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nneogram · 4 years

Text

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes.

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease.

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water.

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school.

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm.

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names.

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier.

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d!

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is.

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms.

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you.

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling.

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon).

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students.

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer.

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?”

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world.

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop.

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves.

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes.

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows.

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.”

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here).

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior.

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-”

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly.

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs.

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking.

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?”

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

#cznnet #jung jaehyun fic #jung jaehyun nct #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fic #jaehyun nct #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #nct fluff #nct fic #nct scenarios

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tipsydipsydo · 4 years

Text

「© tipsydipsydo」

These following "Truth or Dare"-Answers/Scenarios are my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

➸ Blog Navigation

A post where you'll find all my other themed Masterlists of my writings, my personal sideblog, my fic-recs blogs and so much more!

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This is a list of all the networks where I got accepted as a writer in their community. Please check them out!

Requests are currently closed!

Do you wanna play naughty truth or dare with the boys?

...then send me one dirty question for a member and we will see how they will answer~

I bet we will have muuch fun! 💜

(I got this Idea from the lovely @pinkcottonmochi 💗 and her breathtaking filthy and indecent answer to my own request inspired me to try it as well! ...just in the very naughty version, how Tipsy likes it~ Please check her blog out 😈💦)

18th May 2021

[Information]:

Usually I answer the Truth or Dare requests on my phone and post them over the day. To add the links to this masterlist, I need my Laptop or my Ipad and I don’t have them always with me.

So it could be possible that I’ve finished some new requests but they’re not added to the list until now. I’ll try my best to update this list on a daily basis but when you’re curious if I answered some new Truth or Dare questions, just look through the newest posts of my blog ;)

» Gender «

Male Reader: ♂️

Female Reader: ♀

Gender neutral Reader: ☮

» Genres «

Soft Smut: 💋

Hard Smut: 😈

❥ Daddy? 😈 | ♀ ▸ Truth: Does Jin like being called Daddy? ▸ Dare: I dare him to finger the reader till she squirts! ❥ “Erotic Thoughts”💋 | ♀

▸ Truth: Are you really one of the most perv out of the boys? You seem so shy... ▸ Dare: If you are, then I dare you to prove it to me, I just can’t believe it! ❥ Cream filled 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Truth: What gets you hard almost instantly? ▸ Dare: Stuff me full with your cum, please Daddy! ❥ Not so pure thoughts 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Jin do you prefer to dom or sub? ▸ Dare: I dare you to eat me out with your sweet sweet lips! ❥ Aftercare 💋 | ♂️ ▸ Truth: what’s your favorite type of aftercare you like to give to your sub?

❥ Is that weird? 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: What’s your weirdest fantasy? ▸ Dare: Let me suck you off while you facetime someone! ❥ For the audio 😈 | ☮

▸ Truth: do you feel better jacking off to porn or thoughts of me? I know you watch it quite often, especially when you’re off on tour. ▸ Dare: I dare you to fill up every hole in me.

❥ Mistress | 😈 | ♀ ▸ Truth: Would you let me eat your ass? ▸ Dare: Get under the table and eat me out while I’m sitting withe the boys. ❥ Deserved Spanks 😈 | ☮

▸ Dare: I dare you to bend me over your studio table and spank me! ❥ Language Lesson 😈💋 | ♀

▸ Truth: Have you ever fantasized about role playing with me? ▸ Dare: Wake me up by eating me out! ❥ Erogenous Zones 💋 | ♂️

▸ Dare: I dare you to let me give you neck kisses! ❥ Fuck me awake 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Joonie Baby, what do you think about somnophilia? ▸ Dare: I dare you to cockwarm me until this game ends! ❥ Corrupting you... 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: joonie do you have a corruption kink? ▸ Dare: i dare you to put your fat cock down my throat!

❥ Home alone 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: namjoon, how do you get yourself off when im not there? ❥ More Stamina needed 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: First time we had sex, is my pussy felt that good you’ve never felt that way?? ▸ Dare: i dare u to make it up to me right now in front of them, baby boy i wanna see how long you last! ❥ Until the other come... 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: Joon, I dare you to go out with a pair of vibrating panties. Both of us, so we can tease each other under the table. Whoever cums first has to go down on the other!

❥ Possession 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Hi Daddy do you miss me and can you show me how much? ▸ Dare: Hm would you ever let any of the other members fuck me?

❥ Blowjob Addiction 😈 | ♂️

▸ Truth: Do you like seeing me drool all over your cock?

❥ Restraints 💋😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: have you ever gotten off to the thoughts of me in restraints, completely under your control? ▸ Dare: please manhandle me! ❥ Your Voice 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Do you have any kinks you haven’t told me about? ▸ Dare: Do your best to seduce me! ...or not, it’s up to you. ❥ Exhibitionist 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: I dare you to fuck me in front of the other members! ❥ So sensitive 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Dare: I dare you to suck on my Nipples! ❥ Bangtan’s Whore 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: What’s your dirtiest Fantasy about your Babygirl? ▸ Dare: Ruin my ass, Daddy! ❥ Confession 💋 | ♀

▸ Truth: Be honest, you love getting cuddles from me? ▸ Dare: Tell me all your dirty fantasies you want to experience with me in that raspy voice of yours! ❥ Ice Cubes 💋 | ♂️(trans* male! Reader)

▸ Dare: Yoongi, pop an ice cube in your mouth and go down on me for 30 seconds.

❥ Hand Fetish 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: would you rather have me suck on your neck or your fingers? ▸ Dare: And I dare you to face fuck me! ❥ Daddy or Sir? 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: do you prefer daddy or sir? ▸ Dare: choke me!

❥ Breakfast in bed 😈 | ♂️(trans* male! Reader)

▸ Dare: I dare you to wake me up by eating me out

❥ Cuddles? 💋| ☮

▸ Truth: is that true that you prefer to have a long cuddling sessions with soft kisses over quick make out? ▸ Dare: I dare you to show me the last search on your phone.

❥ Would you? 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: what’s your honest opinion on skinny girls? ▸ Dare: I dare you to ruin yourself with a sex toy.

❥ Sensitive 😈 | ☮

▸ Truth: Are you afraid for me to find out that you like to be ruined? Afraid that I might find out you liked to be called baby boy while you’re completely fucked out over a dildo? ▸ Dare: I dare you to leave this prostate vibrator in for the entire day

❥ Such a tease 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: do you often look at all the photos you took of me, whether it be in lingerie or not when on tour? ▸ Dare: I dare you to remind me of my place. I even have your favorite plug in and that white Lacey lingerie you love so much. I’m all stretched out and prepared for you~ ❥ A half an hour 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: What’s in your opinion the most attractive on me and why? ▸ Dare: You have a half an hour to do everything you want with me without taking care~ ❥ Inacceptable 😈 | ☮

▸ Dare: I don’t think you can bend me over the table right now, I dare you to try it though. ❥ Lap Dance 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Dare: I dare you to make me hard! ❥ Hold you tight 💋 | ♀

▸ Truth: what helps you relax after a long day? ▸ Dare: if you'd like to, then show me how can I help with it?

❥ Watching from a safe distance 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: play with me in front of the others! ❥ 5-Minutes Orgasm Challenge 😈 | ♂️

▸ Truth: What's your favorite body part for me to suck on? ▸ Dare: Try to make me orgasm in 5 minutes.

❥ Body Shot 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: What's your honest, sexual opinion of plus sized girls? ▸ Dare: I dare you to do a body shot off your bff.

❥ Insecurities 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Have you ever thought of fucking other girls than me? ▸ Dare: Fuck me until I forget my name.

❥ Taking care 😈 | ☮

▸ Truth: Will you let me take care of you? Will you let me take care of your pretty cock and hole? Would you let me completly dominate you?

❥ Confession 😈 | ☮

▸ Truth: Have you ever wrecked yourself with a thick dildo in your room when the members are only a couple rooms away? ▸ Dare: I dare you to stick a vibrating egg up you and edge yourself.

❥ Most secret Kink 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader)

▸ Truth: What’s something you’ve wanted to try and put into your ass? ▸ Dare: Tell me your most secret kink and do it to me!

❥ Strip Tease 😈 | ☮

▸ Dare: I dare you to strip for me! ❥ Make-Out Session 😈 | ☮

▸ Truth: Do you have a crush on someone? ▸ Dare: I dare you to go him/her and then make out with them! ❥ Massages 😈 | ♂️

▸ Dare: I dare you to give me a massage! ❥ Eat that ass! 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Dare: I dare you to do something you’ve been fantasizing about doing to me! ❥ So pure and fertile 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: What is your favourite way of ruining your partner? ▸ Dare: I want you to look at me and touch yourself. Show me how much you want to do those things! ❥ Threesome? 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Truth: Jimin, if I gave you the chance to choose someone in this room for us to have a threesome with, who would you pick and why?

❥ So shy and nasty 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader)

▸ Truth: who would you rather watch fuck me: taehyung or yoongi? ▸ Dare: i dare you to fuck me until i can’t walk

❥ Against the window 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Jimin, what do you think about my small boobs? On top of having small ones, I even have freckles on the right one which I'm a little bit conscious about. ▸ Dare: I dare you to breed me like a bitch in heat in front of the floor to ceiling glass window where people from other building can take a peek. ❥ Public Make-out Sesh 😈 | ♂️

▸ Dare: Jimin, I dare you to play with my nipples! ❥ Let’s sub together 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Dare: So, I dare you to pick a member and let him ruin us both.

❥ Fantasies 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: have you ever masturbated to one of my nudes? ▸ Dare: Fuck my ass. hard.

❥ Cum Painting 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: where do you love to cum? on my ass, face, stomach? in my mouth? or inside me? ▸ Dare: fuck this pussy up, please daddy. ❥ X-Position 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Would you fuck me in the X-Position? ▸ Dare: I dare you to rub your dick against my clit for as long you can take it without entering me. ❥ Love Making 💋 | ♀

▸ Truth: Do you love me? Do you prefer to make love to me or have sex? ▸ Dare: Fuck my pussy with all the strength you have... until you break me in two...

❥ Wax Play 😈 | ☮

▸ Truth: What sex act you’ve done that you’ll never do again? ▸ Dare: Imitate my most flexible sex move! ❥ Cream Tube 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Truth: What are some of your favourite Toys to use when Daddy is not around? ▸ Dare: Send me a Video of you using it. ❥ Kitten 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: do you prefer me wearing a cat tail plug or in cuffs? ▸ Dare: Ruin me!

❥ Exhibitionist or Voyeur? 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Truth: do you like watching or being watched? ▸ Dare: i dare you to cover me in hickies!

❥ First Time 💋 | ♀ ▸ Truth: How would you make my first time special? ❥ My everything 💋 | ♀

▸ Truth: What's your favourite song to dance to with me? ▸ Dare: Paint me like one of your Austrian girls

❥ The Butter Concept Photo 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Why the fuck did you choose this outfit and this pose for the new concept photos?! Why the fuck did you do that?! ▸ Dare: Fuck me. Fuck me in any way you want me, just fucking take care of the problem you've caused! Is that clear?!

❥ Good Boy? 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader)

▸ Truth: Do you like giving out punishments or rewards better? ▸ Dare: I dare you to overstimulate me until one of us can take it anymore...

❥ Milking the Bull 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Dare: I dare you to jerk me off until I can't cum anymore from being overstimulated!

❥ Nipples on Display 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: JK! I dare you to convince y/n to go braless and shirtless the whole day so you could suck her nipples anytime you wanted ( when shes studying, lying down, cooking etc) Tell me how it went ;)

❥ Bad Joke? (Hybrid AU) 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: I dare you to fuck your cubs into me!

❥ Enough? 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: How do you feel about my small perky boobs? Are they satisfying enough for you? ▸ Dare: Maybe... you could fill me with so much cum until I’m carrying your healthy and beautiful Baby?

❥ “Morning Sex” 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Have you ever fucked y/n while she was asleep (consensual) so hard and it felt so good?

❥ Naughty wife 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: I dare you to fuck me beside your wife who is sleeping!

❥ Names 😈 | ♀

▸ Truth: Am I your dirty little slut?

❥ In class 😈 | ♀

▸ Dare: I dare you to finger me in the classroom and them lick your fingers! ❥ Favourite toy 😈 | ♂️ ▸ Truth: Describe your favorite -special- Toy to me! ▸ Dare: Bring the toy and let me use it right in front of everyone!

❥ Consent is sexy! 💋 | ♀ ▸ Truth: What’s your favourite part about sex with me? ▸ Dare: Be a good boy for me and show me how good you can please me! ❥ Dirtiest Dream 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader)

▸ Truth: What’s the dirtiest dream you’ve had and would you wanna reenact it?

❥ Unique wax play 😈 | ♀ ▸ Truth: I caught you watching waxing porn, is there something you want to tell me? ▸ Dare: You See the Wall over there? Show me what those toned arms can do!

❥ Mirrors 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader) [ Yoongi & Taehyung]

▸ Dare: There is this room that has a mirror on the ceiling. I dare you both to fuck me under it! ❥ Watch us 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader) [ Hoseok & Jungkook]

▸ Truth: Have you ever thought about fucking me with another member? ▸ Dare: Feed Kookie your cum and let me watch! ❥ Cutest Bunny 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader) [ Hoseok & Jungkook]

▸ Truth: If you had to decide who is the cuter Bunny, Jungkook or I? ▸ Dare: I dare you to edge me to the point of tears, in front of the members and call me your bunny or baby boy.

❥ Ride it 😈 | ♂️(transmale! Reader) [Jimin & Jungkook]

▸ Truth: When I’m not around, do you help each other out? ▸ Dare: Can I ride your Thighs?

❥ Wanna join, Tae? 😈 | ♂️[Namjoon & Taehyung]

▸ Truth: How would you feel if Taehyung started playing with me?

❥ Please destroy me! 😈 | ♀ [Jin & Yoongi & Jungkook]

▸ Truth: Tell me everything you three want to do with me! ▸ Dare: Please destroy me!

❥ Tag team me! 😈 | ♀ [Hoseok & Seokjin]

▸ Dare: I dare you two to tag team me! ❥ Thigh-Riding Contest 😈 | ♀ [Namjoon; Jimin & Jungkook]

▸ Dare: Joon, Jimin and Kook… what about a thigh riding competition? It should get tested which man has the best pair of thighs and knows how to use them. The winner is who made me cum on the fastest way… he can have me for the rest of the evening and fuck me like he desires. The losers have to watch the scenery as a punishment…

In Total: 85 ToD-Requests!

#tipsy’s naughty truth or dare game #the ultimate collection #bts smut #truth or dare with the boys #bts x male reader #kpop smut #truth or dare with bts #bts scenarios #jungkook smut #bts and their kinky secrets #bts imagines #bts talks dirty to you #taehyung smut #bts x male reader smut #bts masterlist #jimin smut #tipsy’s thoughts #namjoon smut #crazy stuff

396 notes · View notes

onetwosevensquad · 4 years

Text

Dungeons and Dragons and... Love?: Dungeon Master

Mark Lee x Reader

Summary: the kind Dungeon Master who helps guide your team through your campaign also becomes your math tutor.

Warnings: none??

Rose: sorry this literally took forever to write. Hope your all still interested in this mini series. Next member is Renjun.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

———

Why were you here again?

Oh right, cause you’re a giant nerd who needs an outlet.

The poster had caught your eye when you were headed to lunch one day. It was a beige poster with a 20 sided dice in the middle. That was what got your attention.

You had played Dungeons and Dragons with some of your friends before. It has been a few months since your last campaign and you didn’t know when the next one would start. So, in fear of not being able to escape to a fantasy world, you decided to check it out.

It was now 3:45 in the afternoon. School had ended 15 minutes ago, the hours ticking by slowly. You now stood outside of the AP Government classroom where Mr. Jung taught.

The poster, you remembered, said that Mr. Jung would oversee the club. He was your favorite teacher because he was funny and the class was enjoyable.

Finally, you slowly opened the door to the classroom and stepped in. In the middle of the room, a few desks had been pushed together to create a large table.

Sitting around the table were seven boys who were all staring at you. You awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for literally anyone to say something.

“Is this the d&d club?” You finally spoke.

“Y-yes,” the only boy who was standing said. You recognized him as Mark Lee. The cute, smart boy from calculus. “Yes, uh, grab a seat.”

You nodded and dragged a chair over to the only empty spot at the table. It was right next to Chenle, the loud basketball player you shared chemistry with.

“Well I’m pretty sure that we all know each other,” Mark said clearing his throat. “I’m not gonna make us do ice breakers cause literally no one likes those.”

“I do!” Haechan, the class clown that you also shared chemistry with.

“Only you,” Jeno, the star basketball player and probably the last person you expected here, commented. Haechan pouted and stuck his tongue out at Jeno.

“Anyway,” Mark said. “It’s my fist time DMing, but I have played before. Just so I know, who here has played before?”

You, along with Jisung, the quiet kid from history, Haechan, and Renjun, the kid from math who doesn’t do math but draws, raised your hands. Mark seemed to relax a bit when he saw there were at least a few experienced players.

“Well I guess this first meeting will be going over rules and how to play, then next time we’ll do character sheets,” Mark said.

———

It was now the third session and the first one of the start of you campaign. Last time, everyone made their characters, the atmosphere becoming less tense as time went on.

You made your character an Elf Wizard, something you’ve never played before. Everyone else had their own unique character combos, having fun coming up with the most ridiculous names for them.

Today, the party was slightly buzzing with excitement to finally start their campaign. You all gathered around the table giving character introductions, ready to get this show on the road.

Three hours, several rolls for initiative, and Haechan’s character almost dying later, Mr. Jung had to finally kick you all out of the building. The sun had already set and he was letting you way past what was allowed.

You realized how late it actually was and scrambled to get your stuff. You said a quick goodbye to the boys and Mr. Jung and sped off to get home before your parents killed you.

You get a ways down the hall when you heard someone running behind you.

“Y/n, wait up!” You turned to see Mark jogging to catch up with you. He stopped in front of you, breathing slightly harder. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said back, smiling at the cute boy. You’ve never really had a full conversation with Mark. He’s quiet and, honestly, talking to someone attractive was a bit out of the realm of your comfort zone.

“C-can I have your number?” He said. Your eyes went wide and as did his when he realized what that sounded like. “So that I can add you to the group chat! Just in case anyone can’t make it or we cancel.”

“Yea, sure,” you said, slightly disappointed. You heard Mark exhale probably in relief that his save worked. You handed him your phone with your number displayed on the screen and he quickly put it in his.

“Thanks,” Mark said, handing you back your phone. You both stood there in the most suffocatingly awkward silence ever.

“Well bye,” you said turning to leave.

“Oh! Yea, uh, bye,” Mark said waving slightly. He turned back towards Mr. Jung’s room and you saw the other six boys crowded around. They were all giggling as Mark shoved that back into the room.

———

Six sessions and three weeks later, any morsel of awkwardness was gone. It was like you have known these seven boys your whole life.

The group chat blew up your phone with memes from that days session but didn’t you mind? No. Though sometimes at ungodly hours in the mornings, you still enjoyed the content.

On this particular day, you weren’t going to be able to join the session. Your calculus teacher was making you stay after school and retake a test that you failed miserably. You felt bad when you hand to text the group.

You: I can’t make it today

Haechan☀️: whyyyyyyy

You: I failed a calc test

You: I have to retake it

Lele🐬: thats stupid

Sungie: good luck Y/n

Injunie: yea gl

You: thanks boys

Marker: hey if you need any help studying for calc, I’d be happy to

jeNO: oh?

You: yea I’d like that, thanks

Minnie: ann I oop-

You laughed at Jaemin’s comment as you made your way to your calculus teachers classroom.

———

Considering the second time you took the test you barely past by the seat of your pants, you took Mark up on his offer to tutor you.

Today was the first day Mark was going to tutor you in the library. You walked in and saw him already set up at one of the tables in the very back.

“Hey,” you whispered. He smiled at you as you sat down next to him.

“Hey,” he said back. “Ready to get started?”

After about an hour and a half of Mark explaining different theorems to you, you were finally starting to get it. Whenever you asked a question, Mark would take the time to explain it to you carefully, making sure you got it along the way.

When he would give you a problem to solve, and you got it right, both of you would get excited, annoying the librarian. She ended up shushing you more than once.

“Hey, you hungry?” Mark asked.

“Not really,” you said. As if on cue, your stomach slightly growled, making Mark laugh. You looked down at your stomach, a pout on your face. “Traitor.”

“Come on,” Mark said between giggles. “Let’s get something to eat.”

You got your things and headed out of the library with Mark to get food.

———

For the next three weeks, this became your tradition. On the days the D&D club wasn’t meeting, you and Mark would study calculus in the library for about two hours, and then go get food. It always felt like a lot less time with Mark, him always making it enjoyable.

Today, you had a study session with Mark. As you neared the library, you noticed him standing outside the doors on his phone.

“Hey, what are you doing?” You asked. “I have a test tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mark said putting his phone away. “But you need a break.”

“Mark-“ you whined.

“No,” he said. “I think that you’re ready. You’ve made a lot of progress over the last couple weeks. Besides, they say you shouldn’t study the night before a test.”

“I don’t think that’s a thing,” you said crossing your arms.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Mark said waving it off. “But, I do know that you’ve worked hard and whatever grade you get, I’m proud of you.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up at Mark’s words. You bit back a smile as he continued.

“So tonight we are not studying,” Mark said grabbing your hand and leading you away from the library. “We are going to the basketball game with the others to cheer on Chenle and Jeno.”

You didn’t protest as Mark led you down to the packed gym and over to where the rest of the boys were sat, waiting for the game to start.

———

After the game where your boys won, the party went out for dinner. Afterwards, Mark drove you home, the two of you talking about the game, D&D, or literally anything.

When Mark pulled into your driveway, he insisted on walking you to your steps. He said it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“Hey,” Mark said when you got to your front door. “Good luck tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Tell me how it goes, ok?” He said. You nodded giving him a smile that he returned. “Good night.”

“Night,” you called after him as he went to his car.

———

At the end of the day, your calculus teacher had finished grading the tests. She told everyone to come pick them up before they left school.

When she handed your test to you, she had a big smile on her face. She made a comment about how nicely you did and how much you improved. When you finally saw the grade, you nearly passed out.

You practically ran to Mr. Jung’s room. D&D was today and you wanted to show Mark you grade. You arrived at his classroom, bouncing into the room.

“Well someone looks happy,” Jaemin commented.

“Did something mean happen?” Jisung asked. You stuck your tongue out at the younger boy making everyone laugh.

You made you way to Mark at the head of the table, him watching you with a smile. When you reached him, you slapped the paper with a big 90% scribbled at the top down in front of him.

“All thanks to you,” you said as he continued to stare at the paper.

“I told you so,” Mark said standing up. He caught you by surprise when he gave you a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

“Ugh, just date already,” Haechan commented from his chair. You and Mark pulled apart making a face at the boy, but avoiding each other’s eyes.

It’s not that you were entirely opposed to dating Mark. You just didn’t know if he felt the same way. And he didn’t. Right?

———

You and Mark continued your study sessions even after you proved you didn’t need to. You both agreed that it was to benefit both of you and not just an excuse to hang out.

One day, while walking out of calculus with Renjun, the boy made a comment that rocked your world.

“He likes you, ya know,” Renjun said.

“W-what,” you sputtered turning to him.

“Mark, he likes you,” He clarified. “I know like bro code, I’m not supposed to tell you or whatever, but I see the way you two look at each other. We all do. You should ask him out. He’d say yes.”

You stopped dead in your tracks thinking for a second. On one hand, this plan that you were formulating could embarrass you. On the other, you could get a date with your dungeon master / calculus tutor / crush.

“Y/n?” Renjun said turning to you. You quickly turned on your heel and made a mad dash for Mark’s locker. “Y/n!”

———

As you speed walked to Mark, you saw him in the distance talking to Jeno and Jaemin. Mark spotted you coming to him and waved at you.

“Hey, Y/n what’s-“

“Do you want to go an a date with me?” You said quickly.

“W-what?” Mark said.

“Jeno, I think that’s our cue,” Jaemin said dragging Jeno away.

“Do you want to go in a date with me?” You asked again, slower this time. Mark looked at you wide eyed, like a dear in headlights.

“A-a date?” He asked. You nodded, not trusting your voice not to shake. “Wow.”

“Wow?” You asked.

“Sorry! Sorry, I just never thought you’d ask and I’d have to do it,” Mark said. “But yes, I’d love to go on a date.”

“Oh thank god,” you said leaning against the lockers. Mark laughed at your dramatic reaction. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and turned you around to walk to lunch. As you turned, you and Mark stopped and saw the six other members of your party standing there amused.

“God, finally,” Haechan said.

“Took you long enough,” Chenle said.

As the eight of you walked to lunch, the boys continued to tease you and Mark. But when you looked up at him with his arm still around your shoulder, the teasing didn’t matter when Mark smiled at you.

———

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rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

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dovechim · 5 years

Text

a remedy for mondays 01 (m)

➾ 11.2k

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: impregnation kink (all that jazz, u guys should know by now), brief mention of pregnancy termination, future smut

➾ a/n: this is written purely for fun & i hope you can understand my humour!!! please don’t go having babies just for some time off work. by the time i post this, it will be monday where i live. i hope this brings you all some joy :-)

ps: thank you to @jimlingss, who always hears my crazy ideas out and encourages me to go for them. heck, sometimes she even brings it out of me. idk where i would be without you :”D

You hate this.

The saying goes: work to live, not live to work. But at this rate, you’d rather just not exist at all if you have to continue work at this god.darn.fucking.job.

All around you, people are huddled into their seats, heads bowed below the partition that separates the desks. Frankly, you think this whole open-plan office thing is just bullshit. Who the fuck wants to make eye contact with Jeon Jeongguk when he’s picking his nose in the middle of editing a spreadsheet?

Not you, that’s who.

You sink even lower down in your seat as you continue to stare your screen with a pounding headache. The numerous open windows on your desktop are just mocking you at this point. The morning seems to be crawling by. Usually, you ration out your morning coffee and breakfast to keep you going; so your morning goes a little something like this: arrive 8.30am, check emails, get water from the pantry and fuck about while your bosses aren’t here yet till 9.15am. Reply to some emails till about 9.45am, then sit in a daze till it’s 10am and time for you to drink your morning espresso and nibble at the small bun you bought from the bakery nearby.

This usually gets you to about 11am, only an hour more to go till lunch.

A job in the public service is perceived to be prestigious by most; so you suppose you should be thankful for your job dealing with family policy. But what outsiders don’t realise is that working in a governmental organisation as the utmost bottom rung absolutely sucks. There are so many standard operation procedures for nearly every single fucking thing, even emails to senior management needs to be vetted by someone in a higher position than you. As a result, things get done very slowly and even if they do get through to senior management, it might just get rejected because they decide that it’s not good enough. Then the work comes all the way back to you, and the whole dreary process starts again.

Not to mention your asshole boss. Bae Joohyun. Senior Director. She has a notorious reputation throughout the entire department for being a hell witch from Satan’s posse. In her meetings she demands utter silence from everyone other than the presenter; sneezes and coughs or pen clicks and typing are strictly forbidden.

Technically, she isn’t your direct superior, and you don’t work super closely with her, but she has this mandate that all leave requests for the entire department have to be approved by her. You’ve submitted requests 5 times in the past year, none of which have gone through. As a result you haven’t taken a day off in a good three years since you started working here. You still remember that one time she rejected your medical leave and called you to her desk. You’d been nursing a terrible flu, your complexion washed out and almost falling off your feet. Looking in the mirror that morning had been a complete shock. You thought a zombie was staring back at you.

Bae Joohyun had narrowed her eyes at you. “What’s wrong with you that you need to take emergency medical leave, _____?”

“I-it’s this cold, ma’am,” your voice was nasal and stuck in your throat.

Bae Joohyun had rolled her eyes and motioned for you to speak up. “I can’t hear you, stop mumbling for heaven’s sake!”

“I have a cold, ma’am! Has been so for the past three days,” you sniffled and pressed a tissue to your nose.

“A cold?” Bae Joohyun raised an eyebrow sceptically. “You seem fine to me. You look the same as you usually do. Get back to work.”

Sometimes you feel like this company, in all its pro-family views, treats married employees with children better.

The resentment grows inside you as you tap on your keyboard harder and harder, earning you a timid glance from Jeon Jeongguk opposite you. But you ignore him, continuing to type out a reply to someone who somehow failed to read your previous email and continued to ask the exact same questions.

“______?”

You absolutely hate it when someone approaches you from the back in your blind spot and startles you like this. Forcing a smile on your face, you sit up straighter in your chair and turn around. It’s Taehyung from the Baby Bonus Team, and he’s holding a folder with a smile on his face.

“Morning, ______!” He chirps with a sunny expression, and you can barely muster enough energy to greet him back, let alone match his level of enthusiasm on a Monday morning. “Could I just trouble you to update this for me? It’s just our operations manual for the Baby Bonus Team that hasn’t been touched in like… ages. I just need the HR section updated. Is that ok?”

Before you can even reply, Taehyung places a folder on your desk and his email appears on your screen, and he’s off. It’s not a secret that Taehyung loves his job to pieces. He loves children, loves babies, and loves it that he’s doing his part to contribute to the nation’s falling birth rate.

Well, not likethat,since you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

But everyone else here seems to love children. Over lunch with your team, all they do is exchange pictures of their children, their friends’ children, or some random baby from Facebook and coo over how chubby and cute they are. You stopped going to lunch with them after Mingyu from Pre-Schools team showed everyone a picture of his niece in a soiled diaper.

Most of your older coworkers who are married with their own families have pictures of their children on their desks. You’re forced to stare at these pictures with the resentment bubbling up inside you as you listen to their latest rant about how your proposal is too skimpy, lacks real research, that email of yours is poorly worded, needs to be recalled etc; so can anyone really blame you when you’re unable to dredge up even the slightest bit of adoration for those grubby faced gremlins?

Clicking open Taehyung’s email and finding the document he attached, you scroll down to the section he mentioned. You realise that he was being modest when he said that it needed an update. The whole fucking section comprises of just a single sentence, and you’ll probably have to write it from scratch.

Sighing through your nose, you click open an internet browser and do a quick google search for the general HR benefits for expecting women and their partners. You also open up the intranet to take a look at your own company’s mandates, which seem to be quite a whole lot more substantial than the general ones (which is only natural since your organisation is so pro-family in its viewpoints). 16 weeks of paid maternity leave, for a start.

Good god. 16 whole weeks? That’s practically 4 months. That’s almost half a year!!!

Obviously you know that having a baby wrecks the mother’s body, and is a major life change; that’s why they need that much leave time. But right now the concept of not having to go to work for that amount of time is simply blowing your mind. Especially since it feels as if you’ve been working non-stop for as long as you can remember.

On top of the 16 weeks is increased medical leave that can be taken any time before the baby is born. Your company is incredibly sympathetic towards pregnant women, which is only natural considering the line of work that you do in family planning. In fact, you know of a few colleagues from the Baby Bonus Team who took almost a whole month of medical leave, spread out, before they had their babies.

Not to mention the actual baby bonus itself.

Curious, you click back to Taehyung’s document and scroll up to the section on Baby Bonus. You scan through and gather that it comprises of a cash gift of $8,000 to $10,000, on top of several other schemes such as a savings account with the amount matched by the government. The total amount of cash receivable just for having one child is listed at the bottom of the page.

You sit back in your chair with a sharp breath. You never realised it was this lucrative to have a baby. Imagine receiving free money from the government, and having all that paid time off. All you need to do is just pop out one (1) baby, and that’s it. You can suck the government dry if you devote the rest of your life to being a baby making machine. See what Bae Joohyun has to say when you slam your maternity leave application on her desk.

The thought makes you smirk triumphantly.

But a moment later, the triumph fades as you remember your very, very single self. Without a boyfriend to knock you up, there’s no way this scheme would work.

Sighing, you shake your head to get rid of all the useless fantasies as you get back to work.

“Hey, _____. Meet our new joiner,” Jeongguk’s voice stirs you from the zoned out state you’re in, frantically typing away.

It’s well after lunch now; somehow the time had flown past while you were working on Taehyung’s document.

You look up to meet Jeongguk’s eyes, and then your gaze shifts to the slightly shorter man beside him. He is wearing a large pair of black glasses that cover nearly half his face; his blonde hair is parted down the middle and neatly slicked back. This man can’t even meet your eyes; he gives you a nervous little smile but his gaze is off, fixed somewhere on your shoulder. His white dress shirt is tucked in neatly to his black dress pants, but he is constantly fidgeting.

“Park Jimin. Welcome to the team, buddy,” Jeongguk slaps Jimin on the shoulder with a grin. “You’re sitting beside me.”

“Welcome, nice to meet you,” you smile and nod at him, but otherwise remain seated. No one can or will distract you from this document. You need to finish this by today, or else you’ll have to bring it home to work on it.

Park Jimin nods shyly as Jeongguk shows him to his seat. With this current arrangement, it means that the three of you are all facing each other in this cluster of desks. Sighing internally, you watch Jimin take his seat and arrange his things, see him glance shyly at you from behind his enormous glasses before his eyes dart away and he hides behind his desktop.

What a weird guy. He hasn’t said a single thing. Whatever. You turn back and resume typing, but then your phone chimes with an email notification.

CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU HAVE WON MEET AND GREET PASSES TO MEET agust d TOMORROW!!!

Your heart skips a beat and you abandon typing just to open the email. You bid for these meet and greet passes months ago when you bought tickets to see your favourite rapper in concert. No news had resulted in you concluding that you hadn’t won after all, and you were contented with the chance just to see agust d in real life.

But now…

You scroll down to look at the details of the meet and greet.

24 September 2019, from 4pm (please see your specific timeslot on your attached passes)

Each meet and greet session comprises of: an up close, INTIMATE, one on one opportunity to chat and take photos with agust d, lasting for 15 minutes

Your heart sinks as you check the time on your pass. You end work only at 6pm, and when you’d bought the tickets you thought it’d be fine for you to go straight after work since the concert only starts at 7pm. There’s no way you’ll be able to take half day leave to attend the meet and greet. There’s no way Bae Joohyun would let you.

Sitting back in your seat in despair, feeling the angry tears well up in your eyes and the frustration cloud your chest, you don’t notice a pair of meek eyes behind black glasses peek out behind the desktop.

All that’s going through your head is: there has to be a way, there has to be a way.

There’s no way you’re letting these passes go to waste just like that. There’s no way you’re not meeting agust d just because Bae Joohyun has a stick up her ass.

Tuesday morning finds you at Bae Joohyun’s desk with a leave application filled out. You carefully set it on her desk, knowing full well that she comes in at 9.30am on the dot every day.

Rumour has it that she colour codes her outfits based on her mood that day. As you slink back to your desk, you catch a glance of her clad fully in black, striding powerfully into the office in her black pumps.

Your heart sinks as Jeongguk sings out a cheerful good morning to you and Park Jimin, whom you hadn’t even noticed was already at his desk.

“Morning, Jeongguk,” you mutter under your breath. “Morning to you too, Jimin.”

The newcomer does nothing more than nod at you as he ducks back behind his computer. But today you don’t have the bandwidth to wonder about him as you click over to Taehyung’s email about the document from yesterday.

“Hey, aren’t you going to see agust d tonight?” Jeongguk sits up straighter.

“Yeah, why?” Your reply comes clipped, already in a bad mood just from anticipating your rejected leave application.

“I heard the results of the balloting for the meet and greet passes came out yesterday,” Jeongguk’s bright eyes are on your face. “Do you know agust d, Jimin?”

The blonde haired man shrugs as part of his face appears from behind his computer.

“Anyway, I think only like five people got the passes, and as of yesterday night, there are already bidders on the black market willing to pay almost a thousand just for one pass,” Jeongguk continues on.

“Huh, really? Who’d be that crazy to pay that much money?” You muse, looking at your phone.

“Right?” Jeongguk sighs dramatically. You know he’d be extra salty if you told him you won passes to the meet and greet. You’d already made the mistake of letting slip that you managed to get a VIP ticket, and Jeongguk had sulked for an entire week after that. “I mean, what are the chances anyway? If you think about it, those people who won the passes must be die-hard fans, since you can only win one if you managed to get a VIP ticket. Which die-hard fan would sell their hard won passes like that?”

The conversation tapers off as you reply to some emails, but you can’t help but glance back at your phone. A thousand dollars just for a meet and greet pass. That’s just crazy. The amount of money some people are willing to spend… it almost makes you wonder if you could… sell it since you can’t make it anyway…

No. No. You can’t sell agust d’s love just for a thousand dollars. You wouldn’t even sell it for a million dollars. Shame on you.

Hushed whispers suddenly erupt around you, and Jeongguk hisses like a startled cat.

“Shit, SD’s coming! Fuck, I was in the middle of a game,” Jeongguk scrambles to turn off his phone, muttering under his breath that his teammates are going to kick him off the team next time.

You sit straighter in your seat and turn your head towards the aisle. Sure enough, Bae Joohyun is fast approaching like a hurricane bent on destruction. Her face is as black as her outfit.

“Jimin, since you’re new, just copy what I do. Look at your computer and don’t speak unless spoken to,” Jeongguk’s eyes are wide with fear, but he is frantically typing away on his keyboard, turning to glance at the timid man beside him. “Got it? Don’t show any fear, she can scent it like a shark with blood in the water. No matter what you do, don’t make eye contact with her if she isn’t talking to you.”

When Jimin doesn’t respond, Jeongguk glances hurriedly to the younger man. “Did you hear me?!”

“Y-yes.” It’s the first word you’ve heard this man utter, and it is somewhat strangled and you barely catch it over the rising panic that unfolds around you.

“Who d’you think she’s here for?” Jeongguk whispers to you.

“No idea,” you choke out with a closed throat, even though you have a very good idea who she’s here for.

As Bae Joohyun nears your cluster of desks, she slows down. Her eagle eyes scan the floor where all the employees are huddled at their seats, typing away with hunched shoulders. You can feel her gaze land on you, and you close your eyes briefly to say a prayer for mercy.

“______.”

Your name is uttered into the silence, and Jeongguk’s eyes shift just a fraction to glance at you. They are wide with fear. Beside him, Park Jimin’s eyes dart to yours from behind his thick black glasses. But none of them move.

“Y-yes?” You turn in your chair to face Bae Joohyun.

“You applied for emergency half day leave this pm, am I correct?” The witch herself holds up your leave application form. “Seeing as it’s this last minute, it must be urgent. What’s wrong with you this time?”

It’s dead silent. Everyone is pretending to work at their desks, but you know all too well that what they’re really doing is eavesdropping on this conversation. Well, eavesdropping is too generous a term, considering that this conversation is made fully public.

“I… I’m…” You stutter and stumble over your words, struggling to think of a plausible excuse. Some part of you had hoped for a miracle, prayed to the gods eight times last night that Bae Joohyun would be in a merciful mood this morning and grant you the leave without asking.

You glance at Jeongguk, and by now he’s worked everything out silently in his head. His expression says everything. But he doesn’t dare to even look you in the eye.

Instead of him, you realise that another pair of eyes are watching you instead. Park Jimin’s head is tilted to the side, his eyes are observing your mini panic attack without darting away for once.

“Well? What’s wrong with you, I asked,” Bae Joohyun demands.

You can practically hear the clock ticking off the seconds till her patience runs out. Between that and Park Jimin’s persistent stare, your mind just goes blank, and you utter the first words that come to mind.

“I… I’m having morning sickness!”

“What?” Bae Joohyun’s tone is, for the first time, one of shock. “What did you just say?”

Despite Bae Joohyun’s presence, Taehyung from Baby Bonus has turned around in his seat. “Morning sickness? You don’t mean to say you’re…”

Your eyes dart around wildly all over the place in response to what you think Taehyung is implying. God dammit, if not for his fucking comment, you could have diverted it down a less conspicuous path.

“Pregnant?” Namjoon from HR pipes up. “______, are you pregnant? When were you planning on notifying HR?”

Oh god. Things are moving too fast. Slowly, people are turning around in their chairs and inviting themselves into what should be a private conversation between you and Bae Joohyun. Curious looks are directed your way, and you are tongue tied.

“______, I didn’t know you were married! You’ve been keeping it from us this whole time?” Someone from Pre-Schools, you think his name is Seokjin, exclaims in a chiding tone.

“No!” Your voice bursts out from somewhere. It sounds far away to your ears. “No, I’m not married!! I just had a… a… a one night stand.”

Fuck. You’re digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“A one-night stand?” Bae Joohyun narrows her eyes. Somehow you can see that she doesn’t really buy it. She is scanning your face intently, and if there’s even a shred of uncertainty, she will catch it.

“With him!” Pointing at the one person who’s been silent all this time, you can feel the gazes shift from you. You know what they say about a liar. They always have this compulsive need to supplement their lies with arbitrary details.

But it works, and everyone’s attention is now on Park Jimin. You can see his eyes dart around briefly for a moment before they return to yours. But they don’t seem any more panicked or surprised than they usually do. He is as cool and collected as he always is, and he doesn’t say a word, as usual.

“Damn, you and Park Jimin?” It’s Jeongguk who speaks up this time. “Who would have thought? I mean, the guy just started yesterday, that must have been hell of a welcome party you gave him.”

Several giggles and snickers break out in response to his lewd joke.

“Shut up Jeon, that’s not how pregnancy works,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “They must have met each other months ago. Is this going to be another HR concern though? Inter-departmental relationships?”

Bae Joohyun glances down her nose at you derisively. “I have no wish to know what you do in your free time. But I must ask, Ms _____, that you inform HR immediately of any condition you have that might affect your ability to work.”

The intimidation wrought by Bae Joohyun is replaced by anger at her words. No wish to know about your personal matters, when she was the one who decided it was appropriate to ask why you need to take leave in front of the whole department? What if this was a real situation and you were facing an unplanned pregnancy? Instead of being offered sympathy and support, you’re faced with judgement. This woman is entirely heartless and should not be the head of a pro-family planning division. Not to mention that discussing your leave application publicly is utterly inappropriate. It’s this thought that gives you the courage to speak.

“So can I be approved?” You look her directly in the eye, throwing your shame out the window. What’s done is done. Since the whole department thinks you got knocked up from a one-night stand with a colleague, you might as well use it to your advantage. “For my half day leave. Can it be approved?”

A few beats of silence follow as Bae Joohyun looks cornered for the first time. There is an unspoken pressure even as people turn back to their desks to continue working. If she turns you down in front of everyone like this, she could quite possibly get reported for discrimination against pregnant women. Though it is unspoken, your shoulders relax as you realise you have the upper hand in this situation.

Bae Joohyun takes a deep breath.

“Fine. Approved.”

Wednesday morning, Jeongguk is an eager puppy trailing after you, begging for pictures and a blow by blow account of the concert.

“Just watch my Instagram story or something, I literally have no voice to talk to you right now,” you roll your eyes. Truth be told, your voice isn’t that bad off, but you just want to bask in that post concert afterglow for a moment.

“What was he like in person? Did you pass him my fan letter?” Jeongguk is relentless this morning, and his never ending chatter makes Park Jimin peek out curiously from behind his computer.

When your eyes meet, you freeze on the spot like a deer in the headlights. On Tuesday you left right after Bae Joohyun approved you, seeing as it was almost lunch time anyway. You decided that after winning a war, one rightly deserves to enjoy a stress free, worryless night out before returning to the battlegrounds once more.

But now that you’re here, it is a whole different story. Park Jimin glances at you wordlessly before resuming typing, and the awkwardness is killing you. You feel bad enough that you implicated him in this whole mess, probably ruined his reputation around here and maybe even giving HR a reason to keep a closer eye on him. But regardless, you probably should talk to the man and attempt to explain things, and at the very least, apologise.

“…ask him when his next mixtape is dropping?” Jeongguk is still at it.

“Hey, um, Jimin? If you have a moment this morning, can I speak to you in private?” You lean to the side to attempt to catch a glimpse of Park Jimin.

There is a slight pause before Jimin’s head appears, and he meets your eye for a moment before looking away again. He nods once before turning his head in the direction of an empty meeting room.

“Woah, should you be doing that in your condition, though?” Jeongguk comments with a lewd smirk even as his eyes lower to your mid-section, and you give him a scathing glare in response as you close your laptop.

“Shut up, Jeon. Just for the record, I ripped up and threw your letter in the trash,” you hiss at him, eliciting a horrified gasp as you follow Jimin to the meeting room.

“So, um…” You start off awkwardly once the door is closed.

Park Jimin is twiddling his thumbs, head bowed shyly and he refuses to make eye contact with you. Now that you think of it, his nerd glasses actually suit him quite well, but it’s just a shame that he’s too painfully shy to actually look anyone in the eye. He is quite a good looking guy, but maybe he has issues with his self-esteem is all.

“I wanted to apologise, first of all. And also explain myself,” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess. It’s just that- I… I just haven’t had a fucking break from Bae Joohyun ever since I started working in this fucking place.”

All the resentment just pours right out, and you’d be ashamed of yourself for using vulgarities at the workplace were it not for Park Jimin finally glancing up at you with a tiny smile on his face.

“I heard the rumours about her. So they’re true.” Jimin’s voice is still a little hesitant, wondering how much he should be gossiping about Bae Joohyun with another co-worker who could so easily rat him out and get him in trouble. But then, seeing as you’ve already managed to implicate him within a day of knowing him, how much dirtier can you do him, really? The thought brings a wry smile to his face once more. But then again, it seems like everyone here is more or less united by their intense dislike for Bae Joohyun. You of all people probably dislike her the most.

“True? What kind of rumours did you hear? And from where?” Intrigued by the man whom you’ve exchanged less than two words with before claiming to have had a one-night stand and a resulting pregnancy with, you lean forward in your seat.

Jimin shrugs. “Glassdoor.”

His response catches you off guard, and you are laughing with your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god. Please tell me you read the one where someone spit in her coffee. That was me.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Really? I thought that was by a 54 year old IT engineer.”

“I can’t be putting my real age and designation on there, can I?” You point out.

“Were you the one who bagged dog shit and hid it in her office?” Jimin has that tiny smile again, and you have to admit it’s sort of cute when he comes out of his shell. He is even more handsome when he smiles, brighter and somewhat infectious.

“19 year old marketing intern? Yep, that was me,” you sigh in contentment as you remember rage writing all those Glassdoor reviews after a particularly bad meeting that one week. You didn’t actually do all of those things, but just imagining it and writing public reviews was enough for you to get your imagined revenge.

“ ‘Hid some dog shit in her office so she can be reminded of how shitty her management style is’,” Jimin recites from memory. “You know, I almost withdrew my application because of that review.”

Jimin’s dead serious tone makes you laugh again. The sound of your laughter fills the empty meeting room, and you have to admit that this is the most relaxed and carefree you’ve felt while working here.

But belatedly you realise that you’ve gone very off topic, so you sober up and attempt to try to get things back on track again. “So anyway, about the um… one-night stand thing. We can just lie low for a while and make up some shit later. Tell them the baby didn’t make it or something.”

Jimin nods thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Or we can say it was a false positive. Less for you to go through since people would be all over you with pity and sympathy if we said that. I don’t think you’d wanna be pretend to be distraught over an imaginary baby.”

“That’s right, you’re a genius!” You marvel the way he just comes up with these ideas so easily. “How did you know about false positives?”

Jimin only shrugs, pushes his glasses up on his nose a little and he seems to be blushing. “I studied biology as an elective back in university.”

There’s a pause of silence before you look him in the eye again. “I really am sorry, you know. For making you go through all this. I kind of just panicked and didn’t think before speaking.”

But Jimin doesn’t seem to be making as big of a deal of it as you are. “Y’know, it’s fine. It ispretty exciting to be accused of having a one-night stand on my very first day. Aside from that, things can only go up, right?’

It takes you a moment or two to realise that he’s making a joke, delivered in that deadpan way of his that betrays his sweet, innocent face. At your harried expression, Jimin breaks the act and giggles, and you nearly slump over with relief.

“So, I guess we have to act like we’re in a relationship too?” Jimin adds as an afterthought.

“It’s up to you, we don’t really have to make it that obvious,” you shrug as you get up from your seat and push the chair back to its original position. “I’m fine with being an unwed mother for a bit. I wouldn’t wanna trouble you any more than I already have. You don’t have to do anything else for me.”

Jimin is silent as he follows your lead toward the door. When the both of you are almost halfway back to your seats, he stops you with a brief clearing of his throat. “It wouldn’t bother me at all.”

You look back at him for a moment, and he just gives you another one of those shy little smiles as he goes back to his desk. For the rest of the afternoon, you find that you don’t really mind having an open office policy, not if it allows you glimpses of cute Park Jimin in his nerd glasses sitting opposite you.

The ruse goes on without a hitch for at least a few weeks. Here and there you get the odd look of curiosity and perhaps a little judgement from a few of the older ladies who tsk behind your back about you being a single unwed mother, but otherwise, things are better than ever. Just knowing that you have the freedom to take medical leave whenever you feel like it has improved your mood greatly, and the other day Namjoon from HR even came to tell you that you can come into work later if the morning sickness is really bothering you.

Most of all, people are also curious about the relationship between you and Park Jimin. Word has spread that he is the father of your pseudo baby by now, but thankfully no one is tactless enough to outright ask if you and Park Jimin are a couple now. Not even Namjoon from HR.

Monday morning comes, and you drag yourself into work, feeling slightly more worse for wear than usual. Every Monday, you have a progress meeting with your immediate superior that always leaves you in a bad mood after. It’s the same old tirade; getting piled with things that others have no time for, having previously submitted proposals rejected and being asked to redo them.

Today after the meeting, Jimin comes up to you just as you’re downing your fourth cup of coffee before 10am. He has a slightly anxious look on his face, one that’s out of place on his usual calm and composed self.

“Do you have a minute? We need to talk. Now.” Jimin turns immediately and starts walking towards the nearest meeting room, and in spite of yourself, your eyes are drawn to his ass in those pants. It almost makes up for the earful you got from your manager this morning. Almost.

“We’re in trouble,” Jimin says once you close the door to the meeting room. He is seated with his laptop open in front of him.

“What happened? Is it Taehyung from Baby Bonus again? I swear, if he accidentally deleted the whole archive, I’m going to shove a chair up his ass-“

“No, no it’s not about work,” Jimin swallows hard as he types something and turns his laptop to face you. “Over the weekend, someone wrote on my wall. They said- they wrote- just… just see for yourself.”

“Oh my god.” You hand flies to your mouth as horror slams into your gut. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill that stupid punk with my own two hands. Delete it now!!!”

“That’s not the point,” Jimin’s voice sounds strangled as he directs your attention to the comments. “That’s my Granny. She saw it.”

The full extent of the damage done doesn’t hit you until you read Park JungMin’s comment.

“What was your granny doing up at freaking 5am???” You hiss in anger, poking Jimin’s shoulder.

“I don’t know- she’s an old person! She probably couldn’t sleep!” Jimin snaps back.

“Why didn’t you delete it immediately after you saw it!?” You accuse Jimin, pointing a finger at him. “None of this would have happened if you just deleted the post!!!”

“I only saw it this morning, for your information,” Jimin turns his head away from you and crosses his arms. “Forgive me for having a normal sleep schedule.”

“Fucking Jeon Jeongguk, I’ll kill him, I really will,” you mutter as you start to pace back and forth, already contemplating the numerous ways in which you can torture him.

“What are we going to do?” Jimin’s hands hover nervously over his laptop. “Granny will be so disappointed if she finds out it’s a lie. Maybe we should just come clean.”

You whirl around in indignance. “We can’t do that!!! It’s far too soon, if the truth comes out now, everyone will know I was just faking it. We need to wait at least three months. I researched, that’s the most likely time for a woman to have a miscarriage. Why did you have to add your grandmother on Facebook??”

“Hey-! She just wants updates on my life because she lives all the way in Busan!!” Jimin looks affronted when you mention his granny like that. “And if we’re playing the blame game here, if it weren’t for your concert, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

“That was agust d,” you say simply, as if it explains everything. “And that’s not the point. You have to tell your granny that it’s all a lie and tell her to keep it to herself.”

“But what am I supposed to say?” Jimin whines, his bottom lip jutting out and you swear you almost see him stamp his foot like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“I don’t know, anything! Make something up!” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“She has a weak heart, she can’t take it,” Jimin insists as he stands up and crosses his arms. “She’ll keel over in shock if I tell her there’s no baby. And she told me she’s already booked on the first flight to Seoul. You have to take responsibility.”

The absurdity of this situation means that you can’t decide if you should laugh or cry. “Well what do you want me to do? I can’t just magic a baby into my stomach like that!”

Jimin stays silent, and the implication dawns on you.

“No way. You’re insane. You can’t possibly mean that we should-“

“She wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.” Jimin says finally, his eyes now pleading. “She just wants to meet you. We don’t have to tell her that there’s no baby yet. Please?”

Oh. Well, for a second there, you thought Park Jimin was about to suggest something else entirely.

“It’s just one dinner,” Park Jimin pleads eagerly.

Your head is pounding, and the stress of the entire morning has caught up with you. Everything is too overwhelming, things are moving too fast and you’re too tired to argue with him any longer.

“Fine. Just one dinner. After that, we’re coming clean with Granny.” You fix him with a meaningful stare as his face lights up in glee.

“I promise!” Park Jimin grins as he claps his hands together. “Oh and ______... you might want to go easy on the coffee there. Pregnant women can’t have too much caffeine.”

This is ridiculous.

Just thinking that you could be curled up at home with a nice glass of wine in bed, instead of standing nervously outside some stranger’s house makes you more huffy and annoyed than usual.

Jimin beside you shoots you a look, and you roll your eyes.

“Did you hear me? Or do I have to repeat the entire story of how we met and ended up secretly dating for five months again?” Jimin nudges you in the ribs with his elbow.

“When I said make something up, I didn’t think you were going to become a scriptwriter for Marvel,” you roll your eyes back at him. “I’m just gonna let you do the talking. Ok? If they direct any tricky questions my way, I’ll just pretend I need to puke.”

Jimin sighs a long suffering sigh as he reaches for his keys. He always envisioned the first time he brought a girl home to meet his family as a wholesome affair. He imagined himself to be feeling over the moon, a little nervous but that was to be expected, and most of all, irrevocably in love with the woman standing at his side. Taking a glance at you now, Jimin can’t say this situation is ideal.

But hey, when life gives you lemons, right?

He opens the door and leads the way in, only to be accosted by a hug from his Granny having made it only about five steps in. Her comforting embrace and familiarity makes him relax again, and he hugs her back tightly.

“Granny! I missed you! How was the flight? Does your back hurt? You should have rested more! You should have let me pick you up at the airport,” Jimin says in a chiding tone as he places an arm around her, trying to steer her towards the living room area to take a seat.

But the stubborn old woman refuses with a smile that lights up her entire face when she catches a glimpse of you. “Ah, this must be ______! She looks so pretty! Too good for our little Jimin, I must say. Come in, come in!!! Take a seat and take a load off!!! You must be tired after working the entire day, and with the baby too.”

You can barely keep yourself from wincing when she mentions the baby, but otherwise, Jimin’s Granny is a very pleasant person. She exudes an aura of warmth and you feel at home with her immediately. Her compliments make you soft; and she seems to be incredibly genuine about them too. For the next five minutes, all she does is admire you; how smooth your hands are, how good your complexion is, how smart, kind and gentle you look, and also my oh my our little Park Jimin has managed to snag such a professional for a girlfriend.

“Granny, you’re embarrassing her,” Jimin mutters with a rosy blush spread across his cheeks as he stands beside the old woman. “And me as well.”

“Nonsense,” Granny chides Jimin as she turns to you with a smile that wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. “This is the first time our little Jimin has brought a girl home, you see. We were all worried that he was… you know, batting for the other team, which would be perfectly fine, but…”

“Granny!!!” Jimin actually does stomp his foot and cross his arms. The tips of his ears are red, the blush on his cheeks is prominent. “Granny, I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

It seems like Jimin knows exactly what works on Granny, because she turns around immediately and pats Jimin’s cheek. “Alright, alright puppy. We can eat now. Come, _____, you must be hungry too now that you’re eating for two. I asked Jimin about your favourites, I hope you like them.”

You glance questioningly at Jimin for a moment over Granny’s head as the two of you follow her to the dining table and have a seat opposite each other. While Granny’s warmth is nothing but welcoming, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. This, at least, is not what you were expecting. Granny seems perfectly fine with the notion of you being pregnant with Jimin’s child without getting married first. Perhaps society is shedding its traditionalist viewpoints and you just hadn’t realised it.

“You know dear, when Jimin told me the news, I was so overjoyed,” Granny says with a wistful smile on her face. “It’s one of my wishes to see Jimin happy with a girl he loves. And looking at the two of you now, even if I die tomorrow, I’ll be content.”

“Granny!” Jimin admonishes sharply. “You can’t say that! Your health has been getting better, hasn’t it? Are you taking your medicines? Three times a day, like the doctor said!”

Granny pats her grandson’s hand. “I am, puppy, I am. What does an old woman like me have to live for if her only grandson doesn’t even visit her anymore? At least now I’ll have the baby to look forward to. You’ll let me take care of it for you, won’t you?”

This last part she directs to you, and you glance nervously at Jimin. This is most definitely not what you signed up for when you agreed to this dinner. With every passing second, the guilt just piles higher and higher, till you feel like you might have trouble swallowing your food.

“Mrs… Mrs Park,” you say hesitantly, speaking for the first time since you set foot in this house. Pseudo baby or not, it just wouldn’t do to hurt this kind old woman, especially since she seems so excited and happy to meet you.

“Call me Granny, please,” she says as she pushes an extra bowl of rice towards you. “You should have this too.”

“Oh no,” you say automatically. “I’m watching my weight, so I shouldn’t…”

But it was the wrong thing to say. Granny immediately perks up, sitting straight in her seat, her eagle eyes on you. “Watching your weight, dear? Why would you be doing that now? You should be eating well for the baby! Is it this little punk who’s making comments about your weight?”

Granny seizes hold of Jimin’s ear and pulls, and he whimpers in the midst of spooning a giant bite of rice into his mouth.

“NO!” You blurt out in a panic, seeing your coworker’s face screw up in pain. You have to admit that you’ve been in a number of interesting situations with Park Jimin thus far, but something tells you that this isn’t the worst of it just yet. “No, Granny! I- I take it back. I’ll eat.”

Granny lets out a hmph as she releases Jimin’s ear with a warning glance towards her grandson. As Jimin reaches for a juicy looking sparerib, Granny’s chopsticks dart out and intercept him, causing the piece of meat to fall back onto the plate. She then expertly picks it up with her own chopsticks and drops it on top of your rice with a satisfied smile.

Jimin turns to Granny with a pout on his lips, and when your heart skips a tiny, little beat, you know you’re in trouble.

Somehow, bad news always comes on Monday mornings.

Today it comes in the form of Park Jimin, again, as he drags you into a meeting room the moment you finish your meeting with your manager.

“What is it now?” You hiss at him as he locks the door suspiciously. “Do you really need to do that? You know people think we’re like, fucking in here, don’t you? Thanks to your buddy Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Wait, what?” Jimin does a double take. “No, that doesn’t matter. My parents. They want me to marry you.”

“WHAT?” You screech so loudly that Jimin winces and covers his ears. “Tell them no, for fuck’s sake!”

“They already apparently bought an entire plot of land in the baby’s name,” Jimin goes on adding to the bad news as if he were adding fuel to the fire. “It’s in Baby Park’s name.”

“Oh my god.” Your head swirls and you wobble on your feet, and Jimin reaches out to steady you as if you were actually pregnant. You push his hand away with an irritated glare to remind him that all this is just a ruse. One that you’re beginning to seriously regret having cooked up all those weeks ago.

“What are we going to do?” Jimin sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, taking off his glasses for a moment to rub at his temples.

“We?” You exclaim. “What do you mean, we? Why are you talking as if we’re already married? You need to resolve this situation on your own, buddy. It’s not my fault your family likes to jump the gun!”

“What about you then?” Jimin snaps back with a raised eyebrow. “Look, it’s been two months, almost three, and I don’t see you making any plans to hide a watermelon under your clothes or tell people that it’s all just a scheme you cooked up.”

You gasp indignantly. “I was- I was working up to that! You know, coming up with my cover story, setting the stage, all that!”

Park Jimin crosses his arms in disbelief. “Oh really? So you’re planning on coming clean with everyone and telling them you’re not actually pregnant? Is that why you’ve been taking medical leave every week, running to the bathroom to ‘throw up’ every morning that you’re noton leave?”

“Have you been watching me?”

“A little hard not to, considering you sit right opposite me!”

The two of you are panting and staring hard at each other, both wrapped up in your own anger.

“Look, I’ll forget everything else. Just tell your parents to sell the land or something. The price of land has gone up recently, I’m sure they can still make a valuable profit if they sell now…”

Jimin’s eyebrow twitches. “Sell the land? When they think it’s for their precious grandchild?”

“There. Is. No. Grandchild,” you spit back at him. “Oh my god. We’re just going in circles here. I need to get back to work. My manager already gave me hell this morning, and I don’t need this from you too.”

You leave him in the meeting room and make your way swiftly back your desk, waking your laptop and checking your emails. A few minutes pass before you can fully calm yourself down and reorientate to what needs to be done. First, you redo that spreadsheet, feeling slightly better once you drown out the entire world and just focus on the numbers and cells in front of you. In fact, you forget about this whole terrible mess for a moment or two.

“Hey, _______?” There is a tap on your shoulder, and you turn around to see your manager hovering behind you. She bends down to squint at your screen, “You’re not still redoing the spreadsheet, are you? Our meeting ended an hour ago, you should be done with that by now!”

“I-I’m sorry, something came up, and I…” your voice is weak compared to hers, and vaguely you can see Park Jimin lean over slightly in his seat. “I’m done with it now. I’ll send it over.”

“Good. And get started on the operations manual. I need it all by 5pm today.” Your manager gives you a pat on the back, starts to walk off, and then hesitates. “I know you’re in a rather… delicate situation, but that shouldn’t affect your ability to work. It’s a busy period of time, _____, and I expect nothing but the best from my team. Got it?”

You swallow hard as you try and return her smile. “Got, it, Manager.”

Turning back to your screen, tears are blurring your vision as you attach the document to an email and send it off. You can feel the curious stares of your coworkers all on you, and you feel more self-conscious than ever. Never mind that pretending to be pregnant is all a ruse. It was supposed to make your life better, give you some breathing space, but you feel more suffocated than ever.

You need some air. Now.

Standing up, you grab your phone and dip your head, striding for the exit quickly so that no one catches the expression on your face. Hopefully, they’ll think you need to puke or something, and not pathetically hide in a corner and cry your eyes out. Thankfully, this morning you had the foresight not to apply any eye makeup, so you can rub your eyes as much as you want.

This corner is actually pretty nice. It’s secluded that no one would accidentally wander in and find a hysterically sobbing woman, yet it’s not too far that you can’t make it back to your desk within five minutes if your manager calls. You wipe your face with the back of your sleeve, taking a deep breath and getting ready to go back and face everything once more, when you notice a pair of loafers standing a few steps away.

“Are you okay?” Park Jimin’s voice is familiar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… intrude, but you just looked so upset and… she was totally unreasonable. Using that as an excuse to comment on your work ethic. Just unacceptable.”

He is shaking his head with a serious expression on his face, and it makes you laugh suddenly. Jimin looks up in surprise, eyes wide, but then a small smile spreads across his face as well as he tucks his hands into his pockets. It occurs to you that if Park Jimin weren’t here, no one else would have come to check up on you.

“I’m used to it,” you shrug as you check your reflection in your phone screen. “It’s just… I just need to cry once and I’m fine. You weren’t supposed to see this side of me,” you attempt a weak laugh. “You’re only supposed to know the bad bitch side of me.”

“You can still be a bad bitch even if you cry every now and then,” Jimin shrugs as if it’s obvious. “If you’re done crying, can we go for lunch? I’m starving.”

You make Jimin buy you some meat and you wolf it down in front of him as if you really were eating for two. To his benefit, Jimin says nothing and only takes out his wallet when it’s time to pay.

On the way back to the office, feeling decently satisfied and absolutely sure that you have a tiny little food baby (with today’s dress being particularly unforgiving around the midsection), you can’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe Park Jimin isn’t so bad after all.

“______? Oh my god, ______? Is that you?” A far off voice calls, and you turn back.

And you wish you hadn’t.

Min Yoongi comes striding towards you with a huge grin on his face, waving as if he can’t believe it’s really you.

“Shit shit shit,” you swear under your breath. How much unluckier can this day get?

Jimin looks at you quizzically.

“It’s my bastard ex who cheated on me by getting another girl pregnant,” you whisper to him by way of explanation. “They got married last month but I never responded to their invitation.”

“Oh,” Jimin says, immediately grasping the situation. “I got it. Don’t worry.”

“What?” You look at him in panic, seeing the expression on his face and not liking it one bit. “What are you gonna-“

But it’s too late now for any further conversation, since Min Yoongi is now in earshot. He grins again as he looks you up and down. “_____! What a surprise! Do you work around here?”

“Y-yeah, what a surprise too,” you say weakly.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” Yoongi’s eyes dart to Jimin standing beside you for a moment, before they fall to your midsection. “But might as well. I wanted to congratulate you on the baby, because what a coincidence, right?”

He hands you a beautifully embossed invitation card with the words ‘Baby Shower’ on it, and you can feel your face draining of all colour. You swear under your breath.

“Oh! And this must be… the father-to-be?” Yoongi somehow doesn’t pick up on the escalating horror on your face, because he turns to Jimin and extends a hand of congratulations. “Congrats, man! How’s it feel? Excited to become a dad?”

Jimin sneaks a quick peek at your horrified expression. “Y-yes! Absolutely…. Um, thrilled, we are.”

At Jimin’s confirmation, Yoongi’s face seems to fall a little, and seeing it makes your heart clench in vindication. Serves that cheating little bastard right.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, ______... let alone serious enough to… have a baby and all that,” Yoongi’s voice mellows a little as he directs his gaze back to you. “I thought you didn’t want to have children… for a while, at least.”

You detect a little bit of regret in Yoongi’s voice, and maybe a little bit of something you can’t quite put your finger on right now. In your five-year long relationship with him, Yoongi always made it clear that he wanted to have children as soon as possible. It was one of the major roadblocks in your relationship, and eventually it became the tipping point that drove him into the arms of another woman who was desperate enough to pop out his babies for him.

Wait a minute. It almost sounds as if Min Yoongi is trying to blame you for making him cheat. All of a sudden, you want to show him how you’ve been living all these months. Completely fine and happy without him. Better off, even. You want to make this cheating bastard realise that you’re not pathetic. You open your mouth in indignation, but before you can say anything, you hear Jimin’s voice.

“It all happened so fast, really,” Jimin shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “When I saw her I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and you know how life is… We aren’t getting any younger either, so we thought why not try for a baby while we’re at it? She’s perfect for me, and we’re very happy together.”

Jimin does it better than you ever would have been able to. His words are so smooth that even you are convinced that the two of you are in a stable relationship together. Glancing at him, Jimin looks so self-assured and confident that he puts Min Yoongi to shame.

Min Yoongi looks shell shocked. “R-right. Th-that’s really nice, I’m ha-happy for you guys. Congratulations again.”

You have no idea how Jimin is making all of this up, but the look on Min Yoongi’s face is enough. It almost makes up for when you found out about the breakup through the pre-wedding invitations he sent you.

“But we- we haven’t really told anyone yet, so how did you find out?” A frown creases your brow as you mentally run through a list of people who know about this pseudo pregnancy. The whole company, for one. Jimin’s Granny. Jimin’s family. And now Min Yoongi. But the question is, who told Min Yoongi? It’s not like he has any links with Jimin’s family.

“I mean… I saw the bump,” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck as his eyes drop briefly to your waist. “And um… I know you blocked me on social media a while ago. But I just wanted to check in on you and see how you’re doing. And I saw someone post on Jimin’s wall about the baby. So I kind of put two and two together.”

There’s an awkward silence as your hands immediately fold over your waist, your cheeks heating up self-consciously. You can feel Jimin struggle not to burst into laughter beside you, and you surreptitiously elbow him hard in the ribs.

“Anyway, um… I hope you’ll come to the shower,” Yoongi nods at the invitation again. “It’s on Sunday, and feel free to bring Jimin too. I uh… invited your mom too. I mean, it’s just… Your family wanted to know how Yeji and I were getting along with the baby and… we were so close so I figured…”

At this point the humiliation can’t get any worse. So you decide to just cut him off with a formal smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced.

“We’ll be there, Yoongi. See you.”

It’s fine. It’s all fine. Even if Min Yoongi knows, it’s all fine. You can just attend this baby shower, just show your face for about an hour or so and then disappear from his life altogether. And then he won’t even know that you didn’t have a baby.

The very definition of co-workers means that you only see each other on weekdays from 9am to 6pm. But if that’s true, then somehow along the way, you and Jimin had progressed far beyond the point of just being co-workers, to the point that you’re somehow spending half of your weekend with him.

You sigh to yourself as you watch all your friends’ kids run about screaming at the top of your lungs. You’re already beginning to get a headache from all these irritating little gremlins making so much noise. At least you’re not being asked to play with or look after any of the children. Seeing that you and Yoongi had dated for a substantial amount of time, most of the attendees at this baby shower are your mutual friends, and it’s awkward to say the least.

At least you have Park Jimin with you to be your pretend boyfriend slash husband so you won’t seem like the pathetic ex-girlfriend attending her cheater ex-boyfriend’s baby shower for his new wife. So far there haven’t been any difficult questions, just curious looks from your friends whom you haven’t seen in a really long time because you’re just so tied up with work.

“Hey babe, come here! This is really fun,” Jimin shouts to you from one of the game stations, and you have no choice but to stop sulking in the corner like an evil brooding witch.

(One of your friend’s kids had pointed an accusing finger at you the moment you arrived at the shower with a not so thrilled expression on your face.

“Mama, why is the evil witch wearing yellow, mama? Is she here to curse Sleeping Beauty?”)

“This is really fun,” Jimin says again as he pulls the blindfold off with a grin on his face. “Pin the diaper on the baby poo.”

He points to a target board with a questionable looking substance smeared all over the centre of it. The person next in line is blindfolded and trying to pin the diaper in the centre of the board, and there are disappointed yells when he misses.

To his credit, Jimin really does look as if he’s having fun. He’s been the only person to score a point at this game, and he’s acing all the other games: guess the baby food, pin the sperm on the egg, etc etc.

“I’m notpinning the diaper on the baby poo,” you frown at him. Who the hell comes up with these games? “Is there any wine here? God, I need a drink.”

Before you can wander away, Jimin grasps your elbow. “You can’t drink,” he says with a serious, chiding look on his face. “You’re pregnant.”

“No one here knows that, do they?” You roll your eyes at him and sidestep a screaming toddler who is barrelling down the walkway. For someone who was present at the time of conception of this scheme, Park Jimin really is taking this way too seriously.

Jimin sighs and follows you to the beverages table in defeat. If he can’t stop you from drinking, the least he can do is hold up his jacket around you to make sure you don’t get caught. But then, a very rounded, glowing looking pregnant woman suddenly accosts you, and by the look on your face, Jimin surmises that this can only be Yeji, the woman Yoongi cheated on you with.

“Ye-Yeji, you look… um… wonderful!” Your strangled voice gets lost as Yeji envelopes you in a huge hug, forcing you to squeeze up against her bump. “Congratulations!”

The mother-to-be is all smiles, her makeup is perfectly done and there is an ever present glow on her face. She looks like an absolute goddess in her flowy white dress and wavy hair, and its moments like this that remind you that Yoongi left you for someone better.

“I feel wonderful, thank you!” She places a hand on her protruding belly. “Oh, I was just chatting with your mother over here, you haven’t said hi to her have you? She’s been complaining to me that you don’t have time for her anymore!”

Fuck. Your mother. You’ve been avoiding her calls and messages for the past few months, and you give her a weak smile as she comes over with a dark look on her face. It’s not that you’re doing this on purpose, it’s just that the breakup with Yoongi was beyond messy. Everyone’s parents are naturally on their side after a breakup, but somehow your parents remained on Yoongi’s. Every call would be about Yeji’s pregnancy, how their baby room was progressing, how many kicks she felt in a day, all those needless details that only felt like repeated stabs to the heart when you were trying to heal and get on with your life.

“…I’m so glad you could come. When Yoongi told me the news, I was so excited I thought my water was going to break!” Yeji is gesturing excitedly as she gushes to your mother, and you freeze in panic.

She couldn’t have…

“_____, I can’t believe you’re pregnant too!”

Her exclamation has a few of your friends nearby turning around, and a few of them start to clap. Yoongi elbows his way through the crowd, his hair matted with sweat as he pants with exertion.

“Baby, you were supposed to wait for my cue!” He admonishes his wife with a slight frown, but then he kisses her lips when Yeji pouts.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait! It’s all just so exciting, I can’t believe _____ is going to have a baby too! I remember feeling so guilty in my first few months of pregnancy that I could barely sleep…”

“I know, I know, baby,” Yoongi shushes her with a kiss to her forehead. “Anyway, _____ and Jimin, we uh… we prepared something for you. We hope you like it, and uh… _____, I hope it can make up for all the shit I put you through in the past year.”

At this point, you don’t even dare to look at your mother. “Wh-what did you prepare?”

“It’s over there! In front of the photowall,” Yeji claps in excitement. “Go on! Everyone’s waiting!”

Everyone at the party clears a path for you and Jimin to make your way to the colourfully decorated photowall at the front of the party. On the floor in front of it sits a brown cardboard box.

With all eyes on you, you swallow hard and start to make your way to the photowall. Jimin follows behind you, whispering under his breath. “What the fuck is this?”

“Probably another lame party game or something… just play along,” you whisper back, your mind too preoccupied with thinking about how you’re going to explain your pseudo pregnancy to your mother. Knowing her disposition, it’s entirely possible that your father knows about it already, and maybe even your entire extended family, and… oh god-

The moment you step in front of the photowall, someone standing to the side of the box pulls something, and an explosion of balloons and streamers burst from the box. You are quite literally showered in confetti, and when you look up, there are four balloons spelling out the word ‘baby’, and another balloon with ‘congratulations’ on it.

“Congratulations on your baby!!!!” Someone shouts, and people are taking out their phones to take pictures of you and Jimin drenched in confetti. Someone claps, and soon, the entire party is clapping. There are hoots of congratulations, someone proposes a toast, your college friends are almost in tears, your sister is loudly announcing that this should go on Instagram, your mother is half crying and half glowering at you for not telling her sooner, and everyone is talking about you and your non-existent baby.

Beside you, Jimin is equally stunned, but unlike you, he isn’t at a loss for words. He pulls you in close, pretending to pose for the cameras with a jovial smile on his face.

He still has the gall to joke around as he says, “maybe we should have that baby after all.”

In the blink of an eye, things just got very, very out of hand.

Number of people who know about pregnancy

Whole company: (estimated 200 people)

Jimin’s Granny

Jimin’s family

Min Yoongi and wife

Attendees of Yoongi’s baby shower (estimated 50 people)

Your family

Total: 265 people

#bts #bangtan bookclub #bts jimin #bts fics

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ak47stylegirl · 4 years

Text

Sick Days - Chapter 5

Okay, chapter 5 is here! Virgil and Gordon are getting the spotlight this time 😄 But don’t worry, I will be getting back to Alan in the next chapter, I’m not done with him yet... 😈😁😅 (Someone needs to hide him from me, lol..)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4 of fic.

————

Gordon pov

Three o’clock, it was his favourite time of day, he thought with a grin as he waited at the school’s pick-up zone with his school bag. It was the crazy rush hour, the pickup zone filled with kids, young and old.

Younger kids were running about and playing with each other, some kids were getting picked up, others were taking on their phones or waiting for a bus. Teachers were trying to keep everyone under control, making sure no one ran onto the road and in front of a moving car.

He usually would have Allie waiting with him, they would talk about anything and everything. Share a funny joke, plan a prank, anything...but today he didn’t have his little partner in crime with him because the kid had gone home sick.

They had pulled him out of class to tell him that Virgil was only picking him up today, that his brother had gone home sick. But they didn’t tell him how sick the kid was, just that he went home sick with some kind of cold.

It couldn’t be that bad, surely? Alan didn’t seem that sick this morning. Though he’ll admit, the kid had been acting a bit weird this morning…

He grinned as he spotted his brother’s bright green pickup truck drives into the school’s entrance. That car was probably one of the most well-looked after cars there was, his brother taking great pride in his car. He swears his brother is in love with that green machine...

“Heya Virg!” He grinned up at Virgil as he threw his school bag into the back of the truck, opening the front passenger side door. “What took you so long?” He asked with a grin as he jumped into his seat. “I was dying of old age over there..”

Virgil shook his head with a slight chuckle, “Hello to you too, Gordon…”

There was a smudge of car oil on Virgil’s cheek, unnoticed by the Apprentice mechanic and volunteer firefighter, which was hilarious, he thought with smicker as he closed his door, doing his seat belt up.

Virgil looked at him suspiciously, not liking the look on his face. He gave Virgil an innocent smile, which admittedly just made Virgil more suspicious. “Well...did you have a good day, Gordo?” Virgil asked as he indicated into the main school traffic, away from the pick-up zone.

“Meh, it was okay, I guess..” he shrugged as he leaned back into his seat, his uniform getting all wrinkled. Not that he really cared, he hated the thing. It was so bland and boring, plus uncomfortable at times. “Would have been better if swimming practice wasn’t cancelled..”

“Why was it cancelled?” Virgil questioned as he tapped the steering wheel, waiting for the car in front of them to move. School time traffic was always the worst, and they haven’t even gotten out of the school’s grounds yet!

“The swim teacher called in sick, and the substitute teacher was sick as well, so no swimming for me..” He pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. “Like how am I going to win the Olympics if I don’t practice my swimming?”

Virgil sighed softly with a small smile, “You got plenty of time to practice kiddo, you’re not even sixteen yet..” and would not be for at least a couple more years, and the age limit for entering the Olympics was sixteen and older... “But I'll take you to the local pool on the weekend if you want?”

“You would?!” he grinned, bouncing up like an excited puppy. “You’re the best Virg! When I win gold, I’ll pay for you to go to the best art college there is! Or whatever college you want to go to really…”

“You don’t need to do that Gordy..” Virgil smiled at him, looking pretty touched. Virgil turned his attention back on the road, traffic starting to move again and before long they were on the main road. “I’m fine with just being an apprentice mechanic, it's enjoyable work, and it brings money in..”

“But I thought you wanted to study art or something?” He asked, looking at his brother in confusion. “But went with the apprenticeship instead because we needed the money?”

“Well, that's not the only reason, but yes, money was a factor, unfortunately..” Virgil sighed softly as he drove the car around a corner, “I would love to study art or even engineering, but as you said, we don’t have the money to spend on that…”

Virgil’s grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily before loosening again. “And honestly? It’s not that big of a deal Gordy, I’m fine with it..” Virgil smiled at him, “I'd rather you guys get your education unhindered by expenses and stuff...”

“Yeah well...the offer still stands,” he said as he shifted in his seat, looking out the car window. “I win gold, you go to art school or engineering school or whatever..” He waved his hand lazily in Virgil’s direction, trying to seem like he didn’t really care about it, but when in truth, he did.

“I’ll hold you to that then..” Virgil chuckled, only half-joking.

It was quiet in the car for a bit after that, Virgil concentrating on driving while he just zoned out into his own little world where there was no school or homework, Just swimming, the wonderful sea and heaps of fun…

He snaps out of his daydream as Virgil turned down a street, in the opposite direction to their house. Huh? What’s going on? He thought as he straightened up, his curiosity peaked.

“Um, where are we going? Home is that way…” He points in the direction they should have gone, looking at Virgil in confusion. “Did I miss something?”

“I gotta pick up some groceries, we’re pretty much out…” Virgil explained as they stopped a red traffic light. “And with Alan sick, it would be a good idea to stock up on food anyway...”

He grimaced at the reminder that his little brother was sick in bed right now, “Is he okay? I mean...do you know how sick he is?” He asked softly, concerned tinting his voice as he looked over at Virgil. “I know there’s this nasty cold that is going around the school, I really hope he didn’t catch that…”

One of his friends had caught it, and they had looked so terribly sick, face pale as can be, nose irritated red and raw as they would constantly be wiping or blowing it. Last he heard, they had been forced to stay home as they had gotten too sick to even leave their bed, let alone go to school.

That was a week ago, he hasn’t seen them since… so he really, really hoped Alan did not have that cold...

“From what Scott had told me, it seems to be a pretty bad cold..” Virgil sighed heavily as the light flashed green, the car starting to move again. “Other than that, I’m pretty much in the dark as well…”

He sighed leaning against the window, watching the buildings fly by them. Sometimes he would imagine Virgil’s green hunk of a pickup truck was a giant plane, taking him somewhere filled with adventure.

He had no idea where that idea had come from, but he found it very fun to imagine all the awesome scenarios. Sometimes there would be a little submarine, it would be yellow as that was his favourite colour, and it would take him to the bottom of the ocean floor, letting him explore the sea to his heart's content.

He shared this little daydream fantasy with Alan, who would come up with all sorts of crazy ideas. One of them being that he has his own ship, a spaceship that could explode all the space and still be home for dinnertime. A bright red spaceship to be exact…

They could spend hours playing pretend in Alan’s or his room, imagining that they were daring explorers heroes, out in the unknown, saving lives like their heroes and having lots and lots of fun…

He often joked that it would make an awesome tv show, people would go nuts for five dashing young heroes… Alan would just look at him weirdly like he grew another head…

They turned into the local supermarket car park, Virgil having to drive around a bit before finding a park as it was busy at this time of day.

“So...can we get more celery crunch bars?” He grinned at Virgil as they made their way inside the store. “I’m almost out of them…”

“We’re just getting the essentials, Gordon…” Virgil gave a long-suffering sigh as he grabbed a shopping trolley, “not junk food…”

“You wound me, brother!” He gasped in horror, holding his hand over his heart dramatically. “Celery crunch bars are not junk food, they are an essential part of a growing boy’s diet!”

“Why didn’t I just leave you in the car?” Virgil muttered softly to himself as they walked down a shopping aisle. “Fine, you can get them-“ He fist bumps the air in victory, “-but only a couple! I swear those things are full of super…”

He deliberately ignored that last part, running down the aisle to get his precious treats…

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alan tracy #Scott Tracy #sickfic #normal au

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violet-knox · 5 years

Text

Dry Run

Year 6 - Chapter 36

Summary: Severus asks you to meet him in the astronomy tower after class and you are left to wonder why he is acting so mysterious during Potions.

Word count: 2568

A/N: I’ve noticed my writing’s changed and my word counts increased a lot. I hope y’all like the new style cuz it seems to have stuck with me lol

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

After Charms class, you thought you would head to your dorm and pick up a book for some light reading later before you made your way to Potions. But just as you were about to turn left in the direction of the Gryffindor tower, someone pulled you back into a dark empty classroom to your right with such an intense force, you almost fell over. You were startled and was about to pull out your wand until you heard the door slam shut and you were pushed against the adjacent wall, stunning you into place. A familiar pair of lips crash into yours, and you soon relaxed, realizing you were in no danger.

“Severus,” you whispered, eyes closed as you parted, lips ghosting near one another. You enjoyed the light touches of his lips before the need to feel him overtook you and you wrapped your arms around his neck as your lips met his once more.

Severus pressed you against the wall, causing you to moan at the feeling of his chest against your own. Your lips moved in sync and you felt his nose digging into your cheek as he went to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue between your lips.

As soon as you parted the kiss for air, he attached himself to your neck, kissing the little skin exposed from your uniform before beginning to suck and bite, leaving love marks wherever he went. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back as you smiled, enjoying his praise. Tangling your hands in his hair, you thought about how often he seemed to be stealing kisses from you between classes.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken you by surprise, and although you thought you would never get used to it, you certainly didn’t mind. He’d grown so comfortable showing his affection for you, it was hard to believe that he used to be so shy whenever you kissed. It was as if he had questioned if you were truly together, but he had clearly left that thought well behind as you felt his hands gripping your hips. You noticed as well how much he loved kissing your neck and as he moved up towards your jaw you realized, that was his favorite place to attach himself to. Perhaps he enjoyed the taste of your skin, or the smell of your hair.

“Severus,” you whispered, “We have class.”

He mumbled against your skin in response, showing no interest in stopping what he was doing. You closed your eyes taking in his touch, from his lips, to his hair, to his thumbs that begun to rub small circles on your hip bones, before trying again.

“Severus-”

But as soon as he heard you speaking again, he bit down hard on your neck in protest, causing you to gasp and tug on his hair before slowly relaxing your grip. He tightened his hold on you as he pressed himself further into you, hoping you wouldn’t want to move from your position.

Your thoughts soon vanished as your mind focused on Severus and his love for you. Five minutes, you thought, five minutes and then we will head to class. You tightened your arms around him, burying your fingers further into his hair.

He soon began making his way to the other side of your neck, leaving identical marks before moving back up towards your jaw. He always left so many marks when he got this excited and it was becoming harder to hide them all. You just hoped the collar of your shirt was high enough to cover them for class until you had time to find a charm to remove them later.

Several minutes went by before you spoke once more.

“Severus, we’re going to be late.”

He mumbled again before connecting your lips with his one last time for a slow passionate kiss, savoring the moment before pulling away from you. “Fine,” he whispered as he admired all the marks he’d left on you, smirking with pride. He gently outlines some of the love bites on your jaw and you let out a happy sigh. You smiled at him before picking up your things and reaching for the door.

“Will you meet me in the astronomy tower after class?” he asked you, “Before dinner.” you looked back at him and saw a hint of nervousness in his eyes. He was doing that thing every time he got agitated, shifting in place and avoiding your gaze. You normally made your way there anyways, but when you saw him scratching the strap of his bag that hung over his shoulder, you knew there was a specific reason behind this strange request.

“What for?” you asked as you let go of the doorknob. What possible reason did he have for wanting to make sure you would meet him after class? It’s not like you would go anywhere else anyways.

“Just come, will you?” Severus moved towards you and placed a hand over the door, not wanting you to leave until you promised to show up.

You paused and looked at him, trying to read the rigid expression on his face, before responding. “Sure.”

Satisfied, Severus opened the door and let you lead the way to the dungeons.

You could hardly focus during class as you kept glancing over at Severus, wondering what was on his mind and why he insisted on meeting you after class. He acted so normal in front of everyone else, it was astonishing how he was able to hide his clingy side that only made itself apparent in front of you so well. He was so attached to you when you were alone with him, constantly begging for attention, like a puppy would its owner. But as soon as he would step out of the comfort zone of your privacy, he’d stiffen up and return to his usual demeanor. Of course, this wasn’t how he had always act with you. He was reserved with you at first, afraid what he had with you was only a fantasy, convincing himself each morning that he had merely imagined kissing you last night. But the second he saw you looking at him with such care in your eyes, he let those thoughts melt away, replacing them instead with how much he had grown to love you.

You opened your potions book as soon as Slughorn instructed you to begin brewing and turned to the appropriate page. As you looked over what ingredients you needed for Shrinking Solution, you noticed that Severus had already begun brewing, all required material neatly placed around his cauldron. His skills in potions always astonished you. He was always the first to finish, though Lily had once beaten him to it when making Calming Draught last year. You could still remember the look on his face when she handed that vial over to Slughorn. He was awestruck and couldn’t venture how she’d beaten him to it. Though his expression was rather amusing, you couldn’t help but wonder where her potions skills had come from as well. It didn’t seem to matter now as it appeared she’d fallen behind this year. In fact, you had managed to beat her in brewing your potions each class and you wondered if this was due to her diminished relationship with Severus as you knew you had him to thank for your new miraculous potion making skills.

“Finished already?” you suddenly heard Professor Slughorn say only an a half hour after you’d began brewing. You snapped your head up to see Severus handing him a small vial of his finished potion and was surprised to see him finish so early. This had to be a record of some sort. You were only a little over half way done, how had he finished so early? Was he that eager to finish class? Your curiosity only strengthened as you watched him clean up his work station and slump back into his chair. He pulled out a blank piece of parchment and began to frantically write, hunched over in a way that didn’t allow anyone to peer at what he was doing. Whatever it was, you imagined it to be very important and private by the way he’d positioned himself and the focused look on his face. You looked back at your own cauldron and focused on finishing your potion, hoping he would help ease your curiosity after class.

You finally finished soon after and quickly handed your vial to Slughorn, warranting yourself second place for quickest brewed potion. You sat back down and peeked over at Severus over the book you were pretending to read. He was still so focused on that parchment. By the look on his face, you would have guessed he was working on enhancing a potion, but he normally never did that on a spare bit of parchment. He much preferred the margins of his textbook for reasons you would never understand.

It almost seemed to you that class would never end, but finally Professor Slughorn dismissed you and you quickly filed out of the class alongside your classmates. Once the crowd dispersed, you walked ahead and found Severus as he walked out of the Entrance Hall. Sprinting forward, you snuck up behind him and slide your arm around his elbow.

“So why did you want to meet up today,” you said softly as you let him guide you to the astronomy tower.

“Do I need an excuse to see you?” he said smirking down at you as he pulled you closer. You giggled as you approached the tower, eager to see what had gotten into him today.

As soon as you walked to the top of the tower and Severus closed the door behind him, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck in return, smiling up at him, waiting for him to give you any sign of why he was so persistent in having you here tonight.

“So, Slughorn had to teach all the Slytherins how to dance this morning,” he informed you.

“McGonagall did the same for us,” you replied. He nodded and hummed in acknowledgment before he continued.

“Well, I was sad that we were split by houses because I didn’t get to dance with you,” he began to back away from you before taking your hand and walking backwards to the center of the room. “I thought perhaps we could have our own practice, here.”

You giggled as you placed your free hand on his shoulder, humoring him. “There’s no music,” you whispered shyly. He was so forward, it seemed out of character for him. Then again, you had seen him in a whole new light when you started dating. The hard exterior you were so used to had slowly cracked open, revealing a mushy love-struck boy.

“We don’t need music,” he spoke softly as he pulled you closer by your waist and gripped your hand tighter in his. He straightened his back before he began to sway as you followed his lead, looking straight into his dark eyes.

You smiled, feeling your heart beat faster as you felt a shower of warmth wash over your body. A few minutes later, you decide to get closer to him as you laid your head on his shoulder, tightening the arm around his neck. He responded by letting go of your hand and hugging you tightly by your waist as he continued his slow sway. You began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he lowered his head to bury his face in yours.

Closing your eyes, the grin on your face grew wider as you cherished this moment with him, exciting you further for the day you would dance at the Yule Ball together. You had such a clear image in your mind. You would be wearing such an elegant dress, Severus in his dress robes and you would both be dancing so gracefully on the dancefloor, the world disappearing around you both as you gazed into each other’s eyes. You would kiss him just as the music stopped and simply hold each other until the night ended.

As your dream faded, you lifted your head to look back at Severus, tucking some of his hair behind his ear, allowing you to get a better view of his face.

You both had come so far as a couple these last few months, you couldn’t believe how long it had been since your first kiss; the first time you had opened your hearts to one another. The feeling you both got around each other was surreal, something you thought was only mentioned in fairy tales. At times, you would find yourself checking the calendar as it was hard to believe years hadn’t gone by yet. That’s how close you had gotten to him, though it didn’t hurt to have all those years together as friends behind you. Is that why you felt your souls merging together? Why you could see yourself with him in your old age?

For the first time, you could actually see your future, or at least some version of a future you thought you would never have. A future spent with Severus, living together, sharing your lives with one another, finally sitting down to have dinner together. Meals had to be the hardest thing about being a couple from two different houses at Hogwarts. It was bad enough to be separated by house names and colors in class, but you were obligated to sit at different tables for meals and it hurt every time you parted from one another. But if you lived together, outside of Hogwarts, you could have every meal together, talking about your day or even reading in silence. Severus could cheer you on in the stands when you played Quidditch as you knew it was something he would be unable to do for you next year. You knew his lack of support wouldn’t be his fault and you knew that he would do what he could in private, but it still broke your heart to imagine him clapping for the opposing team, especially after you told him just how important Quidditch was to you.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly as he slowly stopped swaying. The little practice dance was a blessing you were so thankful for. It brightened your day and you absolutely loved how he thought of you when Slughorn taught them to dance. What a sight that must have been; the walrus looking man dancing with some poor Slytherin girl. Never in a million years would you have imagined Severus suggesting dancing with you like this, but you were glad he did as it helped ease your thoughts of seeing your date uncomfortably shifting around in the corner during the Yule Ball. “You are definitely a better dance partner than the fourth year Gryffindor boy I had to dance with this morning.”

He chuckled as he went to cradle your face with one hand. He was happy to see you so content with something as simple as a musicless dance. You closed your eyes once more, leaning into his touch, placing your hand over his. As you opened your eyes, you watched as he slowly leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, ending the night with a lovely kiss.

Next Chapter

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @xxaamzxx @sparklingkeylimepie @nameless-sovereign @wanderingtrails

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belletylers · 5 years

Text

glass houses {tony/ziva}

word count: 5k author’s note: who am i? what am i doing? i don’t even go here?? seriously tho i wanted to write a little something purely from ziva’s perspective. i often found her the harder of the two to write back in the day, because it was hard to know what she was canonically thinking and feeling. but she was beautifully written in the s17 premiere, so here is one of MANY possible reunion scenarios, where tony doesn’t know she’s alive.

ff.net | ao3

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In her life, Ziva had been in more fights than she could ever try to count. She had been beaten, shot at, chased, interrogated, tortured. She had defused bombs, for crying out loud. All with a clear head, with perfect, fine-tuned instinct and her trademark ninja-like precision.

But now, standing outside Tony’s apartment door, she was nervous.

She was sure that if she could see her own chest, she would be able to see the very beating of her heart. She had been waiting years for this; it had brought her back from the edge of insanity a dozen times. And yet, she could not knock. She had become so accustomed to treading ground like it was made of glass, and she feared if she crossed this threshold, her very existence might shatter.

Ziva placed her thumb and forefinger over the pendant at her neck and took a deep breath. Her own hesitation scared her—in a fight, hesitation can get you killed. But this was no knife-fight. This was not hand-to-hand combat. This was Tony. She was about to see him. And he was about to see a ghost.

A wave of guilt surged through her, as it always did when she thought about him. And Tali. She reminded herself, as was her habit, of the pain and destruction that could have been caused had she not gone under three years ago. That morbid thought assuaged the aching in her gut. Almost.

She had imagined this moment a thousand times. Before she fell asleep, and when she woke up, and any spare moment in between. Or sometimes, she would imagine an alternate scenario; one where she had called Tony the second she found out she was pregnant. Or earlier—one where he succeeded in his pleas to get her to come home with him. One where Tali had gotten to grow up with more than one parent at a time. But as fantasies go, this was dangerous territory. In this other world, what does their life look like? Is Tony the amicable single father who takes Tali on the weekends? Or do they find a way to be…together? Would he still want her now? Could he? After all the times they had hurt each other (current circumstances notwithstanding)?

She could let her imagination run in circles until she exhausted herself wondering, but she knew how this scenario ended. It ended with Sahar knowing that Ziva had a family. Just more targets on more backs. That would have been a cost she could have beared to pay.

It was not what was on the other side of the door that made her anxious. No, this was what she had been clawing her way back to for all these years. The thing that scared her was everything in between. The physical distance—she had crossed continents for this, but the last few feet felt the hardest of all—but also the distance that time had put between them. Despite her strength of logic and her tendency to punish herself merely for wanting, she had lately found herself thinking of her last days with Tony. There had been moments in those few days where the heartache and the anxiety simply could not compete with how whole she had felt. How at peace. He had that effect on her, of immediate familiarity, of safety.

She had let herself give in, for a moment. For an afternoon. One of those afternoons that stretched on forever like they do in the height of summer. For however long it takes for two people to know each other the way that they did.

Had.

For those few golden hours between an orange grove and an airport runway, they had been suspended by their own belief in each other.

That long moment was the one she returned to in moments of weakness, of exhaustion and longing. She allowed herself to return to the roughness of his stubbled cheeks but the softness of his kisses, and his low, velvety murmurs in her ear, and the earthy taste of his skin.

If he never touched her again, she would not blame him. She would be heartbroken, but she would not blame him. There are only so many times you can mourn a person.

That was six years ago. And in half that time, she also been apart from Tali. When she thought of her daughter, she pictured her the way she remembered: small enough to carry, with big, soft cheeks and a vocabulary barely in the double digits. She would be five now. And Ziva had to remind herself that she was not starting where she left off, no matter how hard she wished she could.

But every second she stood out here in the hallway, Tali grew bigger and more distant. And it was that thought that made her finally lift her knuckles to the wood and knock.

The silence that followed made her feel sick. At first, she thought it was the anticipation and nerves making the seconds stretch out to feel hours-long. But they continued to pass, with no signs of life on the other side of the door. She resisted the instinctive urge to reach for a weapon concealed at her side and bust the thing down. But instead, she took a breath and knocked again.

But there was still nothing.

She had not planned for this. Through all the fighting, the sleepless nights, the danger and stress of the past few years, her mind had never conjured up a version of this moment where the door simply remained unanswered. To come this close and have to wait through another night alone seemed so cruelly unfair. The thought was unbearable.

The sound of the elevator doors opening pulled her out of her thoughts. She could hear footsteps and voices. Male ones. Both of which she recognised. Out of pure instinct, Ziva darted around the corner so she was out of sight, and listened, her fingers pressed up against the wall.

“You should’ve seen his face, Tony,” said the first voice. “I’ve never seen someone go so pale at one of Gibbs’ stares before.”

“You would’ve if you’d looked in a mirror about fifteen years ago, McGee,” said the second. That was Tony. Ziva’s heart gave a leap. She closed her lips to prevent her breath from escaping audibly.

Ziva heard the jangling of keys and dared to peek around the corner. She saw Tony twisting the doorknob and swinging it open, and McGee standing behind him, holding two pizza boxes. Apparently, she had chosen to have her big reunion on Boys’ Night. Picking her moment with extreme precision, she waited until Tony had stepped through the door. McGee was following behind, but spotted her and stopped dead in his tracks.

The exchange was wordless. The look she gave him was equal parts warning and pleading. He had unintentionally trespassed into a very precarious zone, and it would be best for everyone if he removed himself. She would make it up to him later.

“Hey, Tony,” McGee said, slightly louder than necessary, and not taking his eyes from hers. “I, uh, I just realised I gotta go.”

“Go?” came Tony’s voice from inside the apartment, accompanied by footsteps. “But we just—” He appeared at the threshold only for Tim to shove the pizza boxes into Tony’s arms and mumble something about work and something else resembling an apology before hurrying back down the hall towards the elevator.

“Tim! Tim!” Tony called after him. “McGee!” When it became apparent that McGee was not coming back, Tony nodded to no one, and stood by himself in the hallway for a moment. He was still holding the two boxes of pizza.

As Tony turned to go back into his apartment, alone this time, Ziva felt her feet carrying her out from her hiding place and into the dim light of the hallway.

“Tony,” she said. There was little else she could think of.

It was as if the very sight of her possessed its own physical force, for when his eyes landed on hers for the first time in years, it seemed to knock the wind out of him.

She wanted to smile, to call out. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. But she held it all back, waiting for him to react. But the silence was the reaction. And it was even worse than the one before. For a second, his eyes scanned her body; his gaze moved over her curls, to the necklace at her collarbone, all the way down to her worn leather boots. But only for a second. Then, he returned to her eyes, and there he stayed. Silent.

When she began to move towards him, it was like wading through water, like gravity had been dialled up ten notches. She stopped further than an arm’s length away, feeling that this was a safe distance.

“Tony,” she said again.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.

“Ziva,” he finally said. It was a parched, dry whisper. His mouth and tongue began to form the beginnings of words, but each one would dry up before it could grow into a sentence. A tiny part of Ziva’s brain felt a long-forgotten sense of satisfaction at rendering Anthony DiNozzo speechless, but she quickly muted that thought, saving it for a moment when the stakes were not so high and the dynamic not so very delicate.

“I am sure you have a lot of questions.” She took another tentative step towards him. She almost could have touched him, now. But she resisted. “I have some questions too. And maybe some answers. Can you…can we talk?”

“Talk?” he echoed. “Ziva, you’re…you’re not…”

“You thought I was dead,” she finished. A decade-younger version of them flashed before her eyes as she said that—both of them caked in dirt and sweat and staring down the barrel of near-certain death. Strangely, he had looked a lot calmer then. “You believed it.” Something halted in her, then.

He scoffed, and finally found his words. “After three years, can you blame me?”

She couldn’t. But after all those years of him finding her, especially when she did not want to be found, a part of her had grown accustomed to the chasing. When he did not come looking, it stung. She had figured he had mourned her one too many times by now, but that did not dull the sting. She blinked a tear out of her eye, staring now at the floor.

“I didn’t believe it. Not at first. I did what I’ve always done, I came looking.”

She looked up again, her lips parted slightly in surprise.

“I couldn’t get rid of that gut feeling that something wasn’t right. And that’s a feeling I trusted more than anything. But I never found you.” With the hand that was not holding the pizza boxes, he ran his fingers across his stubbly cheeks. “My therapist said that if I kept looking any more, kept obsessing over what I’d lost, then I’d never be able to process the grief. I’d never be able to be there for Tali, not like I was meant to. And I’d never be able to help her with her grief. So I stopped looking. Maybe too soon. But I did it for m—for our daughter.”

His words hung in the air like fog, swirling around her head and clouding her thoughts. She did not know where to start. “You are seeing a therapist?” was the question she decided on first.

He avoided her eyes. “Pizza’s getting cold.” He cocked his head in the direction of the door. An invitation. One she gladly accepted.

The apartment she stepped into was barely recognisable. Ziva’s eyes fell first, for some reason, on the coffee table in the centre of the living room. She remembered it as being stacked with take-out menus, magazines, DVD cases, and sometimes a bottle of scotch with a couple of glasses. Now, its flat surface had been covered end-to-end with a roll of butcher’s paper, which had been adorned with colourful, childlike illustrations in crayon and pencil. Ziva could make out a rainbow, several trees, a sun, a house, bunches of flowers, what she believed was a horse, a kitty, and two human-like figures. One was small, with curly brown pigtails. The other was large, with short brown hair. Next to the figures, the words Tali and Abba had been printed in misshapen black letters. The second B in Abba appeared to have been added retroactively. Ziva smiled, feeling a surge of pride, accompanied again by the sting of tears.

She spotted next a pair of tiny shoes and socks, which had been discarded between the coffee table and the couch. The rest of the room was strewn with toys, stuffed animals, and books, which all looked strangely vibrant against the mostly monochrome décor of Tony’s apartment. Against the opposite wall was a bookshelf, mostly filled with Tony’s extensive DVD collection. But the second shelf from the bottom—right about at the height Tali would be—was empty aside from three framed photographs. Ziva crossed the room and stooped down a little to get a closer look. The picture on the left was of Tali with her father. She picked it up and ran her thumb over the little girl’s face, which had become less rounded than she remembered. Her nose was bigger, her smile was gap-toothed and wide. Her curls had been drawn into a bun, though a few ringlets had fallen loose, and she wore what looked like a dancing costume. She was taller, though in the picture, not so tall that she couldn’t be held in Tony’s arms. The sight of them together, looking so happy, was enough to form a lump in her throat. She quickly put it back in its place on the shelf.

The second picture was of the two of them and Senior sitting on a picnic rug, and Ziva could not help but smile at the thought of Tony’s father playing the role of the loving grandpa. The third picture she recognised, because it had once belonged to her. It was a picture of her and Tony atop a Vespa in Paris.

“She has gotten so big,” Ziva said, her back to Tony. Her voice trembled slightly as she said it. She heard Tony’s footsteps and turned, expecting him to approach her, but instead saw him walking towards the kitchen door. He reached out and ran his fingers over a series of pencil marks etched up the length of the door frame—a measurement of Tali’s growth.

“Yeah, she has.”

Ziva remembered the way McGee and Tony had arrived, remembered Tony fishing the keys out from his pocket. She felt the beginnings of panics in the endings of every nerve in her body. “Tony, where is she?”

“With Senior.” He finally placed the pizza boxes down on the coffee table, careful to put them over where the paper was blank so as not to soil Tali’s works of art. “Thursday night is sleepover with Grandpa. He takes her to her ballet lesson Friday mornings and then brings her home for lunch. Though, that’ll have to change when she starts kindergarten in the fall…” He trailed off, realising that the detail was excessive.

Ziva was silent too. She suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation that she was a stranger here. She had wandered into a life that she was not a part of. Her heart sank hearing that Tali was not here, but one reunion was complicated enough. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“Are you…immortal or something?” Tony said abruptly. It had more of an edge to it than Ziva had been expecting and she was a little taken aback.

“Tony—”

“What the hell happened, Ziva?” His logic was beginning to recover from the shock of her now.

She shook her head. “It does not matter now.”

“Doesn’t matter? How can you even think that that’s true?”

“It is true.” She started towards him. “It is true because it is over. Because everything I have done for the past three years has been to lead me back here. Back to my family. That is the only thing that matters now.” She reached a close enough distance that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

He stared but did not speak. His breaths came out hot and close together.

“I know that it must have hurt. I know that you must have been furious with me for not telling you about Tali. Furious with me for dying. At the time, I thought I was doing what was right, letting you get on with your life. Not feeling obligated or tied down by…by someone who had resisted your help so many times.”

“Ziva,” he started, his voice steely with warning.

“Please. Let me explain. I have waited too long not to explain everything. I thought that I was doing the right thing. But grief, and trauma, and…” she found his eyes, “and heartbreak…they make you think strange things. Wrong things. I was wrong to do that to you. To not even give you the choice to be in Tali’s life. But these past few years, I have had to live without her. I have had to know that she has been growing up, every day, without me. It has been the single greatest torture I have ever endured. And that is what I did to you by withholding the truth, and by sending her to you like that. And I will regret it every day for the rest of my life.” She took one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed. “But,” she went on, “I also know that had I told you about Tali sooner, then the threat to my life would have been a threat to all of us.”

Only now did she get to really study his face. A face she knew so well, but one that had changed in the intervening years. His hair was longer; it flopped over his forehead a little now. The lines in his skin were etched a little deeper than she recalled, but his eyes were every bit as bright.

“I am so sorry, Tony,” she went on. “I am sorry for all the times that I hurt you, and pulled away when you were trying to move close. I am sorry that you and Tali had to meet the way you did. I am sorry for the false grief I have caused. It is far more than my fair share. But everything I did since the explosion at my father’s house was for your safety—both of your safety. That is why I did what I did. And now, it is over. All I want is to be with my family.” Her voice faltered on the last word. He heard it, and some of the hardness in his face melted away. “I almost lost myself. More times than I can count. But the one thing that saved me from total destruction was the thought of what could be waiting on the other side of all this. Sometimes, I was not sure that the other side would ever come. But it has. And…”

And now she was here. And he was pulling his fingers free from hers and striding over to the couch, to sit with his head in his hands. The absence of his touch ached, but she had known that this would not be easy. It is true that bones are strongest in the places where they have broken, but it is also true that a cut to scar tissue will hurt far more than one to clean flesh. So which were they?

She followed him across the room, but instead of sitting beside him on the sofa, she kneeled in front of him on the floor, and waited. Waited for him to look at her, for him to speak. It seemed like a lifetime before he did.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted. She did not blame him. But then a thought seemed to occur to him, and he looked up with a renewed alertness. “Does McGee know? Is that why he ran off?”

“McGee knows.”

“And the others?”

“Gibbs. Jimmy and Ducky. Vance.”

“Vance? Vance knew before I did?”

“I did not want them to know. I did not want anyone to know, in case they might get hurt. But things got out of hand. NCIS became…involved.”

Tony clicked his tongue. “Of course they did.”

“I could not risk the wrong people finding out about Tali, or you.” Ziva could see the thick, rope-like muscles along the sides of Tony’s neck.

“You think I couldn’t protect us? You think I wouldn’t have tried to help you? Badge or no badge, Ziva, I would’ve done whatever it took.”

“That is exactly why I did not tell you.” She found his hand again, and this time he did not pull away. “I know I am stubborn to a fault, and that I do not take help when it is offered to me.” She thought of Adam, and the stash of medicine in the pocket of her cargo pants. “I have learned that refusing help is the weak thing to do, and I am trying to change. But I could not take the risk of something happening to either of you. For Tali to be hurt because of me. Or for something to happen to you, and for Tali to lose her father.”

“Like she lost her mother?” There was still an edge to his voice—he must have heard it, too, because he closed his eyes and shook his head. It was Ziva who now separated their fingers.

“I have apologised for the hurt I caused,” she said, keeping her voice careful and level. “Please do not make me feel any guiltier than I already do. I can assure you I am more than capable of beating myself up.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wad of yellow pills, still wrapped crudely in a handkerchief, the way she had been given them. There were fewer of them now. She had been taking them, but only on the particularly unbearable days. “I used to be thick-skinned. I used to be able to hold everything inside. All the bad things that happened to me could live inside me and nobody would be able to see them. But then I had Tali, and it was like suddenly my heart was on the outside. And when I lost her, I lost part of myself. That part that had kept the door shut for so many years. Everything that I had kept inside for so long…started to come out. My nightmares came back—only worse this time, because whatever horror I had to relive, Tali would be there too. I would dream that I had to try and save her from the suicide bombing that killed my sister. That she saw me shoot my brother Ari in the skull and would not let me hold her; she was scared of me. That she was taken to Somalia with me and they tortured her just like they tortured me. I could hear her little screams inside my head, Tony. And then the nightmares started to happen during the day. I would get these awful visions and my body would just…shut down. And all I wanted in the world was to hold her. To keep her safe. But I knew that the safest thing was to stay away.” She quickly stuffed the package back into her pocket and brushed one finger under her nose.

The muscles in Tony’s jaw and temples twitched at the mention of her nightmares. He had caught her in the middle of one once—in this apartment, right after her father died. After Somalia, she would often come to work with particularly dark circles beneath her eyes, and though he never said anything, she knew that he noticed. He always noticed things like that.

She wondered what he was noticing now. The sweat on her brow? The tear tracks down her cheeks?

Tony’s free hand reached out to her, and she thought for a moment that he was going to touch her face, but instead, he wrapped a lock of her hair around his fingers.

“Your hair’s longer,” he said, barely audible. “Darker.” He studied the hair thoughtfully, but Ziva’s eyes remained on his, and eventually his gaze came back to her. “I used to sit here, and wait for you to come home. For the world to be put back on its axis and for everything to make sense again. But this…this is like another dimensionThe gravity’s a little off. We aren’t partners, we’re just…people.”

“We are…parents,” she reminded him.

“Jesus Christ,” he said in a low whisper, a smile ghosting over his lips. He let out a sigh, and slid carefully off the sofa and onto the floor beside her. He had his back up against it and his knees drawn close to his chest. “I don’t know how to…exist. Here.” He gestured to the space between them, what little was left. “Ziva, what exactly do you want?”

His voice was careful, tentative. Ziva thought about the wounds she was about to tear open, and considered a more delicate answer. But years of them tiptoeing around each other had gotten them little but heartache, and it was time to cast away the bandages and let the wounds finally breathe.

“What I want,” she said, though with carefully paced, measured words, “is something permanent. I want a life that is mine. I want to feel safe. A home. Tali.” She paused, swallowed. He had to know. He had to know that it was not just Tali she had come here for. “You.”

She felt his breath rush out of his lungs as much as she saw his chest cave inwards, like he had been hit hard by an imaginary force. Underneath all the trauma and the mess, she was fighting her strongest instincts so she could be with him like this. Every word was a labour to form but a relief to speak, and she would do that labour a thousand times over if it would only bring him closer. She had spent years telling him one thing only for him to do the opposite—usually, the right thing. This time, she would be sure to say the right thing first.

“I know that it must not feel like it,” she went on, “but all this time, I have been trying to do for you what you did for me again and again.” She placed her shaking fingertips gently onto his cheek. “I have been fighting for you, Tony.”

When she looked at him then, she saw everything. She saw the sparkle of mischief that had adorned his eyes so much when they were younger. She saw the hurt and heartbreak that lived behind it, not far beneath the surface, but far enough for most people to miss. Most. She saw the smiles he shot her behind Gibbs’ back across the gap between their desks. She saw his dirty, sweat-caked face sitting across from her in Somalia, and his sleeping one on the bed beside her in Paris. And Berlin. And Israel. She felt her fingers across his stubbled cheeks in an orange grove, and saw the shine of tears in his eyes as they stood on the airport tarmac, the roar of a jet engine underscoring their goodbye.

Then she shut her eyes, and she saw nothing.

But she felt him come close, felt him shift his weight and position so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her close. One hand rested at the small of her back, and the other at the base of her neck, fingers tangled and face buried in her chestnut curls. She gripped back, clutching fistfuls of his shirt, and holding on tighter than she had ever before dared to. Breathing him in.

When he finally pulled back, he only did it to kiss her. It was a solemn, wanting sort of kiss—but nothing like their last. That one had been so aching, so hungry, so last-night-on-earth. This was not like that. He was gentle; they both were. So as not to so shatter the moment, in case it turned out to be a dream. A whimper escaped her involuntarily—whether from relief, pleasure, or exhaustion, she wasn’t sure—and he only tightened his grip on her. Their breaths were shallow and hearts a-flutter at a moment neither of them had thought would ever come.

“Something permanent, huh?” he said, slightly breathlessly, while his fingers traced distracted circles on her shoulder blades.

“You are my family, Tony,” she replied, with that uniquely Ziva smile that lit up her eyes more than her mouth. “That will never change. But the ball is in your corner.”

He laughed, then. He couldn’t help it. And he tucked a loose curl behind her ear just because he could before pulling back from her properly.

Ziva’s eyes found Tali’s discarded shoes beside her on the floor, the ones she had spotted when she came in. She picked up one and examined it. Objectively a small shoe, but so much bigger than the ones Tali used to wear. A sock had been stuffed inside it. When Ziva pulled it out, she saw it was decorated with dinosaurs.

“Tali likes dinosaurs?” she asked.

Tony looked ponderous. “Sometimes. Check the other sock.”

Ziva did. That one had unicorns on it. She grinned at the sight of the tiny mis-matched socks in each of her hands. The kind of grin that flew through joy so fast that it ended up at heartache.

“She’ll be home in the morning. It’s late—think you can make it through one more night?” His voice was incredibly gentle now—she wondered if this is how he spoke to Tali.

She nodded but said nothing, still staring at the socks.

“Think you can make it through the night…here?”

She met his gaze and smiled. He smiled, too. They had gone about this journey without a map, and lost their way more times than most. They had retraced the same ground over and over, and found shortcuts through the woods that others had missed entirely. They had lost each other, for a long time. They were still lost, in a sense. They had no idea where in the world they were, but they were together.

“I’m starving,” Tony said, suddenly. He reached forward to grab the one of the pizza boxes off the coffee table. He flipped open the lid and held it out to her. A peace offering. One she gladly accepted.

“Todah,” she said, almost without thinking.

“Prego,” he said, thinking very hard about a young Senior Field Agent and the Mossad Officer he had been tasked with tailing nearly fifteen years ago. She caught his eye.

“We will be okay.” She did not have to say it, but she said it anyway.

#ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #fanfiction #tiva fanfiction #anyway i haven't written fanfic (or FICTION OF ANY KIND) since 2016 lol

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ellesimagines · 5 years

Text

That’s my boy!

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairing: Sweet Pea x fem!reader

Warnings: High school drama, other than that, just fluff

Requested: Yes (riverdale - sweet pea x reader. reader is a northsider and stands up for them and sweet pea won't stop talking about her) (feel free to request something yourself x)

Word count: 2271 words

I do not own the gif, Riverdale or most of the characters mentioned in this story

Hey guys (again)! This is my first imagine. Thanks to the lovely anon for requesting it! I hope it’s how you imagined it. It’s set in 2x10, and I tried to copy the lines they say, but failed a few times. And again, English isn’t my first language, so excuse some mistakes. Hope you enjoy reading it, and I’d love to get some feedback (or more requests)! Also, feel free to send in questions about me if you want to get to know me, or just start a chat with me. I’d love to interact as much as possible with all of you, and this is a perfectly safe zone for you to talk free and to send in all your imagines and fantasies! Lots of love, Elle x

“Friends!”

Veronica’s excited voice rang through the crowded hallways of Riverdale High School. Her lips were lifted to a just as excited smile, as she greeted the newly transferred Southside students to the school.

Y/N’s eyes wandered over the group of leather clad teenagers on the other side of the table Veronica set up earlier this morning. To her, they didn’t look half as dangerous as everyone described them. They might be gang members, but after all, they were just teenagers trying to fit in with a crowd. Like everyone else in this town.

While Veronica went on about all the useful information that she gathered to make their transition as simple and easy as possible, Y/N looked over to Kevin, who’s eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“We encourage each and every one of you to drink deeply from the cup that is fair Riverdale!”, Veronica says to the Southsiders, still smiling brightly at them.

“Stand down, Eva Perón.”

Cheryl’s voice makes Y/N and her friends turn towards the stairs, where the red-head was walking towards them, Reggie and a couple of bulldogs and River Vixens behind the two.

Y/N sighed. Cheryl harassing students was nothing new, she was the self-crowned HBIC of the school, very well known for crushing one or the other self-confidence of fellow student.

“Here we go again”, Y/N muttered to herself, overhearing Jughead say something about the school spirit.

“Cheryl, no one invited fascist Barbie to the party”, Veronica says to Cheryl as she takes a proud stand in front of the group.

“Wrong, Veronica, no one invited Southside scum to our school”, Cheryl tells her. “Listen up, raggamuffins, I will not allow Riverdale High’s above average GPA to suffer from classrooms that are overcrowded with… underachievers. So please, do us all a favour and find some other school to debase.”

Y/N could see the discomfort in the Southside students eyes and the air in the hallway became thicker and thicker with the tension rising.

Y/N was always a quiet student, she was always trying to get a fairly good grade and to just fit in with the rest in an attempt to be nearly invisible to trouble and typical High School drama. She chose extracurriculars in which Cheryl Blossom wasn’t. Because she knew, where Cheryl was, drama was just around the next corner.

But today, however, she felt this urge to take a stand with the Southsiders. They didn’t have a choice after their school was closed, and Cheryl has destroyed enough people’s High School experience.

“They can’t debase this school more than someone who’s father killed his own son”, Y/N said, looking at Cheryl with a straight face, as the red-head turned to the girl slowly.

“What did you just say?”, Cheryl asked Y/N.

“You heard me very clearly, Cheryl. Anyone who looks at Riverdale High for longer than a second will see the real problem here. And that surely isn’t the Southside High students that just transferred, that is some self-centred red-headed bully walking through this High School with a cheer uniform which got HBIC written on it’s back. With such a family background like yours I wouldn’t open this mouth too wide, especially if it’s only senseless crap coming out of it.”

Y/N’s friends looked at her just as stunned as the Southsiders and Cheryl. She never got into a fight or caught up in some drama, she never raised her voice against Cheryl Blossom and never did she use someone’s problems against them.

But she had enough. They all came to this school as no one’s once, and just because Southside High School had a bad image with it’s gangs, drugs and it’s teacher uninterested in teaching, who was to say, that they didn’t want to actually achieve a proper education and go on to do some good in this messed up town? After all, High School was where future’s are made.

“Guys, everyone, can we just put our Northside/Southside differences apart and start over? A new slate?”, Archie asks, moving Cheryl’s attention from Y/N to him.

As Y/N saw Cheryl moving away from her, she let out a breath she didn’t know she held in.

“You don’t speak for the bulldogs, Andrews. And do I need to remind you? These snakes showed up at your place, trying to kick your ass”, Reggie says to Archie.

“Why don’t we finish what we started?”, a tall Serpent asked, taking a step toward Reggie, before he was held back by Jughead.

As Y/N’s eyes rested on him, she couldn’t help but think that he was quite good looking. Tall, broad-shouldered and dark haired. His eyes met Y/N’s for a split second, and as he looked at her, he looked intrigued by the girl. As if she was some mystery just waiting to be solved, preferably by him.

“I’m so over the toxic masculinity in this hallway right now!”, Veronica says, trying to put an end to this feud.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get to class!”, Principle Weatherbee announces, making the groups of students in the hallway split up in different directions.

“Okay, but honestly, who is she?”, Sweet Pea asks his fellow Serpents and friends, as they enter the Whyte Wyrm after school’s over, for the 10th time this hour.

Toni looked back at him with a smirk, well knowing, that Sweet Pea was about to develop a crush.

“Why do you even want to know that? Got a little crush?”, Fangs asked amused, teasing his best friends while wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Shut up”, Sweet Pea says to him, looking at him with threatening eyes. “I’m just asking. We should thank her, she stood up to Cheryl for us.”

Jughead and Toni share a quick glance, before he says: “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s Kevin’s best friend, quiet student, and she never gets into fights. Today sure was a first for her. You really should go and thank her tomorrow, Sweet Pea.”

Sweet Pea looks at Jughead as if he’s about to punch him.

“I can’t believe you guys. I’m just trying to make a good first impression at a better school”, Sweet Pea sighs, falling down on one of the bar stools.

“A good impression? Sorry, buddy, you missed that train. After you nearly punched star football player Reggie Mantle this morning in the hallway, I’m pretty sure that isn’t the way to make a good impression”, Fangs says, shrugging his shoulder at the taller Serpent.

“That was before I decided to start over”, Sweet Pea tells him.

“Sure”, Fangs nods, laughing quietly to himself.

A few hours later, Sweet Pea’s had enough of the constant bickering of his friends. They were trying their best to get Sweet Pea to accept that he’s got a crush on Y/N, but he wasn’t going to budge.

The tall Serpent was fiddling with his phone in a booth at Pop’s, trying to hide the screen from his friends as he looked through Instagram. But he didn’t notice Fangs craning his head to get a better view of his phone.

“Oh god, now you’re stalking her on Instagram! Just text her already!”, Fangs says, nudging his best friend.

Toni and Jughead opposite them were laughing at the two, as Sweet Pea stared at his best friend again.

“Or maybe -”, Fangs began, his eyes wandering towards the entrance of the diner through which Kevin and Y/N walked at the moment, making him smirk, “- you can just go and talk to her right now.”

Confused, Sweet Pea looked around, but Kevin and Y/N have already taken a seat in a booth a bit further away from them. Sighing, Fangs gave his best friend a little push, making Sweet Pea nearly fall off the bench.

“What is your problem, Fangs?”, Sweet Pea asked, annoyed.

“You’re just too proud to accept that you’re crushing on a Northsider. Remember? A new slate. We go to the same school as the Northsiders do now, so go and befriend some. Or do more than just befriend them. Any way, you won’t shut up about her. Ever since school finished, she is the only thing on your mind. If you don’t go and talk to her now, I will do it for you”, Fangs says, motioning towards the booth that Kevin just left to go to the toilet. “There’s your chance to get her alone, buddy.”

Sweet Pea just shook his head furiously at Fangs, but soon enough, Fangs gave him another push, and Sweet Pea was standing up. Sighing, he decided to go and at least thank her, if that means they will shut up about it.

As he got closer to the booth, he saw her looking out of the window, and he hoped he wouldn’t scare her when he would speak up.

“Hey”, he says, and her head turned towards him.

“Hi”, Y/N says, smiling at him genuinely. “Take a seat.”

She motioned for him to sit down opposite her, and he quickly did, hoping to not look too helpless.

“Your name is Y/N, right?”, he asks, and as soon as he says those words, he’d like to punch himself.

Now he looked like a stalker to her.

“Yeah, and your name is?”, she asked him, still smiling.

Sweet Pea thought she was only still smiling to be kind, she must think he’s weird.

“My friends call me Sweet Pea”, he says, giving her a quick smirk.

“Nice to meet you, Sweet Pea. And sorry for the drama earlier. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep up with lots more of that over the next few years at Riverdale High. Cheryl’s ego is just sickening”, she laughed.

“Actually, I came to thank you, for earlier. You know, for standing up for us. Not many people do that, especially not if they don’t know us”, he says, sending her a smile.

“No big deal. Cheryl just had to be told off for once, not exactly my forte, but whatever.”

He smiled at her, not knowing what to say now. Y/N sighed, looking at him apologetically.

“Sorry, I don’t usually stutter while talking”, she says, looking down to her fingers which were fumbling with the fork.

Sweet Pea didn’t even notice her stumbling over her words, he was too concentrated to not sound too nervous himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute”, he says, making her laugh.

You idiot, Sweet Pea thought to himself and rests his head in his hand, sighing.

“I think I should go back to my friends, Kevin should be back any minute anyway, but thank you again”, he says, hoping to make a swift exit, but as soon as he stands up from the bench, she calls out his name.

“Yeah?”, he asks, turning around to her, as she smiles at him again.

God, that smile is going to kill me, he thought.

“Here”, she says, holding out a napkin for him to take.

As he takes it from her hands, their fingers touch for a minute, and that beautiful smile returns onto her lips. Shyly smirking, he looks down on the napkin to find a phone number written on it.

The smile on his lips changed from shy, to proud the moment he looked up to meet her gaze.

“I really hope it’s not too weird of me to just give you my number, assuming you’d want it”, she says, looking at him slightly insecure.

“No, of course not. Did you just write it down or did you have it prepared all along?”, he asks, smirking at her.

“I just wrote it down, it’s not like I’ve got hundreds of napkins in my bag to just hand out to guys who talk to me once, like flyers, I’m not that awkward”, she laughs, her eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, of course, sorry”, he laughs, feeling his confidence falter again.

How could he be so stupid and assume she had it written on that napkin before she came here?

“I’ll text you later, so that you’ve got my number as well”, he smiles, waving at her before quickly walking back to the booth his friends were sitting in, waiting for his return in anticipation.

As he sat down again next to Fangs, he quickly hid the napkin in one of his jeans pockets.

“And?”, Toni asks.

“She gave me her number”, Sweet Pea smiles proudly.

“That’s my boy!”, Fangs says triumphantly, patting Sweet Pea on the back like a proud father.

A couple weeks later, Sweet Pea walked straight past Fangs and Toni as he entered the school, making his best friends look at each other in confusion.

“Hey”, he says, making Y/N slightly jump before closing her locker to look at him.

“Oh god, don’t scare me like that”, she laughs, hitting his chest playfully.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me, babe”, he laughs, pulling her against him to press a kiss to her lips.

She smiled into the kiss, and as their lips separated, he took the books out of her arm and threw his other, free arm over her shoulder before walking her to her next class.

Fangs had a proud smile drawn on his face, while Toni’s expression was blank.

“That was quick”, she says, looking at Fangs next to her.

“Honestly, that wasn’t quick enough. He wouldn’t shut up about how amazing she is”, Fangs says, still looking after Sweet Pea and Y/N.

“Good for them, and for you”, Toni laughed.

“I’m so proud of my boy”, Fangs says, turning to Toni, still smiling.

“We both are”, Toni says, patting Fangs on the shoulder, before pushing him towards their shared chemistry class.

---

@asongofmarvelanddc

#riverdale imagines #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea blurb #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea imagines #sweet pea fanfiction

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aconstellationofmemories · 5 years

Text

Good Parents

This fic is dedicated to @unicornbeauty290, who has her big day ahead of her soon. I wrote this as a way to commemorate the happy ocassion. It's not good but I hope you like it, Liyah. I challenged myself with this one. Just know that I'm dead from writing this fic. (How dare you rush the birthday girl, haha.)

Bonus points to those who caught the Clannad reference!

Word Count: 2.6k (my longest yet omg).

AO3

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

“Gray-sama! Over here.” Juvia tugged Gray by his arm. He let her pull him as she weaved them through the crowd.

Earlier at the guild, she had gabbered about a popular dessert shop and the satisfied reviews from their customers. Their desserts were supposedly spectacular, especially their ice sherbets – a must try, she said.

Although in reality she spent half an hour just talking about the shop’s desserts, he felt like it was an eternity. He would never admit it to her – he couldn’t hurt her feelings, no matter how boring it was – but he had zoned out a few times.

Her chatter stopped abruptly when she stared up at him with puppy eyes and asked him to try their popular dessert with her. She had said something about how it’d be a memorable occasion if he accompanied her on one of their anniversaries.

When she put it that way, he didn’t have it in him to deny her. Coupled with the loving way she gazed up at him, like he was somebody special, and he was a goner.

So here he was.

Getting dragged, and not complaining about it.

Gray didn’t know who he was anymore.

With her skilful manoeuvres, they arrived at the dessert shop in no time. She turned to him enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Gray-sama, can you pay for Juvia?”

He frowned, puzzled by her request. "You don't have any money?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"Juvia does but she'd like you to."

"All right." It was his plan to buy it for her in the first place.

"Gray-sama's treating Juvia!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Huh?" He wasn't getting where she was going.

"But Gray-sama shouldn't mind paying." She suddenly turned serious.

He never felt more confused in his life. "Why?" he dared to ask.

"Because it's for Juvia."

He sighed. Despite being on the receiving end of her fantasies countless times, they never failed to befuddle him. She appeared as excited as a child who was about to get her first taste of a sweet. He didn't have the heart to dampen her excitement, so he played along with her.

Yeah, he needed a brawl with Natsu later to confirm he was still Gray.

“One blueberry sher–”

“Ya naughty little thief! Ya ain’t getting away this time!”

He glanced sideways to the direction of the noise just in time to see a boy tossed to the ground. The baker towered threateningly over him, casting a looming shadow. The child cowered and crawled back a few inches, a bread in his lap.

“P-please...” the boy pleaded, his voice breaking.

“I need to teach ya a lesson, ya little thief,” the baker spat out.

With his hand raised, he smacked down to hit the boy.

To the man’s surprise, a streak of ice swiftly crossed his path and blocked his slap. His palm hit a pointed shard of ice and instantly withdrew his hand in pain. “What the...”

Standing protectively in front of the child, Gray levelled the man a glowering look. “It’s you who needs a lesson.”

He heard Juvia rush to the child’s side from behind him. “It’s all right, you’re safe now,” she tried to console the boy.

“Don’t meddle in business that ain’t yours, young fella,” the baker warned, glaring at Gray.

“It’s sure as hell is mine when you’re hurting a kid,” he countered, his voice hard.

“This wee thief can’t keep his hands off my breads. I ain’t letting him off the hook. And now I ain’t letting you off the hook either.”

The baker charged toward Gray and swung his fists at him. Gray, now sans his jacket, deftly dodged his attacks by evading to the side. He bounced back a few steps and placed his hands in his Ice Make stance. “Ice Make: Hammer!” A large ice hammer appeared out of thin air above the man and slammed down on him. The attacked knocked the man out cold.

“Let’s see if anyone buys from you after this,” Gray muttered in distaste.

The crowd that gathered while they fought shouted their cheers for the ice mage. He ignored them and pivoted on his heels to check on the boy. The child peeped at him from behind Juvia while clutching her dress.

“Gray-sama was amazing as always.” She offered his discarded jacket.

He took it and put it on. “How’s the kid?” he scanned the shy boy.

“Besides some old minor injuries, he’s okay. Juvia thinks he’s starved,” she replied, concerned.

“What’s your name?” Gray asked. The child didn’t answer. He tried another approach. “Wanna eat something?” He smiled a little to reassure shy fella.

The boy’s eyes immediately brightened. “Yes!” he said, fisting Juvia’s dress and the stolen bread in his small hands.

“Come to my shop!” a lady from the crowd stepped forward with her offer. “I’ll treat you guys for kicking that high and mighty arse.”

“Well, it isn’t necessary... We can pay for our meals,” Gray said awkwardly, raising a hand to the back of his head.

“You young ones hush and come over, will you?” the lady demanded.

“Let’s go, Gray-sama!” Juvia tugged his arm for Mavis knows how many times it had been today.

While he appeared somewhat annoyed by her public displays of affection, he was in fact secretly enjoying it. The sensation of her soft curves against his was a lovely bonus. Another thing I would never admit to her. She was crazy enough as it is; Gray didn’t need her craziness to be multiplied upon his confession.

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

As soon as the waiter served the plate of curry rice, the child jumped right in to feast on it. Gray and Juvia reminded him repeatedly that no one was going to steal his food, therefore he could eat slowly. The normally timid boy paid no attention to them as he munched on his food. The plate was wiped clean in mere moments.

Gray nudged the second serving to him, and he gobbled the meal down just as quickly. With the second plate licked clean of any leftover, the boy rested against his seat and patted his bulging stomach.

“Are you full now?” Juvia asked cheerily from beside him.

Her voice jolted him back to his fearful self as he straightened. His nervous hazel eyes flickered to them. “T-thank you...for saving me and feeding me...”

“It was nothing,” Gray said nonchalantly.

“Don’t mention it.” Juvia smiled brightly at the boy. “Do you have a home?”

He fidgeted in his seat and squeezed his hands. “T-the street is my home. I was abandoned.”

The boy might as well have grabbed hold of Gray’s heart and squeezed it than his own tiny hands. He had expected the answer, but it didn’t make him any less pained to hear it confirmed. There was a flicker of a grimace on the ice mage’s face before it passed.

Juvia gasped, a frown marring her features. “That’s so sad.”

“I-I don’t have anywhere else to go.” His gaze dropped to the ground.

“I know a place,” Gray said. The boy lifted up his head, his interest piqued. “They’ll take care of you. Do you want to go there?”

The boy remained silent.

“We can’t just leave you in the streets,” Juvia said softly.

“W-will I have food?” He fixed his gaze on Gray for the first time.

Of course, the first question he asked was about food. Gray wasn’t one to indulge in pity – it never got you anywhere – but he couldn’t help the slight tightening of his heart for the boy. His heart ached a little when he imagined the suffering the child must have gone through.

“Every day, whenever you want,” he said softly.

The light returned to his eyes. “Yes, I do!”

Apparently you just had to mention food and the boy was on for anything.

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

The sun had dipped down the horizon and painted the sky with shades of orange and purple when the trio arrived at a church. Back when they were kids, Cana had mentioned to him that she lived in this church orphanage before she joined Fairy Tail. They took good care of her, she had told him, even though the Father was odd. Just the other day, he heard that she brought Wendy to visit the children at the church.

“I must fix the child’s fashion sense,” Father Block said, contemplating as he fixed his critical gaze on the boy’s tattered clothes.

“Seriously, Father? The kid is homeless, for God’s sake.” Of all the things, Gray couldn’t believe he had to point that out.

“Worry not, I’ll give him a brilliant makeover.” The Father’s eyes gleamed with all the ideas he imagined.

“That wasn’t what I was worried about...” He was beginning to doubt it was a good idea to bring the boy here.

He glanced over a couple of steps ahead of them where Juvia sat on her haunches in front of the boy. Their conversation was barely audible from where Gray and Father Block stood.

“But...” the boy squeezed his hands and stared at the ground. “I-I’ve never mixed with people. What if they make fun of me because I-I’m different? What if I don’t fit in?”

“They won’t. The children here would love to be your friends, Juvia knows it.”

“I-I’m scared,” he admitted.

She brushed back the hair from his face and smiled comfortingly at him. “It’s all right to be scared; you’re starting a new adventure. But this time, you won’t be alone. You’ll have friends to cry and laugh with and they will hold your hand.” She gently held his small hand in hers. “You’ll be all right. Juvia promises there will be happy times ahead.”

Tears began to well in his pure, innocent eyes as he stared at her. Swallowing back his tears, the boy nodded his head at her. She gave him a proud smile and hugged him.

Gray could feel his cold heart thawing in his chest as he watched them. Juvia was by far the most caring person he’d ever met. They were polar opposites – Juvia and him. Where he preferred to withhold from affectionate gestures, she went out of her way to express her love. Where he was an arse who chased people away with his frigid behaviour, she was the loving person whose presence was the glorious light after the spring rain.

Gray didn’t know what she saw in him to have stuck by him despite his coldness. What did I do to deserve her?

When he pondered about it, he realised they weren’t that different from Laxus and Mira in that regard. However, in their case, he couldn’t understand why sweet Mira put up with the lightning bastard. Gray was an arse – with how openly he displayed it, one could even say he was proud of it – but even he wasn’t as big of a smug arse as Laxus. He snickered. Both of us don’t deserve our woman.

Juvia led the boy back to Father Block. Unlike the scared and withdrawn child he was all along, the boy seemed to have abandoned some of his fears as he held his head up. He appeared the most confident Gray had ever seen him. Must have been Juvia.

“We’re leaving him in your care then, Father,” Gray said.

“We will take good care of him,” the priest replied. He offered his hand to the boy who promptly took it. Without hesitation, Gray noted.

“O-one thing...” the boy braced himself to look at Gray in the eye. “I-I hope I will be like you one day.”

Caught by surprise at his admission, he stiffened in his posture. Be like me?

“I want to be s-someone who protects the weak, just like you.”

Stunned, Gray was rendered speechless for a few moments before he blinked out of it. He ruffled the boy’s hair and gave him a small smile. “You should stop by Fairy Tail sometime. We can teach you magic.”

“Gray-sama’s right! You can play with Wendy-san too.”

“Ah, Wendy. The children had so much fun with her the other day,” the priest reminisced.

The boy’s eyes widened in wonder at the prospect. “Mmh!” he uttered in agreement, nodding excitedly.

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

Having said their goodbyes to Father Block and the boy, Gray strolled alongside Juvia with his hands deep in his pockets. He anchored his attention on the ground. There were certain things which had been bothering his mind. Once they were a safe distance from the church, he mustered the courage to voice his concerns.

“Do...do you think I’m a good role model, Juvia? If I had a kid, would I be a good father?” he blurted out.

“Gray-sama.” Her voice was suddenly serious. She turned to fix her kind gaze on him and smiled. “Gray-sama is already a good man. Gray-sama would be a good father as well, just like father-in-law.”

Tensing at the mention of his father, he suddenly halted in his steps. The memories he had of his father played in his mind – how he felt on top of the world when Silver sat him on his broad shoulders, the snowball fights they had in the snow, and his dad’s boisterous laughter filling the walls of their home.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest. The time he spent with his father was achingly short.

Yet, despite having so little time together, Gray remembered he felt safe with him. If he was afraid to try out a new thing, or if the past was caging him in a mental prison, Silver always nudged him forward into the future. Most importantly, he believed in Gray.

In short, Silver was both an outstanding father and an honourable man.

Gray wasn’t sure if he could be as good as his dad – or if he was good enough for anyone to look up to him.

“You think so?” His uncertainty leaked into his voice.

She smiled confidently at him. “Juvia is certain. Gray-sama is Gray-sama after all.”

Staring at her with in stunned silence, he allowed himself to feel her faith washing over him. It seeped into every fibre of his being and cleansed his doubts, instilling confidence in their place.

The corners of his mouth curved up slightly in a rare display of a soft smile.

Recalling how she comforted the scared child earlier, he inhaled in some courage to say his thoughts out loud. Say it, you idiot. He forced his next words out.

“I-I think you’d be a good mum too, Juvia,” he said awkwardly with slight heat in his cheeks.

“Gray-sama!” she exclaimed, shocked. She stared him with a luminous glow of happiness in her eyes.

Shit. He was glad that the attention was diverted from his feelings of inadequacy, but her daydreaming posed another headache. Her wildly exaggerated ideas could get out of hand quickly.

Gray immediately took a deep breath. He sent up a quick prayer to whichever god was listening to save him.

“Juvia would be happy to have Gray-sama’s baby,” she said dreamily. She clung to him, lost in her own world.

Flustered by her sudden change in demeanour, he stumbled sideways with Juvia still clutching his arm tightly. The colour in his cheeks rivalled the bright hue of the sunset sky.

“I never said that!” They were on entirely different wavelengths.

“There’s no need to be shy, Gray-sama. Juvia understands.”

“The hell you do!” He didn’t want to know what exactly she understood.

“How many children does Gray-sama wants?”

“None!”

“But Gray-sama, we have to get married first. When is our wedding date?”

He didn’t bother trying to correct her by that point. She was too far gone to hear his words properly. Mavis knows how she’ll interpret whatever he would say.

The gods must be having the time of their lives watching his torture. Curse them, he thought with a faint smile on his face.

#gruvia #my fanfic #gruvia fanfic #miraxus #I just had to include them somehow #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #silver fullbuster #I had to mention him too #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfic #couldn't resist the clannad reference #I'm dead from writing this #min challenges herself to write children #this one's for you Liyah

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snarkwrites · 4 years

Text

FFT: back where you came from; ray palmer

Notes:

So this came into my main’s ask a looooong time ago. So long ago, in fact, that I cannot remember who sent it to me at all. But it’s for Ray Palmer / Atom from Legends of Tomorrow? And I kind of liked it, so I decided what the hell. Put it onto this blog.

Summary:

Ray and Tanzie are sequestered in another decade together and things are... Tense. But after a peek into Tanzie’s journal, Ray starts to see the situation and his feelings for what they are and act on them.

Pairing:

Ray Palmer x OFC, Tanzie

Warnings:

uhhh... nothing beyond fluff, nope.

“Bet you’ll be glad to get back to our time.” - the statement had Ray looking up from a fried communications device that he was attempting to patch fix and he studied Tanzie intently for at least three seconds before finally asking, “Why?”

“Oh, well.. Because there’s probably someone waiting on you..” Tanzie was almost wishing she hadn’t started the conversation now, because she could just sense it in Ray, he was annoyed at being stuck in the year 1950 with her, of all people.

Maybe if it’d been one of the other women on the team or something, Tanzie thought to herself regretfully, he wouldn’t be working himself to death in an attempt to get us back to the time we belong in. Kind of sucks because he has not one clue how crazy I am about him and how this whole situation is.. Kind of a fantasy setting for me.

Ray studied the petite brunette sitting to his left with a concerned look and a raised brow. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost swear that she seemed.. Hesitant to get back to their time. Surely she had to miss the conveniences, -or whatever special person she has in her life, that last thought hit Ray a little bitterly as he watched her when she wasn’t really looking at him. He pushed the destroyed communications devices to the side and he took a deep breath.

It was hard to get his head around, doing this again… Knowing how close he wanted to get to her and knowing that lately, she seemed to be distancing.. Even harder when he took into account that he was starting to realize that maybe he’d been getting feelings for her before whatever made her decide to start keeping her distance. Now, here they were, stuck in another time and he was trying to figure out just how to go about doing it without telling her at least half of how he felt lately.. Or confront her on why she was being distant..

“Aren’t you?” he asked after a few seconds.

Tanzie hesitated in answering and eventually, rather than give her honest answer, - “No” she looked at her feet and shrugged as a non verbal answer. The shrug seemed easier than just spilling everything.

“I asked a question, Tanzia.” Ray wasn’t sure why he felt the burning urge to press for an answer, but there he was doing so. He took a deep breath and eyed the device he’d been attempting to patch fix before rubbing at his temples. He could already feel a migraine setting in.

… he’s really going to force me to answer him… Tanzie swallowed hard and after a few seconds, she spoke up quietly. “Not particularly, no.”

Her answer caught Ray off guard and he coughed and eyed her, a brow raised. She’d seemed off lately, like something was really bothering her but if anyone tried to get her to talk she’d leave the room or change the subject, -especially if it’s me trying, he thought to himself, then again she’s also been pretty damn good at avoiding me too..

“Why not? I mean.. If you don’t mind me asking.” the question was harmless enough so when she tensed up, Ray looked at her in confusion and he almost told her she didn’t have to answer, but instead, she snapped “Because I just don’t, okay? Damn. If you went back to the emptiness I did or knew half of the shit I don’t say.. Nevermind, I’m not talking about this, especially not with you, okay?”

Tanzie wasn’t sure why she was so edgy about it beyond her feelings for Ray Palmer and how dangerously close she was to outing herself in that regard, but she was snapping before she could stop herself. “I can’t sit around here and do nothing. I’m gonna go into town and get clothes and stuff. We might be here a while.”

Before Ray could even ask why his question upset her so much, she was bolting out the door of the little house they’d set themselves up in to do recon for the mission. “What’d I do?” he wondered aloud as he stretched and rubbed at his eyes to lessen the chance for eye strain.

Something about what she said before storming out ate at him for the next few hours and upon further thought, Ray realized that he honestly didn’t know their newest team member that well. He’d been so caught up in the aftermath and grieving Norah Dahrk when she arrived that he’d pretty much shut himself off from everyone. She tried over and over to befriend him then, and while he’d let her in a little, he’d kept things purely superficial, so as a result, he wasn’t really retaining anything she might have volunteered about herself.. He thought he’d been playing it smart, he had the thought, but what he’d really been doing was being a coward and giving up before he ever gave anything between them a chance to happen, too afraid to lose her to risk letting her in all the way like he had with others in the past.

He stood to walk into the kitchen and grab something to drink and a snack and his eyes settled on the little black notebook she was always writing in, lying open on the counter. He told himself that even glancing at the page it was open to was a bad idea, but he still found himself doing that very thing.

One page lead to another and the next few lead to backtracking all the way to the beginning of the journal.. Which she’d apparently been keeping since she became a Legend… The entries about himself were… Enough to leave him sitting there, re thinking every single run in or assignment they’d done together and the way he’d sort of seemed distant and cool according to what she wrote in the pages of that journal… Thanks to those things, she thought he hated her -and she still volunteered to stay behind in 1950, why? If it had been me, I would have just abandoned me and left with the team.. That thought baffled him, why would she do that?

He started to read ahead to the latest entries and it hit him like a speeding car.. They’d been the only two awake on the Wave Rider one night and over a few beers, they’d had a really long and revealing conversation and apparently, during that, her desire to become his friend turned to her, starting to realize that he was the one person she’d ever really clicked with or bothered getting to know.. That she thought she might even love him.

The front door opened just as he put the diary back onto the counter and he stepped into the living room, studying her intently… Noticing all these little things he hadn’t before. Like the way her eyes seemed to be this almost milk chocolate brown.. Or the way her hair curled at the ends.. Or the soft and heavy accent.

He realized he’d zoned out when she stood in front of him, head tilted slightly, trying to shove a shopping bag into his hand. The words in her diary came rushing back to him and the bag hit the floor of the living room with a soft rustle as it clicked into place what he wanted to do right then.

“Ray are you…” she started to ask if he was alright, but instead, she found herself being backed against the archway separating the living room from the kitchen and she felt his hands grip at her hips clumsily. “Ray? What the…” her words were cut off somewhere between hell and are you doing as his mouth crashed into hers, his teeth tugging at her lip as his tongue trailed over her mouth and slipped between the barrier created by her lips. When her brain finally caught on to what was going on, she responded, a hand raising to grab at the front of the sweater vest he wore, raising to tiptoe so that it was easier for her mouth to meet his mouth in the kiss. The hand gripping the sweater vest raised to grip his jaw instead and Ray groaned, his fingers digging into her hips as he struggled to breathe without breaking the kiss.

“I don’t want to stop but I… Breathe.. I need to breathe..” she muttered as she backed away, both of them wiping at their mouths, her startled wide eyed expression making him chuckle and lean down and into her, his forehead against hers after he slid his hands down from her hips and gripped her ass, pulling her up closer a little. “Everything okay, Tanzie?”

“I.. think so.. Why did you… do that?” Tanzie eyed him as she worked to catch the breath stolen by his kiss and Ray chuckled quietly. “Maybe I was thinking about how much being stuck in 1950 with you is not a bad thing at all. I mean.. We can actually get to know each other and we work pretty damn well together.”

“When I’m not annoying you? I thought..”

“You weren’t annoying at all. I’m glad you kept trying to reach out, I was.. In a pretty dark place.”

“I don’t blame you though.. Are you sure you’re okay? I mean..”

Ray chuckled and shrugged. “ I think I will be. C’mon.. Let’s have a look at the stuff you got while you were out.”

“Okay, but I’m warning you.. I’m not exactly a fashion expert.. Or a cook.. Or..” Ray’s finger against her lips silenced her words and he muttered quietly, “It doesn’t matter, okay? We’re here together and we’re gonna make it through this together.”

#ray palmer fanfiction #ray palmer fanfic #ray palmer fic #ray palmer oneshot #ray palmer imagine #// fluff

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jellyfishdooter · 4 years

Text

Okay so, back when I asked for asks for my Ego DnD AU, @lace-maze sent a really good ask a while back asking about why each of the egos chose the characters they did and their playing styles- and I can’t for the LIFE of me find the original anywhere on my blog. ;3;

But! I finished it and I bet it reads horribly but whatever who cares I’m tired- enjoy!

So to FINALLY answer your question, the way I went about choosing what each of the egos would play more or less boiled down to a combo of trying to pick what I think THEY would want to play, and what I figured they would be in the Dungeons and Dragons universe. (wink wonk)

Marvin- Dragonborn Sorcerer

One of the top veterans of the game, he likes to play something with more of a challenge and a lot more mechanics. And since he’s a magician it’s definitely has to deal with magic of some kind (I mean c’mon, he’s already got the aesthetic wardrobe irl for it so why not?). So he’s currently playing a Sorcerer- a magic caster who has the power naturally within him (which ties in his Race for it’s from his draconic bloodline:)

He could have easily chosen his race to be a Tabaxi (a human-cat like hybrid), but he already got enough shit of being the “furry” of the group as it was so instead he decided to go for a Dragonborn. In the game there are different types of Dragonborn, so specifically he’s Brass- which both deals fire damage breath, and is also resistant to fire.

Being one of the older players, his play style depends on the day. For the most part he is the cool, collected member of the party who doesn’t rush in and thinks things through... Until it’s later in the evening with a few drink in ‘em and then they just say, “Yeah, this might as well happen.” Before taking another shot and round-housing someone poor guy’s ass for mocking his scaly features.

Jackie- Half-Orc Fighter

Always wanting to be the hero, Jackie wants to fight and protect his fellow party members. He only has a few sessions under his belt, but he’s confident in saying that he's comfortable with playing more tanky characters and dealing heavy damage.

Jackie doesn’t have a lot of reasoning for his Race other than Orcs Are Cool so he just rolls with that.

As for his Class he likes having a bunch of different fighting styles to choose from while in combat so he can pick and choose which would work best for the situation (they also get more of a range in picking which Armor Class they want-).

His play style is Protect the Party, but also Rush In Head First Into Danger. He’s always in the front lines of a fight to tank the most damage and provide cover for the more squishy characters. It can get quite frustrating for the healer at times when he runs battleaxe-first into battle, leaving his head behind.

Speaking of healers-

Henrik- High Elf Alchemist

A lot like Anti, Henrik found the idea of playing to be quite silly. But once he got into it, the doctor found it quite enjoyable to get into a fantasy character and forget about the real world for a couple of hours. But wanting to retain some kind of dignity, he decided to play as a High Elf. He was drawn to their grace, wonderlust for adventure, and near perfectionism. To say the least, it's easy for him to slip into character.

Strictly speaking, Alchemist is not the the 5E DnD Handbook, but Jack allowed it and made some homebrew additions to the character so their party would actually have a fucking healer. So in addition to the damage-dealing bombs Henrik’s character uses, he also has a special healing bomb he can yeet at the other players when needed.

Henrik’s play style is serious, but curious. He’s always wanting to explore the world Jack created for them and peacefully interact with the NPCs, enjoying events that unfold naturally. However when it’s time for a proper fight he does not beat around the bush, staying in the back for more long-ranged attacks rather than right on the front lines.

Chase- Human Ranger

The recently-single father needed an outlet other than drinking to try and cope with the loss of his family. So like any good friend, Jack offered Chase a spot in his campaign that he was putting together! He wasn’t too sure at first, Chase said that the game seemed really complex and hard to get into. But Jack waves it off and told his friend, “You honestly have to fully jump into it if you’re gonna get anywhere. There’s not really a small way to start. It’s pretty much all or nothing. But trust me, it’s gonna be great!” And ever since his first session, Chase always looked forward to next week’s game.

Being one of the newer players, Chase doesn’t really play anything too crazy, so he sticks to his guns and runs a Human pc. And he may or may not have based the character on his old life to some degree. Giving himself a stable home, a fulfilling job, and a big loving family and at least 3 dogs. Ya’know, real heavy fantasy stuff.

Jack offered him the newer class/ homebrew of a Gunslinger, but he politely declined ‘cause he didn’t want to have to deal with new rules. So he decided to go with a Ranger for his class, figuring it would make for a cool character to play.

Chase’s play style is pretty average (no pun intended), and not all that spectacular. He gets a few good one-liners in here and there, but for the most part he plays passively. Fights when there’s a fight, and interacts almost only when others interact with him directly. (He’s been trying to get better at being more engaging, but he tends to zone out.)

Jameson- Halfling Bard

This session being JJ’s (and Robbie’s) first ever game, JJ pleasantly surprised Jack when he decided to be a Bard. When asked why, the silent man replied simply, “There’s nothing in the rules saying bards HAVE to sing. At the core of them, they are performers.” Jack beams and asks what’s their instrument of choice then? Jameson smiles and shows him this video, saying he thinks it would be interesting to have this as his musical item. (Also gotta love that good The Bard Seduces Everything trope. He’s keeping that in his back pocket for the right moment.)

As for being a Halfling, Jameson figured it would be fun to play a smaller character. And nobody ever suspects the small man to pack such a whaloop. But really, his love for the hobbits in the Tolkin books had captured his heart and really wanted to try and emulate that in the game! Maybe leaning more towards being a little prankster, but still at the core- in short- Soft Cottage Aesthetic™

Jameson’s play style is bouncy and go-gettem. He’s eager to explore the world and have fun with the NPCs. In battles he’s more comedic relief in the back inspiring the other players (and intimidating enemies by aggressively cranking his music box rapidly). And AT LEAST ONCE he has had Jackie’s character YEET his at the enemy to get the final blow to slay the beast. That was a fun session.

Anti- Changeling Rouge

Do I really gotta explain this one?

Naturally Anti always tries to play the edgiest characters he can. Giving them dark, moody personalities but with a slight crazed tick. (Chase naturally calls hypocrisy when Anti says his character is a self-insert to the game.)

I’m almost out of steam here so in short-

Anti loves the idea of having puppets to mess around with irl- so in the game he can somewhat do the same- by changing his figure/ features to mimic those of somebody to manipulate another. He doesn’t care much for the society around him and does his own thing, but can easily blend in and slip into other’s traditions if he needs to. His character has a tendency to pick fights pretending to be someone else before ducking out and watch the fight take place with a smirk on his hidden features. None of the party has ever seen his real face/ form, always changing it subtly so every time someone tries to take a second look something seems different or off.

Rouge: Quick and Stabby. Like the bitch himself.

Robbie- Undead Druid

Jack had to make a special homebrew character for Robbie ‘cause he was set on being an Undead. Apparently Robbie and Marvin talked about character ideas before hand and Robbie got a little overwhelmed with all the options that they had, so Marv suggested something Rob could relate to easier. So after an afternoon of crafting a special stat sheet, Jack allowed their favorite zombie ego to play.. Well, a zombie. (I’m sure someone else has made something similar out there but I might try and make a sheet later.. That could be fun lmao)

As for Druid, I like to see Robbie as being a little more connected to nature than the rest of the egos. Since he.. Yaknow, crawled out of the dirt at one point. (Side story- before the others found him in an old cemetery, he liked to just hang out around the area that was slowly being reclaimed by nature and liked watched the birds and animals). So he was pretty drawn to choosing this class. It’s a little complicated at points, but that’s why Marvin sits between him and JJ, so he can help them out through the whole process. Robbie gets really excited when one of his spells works in combat or just having fun interacting with the NPCs by growing them some flowers to be nice.

As a whole Robbie’s play style is pretty passive. He gets distracted pretty easily and unless Jack is waving his arms around or using miniatures/ figurines to keep a visual, the zombie will sometimes lose focus and stare off into space for a minute before coming back to the game and raising his hand for something to be repeated.

It’s one big mixing pot of different people and play styles, but at the end of the day, Jack has a lot of fun trying to bounce around and keep up with everyone’s antics and storylines. It’s hard as hell at times and it gets a little frustrating when things get out of hand, but they all try to check each other and keep things rolling. And at the end of the day, all the boys enjoy the game and what Jack has to offer and really fucking enjoy themselves. DnD is a good destresser for most of them and all around a grand fun time!

#shut up jelly #in which egos play dungeons and dragons #dnd au #jse egos #lace-maze

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hexhux · 5 years

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My Eighteenth Birthday

Friday, May 3rd, 2019.

An open letter to everyone who has ever loved me. A recap of the year.

Today, I turned eighteen years old. I can’t help but feel incredibly lucky to be here. I’m sure many others who suffer from long-term mental illness can relate, but it is not always a given to make it this far. I have so much farther to go, but because this is such a milestone, I wanted to take a moment to step back and give my thanks to those in my life who have offered their hand to me. This life has been as joyous and wonderful as it has been cruel. For all the times I have sobbed my heart out, grieving and ashamed, I have found an equal amount of pure, forgiving laughter. To everyone, thank you so much.

One of the most important things I have learned so far is to appreciate the small things. To the setting sun, to the flowers called weeds, to the soft sheets, to the warm baths - thank you. To the moon, the stars, the midnight sky - thank you. To the emotional movies, to the memes on the internet, to the books I’ve read a thousand times - thank you. These are the things I have cultivated and loved, even when I thought the sun wouldn’t shine on me any longer. To quote one of my favorite movies of all time, Swiss Army Man, “Everything everywhere matters to everything.” It truly does. Forever. Always.

Grandma: you are the most important person in my life. From the very day I was born, you have been there. Through every stomach ache, nightmare, and painful thought, you have pieced me back together. You taught me what love truly was. Dedication. Sincerity. Empowerment. On all the days I could not love myself, you loved me twice as much. I found true friendship with you. You are the most generous, forgiving, and wholly enveloping person I know. Regardless of whether or not I am happy or sad, your face is the one I want to see. You match me in passion, pride, and persistence. I cannot tell you how much I love you because words do not come close to the feeling inside my heart. Thank you for being my best friend, for the advice, the comfort, and all the times you thoroughly read my fanfiction. You have supported my art and my dreams since the beginning. Thank you, mama.

Ethan: Firstly, let me ask a very, very important question, little brother. Do you have a mic? I’m kidding (lmao). I could not have a better brother. You were my first playmate, my partner in crime, and the person who was always by my side. Never once have we stopped playing. Every moment with you is one of belly-aching laughter and jokes. You bring an incredible light to the life of anyone who knows you. You’re level-headed, compassionate, and the funniest person I know. We’re so similar, but even in our differences, we’ve supported one another fully. You are my other half and I love you so dearly that it’s nearly laughable. You’re an absolute buffoon sometimes, but I’d take you over anyone else any day.

Collin: Ah, yes, my stupid woke best friend. You are the sweetest, kindest person I have ever met. The only person who asks retail workers about their day, even if they clearly hate their job. Nobody else has ever made quite such a dedication to getting to know me. You know the most about me, even if admitting that is embarrassing because the vast majority of my secrets are odd and cringe-worthy. We have been through so many challenges, but we have always made it through because we have a connection unlike no other. You are such a beautiful, encapsulating human being. The bond we have is incomparable to any other, and I cannot thank you enough for being my friend. It isn’t often you meet someone who wants all of you, not just the good parts. You have loved me through the misfortune. And I want you to know that I will forever be there for you. It is an honor to know you, Collin.

Nits: We may have met by chance, but there is nothing accidental about our friendship. I have never encountered someone like you before - someone so bold, strong, and gorgeous. That summer we spent every day together, entangled by movies, music, and a growing fondness that would last forever. To be loved by you is such a gift. Nobody deserves you. I have never so desperately wanted to see someone succeed. We are intertwined and will be forever, I truly hope. You have held my hand and helped me through the bad times, just as I’ve held yours. You are an enigmatic, wondrous, and hopeful soul. Thank you for seeing me for who I am, even when I myself didn’t know who that was at times.

Kiesha: Your comfort and reassurance is never-ending. You have such a warm, broad presence. We have known each other for such a long time and have managed to grow in the same direction. So much love, laughter and acceptance has been cultivated between us. I cannot thank you enough for all those nights spent talking on the phone late at night. For all the times you answered my calls when I was crying after a bad dream and needed another person to exist with me. For all the beta-reading, spelling checks, and long-reading sessions. Thank you for being there and for being the Wade Wilson to my Peter Parker.

Nova: I have never met another person so similar to myself. You’ve given me so much comfort in my identity and existence. You are a lovely, sugary sweet human being, even when you’re badass. You have such a fierce and generous energy, which has enraptured me since the moment we met. We met through hard circumstances, but I believe it was worth it because we found each other. I would relive it a hundred times if you were still standing at the end of it. Our love for one another is so nurturing and wholesome, and I wouldn’t give it up for all the money in the world. Thank you for your friendship, generosity, and patience. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you. Probably throw a fit.

Nikki: You are seriously one of the most interesting people I have ever met. You’re so hilarious, so intriguing, and so sincere. I couldn’t ask for a better friend. Your presence is one I’ll never forget and hope to never live without. I will always hold my hand out to you because I know you’d do the same for me. You’re such a supportive, kind, and affectionate person. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how fuckin’ amazing you are. I’m very glad to call you my friend, and I can’t thank you enough for being mine. You matter so much to me. Thank you for all the playlists, passion, and crude jokes.

Cierra: You are such a beautiful, darling person. We have grown so much together and I could not be happier to call you my friend. Ever since I was a child, I dreamed of having a friend like the teenage girls in the coming of age movies. The type of friendship where you gush about boys, share all of your dreams and uplift each other to the highest degree. I feel so much happiness talking to you, even if it's about nothing at all. You have supported me so thoroughly and have always been such a gentle, soft girl. I am so proud to call you my friend. For all the times we gushed over Tom Holland, thank you.

J: From the very moment we met, we’ve had intense and bold chemistry. You’re so funny and so wise, even if sometimes I want to beat you with a stick. Your love and dedication for me have been such a pleasure. I love that we can spend hours on the phone - talking about everything and nothing at all. You’ve always been there to support me, even in times when I felt too weak to go on. Your love for me has been so enveloping, and I hope you know that I love you just as much. Thank you for giving me the courage to remove toxic people from my life. Thank you for remembering the little things about me. And most of all, thank you for also indulging in my love for oldies beach music. You’re wonderful.

Aisu, Amanda, Sky, and Reez: My wonderful squad! You guys are endlessly supportive, hilarious, and fantastic human beings. Never in my life have I felt so brave and safe with a group of people. It is truly an honor to log onto Twitter and talk to such honest, fantastic friends. No matter what I’m talking about, you guys are always there to encourage me. Through all my writing, my artwork, my strange fantasies - you guys have been there. For all the support of my Kylo Ren fetish, my love for Slenderman, and random infatuations with villians, thank you so much. From the bottom of my heart, I love y’all.

To myself: You’ve made it this far. I know that some days you succumb to the pain, the insecurity, the anguish, but you have truly been so brave. Every time that you’ve fallen, you’ve pushed yourself from the ground and stood on your feet once more. Against all odds, you have made it to eighteen. You are strong. You are smart. You are brave. Even on the days when you wished you were someone else, or gone completely, you have bandaged your wounds and taken care of yourself. I am so proud of you. For once in my life, I am happy to be who I am. I am happy to be you. To inhabit this body. Thank you for never once giving up on yourself, even when you so desperately wanted to. Thank you so much.

I learned so much during my year as seventeen. It hasn’t been easy by any means; there were so many times when I wanted to let go of it all. Recovering from severe depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder has been a long, arduous process. I’ve been in therapy for nearly a full year now, and I’ve come so far in examining my trauma and understanding how to live with it. This year, I’ve done my best to step out of my comfort zone and allow myself to flourish as much as possible. This life can be complicated and heartbreaking, but it’s worth it all. For all the happiness, the love, the sweetness.

Finally, I’d like to list the songs that I’ve played a billion times and have been the biggest comfort.

1. Mariners Apartment Complex by Lana Del Rey

2. O Superman by Laurie Anderson

3. Allentown by Manchester Orchestra & The Front Bottoms

4. I’ll Still Have Me by CYN

5. Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd

Thank you to everyone. For everything.

“Knowing at last what I am, recognizing it, admitting it, confronting it,” - Anaïs Nin

#tate hyperventilates #friends #long post #18th birthday #mental illness tw

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capandbuckysgirl · 5 years

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Our Version Of Perfect

Our Version Of Perfect - Steve Rogers x Reader

This is a story for @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics 1k followers writing challenge! I chose the prompt of “Proposal Gone Wrong” with Steve Rogers x Reader… This is my first time writing in Steve’s POV!

Warnings: Fluffy, some foul language (but it is sfw!), Steve being sweet!

Everything was planned, down to the smallest detail. The square box in my pocket felt as if it weighed a ton as I went over it all again in my head. Y/N was on her way over to my place, dinner was ready, fixed lovingly by Pepper. Candles were lit all around the room, the lights dimmed to set the mood. Y/N’s favorite flowers were in a vase in the center of the table and I’d taken the time to prepare the dessert myself.

It had to be perfect - as perfect as she is. She deserved the very best and I was hoping this would be a night we’d both never forget.

My life had been good before her, but now… Now I knew what it meant to feel complete. She was my other half, separated by years of time and yet somehow coming together just the same.

I’d known love before: the love of family, friends and one special woman before Y/N. But nothing could have prepared me for her. I was forever changed for the better just having known Y/N.

I stood, inhaling deeply as I smoothed the front of my suit down. I looked at my watch, my heart racing behind my rib cage as I noted that Y/N was now ten minutes late.

As I began to panic slightly my phone rang. A smile pulling across my lips automatically as I saw her name and a picture of us together at Disney World flash across the screen.

“Hey sweetheart, I was beginning to worry.” I answered.

“Steve,” her voice croaked on the other end. “I’m a few minutes away, but I’m not feeling well. I think I caught that cold that my sister had while she was visiting.”

“Oh, baby…” What was I going to do? I’d had this all planned out and now she was too sick to enjoy it. I supposed that I could always cancel the plans and wait until she felt better. “You just get here and I’ll make you some soup, okay?”

“That,” she paused as she sneezed loudly. “Sorry, that sounds lovely. Thank you, honey. I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble with dinner.”

“Don’t worry about anything, just get here safely.” She hummed her agreement softly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Just as we were going to hang up she started coughing, the sound muffled as she tried to cover her mouth by the sound of it. My poor, sweet Y/N.

Hanging up my phone I walked into the kitchen and looked at the beautiful dinner spread out on the stove top and the blueberry pie that sat cooling. I packed the dinner away into the fridge, pulling the knot on my tie loose and unbuttoning the buttons at my wrists. I took off my jacket, neatly hanging it off the back of one of the kitchen chairs as I pushed my sleeves up and grabbed a pot from under one of the cupboards to heat up Y/N’s soup.

My best girl, the love of my life… the woman I’d met by chance at one of the many over the top parties that Tony always insisted on throwing. Y/N had been working with Pepper for almost two years (I’d been so busy that I’d never even really taken the time to notice her) while I was focused on the Avengers and SHIELD.

I had been walking around the party with Sam, drinking that disgusting fucking booze that Thor had brought. My eyes met hers from across the room, I could see the slight pink tint of her cheeks as I stared openly at her.

“Who’s that?” I questioned Sam as I took another sip from the tumbler in my hand, the liquid burning as it went down. “The gal with Pepper and Nat.”

“Mmm, that’s Y/N. She works closely with Pepper at Stark Tower. Her assistant or something.”

I’d zoned out after he said her first name. I had to meet her. Just as I was about to tell Sam to introduce me, Pepper and Y/N walked toward us. My eyes never left hers as she smiled finally. It was like one of those romance novels where the characters fall in love as soon as they see one another. Like they know they’re meant to be together after one glance.

Yeah, it felt like that…

My palms began sweating and my throat suddenly felt dry.

“Steve, Sam,” Pepper said as she stopped just in front of us. “I’d like you both to meet Y/N, she’s my assistant and will also be taking over some of the work that Tony’s been doing with the Avengers. Y/N this is Sam Wilson.”

Sam smiled and shook her hand, briefly exchanging pleasantries.

“And this is Captain Steven Rogers.”

“Pleased to meet you, Steve,” she said as she offered her hand. I grabbed it and in a moment of bravery, lifted it to my lips. It was like a fire lit in my veins, the feel of everything right wrapped up into a single moment.

“Miss Y/N, the pleasure is all mine.”

We’d talked for hours, exchanging numbers within the first ten minutes. By the end of the night I’d asked her out on a date.

That had been six months ago, and now it was time to ask her the question that had been burning inside of me for the past month or so. I was ready to get married, to settle down just a bit and start a family.

With Y/N, it felt natural to want all of those things. I could balance being Captain America and Steve. She’d taught me that there was a time and place for everything, even being Captain America.

The knock on the front door broke me out of reminiscing. Grabbing up a dish towel, I wiped my hands on it and walked toward the front door. Opening it I was greeted with a very red-nosed, runny eyed looking Y/N.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I said softly as I pulled her into my arms. “You look exhausted.”

“That’s the sweet Steve Rogers way of saying I look like shit.” She tried to laugh but was thrown into a coughing fit.

“You don’t look like shit, baby. You’re always beautiful.”

She smiled softly, her eyes watering slightly as she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose loudly.

I wanted to chuckle, to tell her how absolutely crazy in love with her I was and what I’d had planned for tonight. I wanted to throw myself onto my knees and ask her anyway, but it had to be perfect.

“How about you sit down and get comfortable and I’ll get your soup now?”

“Thank you,” she sighed as she sat down on the sofa, her arm flopping over her eyes as she leaned back. “I love you.”

“Hmm, I love you,” I answered as I walked back into the kitchen to ladle up her dinner. I’d probably just order some take out for myself after I got her settled in. “Here sweetheart, eat this.”

She sat up slightly, her hands shaking as she took the bowl and spoon. I sat on the coffee table in front of her as she sipped a small spoonful. I clasped my hands together, my heart racing as I thought about this moment. How perfect it was supposed to be tonight. We should be celebrating with champagne and going out to meet our friends after she said ‘yes’.

And then I got to thinking, Y/N didn’t need all the frills and neither did I. So long as by the end of the night she agreed to marry me, that’s all I needed, right?

“Y/N,” I cleared my throat. Her eyes met mine once more as she put the spoon down into the bowl. “I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” she asked clearing her own throat with a small cough.

“You know, you can plan for something and it not work out perfectly. That’s just life, it’s not perfect. But there are those times you meet someone that makes the world a better place.”

“Just a second,” she whispered as she handed me her soup bowl. She pulled more tissues out of her pocket and blew her nose again.

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.

“I’m glad to see my suffering has brought you such joy.” She murmured as she looked down at the floor.

“Don’t you see?” I said as I lifted her chin so she was looking directly at me. “You, it’s you! You bring me joy. When you’re happy and smiling, you light up a room. When you’re sad, everyone around you can feel it. You’re everything I’ve waited for all this time and no matter all the plans I made to make this perfect for you - this is our version of perfect. As long as it’s you and me.”

I slid down in front of her, trying to be inconspicuous as I got onto one knee, taking her hands into mine and smiling brightly.

“Y/N, will you,” I started, moving one hand down into my pocket and pulling out that box that had felt like a lead weight. I flipped it open and heard her inhale sharply. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She shuddered another breath before she started sobbing. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook her head.

My heart dropped as she kept sobbing and shaking her head. What had I done wrong?

“I r-ruined it,” she sobbed loudly, sniffling as her nose started running. “I j-just had t-to get sick.”

“Y/N, you didn’t ruin anything. I mean, unless you shaking your head at me means no.”

“Oh, Steve,” she said softly, her cheeks streaked with tears and her nose now even more red from her crying. “I love you. Yes.”

It took me a second to realize what she’d said. “Y-yes? As in, yes, you’ll marry me?”

She giggled, taking a hand away as she swiped at her eyes. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

I felt elated, my heart pounding in happiness and excitement. I pulled the ring from the box and held her left hand in mine. I slipped the ring on just as she tucked her mouth into the crook of her elbow and started coughing again.

“O-one condition,” she coughed.

“What’s that?” I questioned, holding the hand that now displayed my ring.

“When you tell the story of how this happened, leave out the sickness part and tell it how it should have gone?”

I laughed again, pulling her up to stand in front of me. I leaned toward her, my forehead against hers as I took in the sight of her. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, bloodshot eyes and runny nose included - this was our version of perfect…

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

#masterlist repost #my work #winchesterswantmypie #steve rogers x reader

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lesserpandeu · 6 years

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Around the World in 17 Days | Day 0

fandom: Seventeen genre: Fantasy + Angst & Fluff pairing: Seventeen x Reader (General reader-insert) words: 2,199 summary: Suffering from a condition that causes you to randomly end up in almost any place in the world, your life was a little chaotic, to say the least. When a solution seems to arise, you are more than happy to try it out. In order to heal, you need to meet the several people you are connected to by the red string of fate. And if this situation couldn't have gotten more ridiculous, one of them was your soulmate.You just don't know who.

A/N: previously posted on ao3, decided to post here on tumblr too~ This is just a short prologue to get the stage all set for the good stuff.

Prologue

Magic isn’t real. Going along with that line of reasoning, I guess you weren’t either.

Well, that isn’t exactly an accurate way to necessarily put that. Nonetheless, to say your condition or ‘ability’ was magic wouldn’t be out of the question; it wasn’t normal in any way. Supernatural might be a better way to word it. It wasn’t a gift to any degree, despite a brief onlooker’s thoughts. Lord knows you would help it if you could. It hindered so much in your life, down to the very essence of just even being able to live it.

Just three weeks after you were born, you appeared missing one morning. After a hectic panic that your parents went into for 24 hours, you had been returned where they had last left you. The authorities merely dismissed the case as to the fault of negligible parenting, ignoring your parents panicked and fretful insisting that something was wrong. The health professionals thought your parents were just as crazy. After hearing the same response wherever they went, they turned to the other insane people like them. Sorcerers, witches, fortune-tellers. A few “fakes”, as Rowan called them, found the story even crazier than their own mumbo-jumbo. It wasn’t until your parents found a real sorcerer that offered them an explanation. The “Santa Claus Condition” is what he referred to it as. A few people in the world were affected by it.

He explained that it entailed at random intervals of time, you would transport to different places in the world during the deepest point of your sleep cycle. How often this happened varied from person to person. For some, it could have been every two years, while for others it could be every other day. As time passed, you all figured out it happened about every two to three weeks for you. It was a gamble every time it happened if you would end up somewhere safe. One time at the age of two, you came home with a scar on the back of your right shoulder with no explanation.

Rowan was the sorcerer you saw regularly to see how you were handling your condition. He was a 50-year-old man, with a goatee and a little hat he wore. He claimed it was professional wear for his occupation. He was a chill guy, he kept you up to date with possible treatments that may have arisen, though you both came to see how many have come and gone, being seemed as ineffective. Your relationship was more for you to have someone to vent to, as you couldn’t exactly talk to a lot of people about it.

If there was anything good to have come out of this complication in your life, it had to be how tough it made you. Your “power” didn’t keep you out of war zones, extreme climates, or dangerous terrain. You’ve seen your share of fucked up. Sometimes you got nice destinations, like a cruise ship or broadway. But even those didn’t really make up for the harsher experiences you faced in your life.

One day, while at work, Rowan called you in for something “substantial” regarding the you-know-what. Excusing yourself a little early, you made your way to his tent in the slums of your city. His greeting was instant.

“Good evening, (y/n).”

“Hello, Rowan,” you said groggily. He noticed your tired voice and gained a modest amount of concern.

“What is it, have you made an unexpected trip to Brazil recently?” You chuckled and steadily shook your head.

“No, it’s just work,” you took a second to rub your eye carefully. “I’m due for a visit this week.”

“Interesting you say that,” he motione+d for you to sit. You complied, leading him to transition to what he had called you there for in the first place. “Would you like some tea?” You politely shook your head to decline. He scooted his chair in securely before crossing his arms across the table as he began.

“A new study.” He remained serious. “It looks promising this time around.” He put out his palm. You looked at it, seeing a red string. “Tie it around your finger.” You pulled it from his palm in compliance, used to these “bizarre” requests.

“Do you know what the red string of fate is?”

“Uh, I know what it means in movies: it’s a string that connects two lovers by fate.”

“Somewhat,” he sighed out, taking a sip of his tea. “It is often romanticized as such, but the reality of it is that it is at its basic form a string tying people together by fate. We all have it. But they’re typically too weak to really bring people together, what with our world being so big. This specific string,” he gestured with his head towards the string he handed you. “Has a charm. It’s meant to strengthen the natural string so that it pulls you and other people tied to the natural string together.”

You were having a bit of trouble putting it on when Rowan paused to tell you to put it on your ring finger. While you kept struggling with it, Rowan sipped on his tea. You knew him long enough to know when you glanced at his face, he was in a balance of frustration and amusement at your inability to tie the string. He continued once he set his cup down.

“According to this study,” he seriously leaned in, elbows still supporting him on the table. “Your power can help you actually meet the people you are tied to by fate.”

You looked up at him suddenly, never hearing him sound so convinced by one of his proposals. The both of you had always carried a certain amount of cynicalness when it came to methods of getting rid of your bother. This aura he gave off of the genuine belief that this might work sent chills into you. A glimmer of hope maybe. But just a glimmer.

“How is meeting the people I am connected to supposed to stop me from transporting all over the place?” you looked back down at your work. Damn, tying thin ass string is hard.

“Details are few, but this is the way that the first person cured of your ability did it,” he sipped his tea again. This allowed for the moment it took for you to fully process his words. Your head snapped back up, nearly scaring the sorcerer half to death.

“It’s been cured?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly.

“Yes,” he reached up to massage his left ear slightly, ears likely ringing from your outburst. “I can’t guarantee this will work, as it has only been done once. But none of that we’ve tried so far has been a guarantee now, was it?”

“Of course not,” you smiled shyly, a little embarrassed by your excitement. You looked down at your successfully tied string, “So how is this supposed to happen?”

“Its a process,” he began. “You go into a state of constant transportation, meeting one person a day that you are tied to after another until you have sealed both ends of the string together. That's the trick,” he sighed. “It's not very certain on how you can satisfy the draw of the red string.”

“I don’t even know what that means, Row.”

“It means what I said. The string will always continue to pull you to the people you are tied to unless you can fulfill the purpose that you have with the other individual. You need to find out why you are connected and how you can satisfy that connection.”

“That still doesn’t tell me much,” you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.

“It doesn’t get much better than that,” he sighs, frowning slightly. Though you couldn’t tell if it was about your situation or the fact that he drank all his tea. “The subject in the study had to either encourage another person, to helping to teach a child to read. I would suppose you have to investigate what you need to do.”

“Difficult,” you yawned. “When should we start?”

“Because that string is on, securely I hope, tomorrow.” Oh damn, okay. “It should last up until you’ve met all the people you are tied with.”

“Like… all at once?”

“Yes, it should last an average for maybe six days or less. It depends on how many people you are tied to.”

“I hope its only one,” you admitted, mind wandering back to your many unfinished responsibilities at work.

“Oh,” his tone became playful. Something that didn’t happen often. But when it did, it put you on edge. “By the way, your soulmate is definitely one of them.” You choked on your spit and began coughing.

When you recovered you only managed one word, “...what?”

“The man, or woman, you were meant to be with is connected to you by the red string of fate. You will definitely meet them, and possibly need to headstart a relationship in order to fulfill the string’s need.”

“Oh, god,” you felt stressed, taking your head in your palm. Excited, but a little stressed. Were you supposed to meet your soulmate this week? Soulmates actually existed?

“Here’s a new sim,” he slid a case across the table, which you clumsily caught. “More data and minutes for practically anywhere, since this time is gonna be awhile.” You glanced at it, uninterestingly, before putting it away in your bag. You got up from your seat, adjusting your bag to hang by your waist. Your actions were noticeably more urgent than normal, your adrenaline getting the best of you.

“Well, I… I should go. I have a lot of excuses to make this time around for my disappearance. If that's all, I’ll be going.”

“Don’t forget your credit cards,” he reminded you. Transporting random places typically meant changing currencies constantly. Thank god for ATMs.

“Thank you,” you chuckled slightly, almost choking on the incense in the tent. Damn, he used a lot today. As you left, he yelled out at you encouragingly.

“Don’t forget to send postcards!” You cracked a grin, a more authentic one of your laughs escaping your lips.

Getting ready for bed that night made you more anxious than normal. You never transported many places all at once before. You at least hoped the people you were tied to live in safe places. How many people were you tied to anyway? Did that mean they were also tied to each other? What was this going to even be like?

You fell back on your bed after what seemed like the fifteenth call made that evening. This time was to let your parents know about the situation so they could keep a straight story if work or someone else asked where you were. Making an alibi for what you were doing was always a trainwreck. This time would probably be even worse. But hey, hopefully, it would be your last trainwreck. You would not make a great serial killer, despite your experience. In making fake alibis, not actually killing people. No, you don’t kill people. No.

Your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it, hoping it was just some confirmation email from your landlord regarding paying your bills early. Instead, you breathed in and out slowly, careful as to not fall asleep yet. While it took a cycle or two for you to transport, the three hours of sleep you had last night were encouraging you to take some well-deserved rest. Leaning your head to the right, you saw the picture you placed of you and your parents in front of the Eiffel Tower. You rarely traveled voluntarily because of your condition, so that trip was the only time you went as a family on summer vacation. You didn’t change much from what you could tell, maybe your undereyes were brighter back then. It was probably your favorite picture.

Hey, maybe one of your soul bros (the nickname you gave to those the string tied you with) lived in Paris? Maybe your soulmate lived in Paris? A short flash of heat hit your face and your chest gave a stutter just thinking about meeting your soulmate. How would you know who among them was it? So many questions you were dying to know the answer to circled in your head. Most importantly, the excitement of getting rid of your weird curse made you smile in anticipation.

Looking at the time, you saw it was 10:30. While you could typically stay up past midnight, you thought the earlier you got to sleep, the more rested you would be. Changing into your go-to transporting clothes, you lay on the top of your bed; shoes and backpack on. It looked odd, but you would rather wake up like this wherever you went versus in pajamas.

You fell asleep quickly, despite the momentary restlessness you felt as you turned off the lights. It was just a matter of time before you would meet the first person you were supposedly tied to by fate for some odd reason, which you would need to find out.

A/N: Hi. I'm like incredibly new to writing fics for Seventeen, I've only previously written for BTS. I'm going to try my best based on what I know and from what I find from other fans on the internet when it comes to their personalities so I might be inaccurate in some places. This is just a quick prologue to try to give you some information on the reader's story and what is going to happen in the story. Hope you stick around for the actual story <3!

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen imagines #reader-insert

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