhere else to hide until the cops showed up.”

“No, Zant was the shooter?” Her father repeated.

Midna froze and turned around. “Yes. Did you not know?”

Her father shook his head. “They didn’t catch the shooter,”

Midna’s shoulders dropped, and both hylians behind her looked equally horrified.

“What?” Midna asked.

Her father shook his head again. “They didn’t catch him,”

Midna took a deep breath, then shook her head and turned back to Twilight. Her hand was shaking now, so she didn’t go back to painting. Twilight lifted his hand to pat her knee.

“I’m sure they’ll catch him soon,” Malon offered, slipping into the room to take up on the couch against the wall. “He’s pretty easily identified, after all,”

“Right,” Midna nodded, then shook herself once. “Right, it’ll be fine.”

She dipped the brush back into the paint and went about continuing to paint on Twilight’s face.

“What are you doing?” Eyes turned back up to find Zant’s parents in the doorway now, after everyone else wandered into the room to settle down.

“Why is everyone asking me that?” Midna turned to face the ceiling. “I’m painting his face! I can do that! He’s earned the markings, and as the present Twili I can choose to provide them to him, even though he isn’t Twili. Believe me, I’ve considered whether or not this was something I could do, and I can. And besides, I’m already half done,”

“No,” Zant’s mother corrected. “I mean why are you painting his face for assaulting my son?”

“What?!” Midna whipped around, fury on her face.

Zant’s mother nodded. “He attacked Zant, and you rewarding him for it is a betrayal to this family,”

“Zant brought a gun to our school!” Midna burst, apparently pissed off and finally snapping after the stress of the day. “He tried to shoot me, he DID shoot Twilight! Twilight saved our lives by attacking him, and he got injured for it! He more than deserves these markings, and Zant should be in jail!”

Zant’s mother stuttered, then drew herself up. “That boy is a danger to everyone around him,”

“Yes,” Midna agreed and pointedly added a line under Twilight’s eyes. “Zant is unstable and dangerous,”

The woman huffed, and went to start yelling when Malon stood up again and blocked her from the door. “Let’s talk, hm?”

The door shut and Twilight had to put in a lot of effort not to laugh as his mother tore into the woman outside the door. After a few minutes, Midna’s mother joined her, and Dusk’s father followed with a camera in hand.

No one else questioned the paints again.

In the end, Zant’s mother filed for a restraining order against Twilight and Malon, which Malon said she would abide by exclusively because it was one less expense on them. Midna’s parents refused to separate Midna from one of her friends, especially one who put his life at risk to help her, and didn’t sign onto the order the way Zant’s mother wanted them too.

Twilight ended up with a very nice looking set of markings over his forehead that Midna told him symbolized courage and boldness and sacrifice. He was quite proud of them.

He got back to school the same day as the presentation, which he thought was pretty amusingly coincidental. His mother, ever worrying, did insist he use a wheelchair (one they had for Time from a few years before Twilight was born) so he didn’t put undue strain on his injury.

The presentation went well, and things worked out fine. They even managed to keep their carrot alive. Midna’s ‘credits’ of course popped up, but it was much more even than in the past. Of course, there was still the ‘sitting around looking pretty’ category.

Midna was listed. They had taken a vote. Everyone found this hilarious.

There was more laughter when Twilight was listed as having ‘bled for this’. Keapora didn’t find it as amusing as their classmates did.

Midna moved away not long after that, her parents worried about Zant. She explained she wouldn’t be able to talk to them anymore until things calmed down or Zant was caught since her parents were scared.

That was the last time either of them spoke to her.

(---)

The markings Midna painted on stuck around for a very long time. Dusk theorized that the paint was probably some kind of tattoo paint, meant to stain the skin for a long time. Even four and a half years later, the paint was still visible. It was beginning to fade now, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get it redone. The only Twili in the area was Zant’s family, and no one was asking them. It was quite the conversation starter though.

He hadn’t heard from Midna at all since she moved away, and he really missed her. Turns out when you fight someone’s loony cousin together you bond. Who knew?

The scar on his stomach didn’t bother him much, unless it rained really hard or really suddenly. Overall, despite his continuing visits to a therapist and the occasional nightmare, he had recovered from the entire event mostly unscathed.

Most of the time he didn’t get to think about it, helping out on the ranch and prepping to take over some day, alongside his now seven brothers, meant he didn’t have time too.

His therapist was worried his drag racing was a sign of self-destructive behavior, and a symptom of trauma. He ignored her, even though she may have been right.

And that was life. That was just the way it was.

Eventually Time got a call from the police captain, whom he knew quite well by now, letting him know they apprehended Zant, and charges were pending. Time promised they’d testify.

Twilight finally put in an application to a college, one of the really rural ones that offered classes in the sort of stuff that’d be useful when he took over the ranch from his parents one day. He got accepted.

About two weeks after Zant was convicted and carted off, and Twilight was looking at packing up for his first semester, he got a call from an unknown number.

Curious, but not stupid, he turned on the call recording app he’d gotten after the first few times he’d received a threatening call after the whole Zant thing, and hit answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey wolf boy,”

He nearly dropped his phone.

#linked universe #lu #lu twilight #midna #lu dusk #zant #mind the warnings: #guns #shootings #school shooting #fist fights #twi gets shot #he's fine but he is out of it for a bit #references to trauma #references to self-destructive behaviour via drag racing #hospitals #zant's mother is a bitch #reference to a restraining order #school lockdowns #ask to tag #it's not as bad as the warning list makes it sound #just thought i'd cover all my bases #in honour of twi still being dead in yesterday's update have the adoption au fic where he gets shot! #also kiwi it won't let me tag you for some reason #and keapora here is geapora from sksw #but i used the name of the owl #because easy last name #also no mr. to his name because my highschool just used the teacher's last name only #he's actually based somewhat on my favorite social teacher #who does in fact have a working guillotine we used to behead carrots

[seokjinsdisciple]

Riddikulus- five

jungkook x reader, hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au

Warnings: fingering, oral, very public sex, degradation,(all of that is NOT with Jungkook so youve been warned),  language

Word Count: 2.6k

THIS IS UNEDITED

<previous  five  next>

series masterlist

You were writing an essay for potions in the library, the events of last night out of your mind as you researched how to make the Draught of Peace. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, something you realized too late as a cough rang out from beside you. If you had been paying attention, you wouldn’t have jumped, but here you were, sitting scared next to a grinning Jungkook.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, raising your eyebrow at his open potions book. 

“You promised to tutor me,” He stated, leaning back in his chair and giving you a cocky smirk. His eye was bruised, and he had a small cut on his lip, all evidence to the shit he had put me through this past week. 

“If you honestly think I am gonna help you after the shit you pulled, you’re dumber than I thought, Kook.”

You tried to return to your work, but with Kook sitting next to you, you knew this silence wouldn’t last long. 

“Listen, I know you aren’t going to believe me, but I didn’t send that note.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” you added, shooting a glare at him as you started to read your book, clearly trying to send him the message that you didn’t want to talk. 

“Please help me, my parents expect me to be an Auror, and there is no way I’ll get a high enough O.W.L.’s score without your help.”

Now, this was interesting. In all of the times that you have known Jungkook, he has never begged, not for a single thing. To say your interest was piqued would be an understatement. 

“And if I help you, what do I get?”

At this, Jungkook let out a huff, “What am I supposed to help you with, you are like the smartest person in our year.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face, and he realized he had made a mistake in letting that out. 

“Shut up. I take it back,” he tried,  rolling his eyes at your smile and looking away. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you chuckled, “Plus there is no way I’m letting you take that back.”

A comfortable silence fell between us,  both of us returning to our respective papers. Once again, you found yourself completely focused on your research, and before you knew it, you were writing the last sentence. You took a quick glance at Jungkook’s paper, he had only written a paragraph, and what you read was riddled with grammatical errors and with false information about the draught. 

“What mark do you need on the potions O.W.L. to make the N.E.W.T level?” you asked him, his concerned eyes meeting yours and making you laugh. 

“Exceeds Expectations,” he gulped, following your scrutinizing gaze to his only paragraph, “This is why I need your help!”

You snatched his paper off the desk and read the whole thing thoroughly. He was watching you intently, his eyes hesitant to trust that you weren’t about to rip his (slim) progress to shreds. 

“It’s not too bad, but we are gonna need to meet twice a week if you hope to get an EE on the exam in the Spring,” you stated, nonchalantly throwing his paper down on the desk in front of him, his mouth agape at my sentence. 

“Wait, you are going to help me?” He questioned, taking a look at the paper in front of him before scratching his head, “but I can’t give you anything in return…”

“About that,” you started, grabbing the supplies you had strewn across the desk and beginning to pack up, “you claim that you didn’t send the note, right?”

At my question, Jungkook sighed, “I already told you I didn’t send it.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, raising your arms up, “do you know who did send it?” 

Jungkook just sat there for a minute, as if thinking through how he should answer my question, “Yeah, I know who sent it, but that doesn’t mean you should know.”

“Well that's the deal,” you said, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder, “You tell me who sent the note after I help you get an EE on your exams.”

You gave Kook a smile and started walking down the row of bookshelves, “The ball is in your court, Kook. How badly do you want that grade?”

You didn’t really want to help Jungkook, god knows he would deserve to fail, but you wanted to know who sent that note. They had crossed a line, and you wanted them to suffer because of it. Call you an evil Slytherin if they like, but you were sick of being made fun of. Plus, you had to study for your potions O.W.L anyways, whether Jungkook was there or not. 

You arrived back into the common room, the sound of the crackling fire calming as you made your way over to the couches that your group claimed. Jimin had quidditch practice, and Yoongi was still pissed about the fight. So you weren't surprised when you found yourself alone on the couch. You stretched out, grabbed your Transfiguration book from your backpack and started reading. The common room was a surprisingly good place to read, the idle chatter and laughter made great background noises to distract you from your thoughts and help you focus. Well, usually they did, but today you were completely focused on that goddamn note. If Jungkook hadn’t sent it, then how did he know (in general) what was on it? Plus, he had been so willing to say it was him in front of everyone else. You let out a deep sigh, closing your book a little too harshly. 

“You ok there, princess?” Seonghwa questioned, a slight smile playing on his lips. 

“Just thinking about some things, Hwa,” you smiled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You lifted your legs as he sat down, allowing him to scoot closer and rest your legs in his lap. Seonghwa had been acting more domestic recently, and as much as you hated to admit it, you kinda liked him. This wasn’t something that you were used to, you were normally just a fuck kinda girl and without all of the frills of romance, it was just easier. But as Hwa started rubbing your calf, you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach. 

“Did you hear a thing I just said?” Seonghwa laughed, you joined him as heat flooded your cheeks. 

“Sorry… I was thinking,” you nudged him with your foot, “tell me again?”

“Oh no, princess, you have to tell me what had your pretty little face scrunching up,” he winked at you, squeezing your calf lightly, but you couldn't meet his eyes. 

“Hwa,” you started, glancing quickly at him, “I know we agreed that this was just a sex thing, but… I think I like you.”

At this, Hwa just laughed. “Princess, I really wish you would have just heard the entire speech I just gave to prove to you that I like you too,” he just smiled as you looked quickly up at him. 

“Wait, what?” you asked, sitting up quickly as he nodded his head, a grin growing on his face. His lips found yours, the passion and sincerity of both of your words melting into the kiss. Passionate kisses quickly turned into frantic hands, and thank god that the couch you and your friends frequently sit in is in a more secluded area. If it wasn’t, you might have been a little bit more hesitant to have Seonghwa slipping his hands under your skirt. His fingers found themselves in your folds easily, slipping inside your heat. Had your lips not been occupied with Seonghwa’s, you would have let a moan slip out as he curled his fingers, pressing directly where he knew your sensitive spot was. 

“Shh, princess,” he whispered against your lips, “be good for me, ok?”

His lips made a path from your jaw to your neck, taking their time to make a mark whenever he wanted. His fingers kept their pace, and at the rate you were whimpering, it didn’t surprise you when you found his free hand covering your mouth. You mewled as his lips finally made contact with your core, his tongue swiping at your clit, before pressing a soft kiss to it.  

“You better be quiet, or you will be punished later,” he added, his lust-filled eyes meeting your desperate ones as he returned to your center. His fingers were slamming into you with a precision that only Seonghwa had, you had been together so many times that he knew exactly what to do to make you unravel.  With the combination of his tongue and fingers, the knot in your core was growing tighter and tighter, and he could tell. He shoved two fingers into your mouth, giving you something to suck on as he continued his ministrations. Right as you were about to cum, he pulled away, giving you a warning glare at the whine that was about to leave your lips. 

“You only get to come around my cock, today princess,” he growled, slipping his hard member through the zipper of his pants, “come sit, baby.”

You took a look around the common room, a few people lingered, but it was still relatively empty. You hurriedly straddled him, pressing a hasty kiss to his lips as you sank down his length. Your hips rolled slowly so that if anyone looked over, it would just look like the two of you were making out. You could feel his length pulsing in you, eyes fluttering shut as he met your hips with subtle thrusts. The pleasure wasn’t overwhelming like it normally is, but you knew the thing getting the both of you off was the fact that there were people around, and anyone could see the two of you. The thought had you clenching around his length, Hwa letting out a quiet growl as you did. 

“Do you like this, princess?” he asked, “like the idea that anyone can see what a good little slut you’re being for me?”

Now, it was your turn to moan, Hwa’s words were just what you needed to be thrown over the edge. 

“That’s a good girl,” he smiled, running his hand down your face and rubbing it gently with his thumb, “cum for me, show everyone here who you belong to, hm?”

You rested your head on his shoulder, biting lightly to try and stop yourself from moaning. His hands landed on your hips, one hand encouraging you to keep moving, and the other rubbing gently. Your lips found his again, and when he grunted into your mouth, body shuddering you knew he had finished. The two of you sat like that for a second, his cock softening as you lazily kissed. You frowned when he pulled away, he just chuckled, pressing a kiss to your nose to placate you. 

“Be my girlfriend?” he asked, hands tucking the messy strands of hair behind your ear. 

“Of course,” You huffed out, falling gently on his chest out of exhaustion. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, before urging you to get up. 

“C’mon princess, we gotta get cleaned up.”

It took a lot for you to stand up, but Seonghwa helped you, laughing a little at the wobbliness of your legs. He helped you to the girl’s staircase, pressing a kiss to your lips before watching as you went down the steps to your room. 

-

You found yourself arriving in potions before Jungkook, something that rarely happened. Yet here you were, reading the ingredients list as grabbing enough for the two of you to start on time. He came hurrying in, right as the bell rang, sending a sheepish smile to Slughorn who just waved him off. As he slid into the seat next to you, he whispered a quick thanks as he held the extra bezoar in his hand. Slughorn’s lecture today was pretty dull, even by your standards, but Jungkook was focused, taking diligent notes as he talked. When Slughorn let you create the potion he had been describing, you turned to Jungkook. 

“Why are you trying so hard?”

“Well,” he started, shrugging as he said, “I am gonna take you up on the deal, and I know how much you hate it when I copy your notes so…”

“So you took notes yourself, I’m impressed Kook,” you smirked, starting your potion, “We can meet every Tuesday and Thursday if that works for you.”

“Actually, I have quidditch practice on Tuesdays, maybe we could do Thursdays and Sundays? But only if that works for you...”

You glanced up from your potion, he genuinely wanted to make sure you would be ok with that plan. Kook was not one to be told what to do, so you were a little taken aback that he would even consider the fact that other people had schedules too. “Yeah, that works for me.”

“Cool,” he said, adding a bit too much rosemary to his potion for it to be perfect, but it wouldn’t ruin it, “so you and Seonghwa, huh?”

“Yeah, we're kinda a thing now,” you said, glancing at him as he nodded his head a little too forcefully. 

“I didn’t think you were the dating type…” he added, watching you intently.

“Neither did I,” you laughed, taking in his weird behaviors.

“Have you told Joon yet?”

You just sent a look his way, and he held up his hands, “Okok… it was just a question,” he added. 

“I’m gonna tell him soon, I just, well he’s not exactly the biggest fan of Seonghwa.”

“Trust me, princess. I know,” he groaned, “I’m the one who has to hear all about it from Jin.”

You just let out a laugh, “I’m sorry you’re stuck hearing about Hwa.”

He laughed for a second, glancing down at his potion and going quiet. He was acting so strange today, and you didn’t know what to make of it. 

“Just be careful with him,” he said softly. Ignoring your eye roll at his statement. 

“God, Kook, you sound like Namjoon.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just- Seonghwa isn’t as sweet as you think.”

“Ok Kook, I’m sure you know my boyfriend so much better than I do.”

“I know what he’s capable of doing,” Jungkook added, angrily throwing in some herb that you knew didn’t go in this potion.

You just scoffed at this, going back to your potion and ignoring Jungkook's lingering stares. It seemed like anytime you and Jungkook made any progress with being nice to each other, one of you would say something stupid, and it would be back to square one. So you sat in tense silence until Slughorn checked your potions and dismissed you. You ignored Jungkook’s goodbye and smiled as he angrily threw his backpack over his shoulder and stormed out. You ignored Jimin’s questioning glance as Jungkook pushed past him. You just grabbed your stuff and followed a confused Jimin to your next class.

#jungkook gryffindor #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook enemies to lovers #bts enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #hogwarts au #bts hogwarts au #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #riddikulus

[bittysvalentines]

Would That I

From: @lizards-online

To: @pieandpucks

Sometimes in life, things are missed. Opportunities are lost, but as a whole we cannot stop moving. Still, something feels left behind, dropped in a time before. We keep going, with something lost and something gained, until life gives us our chance again,to take destiny’s chance to reconnect and find what is lost. 

At Samwell University resided one Dr. Jack Zimmermann, a professor of history with an affinity for ice sports and queer literature. His smile was kind and his hair was just beginning to hint at touches of grey. He was a hard grader, and his readings were long, but his passion for teaching and his love of his students always showed through in his work. Students left his classes better thinkers, harder workers, and with only the smallest crush on him. Okay sometimes, not so small. Even the straightest of men recognized that Dr.Jack Zimmermann was a resident hottie. Rumor had it that he was voted “Samwell’s Most Gorgeous” four years straight back in the day.  

 Jack shuffled a few papers at his podium so as to get them in order before the end of his lecture. “Everyone, thank you for your attention today, just remember if you want to earn some extra credit points, you can attend one of the alumni guest lectures that will be on campus this weekend, and then write a one page response on the speaker’s topic and your thoughts. I’ll be popping in to a couple of the speakers myself, so if you see me, don’t be afraid to say hello.” 

Jack began walking across the front of the classroom, dispersing flyers advertising the Alumni Symposium to be passed back. 

A student in the back of the room raised her hand, staring down at the flyer in her hand “Dr. Zimmermann, when did you graduate Samwell?”   

Jack paused for a moment. “2015. Why?”

“Well, I was just looking at the graduation year of some of these alumni, and it says here Eric Bittle Graduated in 2017. So that means you were only two years ahead of Eric Bittle when he went here!” 

The class erupted in murmurs and comments. Eric Bittle was one of Samwell’s most famous alumni. He led Samwell to the Frozen Four his senior year, while being the first out NCAA hockey captain, was drafted by the Falconers and was the first openly LGBT+ player in the league. He won the Stanley Cup his rookie year (first of many) along with the Calder and Art Ross. Even outside of hockey he was famous for his witty vlog which evolved from a cooking vlog to a hockey, cooking and life blog with now over 18 million followers from all walks of life. 

Jack swallowed hard. Yes, it was true, his time at Samwell and Eric Bittle’s time did overlap by two years, and in fact, during those two years, he ran into Eric all the time. They were...friends. Shitty made sure of that. Jack would watch the hockey team’s games, not only to support Shitty, but to watch Eric weave and maneuver across the ice unlike anyone else. Even though Jack had decided against playing in college, he never did lose his love of the game. Meanwhile Eric would hover about the library doing anything but homework when Jack was working. Plus, the semester they took a class together was definitely a bonding experience. But it had been a long time since they had spoken. After Jack graduated, he felt too awkward reaching out to someone who he had a massive crush on but was WAY out of his league. And when one month turned into two, and then one year turned into five, and five years into a decade, Jack had trouble remembering where all the time had gone.

“Hah. Uh, yes he was two years younger than me. We had a class together once.” Jack decided firmly against mentioning his large crush on the blond to his entire History 336 Seminar. 

The students in the room all lamented about how cool it was that their professor knew a celebrity. 

Jack closed the door to his office and scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh. Would it be awkward to see Eric again? Would Eric even remember him? Probably not. It was just a youthful crush. Even if Eric was still as attractive and charming and wonderful as he was back in the day, Jack was far past his prime. He could just not go to that lecture, but he felt drawn to it, as if something wanted him to see Eric speak. Jack picked up his phone and dialed the most recent number. It picked up on the first ring. 

“What the FUCK is up Zimmermann, to what do I owe the pleasure of one of your rare and coveted calls? Are you in legal trouble? Did you kill someone? Did you kick a goose and now you’re losing your Canadian citizenship?” Shitty was Jack’s best friend. He was boisterous and energetic but genuine nonetheless. His words washed over Jack with a wave of excitement and familiarity. 

“Haha Shits. I’m good. And no, no geese, at least not this time. I was just wondering, would you want to come down to Samwell this weekend? There’s an alumni symposium going on, and I think you’d enjoy the speakers.” 

“Ah ha old Jackabelle misses me. Of fuckin course I’ll come down to the symposium, but I’ll warn ya man I’m not gonna sit through more than ONE old white man talk. ONE. Who's the lineup anyway?”   

“I can forward you the flyer but  just off the top of my head: there's the current head of the English department, Dr. Masawa, she’s gonna be talking about her book, um Dr. Atley is going to present some research, and um, Eric Bittle is going to be there.” 

“Bitty fucking Bittle? The myth, the man, the legend himself? Well fuck my ass and call me chicken we HAVE to go to that. It’s been like FOREVER since I’ve seen Bits. What a fucking beaut. We texted a bit last month but it's been like a year and some since I last got to hang with him. You know he’s got a daughter now?” 

“Oh. Uh, no?” A daughter. Jack’s head spinned. He knew he didn’t have a chance with Eric but he didn’t realize that Eric had gotten married and had a kid. That would’ve been big news right? Was Jack really that out of the loop? He needed to read the news more. 

“Yeah she’s fuckin adorable as fuck. Like, two, three now maybe? He posts pictures of her on Facebook like all the time.”

“That’s uh pretty cool. Listen Shits, I have to go I have a, uh, book to read. I’ll see you this weekend. You can stay at my place. Text you bye.”

“Bye Jac-” Jack hung up the phone before Shitty could fully say goodbye. Why did he feel like there was a pit in his stomach? He didn’t care that Eric Bittle was a married father. So what? It’s not like he had a chance with him anyway. What would he have done? Gone up to him after his speech and say “Hello, I had a crush on you in college, and then we never talked after I graduated. Want to go on a date?” Even if Jack had had the confidence to do so, it was literally impossible now because Eric was a married father, a professional hockey player, celebrity, and an A Level hottie. All Jack had was a doctorate, a wall of books and a million papers to grade. He wasn’t even in the shape he had been in when he was in college, so really, he didn’t have anything to offer. Jack should just shut out all the fantasies of those big brown eyes, and golden hair, and gorgeous toned legs. Gosh what was he doing? 

Jack crossed the room and slumped into his chair behind his desk and picked up a stack of papers sitting on a chair beside the desk. The best way to distract himself was to drown in work. 

Eric Bittle woke up at 6 a.m. Saturday morning to the sound of his daughter crying. He was tired and sore from his game the night before, and a bruise was starting to form on his left thigh due to a nasty check from a Bruins defenceman but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. 

Eric threw off his sheets and rushed into his daughter’s room. Allie was just about two and a half years old, and was in the midst of potty training. Unfortunately for him, Eric was also in the middle of the thralls of hockey season so a lot of the potty training fell on her daycare teachers. Being a single parent was tough. When his cousin Elizabeth had passed away, leaving her and her partner’s daughter to him, he had no idea what to do. He had been five years into his professional hockey career, out, single and totally unprepared for the hurdles of parenthood. 

He pushed open the door to the nursery to find his daughter sitting upright whimpering. “Oh you poor thing. Looks like we’re going to have to get you changed real quick now aren’t we Miss Allie?”

Eric brought her to the changing table and cleaned her and dressed her for the day. It was a little earlier in the morning than he had planned, but he needed to get a move on to get to Samwell in time for his guest lecture. Eric had reached out to his old advisor and she recommended him an education major who would be glad to watch his daughter while he spoke and mingled, not wanting to be away from her for the entirety of his day off. He dressed her in cute bunny socks and a yellow shirt and white pants. She was just about the cutest thing in the world. Soon Eric himself got dressed, packed a diaper bag and headed out. 

On his way Eric’s thoughts winded through his head. It had been quite some time since he’d been back to his alma mater. Samwell had been such an influential and formative place for him. From developing his hockey skills to coming into his own as a gay man. And even though he never did have a long lasting romantic relationship, the friendships he made there pushed him through his life and helped him become who he was. Thinking back to some of the people, he thought about the boys, Lardo, some of the other team captains, and his mind landed on one Jack Zimmermann. 

Eric had always had such a massive crush on Jack, with his boyband bangs, his droopy eyes, jaw that could cut glass and a behind that would give greek statues a run for their money. Eric had first met Jack through Shitty, but then subsequently kept running into him in the dining hall, gym and then one semester for a class. Jack would come to their games and Eric would watch him stack books in the campus library while he pretended to do homework, but always ended up back at the circulation desk, talking about everything and nothing until it closed. They had been friends, and Eric had had the largest crush on earth on the sad-eyed Canadian. But Jack was way out of Eric’s league.  He had been voted Samwell’s Most Beautiful for four years straight, and suitors were constantly trying to ask him out. And then Jack graduated, leaving Bitty yearning for what could have been. According to Shitty, Jack was a professor at Samwell, but the two hadn’t really kept in contact. After the fact, there had been some boys, some boyfriends, even some hookups, but nothing lasting more than a few months at a time. At 30 years old Eric Bittle had never been in a relationship longer than 9 months. 

The sight of Samwell pulled Eric out of his thoughts and Eric shook his head. He had things to do, and he wasn’t going to let ghosts from the past distract him from his job today: to speak about Samwell, sports, and his activism. 

Jack entered the packed auditorium with Shitty in tow. He smiled and waved to a few of his students while Shitty was speaking as if he was a physical manifestation of stream of consciousness. They took their seats in the front row reserved for faculty, staff and alumni. 

“I wonder what he’s gonna talk about. I hope he brings up all the swawesome shit the SMH did. Like that one kegster when-” 

“Wait Shits shhh there he is” Jack cut Shitty off. 

Eric Bittle walked onto the stage with a mic affixed to his shirt. He wore tight fitting navy blue slacks that highlighted just how well the NHL had bulked him up. His top two shirt buttons were unbuttoned on his white and navy blue patterned shirt. The sleeves were rolled up ¾ of the way showing off the definition in his arms. Jack’s throat immediately went dry with his face getting more red as the moments ticked on. 

Fuck. Eric Bittle was even hotter than he remembered and was a million times more attractive in person than he had been in promotional pictures. And his voice, the accent was so cute! Keep it together Zimmermann, that’s a married man. Jack was going to have a hard time sitting through this entire speech. 

  Fuck. Eric walked on stage, scanning the audience and almost immediately his eyes landed on one Jack Zimmermann. He was wearing a tweed jacket, with glasses and his hair was just a touch grey. Time had been very kind to Jack. Eric’s throat became dry as he stumbled his way through his introduction. Shit Jack was in the front row. How was Eric going to concentrate when the hottest man in the world was right in front of him, watching him speak for an hour and a half. 

Clapping. Jack was clapping. He zoned back in after having not actually comprehended a single word for the past 90 minutes. He had just sat and stared at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen and tried not to get a boner. Shitty was speaking to him. Jack needed to respond. 

“Yeah. He does look good in those pants” Shit. Probably not what Shitty asked him. 

“Not what I was talking about, but yeah you know what now that you mention it, mother fucker looks fresh as fuck! I gotta fuckin tell him those pants are doing it for him.” Shitty bolstered himself out of his chair, and up the steps and onto the stage where some faculty were gathering to congratulate him on his speech. Jack followed. 

“Eric Mother fucking Bittle” Shitty bellowed as he walked, Jack close behind, to where Eric stood, now holding a young baby girl on his hip as he spoke with alumni and faculty alike. 

Eric turned to face the two men and smiled. “Shitty B. Knight you best not be swearing around my daughter like that. And Jack, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile.”

“Fuck yeah it has been. You two were adorable back in the day. You should’ve kept touch more!”  Shitty laughed. 

Jack smiled awkwardly. “Yeah it has been a bit hasn’t it? I’m sorry I never kept touch. Congrats on the hockey, and the Stanley Cup, and the marriage and uh, kid.” 

Eric’s face twisted into a confused half smile. “Marriage? Jack Zimmermann I am not married. I was her godfather. Life happened and now I’m her Daddy.” Eric looked at her, and kissed her forehead softly.

Jack’s brain short circuited. Not...married? “Oh so are you…”

“No I’m not seeing anyone. I’m doing quite fine with her all by myself.” Eric blushed. 

“Okay I see where this is going, I’m gonna back out of this convo..” Shitty etched away from the two men. The latter hardly noticing. 

Jack awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “In all honesty, Eric, remember all those years ago, when we went to Samwell together. I had the biggest crush on you, but you were so out of league I never did anything about it. I should have, but I was a bit of a coward.”

Eric’s face turned a bright shade of pink as he stammered out a response. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann! You had a crush on me back then? I’ll have you know I pined for you for two whole years thinking you were straight until someone told me YEARS later that you weren’t, and then when I did realize you were an option, I never thought in a million years that you would be in my league anyway. You’re meaning to tell me you had a crush on me that entire time?” 

Jack blushed furiously. “We both had crushes on eachother I guess. I’m sorry I never made a move on you back then. If it means anything, I’d like to uh make one now.”

“Well how about our timing. Gladly Jack. Here, ” Eric pulled out his phone with one hand, careful not to disturb Allie, and handed it over to Jack. “ text me.” 

Jack put his number into the phone and texted himself. “In the meantime, would you like to catch up? It’s been a long time.”

Unbeknownst to the two men, several students stood by in shock, watching their professor flirt with and score a date with a literal celebrity. Two in the front high fived. “Get it Dr. Zimmermann!”

#bittyjack #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omgcp fandom #omg check please!

[redlipstickandthewinchesters]

Regarding (Y/N) Pt. 1

I wrote this based on ‘Regarding Dean’ but with a twist. The roles are reversed in this one and I took A LOT of time writing this lol but I am back and ready to put out some more stuff!

Pairings: Reader, Sam, Dean

Warnings: blood, nothing really 

You woke up in a field, covered in dirt, blood, and one of your boots was missing. Last night was a blur you could only pick out bits and pieces, so you tried to find your phone. You patted down your jacket and your jeans and found nothing but your gun and some cash. Groaning, you lean up hoping your phone is at least somewhere around you. It’s bright outside when you try to stand up you feel like a train hit you. Head throbbing, stomach aching, and sore all over your body. Man what did I get into last night? You asked yourself. You found your phone a little ways behind you and it was still on, thank god. Immediately calling the two people probably wondering where the hell you were.

The phone rang a few times and finally you heard Dean’s gravelly voice, “(Y/N), what the hell happened last night? Are you okay?” You breathed out, “I’m not sure where I am, I woke up in this field and I feel like shit. I don’t know what happened last night, I don’t remember much.” Dean sighed into the phone, “Sam and I will see if we can track your phone, we will call you on our way. Try to find somewhere to hang out until we get there.” You gulped, “Okay, I will call you if I find anything out.” You said your goodbyes and hung up, placing your phone in your back pocket, and started to head towards what you hoped would get you back to the road.

After walking through the field you limped through dirt, grass, and rocks. After a while the one shoe began to slow you down, so you ditched the boot and kept going. You found the road and luckily it was around a populated area. You walked into a nearby gas station and walked to the bathroom, turning the knob you immediately went to the mirror and looked at yourself. You’ve certainly looked worse before, all you had to do was wash your face and tame your hair a little bit. Your jacket mostly had blood on it so you discarded it into the trash bin and covered it with some paper towels. You walk up to the cashier, “Excuse me ma’am, can you tell me what town this is? I got a little lost.” She smiled sympathetically, “Sure sugar, you are in Superior, just a little outside of Lebanon.” You thanked the woman and walked out, dialing Dean. He picked up almost immediately, “Hey (Y/N), find anything out?” “Yeah so I am in Superior, this woman said it was just outside of Lebanon,” you said. “Hang on let me ask Sammy where Superior is, Hey Sammy?” I hear him call out. Dean comes back on the line, “We will be there in 15 minutes. Find a diner and we will meet you for breakfast.”

You walk across the street and find a Diner right on the corner. You pull the door open and walk in asking the hostess for a table for three. You get seated and you ask for a glass of water and three cups of coffee, you’re going to need it to survive half the day. You pull out your phone and text Sam where you were, not wanting to distract Dean while he’s driving. You thought about last night and tried over and over again to remember what happened, but not much came back to you. All you knew is that you were out with the guys at a bar and you were pretty wasted, then you guys went to back to the bunker and told the guys you were going out for some fresh air. That’s when everything gets distorted and you don’t remember anything except waking up in that field. The waitress comes by with your water and coffee, you drink the ice water first. Satisfying the thirst that had been eating you alive since you woke up, you placed the water down as you watched the door swing open and see the Winchesters walk in.

Dean see’s your face and smiles to the hostess, motioning towards you. Dean heads towards you and Sam is right behind him. Lately you had feelings for the eldest Winchester but you were too much of a chicken shit to tell him. You tuck a stray strand of hair behind you ear, “Hey guys, thank you for coming to get me. I’m so sorry about what happened.” “(Y/N) do you remember anything that happened?” Sam questions. “I remember a little bit. Going to the bar, being pretty wasted, coming home, going out for a walk, and then I woke up in that field and one of my goddamned shoes was missing and I had to ditch my jacket because it was covered in blood,” you say nonchalantly. Dean peers down to your feet to find that you were indeed shoeless, when he looked up and you gave him a sarcastic smile. “Are you okay? Was it your blood?” Dean asked. “I’m fine, there isn’t a scratch on me. Guess even when I’m drunk I’m still a badass,” you say cockily taking a sip of your coffee and they both laugh.

After breakfast you head back to the bunker to figure out what the hell happened. Dean was ready to kill whatever nabbed you and Sam was already on to the research. You on the other hand decided to take a nap, you were exhausted from whatever you went through last night. When you wake up your you didn’t recognize where you were, your heart starts to race and then there was a knock on the door, “Hello?” You squealed, then this man comes into the room and you scream, taking the man off guard. The man makes a scrunched up face, “(Y/N), why are you screaming?” You jump, “Who are you?” He looks like he’s taken a blow to the stomach, “It’s me, Dean. Dean Winchester? (Y/N), are you alright?” Dean comes up to touch your forehead. “Um my head hurts and who’s (Y/N)?” Dean looks confused, “You’re (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Dean sits on the bed and grabs your ankle, softly massaging it.

Sam barged through the door and you jumped, Dean grabbed your shoulder gently calming you. “(Y/N), this is Sammy. My little brother and also one of your best friends. Sammy looked confused Dean filled him in on your recent memory loss. “Sam, she doesn’t remember anything who she is, what she does, who we are, or anything. I’m thinking a witch, we need to gank that bitch before (Y/N)’s insides melt into goo or something,” Dean says and you feel like you’re going to be sick. “My insides are going to melt?” You interrupted. Dean smiles, “Not if we can do something about it sweetheart.” You blush and sit back down. “So how did I get infected with Witch germs?” You asked. “We don’t know sweetheart, but we are going to find out. We have to go back to the field you woke up in this morning to see if we can find anything,” Dean shrugged. Sam saw your face, wide eyed, your jaw was down to your ankles, and your hands in your hair and laughed waiting for your response. “I woke up in a ditch this morning?” You wondered how you got there but no pieces to the puzzle came through. Dean smiled, “Yes, but you’re okay and you are going to stay here okay?” You nodded and the three of you walked out of your room and into a library.

You see all the books and your face lights up, grabbing a dusty book off the shelf. “Woah how old are these?” Sam snorted, “They are really old and you have probably read each one of these twice.” You smiled, “I’ll be good here, this is like DisneyLand.” Dean smiled, “You guys are such nerds, you know that?” You stick your tongue out at Dean, “You know maybe I will go, see if it jogs my memory.” Dean’s eyes lit up, “Well hurry up and get some shoes on and we will go.” You walked up to Dean and hugged him, looking up, “Thanks for helping me, I really appreciate it.” You almost whisper and Dean smiles down at you. “Anytime sweetheart,” he responds. You both have a hard time letting each other go, just smiling and staring at each other before Sam comes in and interrupts you two. To make it less awkward you hug Sam and tell him thank you as well and then head to your room to get dressed.

You finally arrived to the bar you said earlier you were at last night and Sam and Dean go inside, with you trailing a long. Dean walks up to the bartender and asks if she remembered anything that happened last night. “I wasn’t here last night, I only work the Day shift but  you can ask Ronnie over there. He was here till close last night.” Sam nods and walks his way over to who must be Ronnie, Dean thanked the bartender and turned to you, “Remembering anything?” You frown, “No sorry,” Dean smiled and kissed the side of your head rushing butterflies into your tummy. You and Dean walked back to the Impala and waited for Sam. Sam finally came out and climbed into the car, “So get this, (Y/N) wasn’t drunk. Ronnie said you only had a couple of drinks before you darted out of here like your pants were on fire,” Sam said using his hands as quotations marks. You were confused, “So I must have been chasing after something?” Dean nodded, “Yep and we’re gonna find out who.”

#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #sam x reader #sammy #spn fanfic #SPN #SPN Fan #SPN FANDOM #SPN Family #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #impala #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fluff #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #baby

[inevertookwriterscraft]

“What’ve you got?” Raoul asked. With a carefully crafted hairstyle, dressed in a tailored blazer and slacks, Raoul was anything but the Council’s dirty, disheveled and emotionless caricature of EM addicts. They were, however, his only suitable clothes for meeting another human being.

“I’ve got snake, I’ve got spark, and the batch of lucid I got recently is fucking quality. People are getting real good at making that shit,” Wu beamed. A plump second-generation immigrant from the Eastern Coalition.

Wu had always been like that. A jokester. A class clown, before he dropped out of high school to become a drug runner. Raoul had been a customer for over four years - and didn’t touch anything but EMs.

“Cut the shit, Wu,” Raoul spat. Wu held his hands up, replacing Raoul’s annoyance with amusement. He’s carrying the gun, not me.

“Just a joke, man.”

“Sorry. Been a little worked up lately. Clients haven’t been so nice.” Raoul nodded his head at Wu’s backpack. “Any new EMs?”

“Shit. Sorry to hear that. And just a few,” he said, digging into his backpack. He pulled out three see-through plastic cases from his backpack. Each one was palm-sized, and protected a square chip. They were labelled “SNUFF”, “PORN”, and “USED” in black marker. Very discreet. Wu placed them on Raoul’s kitchen table.

“Shit’s been hard to find lately. The Council has been cracking down on the EM cartels. One of them’s a snuff,” he said.

“I know that’s not your thing. Got another but it’s been used once, so I can’t vouch for the quality. The last one might be good, though. Source says it’s a sexy one.”

“Wu, you’ve had porn chips for the last two months. That’s not exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

“I mean, you never really explained what exactly it is you are looking for. Like, I’m not complaining - you’ve bought my shit all the same. But it’s hard to keep a lookout for something I don’t know, you get me?”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. I told you about the first time I chipped, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Something about you and your mom, right?”

Raoul sighed, wrangling a chair from the table. He stared at the trio of cases on the surface, and spoke.

“It was so long ago - just a few months after they started to come on the market. Before they started saying making them were a human rights violation. There was the big fuss about revolutionizing the RM industry, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I do. I remember the first time, I chipped for three days straight. My dick never felt so sore in my life!” Wu laughed. Raoul scowled, and Wu’s laughs dissipated.

“Sorry. Go on.”

“You were kind of right. There were only two people in it. Me and a woman. I think I was just a kid. Maybe the woman was my mother. I’m not really sure. But we were in a park or something, and I was lying down on her lap - looking up at the sky. Listening to the wind rustle the trees. Taking in the fresh air. The woman’s boobs were so big they covered a third of my view. I remember wanting to reach out and grab them, but I knew that would be inappropriate. So I settled for pulling the grass instead. She was stroking my hair with her hands. And that was it. That was the whole EM.”

Wu scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

“So you want like... regular life events? I’m not really sure what you’re trying to tell me.”

Raoul cast his gaze to the barren walls.

“I understand. There was just a very specific feeling in that moment. One that I had never felt before - one I didn’t even know I could feel. It’s hard to say what it even was because I’m not even sure I totally get it myself. It’s alright - don’t think too much about it. What you’ve brought me has been good enough. I’ll take the sexy one, and you can be on your way.”

“Sure. Good man,” he said, his smile returning. Being a good jokester meant a man also had to be good at reading the mood. “It’ll be 1.3.”

Raoul’s eyes widened.

“1.3? Jeez, man. Last month they were 1.1.”

Wu shrugged. He was sympathetic, but business was business. “These chips would normally go for 1.4. Most people are making lucid nowadays. EMs are basically a dying industry. Why experience someone else’s memories when you can do whatever you want in your dreams? ”

Raoul shook his head. 1.3 grand was almost half his monthly income. But Wu was right. EMs had few advantages over lucid. They were difficult to make, and were restricted to what could actually happen in the real world. He decided to take on a few more clients.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s fine. I’ll take it.” He pulled his credstick from my pocket, and began to punch in the amount.

“Hey, wait,” Wu said, suddenly. “How about I throw in the used chip for an extra hundred?”

Used chips were a crapshoot. Most of the time they were still viewable, data degradation meant it was hard to get immersed. Sometimes they were corrupted so badly that all was left was a jungle of sensory overload. But on rare occasions, chips were marked as used when they were actually still fresh. A hundred was dirt cheap, even for a used EM.

“Alright, let’s do both.”

Raoul transferred him the credits. Wu left the two chips on the table, and returned the third to the backpack. He left with the same closer.

“Enjoy. See you again! I’ll see if I can find anything matches your...”, he paused. “Descriptions.”

“See you next month, Wu.” Raoul swung the door closed after him.

A condom was leaking onto Raoul’s sheets. Shit. I thought I finished cleaning up. He tied it up and tossed it out, and moved the comforter to cover the stain. He was having another client over in a few hours. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice.

From his nightstand, he pulled out a homemade neural implant extension he had carefully crafted from the contents of elecshop dumpsters around the city. It had taken an entire year to build one - partially because the parts were hard to find, and partially because the Council actually did a half-decent job of censoring Horizon Lab’s research papers. It looked like trash - that’s what it was - but it worked.

A flashing light on his work comm pulled Raoul’s attention, and he opened up the message a potential had left behind.

how much whats on the menu free tomorrow 3pm

It was usually simple to tell the type of person a client would be by the first message they sent. Straight and to the point. No bullshit. Devoid of punctuation so they couldn’t get hooked by blackmail bots that trawled comm lines for syntactic markers of bureaucrats and politicians. Sounded good. He replied with the usual rate.

150/hh. 280/h. Covered play only, fetishes extra. 3 tomorrow works. Send an escrow receipt if you want to book.

A few minutes later, a receipt appeared for 280 credits, to be transferred once the appointment had completed. A second confirmation message appeared on the comm.

standard service fine

With work out of the way, Raoul plugged the neural implant extension into the port behind his ear. The porn chip, he’d save for later. I’m gonna get my ass plowed in a few hours anyway. What interested him was the supposedly used EM.

He plugged in the chip, and his world faded into someone else’s.

“Hi dad. Happy birthday.”

Eleanor stood slightly behind the door frame, sporting a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt of mine that was six years too large for her. Her face was barren as the words exited her mouth.

Not a huge surprise, given the situation.

“Thanks, El,” I said. A half-hearted response to a wasted wish.

“I brought some people to see you.”

“More doctors? I’m not sure what more they can do.”

“It’s Joe and Mars.”

I sat up slightly. I hadn’t seen them in person in years. She looked at someone past the frame’s boundary and the pair walked in.

Joe and Mars were cousins - and my best friends since we attended summer camp together in third grade. That was twenty-three years ago. They co-founded a solar energy company right out of university that exploded to billions in valuation just after a few years. Today, they were the third-largest energy company in the world. Joe led the engineering team out of New York. Mars led the business, circumnavigating the world to broker deals and lobby governments. They’d been working hard every day of their lives since they started.

For cousins, they were nothing alike. Joe was muscular for his height. Olive-skinned, with hair that always seemed just out of control. Mars was fair and lanky, and wore a pair of small, rectangular glasses. Mars held a small envelope in his hand.

“Eleanor, could you give us a moment alone?”

She nodded, and disappeared behind the closing door. The cousins pulled a set of chairs right up to the side of the bed, and sat down.

Mars spoke first, eyes glossy.

“Hey, Ivan. Happy birthday. I just wanted to say we are so sorry. Things have been - “

I cut him off, waving his apology away with my hand. “Guys. It’s okay. You’ve done so much for me, too. There’s no need to apologize.”

“We got you a small present,” Joe said.

“A present?” I smiled. “You didn’t have to, you’ve done so much for me already.” I was blessed enough to have friends like them. They footed my medical bills, brought top doctors from around the world to determine what in the world was wrong with me. But the only thing they managed to confirm was that I only had a few months to go.

“Just open it,” Mars said, smiling. He passed me the envelope. It was one of those fancy cards, the kind that comes with an envelope bundled in the package and a sticker to seal the contents.

I pulled open the envelope flap. The card stock was heavy, and featured a black and white cat painted in a style that reminded me of Japanese watercolour. It looked handmade.

“Did one of you guys paint this?” I asked. “I didn’t think any of you were into painting.”

“It was Mike. He said to ignore the feet, he didn’t like how those turned out,” Mars answered.

“It’s beautiful. A bit of a shame I only got to meet Mike once,” I said. The feet looked perfectly fine to me. I opened up the card.

It was filled. Messages from our old friends at camp. Remember when we Sam taught us the entirety of Blazing Arrow? I still remember the first few lines now. From our friends in high school. Hey dude! I still have those sign language gloves we made for the grade eleven science fair! Messages from teachers at Eleanor’s elementary school. I cannot fathom the difficulty you must have encountered as a single father, but if Eleanor is any indication, you have been an excellent parent. Even from my coworkers and management at the construction company I used to work at. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so dedicated. Wish you could’ve worked with us longer.

“Holy shit. How did you find all these people?” I asked. “I haven’t talked to some of these people in over a decade.”

But when I looked up, Joe was staring down at his lap, hands were clasped together on his lap, knuckles white. He was shaking, like he was nervous. But why? I was the one headed to the grave, not him. He spoke, but it came out as a barely audible mumble.

“You told us you were sick more than three months ago. January 13th. That’s when you told us. And it’s taken until now for us to come and see you. I took my work more seriously than I did our friendship. And I’m sorry.”

“Joe, come on…” I said.

“Wait, let me finish,” he said, managing to stabilize his voice.  “You’ve had it the hardest out of all of us. You and Nicole had Eleanor when you were just eighteen. And Nicole died in that fucking accident just six years later. Now, this. I thought you’d be fine! I really thought everything work out once we found some better doctors. I thought we could just throw some money your way and it’d be all okay. But you know what? I was naive. I’m thirty-one years old and I really thought something as simple as money would fix things.”

He finally looked up at me, tears rolling down his face. “If I had known - “

“What would you have done?” I asked. “Come to visit me earlier? That wouldn’t have changed anything, man.”

Joe raised his voice. “I don’t know! At least we could’ve spent more time with you. Maybe we could’ve done one of those stupid bucket list things. We could’ve done something. But for some reason I thought work was more important - ”

“What would that have done?” I laughed. A frustrated, shriek of a laugh. I clenched my hands into fists. “You think anyone expects to wake up in a hospital and be told they’ve got three or four months left? And that every doctor you meet says there’s nothing they can do for you? I get it - I get it. The stuff you do is helping the entire world. Why would you visit some deadbeat single dad? I wasn’t unlucky. I messed up my entire goddamn life -- coming to visit me wouldn’t have changed one damn thing.”

I slouched back down in the bed, and folded my arms across my chest.

“Guys, please. Let’s not argue now. We’ve been there for each other, as best we could, for our entire lives. Can’t we just be there for each other now?” Mars, ever the mediator.

I continued despite his words.

“You know, I actually thought I was happy. When we were at camp together. When I met Nicole. When we had Eleanor. Even when I got my first job emptying water out of ditches on construction sites. ”

I narrowed my eyes at the pair. Mars looked softly back. Joe had reverted to staring down at his lap.

“But this whole thing? It made me realize. As you’ve said, I’ve done nothing with my life. Nothing! I’ve thrown the whole thing away. When I look at you two and all you’ve done, how could I be proud of anything?”

“Ivan...” Mars spoke. “You shouldn’t compare your achievements against anyone else’s. You’ve managed to raise a strong, independent daughter all on your own. Isn’t that - “

“Don’t patronize me!” I snapped. “You wouldn’t understand. If I didn’t meet Nicole, she’d still be alive today. Our first date sentenced her to her death. And now her daughter has to deal with life in this broken family. Now, I can’t even see her to adulthood. You guys have done more for more people than I could ever dream of doing. How could you ever see things from my view?”

Neither of them would look me in the eye. I took a deep breath, and did my best to calm myself down.

“Look. I’m sorry about that. Dying is a frustrating thing.”

Joe began to say something that felt like ‘I know’ but stopped. “It’s fine. This whole thing is pretty fucked up.”

“I don’t take it back though. I didn’t do anything worth anything. I helped some corp make money. I did my best to raise a kid by working hard. But you two have done so much more than that. So I don’t want your apologies. I have a request to make. Something I can only ask of people who have achieved so much.”

Joe wiped his eyes. “Ask away.”

Mars nodded in agreement.

“I want one of you to be Eleanor’s guardian. Teach her to love the world like you do. Teach her that helping people is worthwhile. Don’t let her have regrets like I do. There’s so much more to the world than pouring concrete and pumping ditches.”

“I can do it. I’ll adopt her,” Mars said. “Mike and I have wanted a child for some time now.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that. One last thing. It’s fine if Eleanor forgets about me. She doesn’t need someone like me to look up to. But you two - especially you two - don’t forget about me. I never managed to do anything worthwhile, but please. Don’t -”

The EM ended abruptly. Empty. Nothing.

That wasn’t it, either.

Raoul unplugged himself from the neural interface. He wiped something from his eyes. It was almost time for work.

I’m pretty happy with this one.