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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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Hope in the sheets.7

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 4.4k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: mentions a sex tape, mentions a birth tape

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“Ah! Ah! Ah!” This videotape felt dirty, Hoseok wasn’t sure why, but he was sweaty, his heart raced, as he tried to look anywhere but at the screen. The woman on the video kept making noises and heaven forbid he look between her legs. Was it warm in here or was it just him?

“As you can see the birth canal opens up wide to let the babies head come down and out and the shoulder here is the widest part, so you have to be careful to listen to your body otherwise you may tear, so here we go these are the final pushes and then the baby will slip out—”

“Hoseok, Hoseok wake up!” You called alarmed, Hoseok opened his eyes to see you and the birth class instructor standing over him.

“Don’t worry love, there is always one in every class who faints” The woman handed over some ice, “Put this behind his neck it will help slow his heart rate, nerves sometimes get the better of the soon to be dads”

Sitting up Hoseok sat up a little embarrassed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to faint”

“No, Hobi, it’s okay I feel nauseous as hell after that video too. That looks scary as hell I don’t think I can do it” you whined. “This class traumatized me more than it helped, and what do we get a couple of cookies and some watered down juice.

“You are so strong and I think you can do it?” Hoseok tried to reassure you and you scoffed.

“If you're so confident you push the baby out.” Hoseok paled again swaying on the spot and you laid him back down. “You are properly scared aren’t you?”

“I am horrified,” he laughed, “I am a big chicken”

“Honestly, I am scared too but I don’t get a choice Hobi, this baby is inside me and it has to get out somehow." you shiver after confessing the fear that had been building in the back of your mind. “If I wasn’t afraid of surgery I would install the old side door”

The gesture of a flat hand across your stomach made Hoseok smile sadly. He took your hands in his.

“I’m sorry that you have been dreading this. I will try to be someone who can eliminate your fears, little darling momma” he kissed your head. The instructor called everyone back to the mats and began explaining how to wash a baby and how to hold a baby for the first time.

It was a fun class but you were happy to get home and rest, biding Hoseok good night. He went quickly to his house where Jimin was sitting waiting for him with a hanging clothes bag.

“What were you so busy doing that I had to pick up your dry cleaning?”

“Y/n’s birthing class” Hoseok's face turned grave as he adopted a serious tone. “Jimin, don’t ever go to a birthing class. I don’t think I can unsee what I saw.”

“Haha, I’m not that silly, I know where babies come from. I am glad I am a man who likes men, so I will never step foot in a birthing class unless you pay me a large fortune. I mean I could watch someone give birth for money."

Hoseok shivered, making Jimin laugh at his expense. “You look pale, so let's change the subject. I bought Yoongi's old van. He sold it for some new equipment. That means I can get rid of the junk van I was driving before.”

“Can I have your old van?” Hoseok jumped on the opportunity.

“Uh sure, but I think it’s more money than it’s worth, you can have it for free because it needs new everything.” He shrugged “I was just going to make it scrapped metal”

“Yeah I can fix it up, I got some money lying around.” Hoseok yawned, “anyway thank you so much for getting my suit. I have my first day of work tomorrow, so I should go to bed early”

“Alright, but tomorrow night celebratory drinks for your first day?” Jimin clutched his shoulder.

“Of course,” Hoseok laughed, waving goodbye and carrying the suit to his apartment.

“Hey man, how was your day?” Jimin shouted from his newly acquired van from Yoongi. “Get in, we can celebrate tonight”

Jimin drove Hoseok home under strict orders to grab a nice change of clothes so the two could get ready at his house and go out celebrating Hoseok’s new job. Hoseok took the stairs two at a time leading to his apartment, his hand brushing past your old door. He missed you. He missed having you at his work, at his home, at his leisure. You two were inseparable and yet torn apart by the stages of life.

Hoseok had assumed you both would be single and somewhere in your mid-thirties you would just get married to one another for convenience. He grabbed some clothes and found the blacklight outfit you had bought for him, he pushed it aside trying to move on for just a moment.

Instead, he grabbed a classic black button-up and a pair of black dress pants. He placed the items in a bag and headed back down to Jimin waiting excitedly in the driver's seat. He drove them across town singing along to the radio and pulled into the driveway of a beautiful home. Jimin was a sugar baby and so he accumulated a lot of money with ease.

Jimin picked up the package by his doorstep curiously and read the name, his face broke out into a smile. Opening the box he found a beautiful pair of earrings. Hoseok paused, knowing Jimin had been talking about these types of earrings for a long time, but these ones looked handmade and a little cheap, not from a brand-name store like most of Jimin’s other clients would buy.

“They are so cute,” Jimin smiled, lifting the note, reading it aloud. “I don’t have money, so I don’t ask for much, it would just be a waste of your time. Even with this, I still want you to know that I think you are really sweet the way you always help others and never forget to share compliments to those who catch your eye. I will never forget how kind and funny, you are especially at work. The way you run your fingers through your hair unconsciously, how you pout when you think, the way you can glide across the dance floor with drinks without spilling anything. You disappear behind the bar with the cutest laugh and I am completely in love with you.”

“You have an admirer,” Hoseok looked over his shoulder at the letter before asking, “I wonder who it is?”

“I am not sure who it could be?” Jimin frowned, taking the box into a spare room filled with gifts. “They seem really nice”

Once the letter was placed carefully in the room, Jimin stepped out and decided to get dressed for the night. He paused in the doorway walking back and taking the earrings. “Even though they are cheap I think I should at least wear them.”

The two got changed and Jimin posed, “take a picture of me looking over my shoulder, so I can post a picture of the earrings on my Insta”

Hoseok picked up his phone and stepped behind Jimin, ready to take the picture of Jimin’s bare shoulder, earring, and side profile. He stopped when his phone came up with the stupid storage message.

Storage full!

You can free up space on this phone by managing your storage in settings.

“I can’t take a picture,” Hoseok sighed. “My phone storage is full”

“It’s okay, I should put on a bit of makeup to make the picture really pretty. While I do that, use my computer to plug it in and delete stuff. You can save the rest onto a USB, which you will find in the top draw. The USBs should be empty.

Hoseok watched Jimin stroll into the bathroom and thought he might as well take care of this storage issue on the phone. Plugging the device in, Hoseok began going through and deleting memes and stupid screenshots he no longer needed. He went through saving many photos of you, and videos the two of you shared together.

That's when he came across the picture of the two of you dressed in your black light outfits. Both of you looking happy together in the mirror. Hoseok saved the photo to the USB. The next was a blurry picture on the dance floor, he didn’t need that.

Deleting a range of blurred photos, Hoseok kept swiping through them until he came across a video of you and Hoseok walking home. He heard you giggling and unconsciously smiled. He honestly was so in love with you.

There were a few more blurred videos and then there was a video of you two laying in Hoseok’s bed. His heart started to race as he watched you lean down and kiss him in the video. Hoseok couldn’t remember any of this.

The next video was of you removing your dress but it continued, sometimes the phone was just left on the bed face down, at other points, it was lifted and Hoseok heard himself talking as he pointed the camera at you underneath him. “I love you.” He had filmed you while you two were having sex, “I love being inside of you too.”

Hoseok felt a little guilty, while you two were drunk he took a video of you both, not only that but he felt as if he took advantage of you. The next video was taken from behind and Hoseok felt ashamed of himself for the stirring in his pants.

“Are you watching porn?” Jimin laughed from the next room, confused as Hoseok switched to the next video. The two of you were cuddling on your side, Hoseok being the big spoon.

Hoseok's face fell. What had he just watched? His head was reeling with so many thoughts that he couldn’t process them fast enough. He understood that it was you in the video, and you were with him. It was that night. Were you his dream girl? “I slept with Y/n?” He blurted and like being hit with a truck he came to a shocking revelation. Hoseok shot to his feet and spoke out loud hoping it would help him make sense of the situation, “Am I, I think, I might be the father?”

“Oh, Finally!” Jimin shouted, his voice carrying into the office. “I have been waiting for you to figure it all out”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok said his stomach was feeling sick, he didn’t know if he wanted to vomit or cry. The betrayal setting in, “How did you know? DID SHE KNOW?”

Jimin stepped into the room, his lips pressed together in a thin line, with a look of pity on his face confirming Hoseok's suspicion. Hoseok got up, his eyes flashing around the room in a panic. He pushed past Jimin and grabbed the old set of keys from the countertop. Hoseok escaped and drove fast. He didn’t have a destination in mind but after a few minutes of driving he ended up at a park by Han River.

Shutting off the engine, Hoseok let his hands fall from the wheel, his head resting back against the seat, letting out a loud guttural shout. He let the tears fall freely as his sobs racked his body, every breath catching in his throat as if he was choking.

Hoseok wanted to scream, he wanted answers. They all knew. You knew. He thought he was your best friend, someone he trusted with all his secrets, and yet you kept something this big from him. The sick feeling in his stomach grew as did his anger and frustration with the situation.

How long were you going to keep this from him? When the baby was born? When the child was eighteen? Never? He had a right to know but all he wanted to know was why.

He left the vehicle, his phone ringing with your number but he turned it off. He walked to the nearest bar somewhere dark and quiet and he drank until he couldn’t see his hands.

“Hey mate you have to go, come on get up.” The bartender said, nudging him with an exaggerated sigh, “Mate can I call someone to come get you?”

“No one, my best friend is a liar, she is pregnant and didn’t even tell me it is my child,” Hoseok mumbled into the table. The bartender sighed again reaching into his pocket, “Who do you want me to call mate?”

“No need to call, I will go,” he said, pulling out his keys only to have them snatched from his hand. Hoseok turned to see Yoongi grabbing Hoseok’s things and thanking the bartender. “What do you want?”

“I got a distressed call from Y/n she is hysterical, I have checked in every bar and searched the nearby streets for Jimin’s old van. Yoongi threw the keys to Jimin who was waiting by the abandoned van and Yoongi scooped Hoseok inside.

Hoseok woke as Yoongi turned the key in the ignition they were headed for his home, but Hoseok had other plans. “You knew didn’t you?” Hoseok growled, “Take me to her."

“Not in this state?” Yoongi said definitely. “You are going to sober up, and then tomorrow you can speak with her.”

“You take me there right now, or I will get out of this car and go there myself!” Hoseok demanded, attempting to remove his seatbelt.

“Alright, alright sit down, I will take you to see her, but if you raise your voice at her I will knock you out and drag you back to your apartment." Yoongi turned to Hoseok with a menacing glare. "Do you understand?”

He nodded needing answers and he wasn't going to stop until you gave them to him. They pulled up outside your home and as he walked to the door he felt as if his legs were weak, ready to give way. He knocked with shaking hands.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to pull open the door eyes pink and swollen from your own tears.

"Hobi, I-"

"Please don’t talk, you had your chance. This whole time, and you didn’t… You didn’t tell me, little darling.” His voice cracked as he held up a hand to stop you, “it’s my turn to talk, you can listen to me.”

He watched you wipe the tears away, he wanted to comfort you, you were his closest friend. He loved you so much and couldn’t bear to see you upset. “You knew we had sex, you knew what we did and you hid that from me, you fell pregnant and you hid that from me?”

“I told you when I lost my virginity, I told you when I scratched my dad’s car, I told you when I took money from my fathers wallet, or when I stole your homework. I told you when I was moving from home, I told you everything good and bad.” Hoseok pulled out the phone and played the video, the sounds of you two together filling the air. “But you couldn’t tell me, your best friend, that we did this? That I might be the father of this baby?”

“Hobi, I wanted to tell you I was-” Your tears were relentless and it looked like the weight of the world was crushing you with guilt. You looked lost, he knew there must be so much you wanted to say and explain but the words escaped you. All you could think to do was apologize, like some sort of animatronic doll with one function.

“Wanted to tell me isn’t telling me,” he frowned. “Say it, is this baby mine?”

“Yes, you are the father?” You whimpered, holding your stomach. Hoseok didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel better confronting you or getting the truth. He didn’t feel better watching you cry. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You are all I have Hobi, and I love you.”

“I thought I loved you too. I thought I really truly loved you, that even though I wasn’t the father, I would step in if I could. It turns out the woman I fell in love with is nothing but a liar.” Hoseok turned away unable to see your face contort in pain from the words he was saying, “I am disappointed in you. You said you wanted to grow up, but this is so immature”

Demanding to leave, Yoongi took Hoseok and headed to the van once more, hoping that the two of you could rebuild your relationship. It was painfully obvious that you both were painfully in love, so much so, that it was breaking your hearts more to fight with one another, than over whatever the fight was about.

You had spent the rest of the night crying until pure exhaustion took over your body and you fell asleep. No matter how many times you texted or called you got no response. You had left almost fifteen voicemails before you became too hysterical to speak. You were emotional and trying your hardest not to break down long enough for you to think things through.

It took four days and sitting in the bottom of the shower for ten minutes before you came to a decision. Even before Hoseok knew he was the father, you had planned to do it on your own. You weren't weak and you knew for certain that you would be okay. You had planned to raise this child as a single mother, you had hoped to tell Hoseok before all this happened, but you had planned for it just in case something like this did happen.

You could do this without Hoseok, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, that you weren't mourning the relationship you had lost. You picked yourself up and put on a brave face crying only when you were alone as you single-handedly funded Ben and Jerry's company with the amount of ice cream you consumed.

You arrived at the next prenatal appointment. You watched all the couples cooing at their bellies and the little sonogram photos, as you sat alone quietly rubbing your belly and thinking how much you loved this child.

It strengthened your bond between you and your baby. You were working hard at your job, not ready to go on maternity leave as you didn’t know how financially stable you would be. You also worried because, without the distractions of work, you realized how alone you truly were and how much you missed Hoseok.

You wanted nothing more than to go back in time and take it all back. You wanted to get the courage and tell him. You would give anything to wake up beside him the morning after and just let yourselves deal with the aftermath.

Your mother's words echoed in your head, only able to be drowned out by the sound of your baby's heartbeat through the doppler, as the ultrasound technician measured your sweet little baby girl.

She had done no wrong and deserved only good things. It was on your way home from the scan that you decided to enter the baby boutique. You knew you were filling a Hoseok shaped void in your chest but you didn’t care, purchasing clothes, socks and shoes, and a tiny beanie all in mint green, white, or grey. At the checkout, you saw a small personal travel doppler for eighty dollars. It wasn’t as strong or as reliable as the one at the clinic but you bought it anyway.

It was the first thing you did when you got home, you put the gel on your stomach and pressed the doppler to your tummy, and listened to the tiny heartbeat and the swishing of the umbilical cord. The tears didn’t stop and that heartbeat in your belly was the mantra to which you swore to live your new life.

You were no longer living for yourself, you were living for your daughter, whom you loved so dearly. You stopped looking for Hoseok through the seventh and moved into the eighth month of your pregnancy feeling semi-okay.

Called by the marketing director to meet with the client, you followed him with documents, “Why did you pick me?” you asked

“You are the only one fit for this job,” He said, which made you feel odd, surely the pregnant lady wasn’t the first choice. However, you obeyed his orders, grabbed your coat, and followed to the restaurant where you were met with an unbelievable sight.

There was Hoseok standing by a beautiful woman dressed in a suit. Not only was it a punch to the chest, but it also left you self-conscious, resembling a chocolate egg. The way your body was so rotund did not do wonders for one's self-esteem.

Hoseok didn’t notice you until you stepped up to the table, your director announcing your arrival and greeting the young woman with a kiss on each cheek. “This is my hardest working assistant Miss Y/n,” The director said and you wondered again why he had chosen you to accompany him to the meeting.

“Well let’s get to business�� the client smiled. You sat at the table and they brought out menus. “I will have the salmon en papillote, with a nice chardonnay.”

“I will have the same,” the marketing director said, attempting to look cool but you weren’t so sure.

“We will have the Steak au Poivre, I will take medium rare and she will have hers well done. What is in the side salad?” Hoseok asked and you looked up over the menu shocked by his audacity.

“We use a mesclun mix for its various colors and textures, with Lebanese cucumbers and avocado for a fresh and creamy taste and a drizzle of classic french vinaigrette” the waiter smiled politely.

“Skip the salads and instead vegetables would be preferable for both.” Hoseok closed the menu and looked up, the waiter looked at you for confirmation and you nodded handing over the menu.

“Have you two met before?” The client asked curiously and Hoseok shook his head, “It’s just you ordered for her?”

“She is pregnant so the best meat option is beef well cooked, and the salad would most likely make her sick due to the acidity in the vinaigrette.” Hoseok continued, “the vegetables, though plain, will be easier to handle and will benefit her better than a salad. It is something I learned in a birthing class once”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been back since.” You scoffed, drinking your water trying to calm yourself so you didn’t explode with anger.

“I didn’t think I had to, seeing as I am not the father of any children.” He said dryly back and you stood up throwing the napkin at him, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t care if he didn’t like you and refused to acknowledge your presence ever again, but saying that about your child was not okay.

“You take that back, Hoseok." You almost shouted but restrained yourself due to the setting, Hoseok didn’t appear to move and you tilted your head back and took a shaky breath. “I am sorry, it seems I am feeling ill, allow me to leave first”

You stepped out the door and headed down the road trying to find a cab when a hand grabbed your arm. Disappointed when it turned out to be the marketing director. “I rescheduled our meeting, I am sorry, you had to deal with something like this, it must be stressful being so pregnant”

He touched your belly and you were a little uncomfortable. This man was a little too interested in your pregnancy. At first, you thought he was just a nice boss who was looking out for you, but it was clear he had some strange thoughts running through his mind.

When he said he would drive you home, you told him you had an appointment. Even then he was determined to take you to the appointment, but you waved down a cab and jumped in quickly. You arrived at Jin and Tonic for a much-needed appointment.

“I want a drink” you sighed and Seokjin gave you water and you looked up seriously. I want an actual drink Jin, I am going through the worst year of my life.”

“Worse than the time you tried to become a volunteer at a homeless center, where some weird lady cut chunks out of your hair, so you had to shave it off?"

"Then you got into a fight with Hoseok because he drew an arrow on your head while you were sleeping and everyone called you Aang,” Jimin added as he shed his small jacket, showing off a pretty choker chain necklace with a rose pendant. “Cause you said that was the worst year of your life.”

“This is worse,” you said. “At least I was the one angry at Hobi and I forgave him quickly, now he is angry at me and even denied being the father of our baby. That’s not even the worst of it. My boss has some sort of pregnancy fetish and keeps trying to touch my belly and I am not here for it”

“Pregnancy fetish?”

“It’s not sexy, I am swollen from the neck down, I couldn’t see my feet this morning. I just hope I wore the same shoes. My bladder is so squished I am peeing all the time, I am hormonal and sweaty, and I can’t fit into my favorite pajamas.” The hysterical sobbing was muffled by the bar and it made Jimin giggle behind his hand. He walked around to give you a hug and Jin presented you with an ice cream sundae in an effort to cheer you up.

“Dance with me, pretty lady,” Yoongi said, finishing his drink and taking your hand. He led you to the dance floor where you were slow dancing like you used to. “You are still as pretty as always. Okay, you may not feel beautiful right now due to all those things, but I promise that you are.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You tried to get close enough to hug Yoongi but your belly prevented you from doing so, he stepped behind you and wrapped his arms around you slipping his hands under your belly and swaying. He was trying to take some of the weight to relieve some pressure on your back. “You are amazing,”

“I am, aren't I.” He laughed, swaying you softly.

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dcforts · 3 years ago

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[week 4: selfie together]

1.7k, post-canon, non canon compliant.

Three days to impact (moving out with Cas and a bunch of hunter nerds settling into the bunker to set up the Network), and Dean was still elbow deep in messy drawers, sorting through his stuff in one of the research rooms. He couldn’t believe he had managed to hoard that much crap when he spent there not more than six months every year.

Sam had already taken care of most of it and thrown away a lot of junk when he had moved away with Eileen a year or so ago, so Dean had thought that he would be packed in less than a day with what was left. He was wrong.

He was tackling a bunch of phones and chargers all tangled up together, trying to figure out which ones were still working. Between him and Sam they had probably gone through a hundred or so phones, without counting the burners, their dad’s and those of other hunters, passed on after their deaths.

You had to keep them on, check the messages, write down the contacts – for a long time it was the only way to keep the network going and to make sure that no call for help would ever go unanswered.

Hopefully the Network, with Charlie fancy digital system and stolen tech from the Brits, would make things a lot easier. The bunker would become the hunter HQ that it was always meant to be. And Sam and Dean would still go there from time to time, but it would become more like a workplace than an actual home.

Magazines apparently said you had to keep them separated and all that. So, they were trying.

He wasn’t even halfway done when he found his old phone. It was not too ancient or anything and he used to like it just fine, but for Christmas Claire and the girls had gotten him a new one (“not for work!!” said the note attached to it) so he had just dumped it in here.

It had no SIM card, but there were some police contacts (useful) and the Candy Crush app (not useful). He went on to check the gallery and was surprised to find still some pictures in it.

He snorted, seeing one of the last taken – Sam, drunk on Christmas Day, a paper crown askew on his head, trying to focus enough to play Jenga with someone who was out of the shot. Dean didn’t remember who it was anymore. Sam had the most incredible face on.

Oh, there were pictures from when they went to visit Garth! He had taken them at Frontier Stables in Frederic and Dean and Gertie had possibly been equally excited about riding a horse. There were a bunch of pictures of that day, including one Garth had taken of him where he looked like an absolute dork.

Wow, they must have been at least a year or so older, he had totally forgotten about them. Now, he couldn’t just put the phone down and resume his work. He debated with himself (very briefly) if he could afford a break or not and then flopped down on the floor covered in cardboard boxes to look through the rest of the gallery.

Most of the pictures were cases related, articles and crime scenes, then a bunch of landscapes, an amazing looking burger from that joint in Texas.

There was one with Cas that he had taken one night. Dean’s face was on the foreground, on the left, and he was making a funny face, his index finger to his lips. The red couch was visible behind his shoulders and Cas was by his side, his face turned towards the television screen and lighted by it.

They had been cooped up in Dean’s cave for nearly four hours and all that time Sam was freaking out because he didn’t know where they were and he couldn’t find them. When Dean had checked his phone, he had found fourteen missed calls and a bunch of texts. He had sent him that picture back and written shh it's movie night.

Sam had come bursting through the door two seconds later and bitched at him for fifteen minutes for having his phone on silent and then stayed and watched Back to the Future III with them.

This was before he and Cas even got together – well, officially at least.

It felt like so long ago, back when they were all: fingers brushing, intense gazing, losing track of time when alone together. They were so clueless.

It had sorted itself out though. A couple of weeks after that, Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder and Cas had spent the rest of the night holding him and he had done that every night since.

Dean smiled and scrolled down, back in time.

More photos on the road, book pages, his car against a pretty sunset. Then a group selfie that they sent to Jody for her birthday. Sam and Eileen were still living at the bunker then and Sam was holding the phone, on account of having three feet long arms. They were standing in the kitchen, Eileen right next to him, under his other arm and Dean next to Eileen.

Cas had appeared on the door as they were getting in position so Sam he had told him to hurry up, get in the frame and he had come to stand next to Dean, stiff like a statue. Sam had said, a little closer, so Dean had slung an arm around his neck and pulled him towards him.

Right when Sam had been about to snap it, Cas had grabbed Dean’s hand, that was dangling over his shoulder. So of course, in the picture Dean looked like a total idiot, with his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in surprise. He had even stopped breathing a little and Cas next to him had the audacity to look totally oblivious. Dean zoomed in on his face and cackled at himself. God, and what was up with that haircut he had, did he even look at himself in the mirror.

He went on.

A few rows below there was another selfie. It was just him this time and it was terrible, the sunlight making the picture look all wrong, like there was a filter on it. It was a vertical shot that showed just about his face and shoulders.

It had been early in the morning, he was bleary-eyed and there was a little wrinkle in between his eyebrows because he had been in the car waiting for Sam to come back with their coffee for twenty minutes.

Cas had texted him out of the blue, Can you send me a picture of you? and Dean had snapped it and sent it without thinking and then he had written, what do you need it for and Cas had written back, I just miss you. Dean had almost dropped his phone, then put it away and not looked at it until late that night. Yeah, it hadn’t been one of his best moments.

Finally he had managed to pull out the conversation again. He had typed and deleted miss you too and same and same, man about a thousand times and then ended up writing your turn now.

He remembered that Cas had been quick to reply with an even worse shot than the one he had sent. Some blurry picture he had taken under a streetlight, his face wearing an intense expression, as if he needed to focus to tap once on a screen. Still, Dean had looked at it for an hour before he had gone to sleep. What a sap.

Thinking of that photo reminded him of another one. He wondered if? It took a while to find it, but it was there, almost at the end of the gallery, right after a picture of Jody in a ridiculous sun hat from when they all went to the beach for the weekend.

It was there. Their first selfie together. He snorted out loud.

He had been pacing in the map room, cursing at his phone that was stuck with the camera open. He was trying everything and it just wouldn’t close.

Cas had come look over his shoulder while Dean had been furiously tapping, and that was when the screen had frozen and flashed and the result of that was a picture of the two of them from the most unflattering angle, frowning down at the phone. Two half faces, Dean on the right, Cas on the left. Dean thought it was hilarious.

Cas had said, “I think you took a picture,” because he was a great help as usual and Dean had said, “Yeah, no shit Cas,” and eventually had to restart the phone to make it work again.

He couldn’t believe that had happened more than two years ago.

“I’m done with the inventory of the herbs. Are you done in here?” said Cas, poking his head in from the hallway. Dean very obviously wasn’t done, but he was still smiling, so Cas said, “What is it?” and came to crouch beside him to peer at his phone and the infamous selfie, “Why did we take this?”

Dean laughed, “We didn’t. My phone was acting up.”

"And you kept it?"

"Yeah, of course I kept it," Dean said, tilting his phone away, as if Cas would jump him to delete it.

Cas had other priorities. He kissed his temple.

"Okay," he said amused, then, "Do you need help? Charlie is coming over in an hour to set up the - cables."

There were no cables. Cas clearly didn’t know what he was talking about, but Dean had no idea of what Charlie was supposed to do either, so.

"No, just - wait, let's take a picture," he said, grabbing his sleeve before he could get up. Cas settled once again next to him and Dean opened the camera and held his phone up, then got his other arm around Cas’ shoulders.

The light was not great, like anywhere else in the bunker and they looked exhausted after a day's work but still, not a bad sight, if Dean could say so himself.

He focused on Cas on the screen, the little smile on his lips.

He grinned. He was gonna spend the rest of his life with that face, he thought. Jesus.

"Dean?" Cas called, after another moment of nothing.

"Alright, alright," he said and snapped the picture.

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

#deancassummerprompts21 #deancas #deancas ficlet #fwf #as in finale? what finale?#i couldnt decide on what idea to focus on so i kept them all #incredibly on time for once #i just didn't want to edit it too much cause i like it????#yeah i know weird #it was fun #my writing

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thatgirlsnotrightinthebrain · 4 years ago

Note

Feedee asks:

40,45

Anon, this is going to be a very long answer. I have tried answering this ask for you two times prior, and both times I made the mistake of doing it in my phone browser where my fingers have brushed my screen just so so that the page refreshed and deleted the entirety of my amazing answer I have learned from my mistakes, and I am writing my response in a note to copy/paste when I’m done.

40. Cutest feederism fantasy?

I like to think that I’m pretty easy to please. When it comes down to it, all I want is someone who loves me despite my weight, someone who tells me I’m pretty on a regular basis, and if they want to occasionally coax me into eating a family size package of Oreos, I wouldn’t complain. I’m not sure if the following is my “cutest” feederism fantasy, or even if I would want anything like it to happen in real life, but it is a fantasy I had when originally answering this question. Maybe with this being the third time I’m typing it out, it will stick.

——————————————————————

After a month or two of dating, when I start to know whether I like him or not, the guy I’m seeing invites me over to his place for the day to just hang out on his bed or sofa- watching Tv, movies, playing video games. Relaxed. Easy. When I arrive, he has an array of snacks ready for the day. He lays out a huge bowl of plain Ruffles between us. Since it’s still relatively early in our relationship, I graze, intent on only eating one serving of the chips. I don’t want to go crazy. He glances over at me every so often, between scenes of whatever is on the screen in front of us, and sees that I’m enjoying the chips, but that I only took a little bit. “You can have some more you know. I don’t really like those anyway... I prefer the sour cream and onion Lays, but I know you like Ruffles. Besides, you said you didn’t eat before coming over. Please have some more.” I contemplate. If I eat the rest of these chips in this bowl, I won’t have to eat again until later. So I finish the bowl, and the next snack comes out - chocolate chip mini muffins. I take one and he looks out the corner of his eye. “I really should have put these out first, huh?” He chuckles. “They’re more in line with breakfast. I know they’re your favorite, I couldn’t find any mixed packs with corn muffins in them too, so eat up! It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.” So I end up eating all 12 mini muffins. This pattern of him not liking any of these snacks he bought (all my problematic faves) and knowing that I’m hungry, convincing me it’s okay to eat continues. I steadily eat my way through a family size bag of Crunchy Cheetos, a package of Double Dark Chocolate Milanos, a box of cheese-flavored Ritz Bits, a box of Entemann’s Chocolate covered donuts. Eventually he orders some actual food - some bacon cheeseburgers and a carnival sized bucket of fries (he knows they’re my absolute favorite actual non-snack food) and a two liter of Coca-Cola. Everything is so delicious, I just keep eating. Eventually he lays down on his side next to me, stuffed, with my hands cradling my belly. He presents dessert - Chocolate Chip Cookies, a family-sized package of Oreos, and a tall glass of milk. He knows they’re my favorite sweets, that I won’t be able to resist them. After he gently dips each cookie in the glass of milk, he brings cookie after cookie to my mouth while he caresses my tummy, kisses me all over, tells me I’m pretty, that I’m such a good eater. I’m so full, but it just tastes so good, he’s so handsome I can’t say no to that face, I don’t want to. I eat cookie after cookie until they’re all gone. He sees the guilty look on my face. “It’s alright. It’s not like you eat like this all the time. It’s a one time thing... You were hungry, so you ate. It’s okay to indulge and enjoy food every once in a while. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” The longer we go out, the more frequent days like this become - Once every few months becomes once a month, becomes once a week, becomes three times a week, becomes everyday once we move in together.

Two years later, when he proposes, I have ballooned. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been. The outfit I wore on our first date has not fit in a long while. Since I don’t want to look like a blimp in my white dress for the wedding, I decide to lose weight. He doesn’t argue, he respects my wishes. I try eating salads, but I cover them in cheese and fried chicken. When I decide to exercise, I’m pouring sweat and am out of breath in seconds. I can’t even lift my weight to do one push up on my knees. He assures me I’m beautiful the way I am and I don’t need to lose weight. “We can eat healthier and you’ll slim down.” He knows full well I’m too accustomed to eating junk, that I’ll just try and sneak the junk when he’s not around. And he’s right. Drive throughs are a must for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on weekdays when I work. I grab junk when shopping for healthy groceries on the weekend and eat it all in the car so he’s none the wiser. Except he knows and says nothing. He lets me indulge.

By the time we get married, I’m absolutely huge and I waddle down the aisle, footsteps heavy. There’s a rumor going around among our guests that I needed to reorder my dress three days ago two sizes larger than the one I put in to be altered a month ago. (It’s true.) I look like an enormous cupcake. The guests all whisper about how I blew up and became a beached whale behind my back, but they are nothing but kind to my face. My husband thought ahead - he knows I won’t eat much at the wedding because I feel guilty about my size, so he orders two cakes - one for our 200 guests, and one the same size for our wedding night. Since I’m far too fat to be lifted through the doorway, I waddle to the bedroom where he unzips my dress and I wiggle out of it, all of me continuing to jiggle after it’s off. He makes sure I lay down comfortably on the bed, bedsprings groaning under my weight. He proceeds to cut the second wedding cake into neat slices. Like that first day he invited me to his place, he lays on his side next to me, nothing but admiration visible on his face as he feeds slice after slice of cake into my round moon face. He lovingly rubs my belly and caresses me with kisses all over my body. “You’re absolutely stunning, Mrs. ([insert his last name here.] I love you.” When things get frisky, the bed frame collapses under (mostly) my weight. “It’s alright gorgeous. We’ll get a new one tomorrow. I intend to help you be comfortable with food, your body, and to help you indulge for the rest of forever.”

——————————————————————

45. Favorite chubby pet name?

Honestly, I don’t know if I would like being called any of them. I may be okay with “Piggy” since my parents used to call me one when they thought I ate too much. Maybe “Fatty” or “Fatass” but only in the context of teasing me about how chubby I am and making it clear how much you like it.

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ohheyalex · 4 years ago

Text

lemon//dickkory

A/N: Okay so this is a short fic I wrote the other day because of someone sending in a word for a wips ask game and I realized that I didn't have anything with the word ‘lemon’ in it. And since I've been saying that I want to get back into my writing bag, I thought that i’d challenge myself to write something including the word. And this is what I came up with. Be nice, it's been a minute lmao Also I had gifs on here of them but it wasn’t working so unfortunately I had to delete them, it’s my signature tbh ☹️

Dick walked silently into the kitchen in pursuit of a late night snack. Going directly to the cabinet that held his secret stash of junk food, he opened it and reached into the far back sliding a piece of the cabinet to the side revealing an assortment of sugary cereals. His focus zeroed in on the cinnamon toast crunch box. He’d been craving it all week and he had done his fair share of clean eating this month so this was his reward. Gar and Rachel didn’t know about it and he liked to keep it that way, he needed to be a good example for them. Plus he’d just gotten them used to the vegan meals he’d been preparing for them. But there were times where he caved and ordered everyone pizza on some nights when he’s too tired to cook.

He grabs a bowl and a spoon from a drawer but as he goes to pour the cereal he hears a noise so quiet that he almost writes it off as the refrigerator making its usual noises until he hears it again. Dick puts the cereal box down on the island and peers his head just outside of the kitchen. His eyes immediately catch the sight of Kory on the couch sitting completely still. She’s staring into space, her eyes unmoving but what makes his heart immediately ache is the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks. He debates on whether to leave and go back to his bedroom and let her be in peace or to go try and comfort her if that’s what she wants.

Dick makes his decision after a few seconds, he goes back into the kitchen and gets to work on a pot of tea. He grabs two mugs and deposits a teabag into each one, Dick’s anxiety rises as he waits for the water to boil. He’s second guessing himself, something he only seems to do when it comes to Kory. Once he sees the water boiling, he turns the stove off and pours the hot water into each mug. He stacks everything that she’ll need to make her tea just the way she likes it onto a tray and before he can chicken out, he just walks out into the living room.

“Kory.” He clears his throat quietly, Dick doesn’t want to frighten her so he stays a good distance from where’s she’s sitting crosslegged on the couch. She looks so small in comparison to the massive piece of furniture that she’s on. Kory’s green eyes snap up to his and it’s like she’s got a magnet in each one of hers because he’s instantly mesmerized by them. It doesn’t last long, as more tears cloud her vision and she looks away from him to roughly wipe them away. It’s a rare night for her where she allows herself to feel all of the pain that she’s been bottling up since the confrontation with Komand’r. Plus the deaths of Faddei and Donna were still weighing on her. And Kory doesn’t want to believe that everyone back home on Tamaran are gone and she doesn’t want to believe that her sister could do such a thing just for the crown. But there was a part of her that knew how hungry her sister had been for absolute power.

And since there was no way to get back home or to communicate with anyone on her planet, it seemed like life was going to be at a standstill for her and in the meantime she’s had to keep up appearances around the kids and Dick.

“I made tea.” Dick voice softly calls out to her and it stops Kory from spiraling into another fit of tears. She looks up again at him and she sees the tray he’s been holding onto for the past five minutes. Kory smiles at the sight and he can’t help but return it, her smiles were infectious and his favorite.

He moves forward to place the tray on the glass coffee table in front of Kory but she stops him, “Wait, what kind of tea?” Dick laughs but she’s being serious he quickly realizes.

“Chamomile.” He says easily. She nods in approval and he takes another step but Kory again puts her hand up to stop him, “And you brought sugar?”

Dick looks at Kory directly, “Yes and I brought lemon wedges as well. Anything else that you liked to quiz me on princess?”

Her heart leaps in her chest at the sound of her actual royal title coming from Dick and he didn’t even know, well not yet anyway. She shakes her head no, not trusting how her voice would sound and he finally makes his way to the couch to sit down next to her.

//to be continued….maybe

#titans #dickkory #dickkory fic #my writing

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rjhpandapaws · 4 years ago

Text

A Hand in the Matter

Ch8: Make a Home Here

Richard would eventually learn that when seeking help he should probably ask Connor rather than Silas, and he shouldn't ask them both. It was a mistake he probably wouldn't make again given how it went this time.

The Family Feud

UnluckyNine: I need help. I think I made a mistake.

UnluckyNine: I don't think I'm ready to have someone in my apartment for two days.

UnluckyNine: I know its only Gavin, but this is kind of a big deal.

Sixty-Second-Set: Its still a couple days away right? Just cancel last minute, that's what I would do.

Sixty-Second-Set: Wait. Who is Gavin?

Sixty-Second-Set: Why is he staying with you for two days!

Sixty-Second-Set: Where did you meet him? Have you seen him before? Is his name actually Gavin?

Sixty-Second-Set: Do you have proof he's real? Are you sure he's not a serial killer?

RunawayArkait: Silas, stop. Gavin is a friend of Richard's from school.

RunawayArkait: He's staying the weekend because he is helping Richard renovate his apartment.

RunawayArkait: They met at the cafe. Yes his name is Gavin, and they go to school together so obviously they've seen each other.

RunawayArkait: He's not a serial killer Silas. He isn't smart enough.

RunawayArkait: Anyway Richard, you want to do this right? It would be best to just get it over with. Because if you don't do it this weekend, it will just be hanging over your head for whenever you reschedule it.

Sixty-Second-Set: Solution! If he isn't there at a decent time, don't let him in.

RunawayArkait: As someone who was an hour late to their own birth, I don't think you should be the one to give time based ultimatums.

Sixty-Second-Set: Fuck off, Connor. You were an hour early.

UnluckyNine: Thanks for the help. I'll just see how I'm feeling on Friday

RunawayArkait: It'll be fine Nines, you'll see.

Sixty-Second-Set: Call Connor if you need back up.

Sixty-Second-Set: He can call Nora, or whatever her name is, and she can come kick his ass.

RunawayArkait: Her name is North, and he won't need to because its going to be fine.

UnluckyNine: Thanks for the advice

Sixty-Second-Set: Of course! That's what big brothers are for.

RunawayArkait: Its gonna be fine. I promise

The rest of his week was spent getting ready for Gavin to come over. Cleaning. Making sure he had sheets and a blanket big enough for the pull out bed. Cleaning the pull out bed. He went grocery shopping and bought snacks and junk food like what he had seen at Gavin's apartment. Almost texted Gavin on several occasions to cancel, and then deleted them. After the longest and most stressful week in recent history, it was finally Friday. There would be no backing out last minute, he wasn't Silas. On top of that, he was actually looking forward to seeing Gavin. As if on cue his phone lit up with a message from the man in mention.

Gavin Reed: Getting ready to head your way. Need me to pick anything up on my way over?

Me: No. Not that I can think of.

Gavin Reed: Alright, see you soon.

Richard set his phone on the kitchen island and gave his apartment another once over. Making sure everything was where it was supposed to be, that his apartment was presentable. Richard himself was dressed in a more relaxed way than usual. He had on blue sweatpants from Silas, that said University of Idaho Theater Fest down the left leg, and an oversized blank white hoodie. He didn't want Gavin to give him a hard time for going over dressed at home a second time. His phone vibrated against the counter top.

Gavin Reed: On my way up to you.

Me: Ok. The door is unlocked.

He put his phone back down on the island and made his way over to the door and unlocked it. He glanced at the shoe rack by the door. A small grey thing. The impulse purchase that had started all of this. He smiled and headed back to the kitchen.

Normally he would be waiting in the living room, but that was going to be Gavin's space for the weekend. He leaned against the counter until his nervous energy became too much to handle. He opened the fridge and dug through it, looking for the bottles of soda he had bought. He heard Gavin come in, followed by the sound of his shoes hitting the shoe rack. He looked up when Gavin spoke.

"Where do you want this?" He asked gesturing to the bag on his shoulder, an excited smile curling at his lips.

Richard straightened up and pointed at the couch since that was where they decided Gavin would be spending the weekend. With that taken care of, Richard grabbed the two bottles of old fashioned soda and set them on the island. He turned to grab the bottle opener since he didn't know if they were twist tops or not. He slid a bottle over to Gavin when he came back to the kitchen.

"Thanks." Gavin said as he took the bottle, "I got you something, a bit of a house warming gift."

Gavin's other hand came up and he placed a hastily wrapped box on the counter. He slid it over to Richard like it would have bit him if he didn't. Richard opened it carefully, not wanting to tear the paper. The box didn't have a label or anything that would hint as to what was inside, and Richard didn't want to shake it in case it was something fragile. He set the box down on the counter and carefully opened the top. He took out a white mug. Richard turned it over in his hands to see if it had a design on it. He found 'Silence is Golden' written in pretty light blue font. He set the mug down so he could sign and felt a smile tugging at his lips.

'Thank You.' He signed, 'I Love It.'

"I'm glad," Gavin said with a smile of his own, "I saw it in the campus bookstore and thought you might like it."

Richard took a drink from his bottle, trying to ignore the clutter on the counter. Gavin had gotten him something, saw it and thought Richard would like it. Connor and Silas were really the only other people who did that.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Gavin's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He was heading for the living room, "Online shopping, actual shopping, relaxing, or starting on changing around the place."

Richard came to sit beside him on the couch, leaning into the back rest some. Gavin, on the other hand looked like he had melted into it, he looked relaxed and comfortable. A contrast to the tensness that was still clinging to Richard, he was trying his best to relax. His fingers were tapping against the bottle in a rapid staccato pattern. He didn't really want to do anything tonight. If he was honest, he didn't want to do any of this, but Gavin was already here and it was too late to back out. He figured they could just hang out for tonight and worry about the apartment tomorrow.

He finally set the bottle down since he had come to a decision. Richard tried explaining this to Gavin, but he couldn't find signs that conveyed what he meant that were also signs that Gavin knew, and he didn't want to fingerspell everything. He let his frustration out as a sigh. Gavin was picking up ASL quickly, and Richard was proud of him, it was just that he was feeling more than what child-sign could express. So it was only natural that his texts didn't even scratch the surface either.

Me: Could we stay in tonight? Relax and maybe look at things online?

Me: I don't think I'm ready to do much else yet.

"That's perfectly fine," Gavin said as he turned on the tv, flipping to some cartoon he liked listening to, "We'll only do what you're comfortable with."

That was how their afternoon went. Gavin told Richard about his week as he looked at stuff online. Writing down a list of things he wanted to buy and the stores the website said he could find them at. It was comforting to come up with a plan for the weekend so it didn't feel so much like he was going into this blind.

Hours passed and they were just talking. Gavin was talking and Richard was texting his responses. It was a normal evening for them, up until Gavin's stomach growled loudly interrupting the story Gavin had been telling.

'Food?' Richard signed, not bothering to hide the amusement. He was feeling a little hungry himself.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," Gavin said, a laugh hanging onto his words as he covered his stomach, "You in the mood to cook or is it a take out kind of night?"

Definitely a take out kind of night. Richard couldn't cook to save his life and he wasn't about to expose Gavin to that. He pulled up the app and tapped on his usual Italian place and picked the same thing he always got before handing the phone off to Gavin. He took his time picking before handing the phone back. Richard placed the order and Gavin went back to his story.

The conversation fell away when the food arrived. The two of them falling into a familiar and content silence. They relaxed like that for a time, eventually passing notes. Gavin in the mood to talk, but not in the mood to speak. It was nice, and they stayed like that for hours. Enjoying each other's company until Gavin yawned bad enough that it sounded like something in his jaw broke.

"So how are we doing this Nines?" Gavin asked, rubbing at his face and muffling his words.

'You Take Couch.' He signed slow and clear since Gavin was tired, 'I Take Bed.'

With that established Richard began packing up the remaining food and putting it away. Leaving Gavin to handle the garbage. It reminded him of when he spent the evenings at Gavin's. Getting the pull out bed set up didn't take long and he let Gavin get ready for bed first since he looked like he was going to fall asleep if he stayed in one place for too long. It was new, but not unsettling to have someone else here, but he supposed it was because he was used to being around Gavin.

He took his turn getting ready for bed, and once he was done for the night, he checked in with Silas like he promised he would.

Me: I'm not dead.

Silas: Did he do anything weird.

Me: No.

Me: He bought a coffee mug as a house warming gift which was nice

Silas: You're alright then?

Me: I promise.

Me: I'm going to bed now.

Silas: Sleep well.

When morning rolled around Richard got ready for the day, a grey turtle neck paired with dark jeans, and made his way to the kitchen as quietly as he could. Being mindful of Gavin, who was still passed out on the couch. He got the coffee grounds out and into the machine before he heard signs of life from the living room. Gavin came into the kitchen as though summoned by the spluttering of the coffee machine.

"Good morning Richard," Gavin managed through his yawn, his sea green eyes barely showing signs of life. "How did you sleep?"

'Good Morning.' Richard signed back with a smile, 'I Slept Fine.'

The kitchen fell silent after that. Gavin was leaning against the counter, in the small corner made by it and the fridge. His eyes were open and he was looking around, but it didn't seem like he was seeing anything. Richard hadn't gotten to witness pre-coffee Gavin before, and now he understood why Gavin's texts this time of day were only one word. It was kind of endearing to see a new side of Gavin.

Richard grabbed mugs as the coffee finished, a plain one for Gavin, as well as the one Gavin had bought him. He poured Gavin's first, leaving room for the abysmal amount of cream he felt the need to add to his coffee, and pointed the semi-alert male in the direction of the fridge. He poured his own next, then returned the pot to the machine.

"That's some good coffee," Gavin joked tiredly when he caught Richard looking at him.

'You Monster,' Richard signed back with his free hand and pulling a face to make his point.

Silence settled over the kitchen again, though this time it was content rather than exhausted. Richard was absently staring out the window, going over the plan for the weekend in his head. Today they were shopping, picking up the things Richard had decided on last night. He liked them and hoped they would make his apartment feel less like a hospital room.

Gavin got ready quickly after he finished his coffee and met Richard at the door when he was ready to leave. They were taking Richard's car because Gavin had brought his bike over. He was glad to have Gavin with him since he'd never done any important shopping like this before. What he had now was a collection of things that used to belong to Connor and Silas that had sat in storage when they had moved. The things they were getting today would be Richard's and would finally make the apartment feel like it was his.

Richard had made a list of stores along with what he hoped to find at each one last night. When they arrived at the first store he found a place to park that was relatively close.

'Ready?' He signed at Gavin as he got unbuckled.

"Yeah." Came Gavin's reply as he got out.

Richard joined them and they made their way inside. The store was big and had an open floor plan with furniture on one side and decorations on the other. He made his way through the store picking things out that were on his list, crossing them off as well as other stores as he got them. He also picked up a few novelty things that caught his eye, including a present for Gavin. It was a mug that said 'cunt' in black print with the letter 'c' making up the handle. He figured Gavin would get a kick out of it given his sense of humor.

The other stops went similarly. Richard getting things off his list as well as a few other things that caught his eye. Some of them for Gavin when he did well on signing or passed his Psychology tests. None of the places they went had the shelves he wanted for his room. One place had some that were similar, and he bought them for his office. They were going to try one last place before giving up and ordering them online.

The store his phone directed them to was massive. The website said they at least sold the shelves he was looking for, but didn't say if they had any in stock. Looking couldn't hurt.

He and Gavin wandered the store. Following the signs in hopes of finding the shelves. They were stopped in an aisle trying to get their bearings. Richard didn't think they were going to find the shelves here. He was going to say as much to Gavin, but he saw a girl in the store's uniform coming toward them. Maybe she could help.

She spoke to them as she approached, "Can I help you and your..." her eyes moved from Richard to Gavin and then back as she chose her words, "partner find anything specific."

Richard froze. His partner? She meant Gavin, he knew that much, but it wasn't like that. They weren't like that. It wasn't like that. Richard tried telling her that but his signs wouldn't cooperate. He turned to Gavin, silently begging for help because he didn't know how to get out of this situation.

"Oh, uh. No. We're alright, thanks." Gavin sounded just as embarrassed as Richard felt, he hadn't explained that they weren't together, but his words had gotten the sales clerk to leave them be, which was just as good.

They stared at one another for a long while, the silence between them wasn't awkward, but there was something hanging in it. Gavin broke into a smile and then broke down into uncontrollable laughter. It got to the point that he was nearly doubled over. Richard's own anxiety was beginning to subside and he couldn't help but smile at Gavin, the other's delight rubbing off on him. They didn't find the shelves, but that was fine.

"Let's head back," Gavin said when he finally had control over his breathing. "We can pick up some food on the way back. Then order the shelves when we get back to your place."

Richard found himself hyper aware of how close he was to Gavin the rest of the night. Keeping a friendly distance between them and decided he could give him the mug another time. He didn't want to give Gavin the wrong impression.

They continued talking about it, Richard taking delight in Gavin's awkwardness. They exchanged pleasant stories and memories well into the evening. The late night hours became early morning and when they were both sagging into the pull out bed, Richard decided it was time to get some sleep.

'Okay,' Richard signed as he stood with a yawn, 'Bed Time.'

He let Gavin use the bathroom first again. When Richard was done for the night he climbed into bed and messaged Silas.

Me: Today was interesting

Silas: What did Garrett do?

Me: Gavin.

Me: He didn't do anything, but a worker at a furniture mistook us for a couple.

Silas: You said he wasn't doing anything!

Me: He wasn't. We were just kind of close

Silas: Why?

Me: We were lost.

Me: Anyway, its late so I'm going to sleep.

Silas: Be safe

Me: Always

Richard woke up at his usual time, the late night not quite beating natural habit. Like yesterday, Richard went about making coffee as quietly as possible. Since they were staying at the apartment he was back in comfortable clothes. The same blue sweatpants as before and a loose black t-shirt with an old style cat emoji on it. Just like the day before, the smell off coffee brought a barely coherent Gavin into the kitchen.

"Morning." Gavin muttered, sounding like he would much rather be asleep. "Today's the day. Are you excited?"

'Morning.' Richard signed back, choosing to answer Gavin's question with a nod. He didn't look awake enough for more signing.

When the coffee finished he poured Gavin's first sliding it over to him so he could get around to actually waking up. Richard poured his own next, holding it in his hands to soak up the warmth. He found himself watching Gavin, and rolled his eyes when the other all but moaned into his coffee. Understanding the sentiment, Richard lifted his own mug in a mock salute.

"Look. One of us can't function before eleven in the morning." He complained, hiding a yawn behind his mug before he took another drink, "Its not my fault you can't wake up at a normal time."

'Waking Up Afternoon Not Normal,' he replied dryly, winking at Gavin in place of a smile. Richard found morning's to be the most peaceful time of day and he liked them the best.

"Richard." He groaned gesturing to the window with his free hand, "Its the weekend. Its practically against the law to wake up early on the weekend."

'Yet Here You Are.' Richard felt himself smiling as he signed, 'Awake Early Sunday Morning.'

Gavin rolled his eyes and gave a genuine but tired laugh, "Okay, no need to be so damn smug. You've made your point."

'Have I?' Richard asked with the quirk of a brow.

This earned him getting flipped off by Gavin. He rolled his eyes again and hid a broad smile behind his mug. Gavin finished his coffee first and cleaned his mug out in the sink, setting it aside when he was done.

"Alright, I'm going to start by cleaning up my shit from the living room," he gestured in the vague direction of the couch, but Richard got the idea. "Then where do you want me?"

'My Room.' Richard signed before finishing off the rest of his coffee and cleaning out the mug.

Richard went to his room with every intention of redecorating but caught sight of his open closet doors. Part of making this apartment his was getting rid of those. He walked back out of his room to the hall closet, he opened the door and dug around until he found his tool kit. Richard took it back to his room and got started on the doors. He was working on the one farthest from the bedroom door. He got the top hinge detached without a problem. With that out of the way, he sat down and got to work on the bottom hinge. He heard Gavin knock on the doorframe before he spoke.

"What," Gavin started from behind him, sounding genuinely confused, "are you doing?"

Richard, personally, thought what he was doing was rather obvious. He was taking his closet doors off their frame. He gestured to the door as a way to get his point across and got back to work.

"Okay," Gavin continued, sounding just as confused as before, "and you're taking the door off its hinges because why exactly?"

Richard took a deep breath, letting it put as a frustrated sigh. After making sure the door wasn't going to fall if he left it unattended, he turned to face Gavin.

'I Do Not Like Noise They Make. Help Me.' He emphasized the last two signs by pointing at Gavin, then at the door that was still standing.

"You have a plan of what you're gonna do once they're off?" He asked as he walked over and leaned against the frame of the closet.

'No.' He stopped for a moment, wondering if they could fit in his car, deciding they couldn't he moved on, 'Do Not Want Them Here.'

"We'll figure it out I guess," came Gavin's response as he stood upright again, he eyed the door before he looked back at Richard, "you got anything to make this easier or are we just gonna brute force it?"

As much as Richard would have loved to see that, he didn't think the complex owners wouldn't like it too much if they couldn't replace the doors. He reached behind himself for the screwdriver he had been using and handed it to Gavin.

They worked in silence after that. Getting thr doors off and finding a place for them took longer than Richard thought it would. They settled for sticking them in the back of the bathroom closet, he found the irony of that a little amusing. The shelves for his room wouldn't be coming in for another ten days, but everything else could be set up today.

He took his time in his room, reorganizing things as he got it put together. Richard enjoyed himself as he redecorated his room, relaxing as the space came to look more lived in. His room came to have a blue and grey color scheme that he found calming and visually appealing. He took a picture of the finished product to send to Silas and Connor, making sure Gavin wasn't in the shot. Silas would lose it if he saw him in Richard's room, he would get the wrong idea.

The office came next, and setting up the shelves took the longest. Organizing them was easy though. The one to the right of the door as you came in was for books and paper work, the one to the left came to hold office supplies, a ship in a bottle, and a Lucky Cat statue from Gavin. Like with his bedroom, Richard took a picture to send to his brothers once Gavin had left.

Richard worked on the bathroom next, which didn't take him long. It was just changing the shower curtains and putting up different towels. The shower curtain was a blown up picture of the beach. Another picture that was sent to his brothers.

The last room left to do was the living room. Richard left it as the last room so Gavin had time to get all of his stuff together. He started with the media stand, placing ocean themed glass globes on either side of the tv, and light blue fairy lights along the front of the shelf. He placed two grey costers in shade order from lightest to darkest on each corner of the coffee table and a line of three white-blue electric candles along the center of it.

The couch was the last thing left to be decorated. Richard went back to his room to grab the bags of throw pillows. When he came back he couldn't find Gavin. Assuming he was in the bathroom, Richard started on the couch. He was smacked on the back with something soft, and turned to find Gavin triumphantly holding a pillow with "fuck off" stitched into it with light purple thread. He smacked Richard again, this time in the chest. It was on now.

Richard took a pillow off the couch and grinned at Gavin who seemed to realize he was a little out of his depth. He threw the pillow at Gavin causing him to back up, it hit him in the chest anyway. He ducked under the next one and threw his pillow at Richard. He caught it effectively disarming Gavin.

He backed Gavin into the wall with a barrage of pillows and was poised to throw the "fuck off" pillow when Gavin finally called his surrender.

"Okay! Okay!" He managed between bouts of laughter, "I'm sorry for smacking you with that pillow. Even if you deserved it."

Richard still threw the pillow, hitting Gavin lightly in the shoulder. They got to work setting up the pillows at each armrest, some along the back. Gavin placing the "fuck off" pillow in the center so it could easily be seen. When he moved away from the couch, Richard took a picture of the living room, making sure Gavin was in the shot this time, and sending it to his brothers.

"There its perfect." Gavin said, turning to face Richard with a smile as he put his phone away, "home sweet home."

Richard returned the smile, something light and warm making its home in his chest as he looked at Gavin, 'Home Sweet Home.'

For the first time, it felt true. This apartment was finally a home, a place where he could simply be, rather than be confined to. It was a new feeling and he liked it. Richard hoped one day he had the right words to thank Gavin for this.

#A Hand in the Matter #dbh #d:bh #d:bh reed900 #dbh reed900 #reed900 #d:bh gavin #dbh gavin #gavin reed #dbh rk900 #rk900 #nonverbal nines

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 4 years ago

Text

My Lethal White episode 1 recap

After having had a lot of fun recapping episode 2, I went back and did episode 1 as well. It got a bit out of hand and is a loooong post...

Under the cut, because, evidently, there will be ALL THE SPOILERS! 🚨

*SQUEEEEE!!!* THEY’RE BACK!!! 🤗💃🏻🙌🏼 (Yes, I’m still squeeing, although this is a rewatch)

Let’s look at the title sequence, shall we? They’ve added a few new details: There’s the wooden cross from the dell, the White Horse of Uffington and Robin’s Houses of Parliament guest pass. The child from Billy’s memories and the pink blanket. Someone’s already mentioned the ‘whore’ swirling in the coffee cup, and then later we have a fencing icon in the pint. Cool hints. 😎

Cut to tired, head-achy Cormoran at the wedding. Strike has a slightly different haircut, and I wonder: they dye Tom’s hair darker for the role, but he has a glint of natural first grey at the temples that I’ve seen on Tom pre-Strike. How did they keep that? (Sorry about the hair kink digression…☺️)

Pet peeve of mine they carried over from Career of Evil: in the book, Donald Laing slashes Strike’s palm, but it didn’t happen in the series. There was no blood on his hand when he called Robin, and his glove was intact. And yet, Strike has his hand bandaged. I know it’s a silly pet peeve of mine, but stuff like that pulls me out of the moment. And Strike wouldn’t slap on a bandage just for a little bruising. *steps off soap box*

“You look beautiful.” - “And you look terrible.” - “It’s this jacket, needs taking in.” 😂

“I want you back.” - “What?” Augh, the double meaning of it all, Strike’s softness and Robin’s initial uncertainty of what he means. 🥺

When she realizes that Matt deleted Strike’s messages, there’s a tear spilling from her eye, and she quickly wipes it away. 😢 Such good acting. Such a brave girl.

A few of us have already addressed this in the chat: did Matt BLOCK Strike, or delete his calls and messages? Or both? They’re frustratingly unclear about this detail, and it makes a difference in terms of Strike being able to reach her or not. (I’m a continuity nerd, sorry)

Sarah standing next to Matthew. *gags*

Robin looks so beautiful! And so very sad. (Holliday is acting her heart out of this season, can’t say it enough). This is award material, hands-down. 🏆

Her look across the room at Cormoran while they’re eating! And he’s… just been staring at her all through the meal? Good god. These two.

If Cormoran falls asleep before dessert he’s got to be really, REALLY tired.☺️ Poor baby.

We’ve got to work on your fine dining skills, Cormoran darling! It’s very cowboy and rugged, handling cutlery like that, but you would SINK during an aristocracy under-cover op. Maybe the Comte de la Fère is available for a lesson?

The first chords of The Calling’s “Wherever you will go”. Ack. They really went for the original, and as someone who’s always been ridiculously in love with that cheesy song, I AM HERE FOR IT.

Cormoran walking slow-mo past the bridesmaids, looking at Robin dancing with Matt The Twat. My heart…💔

When I’m gone you’ll need love to light the shadows on your face… *sniff*

Cormoran’s FACE during the dance. I can’t. He looks like a puppy about to get shot. 🥺

(and what a juxtaposition to the little lady with the funny hat bobbing happily next to him, to everyone looking awww and being completely ignorant of the drama that’s playing out. Ugh. I’m dead.)

Matthew moves like someone who’s (painstakingly) learned exactly one (1) dance, and for their wedding only, and why is he even smiling so proudly? They must’ve just had the biggest row in history? Is he really so full of himself?

Even Robin is smiling, although staring longingly at Strike. I bet they did that so Strike would be a little mad at her and want to walk away.

AND HE DOES! 😟 You can just see the “Fuck this” from the book crossing his face as he turns around and leaves. Ack. I’m dead again.

If I could then I would, I’ll go wherever you will go

(Perfectly placed, kudos) 👏🏼

And she runs after him, looking like a fairy-tale princess. Did you see how frigging COLD it must’ve been, judging by her breath?! Poor Holliday must have been freezing to death during the shoot. And then to pull off such a heartbreaking scene…

(Also, the lawn in the park? A shitload of rolled sods. No grass looks this lusciously green in winter, and you can see the edges everywhere. Some landscaper had a field day there!)

“Are you sure?” - “Yeah. I am.” About WHAT, you idiots?! *wrings hands* To her coming back to work, of course, but there’s so much more to their statements. And I’m sure that non-book-readers thought they were about to kiss and elope, but - alas! - we know that’s not going to happen.😔

But at least we get The Hug™️, and it’s everything we hoped for: Robin crying, digging her fingers into his jacket; Cormoran closing his eyes… God help us, we are all DOOMED sailing this ship! 🙈💔

I was a little miffed upon first watching that they faded out of that hug so quickly. That was it? No, it wasn’t, as we now know, and I love, love, love that we’re getting all these extended flashbacks that reveal more and more of what happened to us!

ONE BLOODY YEAR LATER (I still can’t get over that time jump)

Lol at the subcontractor crashing his moped into the cab! It was only briefly mentioned in the book, and turning it into an actual dialogue was a fun idea.😂

And there’s Denise (that IS her, right?), completely uninterested in doing her job. Good grief - Strike and Robin are BAD a picking employees! 🙈

Robin looking not-jealous-at-all at Strike walking off with Lorelei. Ouch.

I like Lorelei, btw. They chose the actress well, and she’s nice and mature. Which doesn’t mean that I’m not secretly flinching every time she kisses Cormoran. It’s just not right.

Billy. Joseph Quinn does an incredible job playing him. 👏🏼 As dangerous as he appears at first, his despair and his efforts at holding himself together are heartbreaking. That battle he wages against his mental illness is on full display, and his scared big eyes are killing me. 🥺

Cormoran is admirably unfazed by Billy’s appearance - is that his Army training kicking in? Robin, though, is shaking but braving it out, recording with her phone although her hands are trembling. Good acting by Holliday.

Good riddance, Denise.

The good ole’ pencil trick. “I didn’t know people still did this.” 😌

I was surprised that Cormoran chose to simply break into the house on Charlemont road. It’s breaking and entering for no good reason. Could’ve been anybody’s home.

He’s not going to- EWW! He’s sitting down on that filthy couch. And plucking hairs from it. EWW!🤢

Robin: “...and some porn.” 😂 Says it as if it’s what they always find. The usual. Men… 🙄

Who’s the guy taking pictures of Cormoran? I seriously don’t remember this from the b- Oh, WAIT! Reporter guy. Patterson. Yeah. Him.

The CORE members are as cliché in their looks as are Chiswell’s upper class folks. It’s all a bit on the nose for my taste, but then clichés are clichés for a reason.

Cormoran needs to work on his disguises. Not fitting in at all with the CORE crowd, age-wise or in his look. No wonder they don’t trust him. He does it better in the books.

Oh Robin. I actually think you need a lot more therapy to work through your shit.

Ah, here we go. Seaborn bacteria. But first, Matt’s got to be a prick again. 🙄

Chiswell with his arrogance and his rudeness and his finger-snapping. *shakes head* I think if Cormoran hadn’t known he could make some serious money with this case, he may have walked out on him.

Btw, the “large” jacket is making Strike look slimmer instead of bigger. 😄 They’re so desperately mentioning Strike’s largeness, as if beating it over our heads could actually make us not see barely-6-foot and slender Tom Burke.

“Couple more potatoes wouldn’t hurt.” And his FACE! 🥰

Glenister is a really good actor. I always listen to the Strike audiobooks that he narrates, and I was worried hearing his voice in the show would be confusing, but it’s not because he sounds so different. Can’t wait for him reading “Troubled Blood” to me! 🎧

Is it a coincidence that Drummond’s art gallery has a painting of a horse in its front window? I think not.

I love that soft blue shirt they put Cormoran in. Makes him look very huggable. *blushes*

“Not sure I would make a convincing goddaughter either.”😂

So in England you can just walk up to a minister’s house and ring the doorbell without any security people stopping you? Interesting.

Chiswell just shutting the door in Cormoran’s face. RUDE.😠

The brown contact lenses. 👀 Okay, they make her look different, but not THAT different. It’s her sudden posh accent that’s the real stunner.

The panic attacks. Holliday plays them so well, I almost feel like I can’t breathe myself. 😧

I was expecting the Houses of Parliament to look a little less like a stuffy basement full of old junk. *ducks*

Barclay! Definitely looking more attractive than his description in the book. And I thought I’d gotten food at understanding Scottish. I haven’t. *turns subtitles on*

Izzy is the only Chiswell offspring who doesn’t make me want to immediately vomit.

“Venetia. Like the blinds.” Oh God. 🙈

Winn is such a creep. 🤮 Poor Robin. GET AWAY FROM HER YOU LEECH!

Of course Matt doesn’t want Robin to wear the Green Dress. Twat.🙄

The house warming party. I always wonder why Robin doesn’t have friends of her own. I have a feeling Matt has something to do with that.

The earrings. So we will see Robin finding out Matt’s cheating on her! I can’t wait for her to rip him a new one! 😈

Robin calls Cormoran - and it’s not Coco but Lorelei who picks up. That’s a smart change from the book. And it makes her the rebound girl. Which she doesn’t deserve, but it is what it is.

“And she bakes.” 🥴 Is it just me wondering how Lorelei got that cake into the tin without ruining the icing?!

Flashback to The Hug™️. God, their faces are so close. Cormoran is so soft. Nnnnhhhggggg.

Enter the plaid shirt. Lumber!Cormoran is a good look on him! 😍

The Armchair of Sadness™️. Of course that’s where the devastating phone call to Robin’s house happens! The disbelief and disappointment on Cormoran’s face is heart rending. 😢💔

@lulacat3 and I have already established the continuity error with Cormoran’s facial injuries suddenly missing when he’s reached the pub. (And they should still be there; he’s still wearing the plaid shirt from that same evening.) If I were the makeup person I would have been deeply regretful of having missed dabbing fake injuries on Tom’s face again.

The Uffington Horse. Robin’s in appropriate Wellingtons, weather jacket and a beanie for their outing. Cormoran is wearing what he always wears, and Tom clearly wishes he had a beanie. At least he gets to wear a t-shirt under his eternally blue shirts this season. REVOLUTION! 😄

Sure. Let’s just go and dig for a corpse with a shovel so conveniently available! Just the two of them - one delicate Robin and one invalid. And then Robin finds the bones after ten seconds of digging. No further comment. 🙄

But I like the change with Cormoran’s leg. As stupidly heroic as he acted in the book, I like it better in the show where he has to acknowledge his handicap and Robin takes charge.

The bones. Dun-dun-DUN!

(Good first episode, although all in all the pacing wasn’t quite right yet, and compared to the book it all felt a bit rushed. I liked episode two better.)

#lethal white #cormoran strike #lw #lethal white episode 1 #cb strike #bbc strike #spoiler alert 🚨

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to-star-lake · 5 years ago

Text

ether [ pt. 3 ]

pairing | pjm/jjk x reader genre | angst, love triangle word count | 6.6k rating | M, 18+

You placed the large garment box gently on the floor of your apartment beside the couch and looked at it, wondering what to do.

You thought back to how pleasantly Jimin reacted to your telling him about Jungkook. The way he simply smiled and candidly admitted to you how he thought it was sweet that Jungkook finally confessed his feelings for you. How there was not a single ounce of judgement or anger to be found in his eyes, smiling sweetly.

But you thought of Jungkook, about how terribly he reacted to the possibility of you being with Jimin, at how he wanted to take things slow with you, to get it right. You bent down, carefully sliding the box under the couch, putting it out of your thoughts, deciding that you wouldn’t attend the event with Jimin. You wanted things to work out too, you wanted to do this right. And it would not be a good idea to antagonize Jungkook with something like this.

You walked into your bedroom, sliding your clothes off before deciding to take a bath. And when you were done, you slipped into your pajamas, and sat down at the edge of your bed, and saw the screen of your phone light up with an incoming text.

Taehyung: Yo, wanna get lunch tomorrow?

You thought about it for a moment, and returned to your text history and opened your messages with Jungkook.

Hey, Tae just invited me for lunch tomorrow. Would you wanna go?

You stared down at the words you wrote and wondered why you were nervous to ask this. You hit the back button a few times and made some edits.

Hey! Tae invited me for lunch tomorrow, you should come with!

Ugh, too peppy. You deleted everything and rewrote it again.

Hey, Tae just invited me for lunch tomorrow, do you wanna come with?

You held your breath and hit the little blue button to send, berating yourself in your head for obsessing over how to word a simple text. To your surprise, you saw three little dots pop up on the left hand side almost immediately.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and with a little whooshing sound, a reply came.

Jungkook: What time?

You smiled, quickly typing a response. Probably around 12-12:30?

Jungkook: I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow, but I’ll let you know ok?

You felt your heart sink at this response and your hands dropped in your lap, but quickly felt silly for reacting this way. It’s not as though he’s saying no, he just has stuff he needs to do, probably errands or laundry, you rationalized in your head. You decided to try to not let it get to you and flipped over to Taehyung’s message, typing a response. Yep, sounds good. JK might come too.

Taehyung: Sweet. Yoongi’s coming too.

The restaurant Taehyung picked for lunch was absolutely packed when you arrived. You looked around at the bustling tables, waiters carrying large plates of food through the aisles, playing human dodgeball with the guests getting up and or sitting down.

“Y/N! Over here!”

You followed the sound of the voice, and saw Taehyung seated with Yoongi at a table in the back corner and you made your way over.

“Hey guys,” you greeted them as you took a seat in the booth beside Taehyung. “Yoongi, I haven’t seen you in so long, how have you been? I heard just got back from Spain, how was it?”

“It was lovely,” he responded simply. You smiled at this, Yoongi was always so straightforward. Not curt, but he always only said exactly what was necessary and not a word more. He was always a nice contrast to Taehyung, who’s constantly talking about some kind of nonsense or another.

“Where’s JK? I thought you said he was coming,” Taehyung asked as the waitress walked away with your menus after taking your orders.

“Oh, uh” you glanced down at your phone which you’d been clutching in your hand the whole morning, expecting a text from him. “He said he might, but he’s pretty busy today.”

“Sooo what’s going on there?”

You looked up and saw Taehyung staring at you, face resting against his hand, elbow propped up on the table, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” he rolled his eyes. “You and JK? You and that guy you left with at the bar on Friday? Spill.”

You took a sip of one of the bloody marys the waitress brought over for the table and told Taehyung and Yoongi everything from the past two days.

“So then he gives me this giant Chanel box, I haven’t opened it yet, but I guess since Jungkook and I talked, I don’t think I’m gonna go with Jimin to that event. But I thought things would be great since JK and I talked about us, you know? So I asked him to come out to lunch today, but he’s doing that thing again, where he’s being distant. He hasn’t said anything to me at all today...what?” you looked up to see Taehyung’s brows wrinkled in a frown at you.

“Y/N, babe,” he reached out and patted your hand condescendingly. “What’s wrong with playing the field?” he lifted his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “On the one hand, you’ve got JK, who you finally found out that after years of you liking him, he likes you too. On the other hand, you have this guy who is rich as fuck, who’s driving you around in a McLaren P1, buying you expensive things, and asking you out to fancy dates? What the hell’s wrong with you, what’s that depressed look on your face for? Just enjoy it! Yoongi, back me up here!” he gestured at a quiet Yoongi, who sat across from the two of you, listening while taking sips of black coffee, saying nothing.

“Tae, that doesn’t help. Look, I want to commit to something with JK since we talked, but it’s just- I don’t know, I still feel like something’s off, like he’s saying all the right things, but he’s still being distant-”

“Why do you like JK?” you heard Yoongi say.

You looked at him, astonished that he’s actually participating in this conversation, the type of conversation he would normally prefer to stay out of because it was ‘shenanigans.’

“Well, I mean, I’ve liked him since college..”

“That’s not why you like him.”

“I know,” you pursed your lips, thinking. “He’s gets me. He’s a perfect complement to me. I’m a bit messy, and he’s super neat. I work off my gut, and he’s deliberate and methodical. And he always seems to know exactly what I need - a chill night in, just sitting on the couch eating junk food, or watching a sad movie just to cry it out.”

“Mhmm, and do you like this Jimin?” Yoongi asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“I mean..I do..I did,” you quickly corrected, staring down at your plate of food, pushing a french fry around.

“And why do you like him?”

You thought about this for a moment. Yoongi’s question brought to mind images of Jimin’s eyes, smiling sweetly at you from behind strands of his silver hair being blown by the breeze, shimmering in the afternoon sun, holding onto your hand, laughing his infectious laugh.

“He’s so...light..” you began. “I feel..everything’s just so easy with him, he’s so light, he’s always smiling, always laughing. Even when something is serious, he has such a childlike and bright-eyed disposition towards it…he makes me want to run around in the grass with him and just laugh all day..” You looked up to see Yoongi looking down at the cup of coffee in front of him, his hand lingering on the handle.

“Y/N, I’m gonna say something, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he prefaced before continuing. “I mean, listen to the way you just described the two of them. Are you sure you really like JK? Or do you just like that after years of wanting him, you’ve finally got your prize, and the fact that he makes you feel like you’re always on the verge of losing him is just keeping you tethered to him for no good reason?”

You frowned at this. “No, that’s not true, I love JK.” You said the words and you heard the way you said it, placing that emphasis on the word love, as though you were trying to convince them of it. You sighed, looking down at your hands in your lap. “I’ve loved him for years..”

You turned and looked up at Taehyung, who exchanged a nervous glance with Yoongi.

He leaned over to look at you. “Yoongi’s right, Y/N, like, your eyes literally lit up when you started talking about Jimin.”

You scooted back in your seat, shaking your head. “No, he’s just a distraction, the only reason I even left with him on Friday night was because I was jealous of the way Yuri was all over JK,” you muttered, tightening your grip around the fork in your hand. “You guys just don’t understand.”

You threw your purse onto the table when you walked into the apartment, plopping down onto the couch, huffing at the whole conversation you just had with Yoongi and Taehyung.

They just don’t get it, you thought. They weren’t there when Jungkook comforted you over your breakup with your ex. They weren’t there every time he would show up at your door, the way he would take care of you, making you food, knowing exactly how you like your coffee made, letting you hog the blanket whenever the two of you were snuggled together on the couch watching a movie because he knew you were always cold. He got you.

Then you heard Taehyung’s voice in your head - Your eyes literally lit up when you started talking about Jimin.

Looking down, you saw the corner of the garment box sticking out from under your couch. You reached down and picked it up, setting it down on the coffee table. You stared at the top for a few moments before reaching down, tugging the giant satin bow loose. You brushed the excess ribbon away and lifted the top open.

You gently flipped through the layers of tissue paper and heard yourself gasp when you saw the dress. As gently as possible, you lifted the delicate silk material up by two thin gossamer strings that held up a bodice of lace, silk, and tiny crystals, sewn into the lining. You set the dress down into its little tissue paper bed and stood up, pacing through your living room.

Are you sure you really like JK? You heard Yoongi’s voice in your head say.

You stopped in front of the coffee table, looking down at the dress, and decided you would go to Jimin’s event tonight. It’ll prove once and for all that you don’t actually have any feelings for him, you only loved Jungkook. And maybe as a fringe benefit, you’d still be able to have Jimin as a friend going forward.

It was 7:55 and you were standing in the courtyard of your apartment complex, pacing, moving about stiffly because you had no idea how to move in such a delicate dress, afraid you might step on the hem or accidentally tear one of the straps if your range of motion was too big.

“Y/N.”

You turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and saw Jimin standing in the stone entryway, hands in his pockets, eyes wide, staring at you as you turned around, his lips parting slightly.

He was wearing a black sweater, tucked neatly into a pair of black pants, under a long gray coat, a silver chain hanging around his neck, matching the silver of his hair blowing easily in the wind.

“H-Hey..” you brushed at the gown nervously. “Um..I didn’t hear your car come up.”

He took a few steps toward you. “I took the limo,” he reached his hands out and took you by the hands, spinning you around. “It comes with a driver,” he looked at you, eyes soft and slightly tired. “This is unbelievable..”

You felt your cheeks become hot. “Oh no, am I wearing this dress wrong? It’s just, I’ve never seen a dress so fancy it doesn’t even come with a tag, I couldn’t tell which was the front and which was the back,” you looked down at the dress, embarrassed. “Or is it the hair, is it too much?” you reached a hand up, tugging at your wavy strands.

He reached out and took your hands in his, waiting til you settled enough to look him in his eyes. “You’re stunning,” he said, his voice soft.

He led you out to the limousine where the driver stood, holding the door open for you. You got in, and Jimin slid into the seat adjacent from you, beside the window.

He sat quietly in his seat the entire drive to the venue.

You watched him nervously, looking up occasionally at his profile as he rested his elbow on the edge of the window, his fingers brushing at his lips as he looked out the window. You’d never seen him like this, you thought. He didn’t look upset or anything, but he wasn’t his usual cheery, smiling self. You wondered if something was wrong.

When the limousine came to a stop and the driver came around the open the door, Jimin stepped out first, holding a hand out to help you step out onto the sidewalk to an imposing glass and marble entrance, lined with lights, a row of black town cars and limousines along the sidewalk, backed up into the street, full of people who must’ve also been attending this event.

He led you into the venue, to an elevator that rose 60 stories above the city, opening up to a rooftop terrace.

“Wow..” you gasped when the elevator doors opened, and you stepped out onto the stone terrace. There were men and women dressed in evening gowns and suits, some standing in clusters, engaged in conversation, others seated in sofas and chairs that looked like they were made of vintage upholstery, sipping drinks from crystal glasses, as an amber sun rose below a purple horizon in the distance.

“What..kind of work event is this?” you asked, eyes wide.

Jimin finally laughed, taking your hand and leading you to the bar.

“Y/N?” you heard someone call your name as Jimin picked up two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

You turned and saw Namjoon walk up, eyes squinted in disbelief at the sight of you in that gown.

“Hey, Namjoon, what are you doing here?” you reached an arm up around his neck, giving him a hug, surprised to see him at such an event.

“One of my investors invited me here tonight. The better question is what are you doing here, looking like that?” his jaw dropped, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, staring at you.

You laughed, “Um, I’m here with a friend, this is Jimin..”

Jimin held out his hand to Namjoon, “Hi man, how do you do?”

“Holy shit, Park Jimin? Oh shit, I mean, oh crap, sorry please excuse me, I just,” Namjoon stuttered, shaking his hand, utter shock on his face. “I didn’t know you were Park Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you turned and saw an older gentleman walk up to the bar, arm in arm with a woman in a black evening gown who you assumed must’ve been his wife based on the giant art deco ring on her left hand. “Happy birthday, my boy,” he said, reaching a hand out.

Jimin stood back, shaking his hand. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for coming.”

“What a lovely event as always, dear, we look forward to this all year,” his wife smiled, picking up a glass of champagne from the bar.

“Is your father around?” the older gentleman asked.

You saw Jimin’s jaw clench at the question.

“No, I haven’t seen him yet. I’ll be sure to tell him to find you when I see him,” he said, and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin, shuddering slightly upon seeing his eyes suddenly go dark at the question, his tone coming out with a cold and stern edge, a severe departure from the sunny and cheery disposition you were used to seeing him with.

“Be sure to have him give us the name of his event planner too, will you dear? This is absolutely marvelous, I must have them plan my next party,” his wife asked as they both turned to walk away.

“Certainly,” Jimin answered, and as soon as they turned their backs, you watched as he raised the champagne chute to his lips, downing the entire drink in one gulp. “Whiskey neat,” he said to one of the bartenders, setting the empty glass down.

“Yo, Jimin!”

You opened your mouth to say something but the voice of someone calling Jimin’s name stopped you before you could. Across a few clusters of people gathered in conversation, you saw a young man about Jimin’s height, with black hair slicked back, in a sharp suit and tie, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Jimin, motioning for him to go over.

The bartender set the whiskey glass on the counter in front of him and he lifted it to his lips, downing it before turning to you, and obviously forcing a smile, said, “Please wait here a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Dude, so that guy from the bar on Friday was Park Jimin? Holy shit, you are here with Park Jimin?” Namjoon gushed, punching you in the arm jokingly. “Duuude, nice pull, Y/N!”

“He didn’t tell me it was his birthday..” you said softly to yourself, staring after him as he approached the young man with the black hair, who held his arms out for a hug while Jimin hesitated for a moment, before returning his hug.

“Huh? What was that?” Namjoon asked, taking a sip of champagne.

“Namjoon, who’s that guy Jimin’s talking to?” you asked, gesturing over toward the two of them.

“Oh, that’s Park Jihyun. Oooh he must be Jimin’s younger brother. Oh man, I guess I should’ve known that when I saw Jimin, it all makes sense now, they look so much alike, he’s basically an older version of Jihyun.”

He has a little brother? You thought to yourself, looking at the two of them, Jihyun smiling, holding onto Jimin’s shoulder and walking him around to various guests to greet them, and Jimin obliged, forcing a smile.

The evening dragged on and you sat on a sofa with Namjoon, chatting with a few of his colleagues that were also at the party and losing count of how many glasses of champagne you’ve had. You couldn’t tear your gaze from Jimin, who was pulled from group to group. He would occasionally look around for you, and when his eyes met yours, he would mouth the words “I’m sorry” and you’d muster a smile, shaking your head, mouthing “it’s okay” back to him.

“Hey, Namjoon, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you stood, heading back into the building, tipsy and struggling to find your balance in your heels.

At the end of the hall, you saw a sign for the ladies room and pushed the door open to a dimly lit powder room, with a large vintage mirror above bronze sinks, a velvet sofa in the corner, and a group of girls who turned and stared at you as you entered, halting all conversation.

You smiled nervously, and walked over to one of the sinks, running cold water over your hands and patting your warm cheeks. You looked at your reflection, wondering what the heck you were doing here.

“Excuse me,” you said softly, ducking behind one of the girls and picked up a cloth towel from a marble vanity plate and dried your hands before turning and walking out.

“Oh my god, is that her?” you heard one of them say as the bathroom door closed behind you.

“I’ve never seen her around before,” another chimed in.

“She’s obviously not a society girl, I mean, did you see her hair? She probably did it herself. What’s Jimin thinking?” the third one said and the three of them burst into laughter.

You scoffed, turning and walking back down the hallway, saw Jimin and Jihyun walk across the open space down the other corridor. You turned the corner and saw them enter a room at the end of the hall, and you followed behind them, stopping beside the slightly ajar double mahogany doors.

“Happy birthday, son,” you heard a voice say.

Through the crack in the door you saw Jimin seated in a leather armchair, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Across from him sat an older man in a dark navy suit, his grey hair expertly groomed, wisps of white at his temples, and Jihyun stood beside his chair.

You quickly turned, leaning back against the wall, knowing that this was a private conversation, but still wanting to know what’s happening.

“I didn’t think you’d come back from your trip for this,” you heard Jimin say.

“Don’t be absurd, of course I’m going to attend my son’s birthday celebration,” you heard the man say.

Jimin sighed, “You’re not actually here for my birthday, so why don’t we just cut to the chase and you tell me what’s going on?”

Peeking through the crack in the door, you saw Jihyun hand a stack of papers to Jimin.

“What’s this?” he asked, flipping through the pages.

“I’m taking over Park Industries,” Jihyun announced, standing up tall, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Jimin looked up at him for a moment, and then looked at his father. He scoffed, nodding and tossing the stack of papers aside onto a table, standing up. “That’s great, Jihyun, I’m really proud of you. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to go back outside-”

“Sit down, son,” his father said. “There’s no reason for you to take this tone, you’ve known for a while now that this would be happening.”

“And it’s not like we’re cutting you out. You’re still on the board, you still own 16% of the enterprise,” Jihyun added.

You saw Jimin nod again, and turn to walk towards the door, and you quickly backed away.

“Jimin, Jimin, wait,” you heard Jihyun call out as Jimin threw the door open, walking out, and you had already turned the corner down the hall. “Jimin, he asked me to take over the company officially two weeks ago, what was I supposed to do, say no? I’ve already been helping him with everything for a couple of years, and you haven’t even been around-”

“Jihyun, what are you doing?” you heard Jimin say. “I mean, all your life, you’ve done exactly what he said. Boarding school, Stanford, Wharton, and now this? Don’t you wanna live your life? You wanna be his slave your whole life?”

“That’s not fair..”

You heard Jimin’s steps moving closer and Jihyun’s voice stopped him. “Jimin, dad also wants to know when he can officially announce your engagement with Miya.”

You felt all air escape your lungs.

“Who’s that girl you brought here tonight? All the other girls were talking about it. You shouldn’t be so unscrupulous, you’re lucky Miya is in France with her family this month.”

“Jihyun, I’m not getting engaged to Miya.”

You heard Jihyun let out an exasperated sigh. “Brother, can you please for once in your life just do the right thing?”

A few moments of silence passed before you heard Jimin respond. “Can you for once in your life just do something for yourself?”

You turned quickly, running towards the elevators in the opposite corridor. You’d heard enough. You hit the button to call the elevator and the door opened and you stepped inside, hitting the lobby button repeatedly, hoping the door would close before Jimin emerged from the hallway and saw you.

When the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened, you flew threw them, across the marble reception, and outside onto the sidewalk. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest, and you clutched onto your stomach, wondering why there was such a painful knot in your gut. You thought you had to get out of there.

Reaching into your purse, you took out your phone, scrolling to Jungkook’s name and hitting the ‘call’ button. It rang and rang and rang, and finally it went to voicemail. You held the phone in your hand, anxiously opening a text message to him.

“Y/N?”

You looked up and saw Jimin walking down the steps from the entrance toward you.

“Are you alright?” he reached a hand out to take your hand but you turned away. “Y/N, what’s happened,” he asked sternly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. “I heard your conversation just now,” you began, as steadily as you could manage in this moment with your adrenaline pumping and your heart racing a mile a minute. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I was just coming out of the bathroom and saw you and your brother..”

He listened to you calmly, an unreadable expression on his face.

“All of this, Jimin?” you looked around at the black limousines lined up along the sidewalk, the groups of men and women in designer clothes, at the tall glass and steel building where his birthday party was being held. “It’s not me, like I couldn’t be further removed from this whole other world you live in.”

You looked back at him and froze, seeing him looking back at you, the corners of his mouth dropped, his jaw tight, and his eyes glassy under the light of the street lamps.

He looked away, laughing softly, sniffing. “It’s not me either,” he turned back to face you, a dejected smile on his face.

“Jimin..” you regretted how harshly your words came out.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, looking at the phone in your hand and you looked down at the half composed message you were writing to Jungkook. You looked up and saw Jimin still smiling back at you and you felt a heavy weight on your chest. “Don’t leave,” he said quietly. “Please.”

“When my mother passed away six years ago,” he continued, refilling the empty glasses in front of you with a cold bottle of tequila. “I took it really hard.”

You sat on the soft cushions of the bench in a large bay window of Jimin’s penthouse apartment, wrapped in a chenille blanket. He had changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and sat across from you, one leg propped up, the other hanging over the edge of the bench, taking a shot from the glass. The large open space of his apartment was completely quiet except for his soft voice and yours, and the light pitter patter of rain hitting the window.

“That’s completely understandable, it was your mom..” you said quietly, also drinking the shot he poured you.

He let out a wry laugh. “Not for my father,” he poured another shot. “I quit Penn for a few years and kinda went on a bender. In retrospect, it’s my fault that my brother’s getting locked into my dad’s plans. If I hadn’t left, maybe my dad would’ve gone easier on him, I could’ve taken some of the hit.” He tossed another shot back and you did the same.

“But you know, sometimes I look at Jihyun and..I mean sometimes I think he actually really wants this. He actually wants to take over the company. It’s not some kind of obligation for him, he really wants it. And not for the prestige, he just...he just really wants to do the right thing for our father.” He sighed, shaking his head. “How’d he get this kind of discipline? I certainly didn’t set the example for him. All I did was run around doing whatever I wanted, I had no sense of responsibility.” He sighed, catching your gaze. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

You looked back at him, confused. “Look at you like what?”

“Like you empathize with me,” he said, looking down. “Like you understand.”

You were taken aback by this, frowning, “You don’t want me to understand you? You want me to look at you coldly and say some generic shit like don’t worry, it’s all gonna work out? I’m trying to be supportive-”

He leaned forward, cupping your face in his hand, and pressed his lips to yours.

“Mm, Jimin, stop..” you mumbled against him, pushing him away gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he pulled away, his hand lingering at your jaw. “I’ve been so good all night, keeping my distance, but you looking at me like that, like I know that you understand and hear me, it makes me crazy..”

“Jimin-”

You felt his hand slide to the base of your neck, his thumb gliding across your skin, taking ahold of you. He leaned forward, molding his lips against yours once again, and you felt your eyelids fall shut, like an involuntary response to the feeling of his lips on yours, like you couldn’t help it.

He scooted closer to you, reaching his arms down around your waist, pulling you into him and felt your muscles relax against him, but quickly caught yourself.

“Mm, no, Jimin, wait,” you stood up, backing away clumsily, shaking your head. “I can’t, I can’t do this,” you turned and moved towards the front door, putting all the energy you could control in your drunken haze into defying the magnetic pull you felt towards him that was keeping you from walking away.

“Y/N…” you looked up, hearing Jimin call out your name and saw him walk towards you, his shoulders slumped down, a shadow over his eyes.

You sat down onto the floor, wrangling with the straps on your heels in agitation, your mind foggy and clouded with frustration and confusion, unsure what to do. You heard him take in a deep breath, before kneeling down in front of you, touching your hands gently. He reached for the straps of your heels, tying them with ease. He took your hands and helped you stand, and refused to let go.

“Jimin-”

He stepped forward, making you take a step back, and you felt the cold of the concrete door hitting your back. You felt him grab ahold of your wrists, pinning them behind you and holding them there with one hand. With his free hand he grabbed your jaw, lifting your face up to his, and pushed his lips into yours.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, fighting every urge to close your eyes, the sensation of his lips against yours, his hand sliding down to the base of your neck, pushing you against the door behind you, his body pressing against yours firmly, making it difficult to turn away.

He let your hands go, but you felt the palm of his hand against your hip, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you against him, not allowing you the space to move.

“Jimin-” you managed to get out through the movements of his lips against yours. His lips are so warm, you thought, and so soft against yours. The warmth of his body against you, the smell of his cologne thinning the air around you made you dizzy and you felt your eyes fluttering closed as your ability to fight waned, you felt as though you were melting against his body.

You were barely able to lift your arms up, your hands forming tiny, ineffectual fists against his chest as his lips slid to the corner of your mouth, tracing your jaw, finding your neck. The feeling of his lips, the heat of his breath on the skin of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jimin..” you panted through his movements, feeling his hand slide down the side of your thigh. He pulled your leg up and wrapped it around his hips, and you felt a moan escape your throat as he pushed his pelvis against you and you could feel how hard he was through the thin material of your dress now bunched up at your waist.

You made a feeble attempt to push his chest away, “Jimin, we can’t do this-”

At your words, you felt his lips open against the base of your neck, and you felt his tongue sliding over your skin. “So tell me to stop,” he whispered against your skin, the low and resonating sound of his voice sending waves through your body. But you were unable to say anything, the words refused to come out.

He slid his hands over your shoulders, brushing the straps of your dress loose and he tugged at the material forcefully and you heard the sound of the fabric tearing. He pulled the dress from your body, letting it drop to the floor. Reaching around you, he unhooked your lace bralette with ease, tossing it aside before reaching down and looping his fingers around the satin ties of your panties, untying them and letting them fall to the floor.

He stood, looking at your naked body before him for a moment, his chest rising and falling, out of breath and in an instant, his lips found yours again, this time with more force, pushing your mouth open and his tongue fell on yours, completely overpowering you. Your head fell back languidly, as though your limbs had succumbed entirely to him, turning to jello. You felt his hands reaching around you, tracing the dimples in your back before sliding down, taking your ass in his hands, squeezing roughly.

“Fuck..Jimin-” You moaned against his lips.

“Tell me to stop,” he hissed, as though he was challenging you not to give into him, his low voice gravelly as he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head. He pushed forwards, and the feeling of the warmth and softness of the skin of his chest against you made you shake.

His tongue continued to roll over yours, pressing his face against yours hard, making it difficult to breathe. He moved his lips to your collarbone, biting and sucking, creating a little trail of blood clots in your skin as he moved down your chest, your stomach until he was kneeling in front of you. He looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with need. Jimin slid a hand to your inner thigh, the warmth of his palm burned against your sensitive skin. He pushed your leg up, draping it over his shoulder.

You were about to open your mouth to say something when you saw him lean down, and felt his tongue press into you, making you gasp. You could feel every bump and ridge of his tongue moving against you, his lips closing onto you, sucking at you, and you reached your arm over your head, your nails scratched against the door, grasping at anything you could hold onto to brace yourself.

Jimin looped his arm around your leg over his shoulder, reaching his fingers down to massage your clit, making your body squirm against him. You felt your breathing become ragged, your heart pounding against your chest and he pulled away suddenly. He stood, reaching down, sliding the edge of his sweatpants below his hips. You moaned in anticipation as he leaned forward, his mouth finding yours and you could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, and you could feel your wetness gliding down your thigh. Jimin slid his sweatpants and briefs from his legs, and reached out, pulling your leg over his waist and pressed against you.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt his tip press against you, gliding against your clit, coated in your wetness.

“Fuck..Y/N..”

He continued pressing his tip lazily against you, teasing you, making you whine into his lips, yearning for him. “Jimin..please..”

A grin formed on his lips as he positioned himself at your entrance, “Yes?” he teased, tormenting you.

You pushed your hips against him, wanting him, begging to have him inside you, feeling yourself dripping around him.

“What do you want?” he whispered into your mouth, sucking on your lower lip, and you groaned in frustration against him.

“Jimin..please...I want you inside me..” you begged.

“Yeah?” you felt him reach his hand down, rubbing the tip of his cock against you before pushing into you just slightly, making you gasp at the sensation of him opening you up. “Like this?” his hot breath against your skin felt like electric pulses rushing through your body. He looked down at you, a fiery need in his eyes as you tried to push your hips against him. “More?” he asked, his lips finding your neck, latching on and sucking at your skin, making you throw your head back at the sensation of him taking complete control of your body. He pushed in deeper with an agonizing slowness and all you could think about was wanting to feel him pushing in and out of you.

He pulled out slightly, slowly, before pushing his full length back inside you, the sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you made you shake, completely overwhelming you. Jimin moved his hips against you slowly, his pelvic bone pushing against your clit each time he pushed back into you, and you completely melted around him, the pleasure building in your core, your breathing growing more and more ragged as he bit into the skin of your neck.

Jimin could tell he had you at the very edge. He pulled his head back, giving you soft kisses as he slowed his pace, not allowing you to have all of him. You moaned into his lips, wanting him back, wanting more.

“Do you want me to make you cum?” he grinned, his lips forcing your mouth open, his tongue rolling over yours. You nodded, kissing him back in desperation, your head dizzy and vision blurry, unable to think of anything except the aching need within you.

“Yes..Jimin...please..” you choked out between panting breaths. He pushed himself deep inside you, quickening his pace, feeling your climax build.

“Do I feel that good Y/N?” his grin grew, the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, his cock pushing deeper and deeper into you drove you to the edge. “Do you like having me so deep inside you?” he pressed on, his voice a low growl. You felt your eyes roll back as you tightened around him. “Fuck..Y/N….fuck..I’m coming..”

He drove his mouth into yours, covering the scream that would’ve escaped your lungs as your whole body shook underneath his, his fingers digging into your skin, holding your body flush against his as you both rode out your orgasm.

You suddenly felt for the first time how cold the air was in his apartment as the sensitivity slowly wore off and you felt him pull himself from you. You leaned your head back against the door, eyes still closed, world still spinning and felt his soft lips planting gentle kisses on your cheek, his arms sliding lazily around your waist.

You opened your eyes and found him looking back at you, his eyes sleepy, his skin glowing in the dim light.

Shit.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, planting feather-soft kisses on your lips, smiling.

“Um..I’m fine,” you pulled away, leaning down to pull the dress back up to your shoulders, finding that he ripped the strap and bodice when he tore the dress from your body earlier.

“Here, let me get you something to wear,” he took you by the hand, leading you past the kitchen to the closet and you held your arm across your chest in an attempt to hold the dress up.

He pulled a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt down from the shelf, and told you to drop the dress as he slid the shirt over your head. You stepped out of the silk and lace puddle and slid your legs into the sweatpants before leaning over and picking up the dress, bundling it in your arms. He slid on a new pair of briefs and put on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweatpants as well.

“Um, I’ll get this to a seamstress and return it to you once it’s fixed,” You said frigidly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

He reached a hand out for your waist but you turned, backing out of the closet.

“Y/N..” he followed behind you.

You grabbed your purse from the counter and moved towards the front door. “Jimin..look I...I have to go,” you turned the knob and he stopped you, grabbing ahold of your arm.

“Y/N, it’s 2 in the morning and there’s a thunderstorm outside,” he sighed, looking at you with a concerned expression. “Stay the night, I’ll take you home in the morning.”

You shook your head. “No Jimin, I can’t stay I-” you turned to look at him. “This was a mistake. I have to go, ok?”

His brows knit together and he reached his arms out, sliding them around your waist and pulling you in. “How can you say that, Y/N..look at me,” he reached a hand up and took ahold of your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Are you still thinking about Jungkook? After everything? Look me in the eye and tell me you still want him.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot as a rush of liquid came to your tear ducts.

“Jimin, let me go,” you breathed, grabbing onto his forearms and tearing his hands from you.

“Y/N..” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let me at least drive you, it’s pouring outside.”

You sat in the passenger side of his car as close to the door as possible, wanting as much distance between your body and his as you could manage. You stared out the window, heart pounding, fingers nervously picking at your cuticles, and Jimin noticed.

He drove swiftly through the thunderstorm, pulling up to the outside of your complex. You had your hand already on the door handle, sliding it up before the car even came to a full stop, running out into the rain.

“Y/N!” he called after you, running up behind you, throwing open an umbrella.

“Y/N-”

You looked up, brushing the hair that’s been stuck to your forehead from the rain and froze, seeing Jungkook stand up from the bench under the awning by the security desk. He looked at you, eyes widening as they saw the little marks on your neck, that you were wearing Jimin’s clothes, the dress in your arms.

You saw his teeth clench as he lunged forwards toward Jimin, winding his arm back and you stepped in front of him. “JK! JK, don’t!” You raised your hands up, pushing his chest, but fell backward a little yourself. You ran your hands along his arms, “Hey, hey, don’t do this ok? Hey, JK-”

He threw his arms up, flinging your hands aside, “What the fuck did you do Y/N?” he yelled, turning and raising his hands to his ears. “What the fuck did you do?!” He took a step toward you, making you jump, and Jimin stepped in front of you, pushing him back.

“Y/N, get back in the car.”

“What did you do,” over Jimin’s shoulder you could see Jungkook slam his back against the stone wall, sliding down to the ground, his head in his hands.

“No, Jimin, you should leave,” you pushed past him, kneeling in front of Jungkook, trying to pry his hands from his face.

“Y/N..” Jimin moved toward you.

“Just go!”

You turned to face Jungkook, still huddled against the wall and in your periphery you saw Jimin lean down to pick up his umbrella, his hair and clothes drenched, and you could tell he stood looking at you for a moment before turning and walking out. You heard the engine of his car turnover, and its echo as it roared down the street, leaving nothing but the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement and water splashing from the rain gutter above.

229 notes · View notes

ironhusband · 4 years ago

Text

I Forgot How We Used To Be

So, uh, mentions of DADT. I’m sorry y’all this will be angsty as shit. But also really fluffy.

~~~

Tony and Rhodey’s first kiss was the cheesiest thing in the world. It was in their dorm room. Tony heard they were playing broadcasting “Back to the Future” on a cable channel so he bought on impulse a TV, a popcorn machine and enough couches for a theater room, and set it all up in their home. When Rhodey came back home, he found a smiling Tony sitting on the seats, mentioning for Rhodey to sit next to him. Rhodey wanted to protest, tell Tony Rhodey didn’t need him to buy expensive things. Instead, he gave in and sat next to his friend.

They flirted whenever they got the chance, their hands bumped into each other as they reach for the popcorn, they both leaned into each other unconsciously, but the height of it all is when Rhodey stretched and yawned and his arm fell around Tony’s shoulders. Rhodey froze, realizing what happened.

But Tony only snorted. “That was cheesy as fuck,” he said but leaned into Rhodey’s side.

“You love it,” Rhodey smirked.

Tony looked up from Rhodey’s shoulder, “I do.”

And they kissed because it was inevitable.

And it was incredible.

~~~

Their first kiss wasn’t the only cheesy thing. They just were cheesy.

They were the kind of couple that gave each other good morning kisses and brought each other flowers when they saw that there were some on sale and that kind of couple that kissed the hand intertwined with theirs and that kind of couple that had elaborate or sweet pet names for one another or and that kind of couple that flirted shamelessly and that kind of couple that snuck into anywhere just to make out and that kind of couple that had their a code for when they wanted to talk privately in public and that kind of couple where the family of your significant other adopts you that kind of couple that used Polaroid instant camera and kept all the pictures in a secret box and they were that kind of couple that told each other “I love you” every chance they got. They were that kind of couple that loved each other and showed it every chance they got.

They were also that kind of couple that had to hide their relationship away from the paparazzi so Rhodey could be drafted. They were that kind of couple that shared “a kiss for good luck?” when Tony said goodbye to Rhodey at the train station. They were that kind of couple that had letters written and read and left at home to find, to be opened for any occasion under the sun that meant "for when you miss me". They were that kind of couple that sent and received care packages filled with flowers and love letters, for when they thought the gestures were needed. They were that kind of couple that a little distance didn’t affect. Their love went on for miles.

It didn’t last forever.

~~~

The day DADT was up for passing, Rhodey asked for a one day leave. He and Tony cuddled up in front of the news and willed the law not to pass, knowing it will change everything. Logically they both knew it would be an improvement; Rhodey could serve and he wouldn’t be asked. But there was a sickening feeling in their stomach that told them it was wrong.

When the law was passed neither of them looked at the screen. They didn’t look at each other either.

~~~

The policy somehow made it worse. Suddenly everyone became a suspect, no one could assume that there weren’t any gays in the military. The packages and letters stopped coming, Rhodey too afraid of anyone discovering he was gay. Their calls, those in public, sounded to everyone listening like they were just friends. Rhodey wasn’t asked, but the harassment came in different forms.

Tony hated it only a little less than Rhodey.

It wasn’t easy; as Rhodey rose in the ranks and became the liaison for SI they had to hide more often. As Tony and Rhodey got more friends that they trusted; Pepper, Happy, Maria, and Carol only knew them as subtle. As Tony got more attention, Rhodey and Tony never even got to touch in public. As Rhodey once said “I’m glad that we hid this since the beginning or I would be out of a job” they both felt conflicted at the fight that followed. As Tony disappeared, Rhodey searched tirelessly for him and was mocked with the rhetorical question “what, are you in love with him or something?”; Rhodey wanted to scream but instead, he calmly responded, “sir, to my understating that is the Don’t Ask part of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” It was hard and frustrating and Tony just wanted to buy out the government with all of his money as long as the law got repealed.

And then it did.

~~~

Old habits die hard, however. They weren’t used to suddenly being able to be affectionate. They used to do it all the time before, with no distance and no suspicion. But now, 22 years later... they got used to being watched. It took a while before they got back to how they used to be.

The first spet it was when Tony texted him. They never texted before. Not like that at least. It was always professional and strained, and although they both wanted to write something sweeter, they never did, they never could.

And then Tony did it.

It was Rhodey’s first business trip since DADT was repealed, the first time they spent time apart after DADT was repealed. Tony woke up aching for Rhodey. And so he reached for his phone, searching for Rhodey and wrote up a text... before freezing, remembering. He nearly turned off his phone before he remembered again, this time the good news, and then he hesitantly pressed send.

“Good morning, honey ❤️”

Tony waited nervously for a response, half preparing for when he would be asked to hack into SMS and delete the text. Instead what he got back was,

“Good morning, baby ❤️”

~~~

More habits started to come back slowly.

~~~

The first time they kissed in front of their friends, they were shocked.

“Oh my God,” Pepper said, “did you just kiss?”

“Yeah,” Tony smirked, quite proud of himself, “any problem with that?”

“No, it’s just... I never saw you two kiss.”

Rhodey frowned, “was that some fantasy of yours?”

Happy fought off a smile.

“I’m just surprised that’s all,” Pepper bristled, “you never kiss.”

“Well, now we can, so,” and Tony took Rhodey’s hand.

~~~

Date night was returned rather dully. It started like any other “guys night out” evening they had. They just went out to some bar, drank some beers, played some billiard, and ate some junk food off the menu. But then Tony held his hand under the table, and suddenly it was different.

From then on, they held hands under tables and kissed good night when they got back home every Thursday.

~~~

For their anniversary, Tony arranged for them to go on a vacation together, and they spent it with Rhodey taking over for Tony’s spectacular failure at cooking dinner, and then later after an amazing dinner, gifts were exchanged. Tony got him a photo album of all their old photos.

“I thought you told me you burned them all,” Rhodey looked bewildered.

Tony winced, “couldn’t do that. I hid them really well though. Forgive me?”

Rhodey shook his head, “it’s ok. I’m glad you didn’t destroy them.”

Tony smiled.

Rhodey and Tony flipped through the pages, reminiscing about old times, laughed about old jokes, kissed when they felt particularly affectionate until they reached the part where the photo album was blank.

Rhodey looked up to Tony in question.

Tony grinned, “the last half we’ll fill with photos from this.” And he showed Rhodey a black instant Polaroid camera.

Their first photo after that was Rhodey kissing Tony deeply.

~~~

The habits fully returned a year after DADT was repealed, triggered by Rhodey catching on to Tony having a panic attack while they were on a date.

“Tony? Are you okay?” Rhodey asked, moving to hold Tony, that had begun to shake.

“Ye-yeah, I have to- I have to go,” Tony stammered and quickly exited the restaurant. Rhodey chased after him but what he saw when he walked outside was the Iron Man suit flying away.

Rhodey called Tony, and when there was no answer. He went to Tony's house, this time not taking a rejection. He banged on the doors and demanded Tony let him in.

“Tones!” Rhodey hugged Tony as he walked into the apartment, “what the fuck was that? Are you having a panic attack?”

“I don’t know, I-” Tony leaned into the touch, melting in his arms. Tony was very sweaty, and he was shaking like a leaf in Rhodey's arms.

“Breathe in and out, Tony,” Rhodey instructed, deciding to ignore Tony brushing him off for now.

“Your heartbeat helps calm me,” Tony mumbled.

When Tony stopped shaking, Rhodey turned Tony towards him so they were face to face. “Tony, baby... why did you run out of the restaurant? I could have helped you. You know I used to have panic attacks too.”

Tony looked away from Rhodey’s gaze, “you would’ve wanted to comfort me. We can’t be seen affectionate in public...”

Rhodey stared at him, trying to see how serious Tony was. When a nervous expression was all the looked back, Rhodey enveloped him in his arms again.

He should have known. They rarely held hands in public. They never kissed goodbye when everyone could see. They only times they said I love you were between each other. They weren’t a PDA couple. Not anymore.

But they could be, “baby, anytime you want me, in any way you want me, you can have me. You can hold my hand, you can ask for a hug, you can request a kiss... whatever it is... I’m yours.”

Tony didn’t respond, he only buried his head in Rhodey’s chest and silently cried.

~~~

After that, Tony and Rhodey got back to their PDA habits very quickly. They kissed hello and goodbye, they said or shouted I love you in public, they gave each other flowers when everyone could see and they held hands every chance they got (sometimes while flipping off the paps).

“I miss DADT,” Pepper groaned as she watched Tony and Rhodey cuddle, in the middle of a passionate kiss as Pepper said her joke.

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lovehugsandcandy · 4 years ago

Text

Lost and Found

A/N: Yeah side character day! I dislike Ingrid as the witchy popular foil to MC’s innocence. I like Ingrid as a tough powerful character and as a LI choice MC could make, stepping away from the of crime to crush it as half of this powerful Langston couple. @rodappreciationweek

Pairing: Ingrid x MC, ROD

Length: ~1,400 words

Rating: PG-13 (Maybe a swear?)

Summary: Ellie loses parts of her past and finds her future.

The hinges squeaked as the dorm room door opened, but Ellie didn’t even look up, shifting books and boxes aside in utter panic.

“Why the hell are you under the bed?”

She didn’t reply, kept burrowing deeper into the darkness, whispering a fervent prayer that it fell underneath while she was sleeping.

“Ellie?” Ingrid’s footsteps edged closer. “Um. You...you okay?”

She sat up, slamming her head into the underside of her box spring before squirming out. “No.” She was decidedly not okay. Her chest was tight, breathing shallow; she had already felt lightheaded and now she had a lump on her crown to add to her awful day. “Have you seen my necklace?”

“Your necklace? The shiny silver one with the...the thing? One the end?”

“It’s a spark plug!”

Ingrid put her hands up, placatingly. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s just…” Ellie sagged onto her bed, furiously rubbing her eyes. She would not cry, she refused to, instead fighting down the sting behind her lids and the hammering of her heart. “I can’t find it anywhere, I swear I had it this yesterday-I mean, I wear it every day-but now it’s gone.” She needed that necklace. It was like a suit of armor, wrapping her in protective warmth and memories when the struggles of college seemed like they were too much. When she felt most anxious, it’s calming weight made her realize that she could do anything.

“I’m sorry.” Ingrid dropped her backpack on the bed and perched next to Ellie, any smart remark gone as she rubbed her shoulder with a comforting palm. “Should we go search for it? Retrace your steps?”

Ellie blinked back the tears, mouth dropping in awe. “We? You would do that with me?”

“Definitely!” Ingrid charged off the bed, leading the way as they weaved through the entire campus. Classrooms, libraries, gym, campus center-all turned up nothing. However, when Ingrid bought her a milkshake, spinning tales of her misadventures in Chem Lab that made Ellie’s laugh sweeten like chocolate, well, it didn’t feel so bad.

~~~~~

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?”

This time, Ellie couldn’t hold back the tears, heaping sobs that made their way, shuddering and heartbroken, out of her throat. “Someone…” She tried to sniff back some moisture, but it poured down her face, anyway. “Someone broke into my car.”

“Oh my God.”

“They broke the window, messed it up a bit-”

“Assholes! What the-I’m so sorry!” Ingrid pursed her lips, standing to embrace Ellie in a tight hug.

“But...but they stole my stuff,” Ellie wailed, clinging to her roommate.

“What stuff?”

“My...my cactus. And my fuzzy dice.” Ingrid pulled back to study her. She couldn’t possibly understand how much the items meant, but she knew they were important. “It’s just…” Ellie sighed, “They were special. People, really good friends, they gave them to me and I don’t even know if they-” Her voice broke. “-I don’t even know if I will ever see those people again. That’s all I had and-”

“Ellie, you don’t have to explain. I don’t know everything you went through senior year, but I’m sure it was rough. I know that stuff was important.”

Ellie nodded. Ingrid’s arms were still around her and the cashmere sweater was comforting, wrapping her in warmth that edged through her numb limbs.

“El?” Ingrid probed, hesitantly, “Did you file a report with Security yet? In case any of your stuff turns up?”

She swiped at the tears still dripping from her chin; thankfully, Ingrid apparently hadn’t noticed her expensive clothes getting damp. Or maybe she didn’t care. “No.”

“Let’s go.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Ingrid stepped away to grab her purse, but Ellie pulled her back, folding her again into a massive hug.

“Thank you, Ingrid. Really….thank you.”

Ingrid’s face was indecipherable, a flush spreading over her nose. “I...Anything for you.”

~~~~~

Ellie ate her fourth slice, stomach aching dangerously, when Ingrid spoke up.

“Were you….are you dating one of them? The people who gave you the presents?”

“Why?” She swallowed pepperoni and cheese down a dry throat. “Why do you ask?”

Ingrid looked out the window. It was dark, even the light of the moon hiding behind a dense patchwork of clouds; Ellie didn’t see anything but the reflection of two college students, scarfing down junk food at 2am. “I just...I was just wondering.”

“They were…” Words flew through Ellie’s brain and she focused, thinking hard, considering the right ones. “They were all important to me. They were there for me when I was learning who I was, what I wanted.”

“Okay...”

Ellie blinked and she could see the quirk of Mona’s eyebrow as she teased, the fire in Colt’s eyes as he watched the shop burn, the warmth of Logan’s smile when he called her Troublemaker. But then it faded. “But I chose to be here. I chose to leave LA, to follow my dreams across the country. I know who I am, now.”

“Okay. I just always wondered.” Ingrid turned to face her, freckles speckled across her nose mingling with newly painted flush.

“Okay. Fine. Why did you go to the prom with Brent Vandermeer? I just always wondered.”

“He’s rich.” Ingrid smiled, all teeth, and Ellie was transported back in time to high school, when those dazzling, sneering grins were all she knew of her roommate. It easily softened into something warm, less shark, more friend and Ellie was brought back to the present, to the times she and Ingrid had crammed all night and laughed so hard they collapsed into tears. “And because he asked me.”

“Oh.”

“I would have…” Ingrid picked at her nails. Even after midnight, with tomato sauce on her cheek and hair askew in a ponytail, she was stunning. “I would have gone with someone else.” When she glanced up, her eyes shone. Ellie’s lungs wouldn’t inflate. “If they asked me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ingrid didn’t look away and Ellie’s lungs burned. “Ellie, I always wondered…” Every word was halting; Ellie hung on every one. She had never seen Ingrid so unsure. “What did you mean when you said you would try not to break my heart?”

“I meant….I meant what I said.”

“Oh.” Her blond hair swished as she turned away and Ellie could finally breathe. “Are you gonna eat that last piece?”

She pushed the box away. “You can have it.” Suddenly, she wasn’t hungry anymore.

~~~~~

They were studying, both lying in companionable silence on Ellie’s bed. Finals were fast approaching and Ellie focused intently on the first draft of her English Lit essay; however, every so often Ingrid’s leg would brush hers and she would need to delete the last sentence of gibberish.

The blaring of the phone interrupted the peace.

Ellie squinted at the unfamiliar number. “Hello?”

“Ms. Wheeler?”

“This is she.”

“This is Langston Public Safety.” The bored voice droned as Ellie furrowed her brow. Next to her, Ingrid sat up, abandoning her chemistry formulas to cast Ellie a puzzled frown. “I think we have your belongings here.”

“You...you do?”

“Yup. Looks like...a necklace, some dice…” Paper rustled over the line. “And some cactus looking plastic thing?”

“Oh. I….thanks.”

“You gonna come pick it up?”

“Umm….” Ingrid was still staring at her, expectantly waiting, a vision from her past, her present, and, Ellie realized in a shock, her future. “No, I don’t think I will.”

She hung up the phone to stare at her roommate. “Who was it?”

“Public safety. They found my stuff.”

She was watching Ingrid’s face closely enough to see her eyes dim. “Oh, that’s great. Are you gonna go get it?”

“No.” She curled her hand into Ingrid’s hair, taking advantage of her surprise to pull her closer. “I have everything I need right here.”

As their lips met, she tasted bubble gum lip gloss, a dazzling grin, and the certainty that she had made the right decision.

Tags:

Perma @desiree-0816 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow @troublemakerinspace

RoDAW @ritachacha

#RoDAW #playchoices fanfic #ingrid x mc #ride or die: a bad boy romance #amy writes

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honestlyhufflepuff · 5 years ago

Text

Mr. Universe Breakdown

I just had a lot of feelings about tonight’s episodes, so come with me while I attempt to process them.

Ice cream and pie for dinner is great, but you can kind of tell Steven is eating it more for his dad’s sake than his own.

The entire "Dear Old Dad" callback is so sweet, imma cry.

I love how Steven is this nearly adult drool-snoring with his mouth wide open in Greg's van and Greg still looks at him like he's the cutest child ever.

Alright, this expression with that weak laugh was the first hint we get that Steven is not totally into this. He's trying, but it's getting wearing.

Trying on tacky convenience store sunglasses and Greg noping out of the bathroom were peak moments.

Matching icons, anyone??

Greg, you live in a van, how are your standards that high?

Also, I wasn’t expecting Guacola to have a callback. No redemption arc for that abomination of a beverage.

“Dad, you’re rich, you don’t have to steal!”

I love how Steven just immediately assumes his dad is taking him to steal stuff. I’m doing this react on my second watch through, but I immediately knew this was the house Greg grew up in.

There’s a picture of the barn in the hallway! And a “Love Lives Here” sign. Oh no, is that this Universe’s equivalent to “Live, Laugh, Love?” Here I thought Greg avoided his parents because they were toxic or abusive, but it turns out they’re probably just super lame and cramped his style.

“Sorry for breaking into your lovely home. You seem like such nice people, with excellent tastes.”

First watch through, I totally thought this was a sarcastic little teen snark comment. Because come on. This decor is the quintessential representation of dated-grandparent-mild-hoarder-chic. On my second watch through, this seems utterly genuine. This house represents a peaceful, happy, stable life that Steven’s never known, and that he thinks he never will. He has so much longing to take in every single detail, before he even knows the people who live in that house are related to him. I had to take a break after writing that sentence because I got emotional.

He is more than strong enough to forcibly stop his dad from “stealing,” or to demand an explanation from him, but instead he goes off to write an “i’m srry we broke into ur house lol” note. Seems like he wanted a justifiable reason to explore this house.

Steven thinks later in the ep that Greg rejected a perfect life, but why would the parents not open any of Greg’s letters? Do they know about Steven? Do they care? It seems like they would care quite a bit, given that all of Greg’s memories have been preserved throughout the house, and yet no pictures of Steven, which tells me they don’t know about him. It’s not lost on me that Greg uses a PO box so they can’t find him (also because he still lives in a van). Is Greg repeatedly sending them checks so he feels he doesn’t owe them anything, and they are just refusing to cash them? I have so many questions.

Alright, so Steven is SO EXCITED to see Greg’s childhood memories. So excited to see his roots. To see his own connection to his human heritage. And Greg just shuts it down.

Way back in “Gem Harvest,” Greg saw how desperate Steven was to make a relationship with Uncle Andy work. And yet Greg did nothing to expose him to other human relatives.

In his attempt to grant Steven “freedom,” he just bound him and lived through him in a different way than his own parents did. If Steven’s upbringing was really about freedom more than Greg projecting his own issues, then Steven would have been given the option to have grandparents in his life. He would have gotten to decide if he liked meatloaf every Thursday and been given the chance to take road trips to their warm, lived in little house. It is a huge, glaring mistake that Greg never gave Steven that chance, especially after seeing how much he loved Andy.

“Leave that junk behind.”

Greg found the one memory he was looking for, and paid no attention to what Steven was drawn to.

“I get it, Steven. When I was just little Gregory Demayo I was going through the motions. Doing what everybody else wanted.”

And yet that’s exactly what he’s having Steven do. He’s literally having Steven walk in his footsteps to find himself in the same way he did, and he’s so lost in his own nostalgia that he’s not understanding that the reason that path worked for him was because he chose it. Steven’s way of breaking free and finding himself might end up being horribly boring and domestic to Greg, since that was something he never knew growing up.

This song is pretty tight, but Steven is not feeling it. Read the room, Greg. It’s like that “who wants to go a ROAAAAD TRIPPP??” line all over again.

“I don’t need this song, I need what you had...they can’t have been worse than mom’s family. I went half way across the galaxy for them, and THIS was right here??”

PREACH, Steven! He has always been so desperate for family. I’m getting so frustrated with Greg for denying him that choice because of his own hangups with authority figures.

Steven: You’re just like mom!

Greg: You grew up with actual freedom!

Steven: I grew up in a van!

Oh geez, stuff is about to go down. The leak did not prepare me for this moment.

“My problem isn’t that I’m a gem! My problem is that I’m a UNIVERSE!”

And here we see Steven shift from blaming his mom for everything, to blaming his dad for everything. And it’s so cathartic, honestly. It’s hard to be mad at Greg because he’s just so sweet and gentle, and rarely gets angry back at someone even when they are angry at him. And he genuinely loves the crap out of Steven. Even with all that, however, he is not blameless. And Steven has a right to call him out on that.

Scene breakdown: The driver’s side is totally crushed. The impact is enough that Steven was unconscious while Greg pulled him out of the car, and while he called for a tow truck. Think of all the impacts Steven hasn’t been knocked unconscious for, including all those hits from Jasper in the very next episode. If he was a normal human, Steven would have died on impact here. His gem probably was working overtime rapidly healing multiple fractures and internal bleeding in his brain.

And here’s where Steven starts to tune Greg out. I can’t help but see a parallel to when Aquamarine/Bluebird gets so annoyed with Steven’s relentless positivity.

I guess the talent of delivering all those cheesy motivational pep talks came from Greg. You know what, though? Forced positivity is just widening the divide between them at this point. Steven is not in a positive place right now, and he did his best to express why, but instead of owning up to anything Greg is just chalking it up to him “going through a hard time right now.” On the surface he appears sympathetic, but his response is ultimately condescending and invalidating.

And in the background he just talks about eating ice cream for more meals, like that’s going to fix everything. Like Steven didn’t just tell him that was the opposite of what he needed.

Even at this moment Greg never offers to connect him with his human family, when Steven has very clearly stated that’s what he wants.

I never would have thought a simple scene deleting a photo would be so tense. The building music, continuing to make Greg seem further away. The tired, bitter look in Steven’s eyes. This is like a villain origin story wtf.

Steven is slowly running out of people who he feels he can connect with. At the start of SUF it was the gems, and then it was Connie, and now it’s Greg. With that deleted photo he’s decided that Greg is no longer worth confiding in. He’s just another person who won’t listen.

I thought this scene would be the most painful one I saw tonight, until I saw Fragments...

#mr. universe #suf spoilers #su meta #su analysis #su reaction #steven universe

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buckleyy--diazz · 5 years ago

Text

Untitled Shawn Mendes/Reader [Angst with a happy ending]

It's been a while since I posted anything so here we go! Originally posted on 'babyboyshawny', I deleted blah blah blah you know the drill!

Please enjoy x

°•°•°•°

There's a knock on your door and the last thing you want is to see someone. Your eyes are puffy and red from crying, your hair is starting to feel greasy and you've been wearing the same old sweatpants and bathrobe for the past three days. All you did is watching crappy movies and eat junk food. The break up was your idea but it doesn't mean you're dealing well with it. Not being able to see or talk to Shawn is torture and you miss him so much. You know you took the right decision, you didn't want to be someone’s dirty little secret. His management team wanted him to look available and had asked him to hide your relationship from the public.

At first you were okay with the idea and understanding but as the months passed it was getting harder to see a new rumor about Shawn being linked to every new popstar every damn week, not being able to see him whenever you want and when you finally had some time together it was always hidden somewhere. It was impossible to go on date, walking down the street holding hands. You talked to Shawn about it and he promised it wouldn't be for long, that he would convince his manager to let you two date publicly but he never did and you finally got enough. You finally found the courage to cut things off with Shawn.

The person at the door knocks again, you sigh loudly and go to open the door. There is a delivery boy standing in the hallway, holding a big bouquet of all your favorite flowers, when he moves the flowers to give them to you, the judgement in his eyes when he sees in what state you’re in doesn't go unnoticed.

“Yes?”

“Hi, these are flowers from-”

“I'm pretty sure I know who they're from,” you interrupt the poor boy, but right at this moment you can't even care if you are being rude. You take the little card on top of the bouquet of flowers and read it.

‘I'm sorry, I love you. S.’

Can't even sign his name. You feel more and more angered, if Shawn thinks he can win you back with some flowers he's deeply mistaken.

“I don't want them,” you say and the delivery boy looks confused, it clearly never happened to him before, someone refusing flowers. Everybody loves flowers.

“But-”

“No but, give them to my neighbor or the first person you'll see in the street, I don't care. I just don't want them.”

The boy is standing there, awkwardly holding the flowers, still hoping you will take them and make his job easier but you give him a little apologetic smile and close the door. As soon as the door is closed you feel yourself starting to shake and your eyes fill with tears. You realise you are still holding the little card and you can't help but reread the words on them. You read them until the letters don't make sense anymore and everything is blurry because of the tears.You let yourself fall against the door and slide to the floor. With your head between your knees you try to catch your breath and stop crying. You tear the card into little pieces and let them fall on the floor. You have no idea how long you stay on the floor, long enough to feel your ass become numb and your neck hurting from the position its in. Getting back up on your feet, you clean up the mess you made and go back to the living room. You fall on the couch and bury yourself under your blanket, falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

Of course the universe seems to be against you because you see Shawn everywhere, every magazine you look at, every time your turn on the tv, every time you open the radio his songs are playing... You have to concentrate very hard to no break down in public every time something reminds you of Shawn. The worst thing is that you have no one to talk to. Shawn had to keep your relationship from the public, but you had to keep it a secret from your friends and family. You told one friend, your best friend since kindergarten. You wish you could talk to her now but she is on her honeymoon, a month in Greece, and who takes a month long honeymoon? Well, your best friend apparently, and for a moment you hate her for having everything you want. It doesn't last, it's not her fault after all.

You just sit in your car, when you hear your phone vibrating in the front pocket of your purse. You answer without looking at the call id and your breath catch in your throat when you hear Shawn's voice.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, like he doesn't want to scare you, “how are you?”

“Shawn, you can't call me,” you say, ignoring his question. He must know how you feel.

“I miss you,” he whispers and once again your eyes filled with tears, and it's not the time, you have to get to work and you don't have time to touch up your makeup.

“Shawn, please stop.”

You reach for the glove compartment and takes the small tissue box out of it. Taking one, you try to pat your eyes dry without smudging your eyeliner.

“I miss you,” he repeats, “I need to see you.”

Breath in, hold, breath out, breath in, hold, breath out, breath in, hold, breath out.

“No, we can't see each other,” you finally reply. You can't see him because you know the second you lay your eyes on him you will cave in and it took you long enough to end your relationship, there is no way you will go back to him. Not so fast.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, because there is no point in lying, you haven't stopped loving him.

“Then why did you broke up with me?”

The question angers you because you know he knows the reasons.

“You know exactly why Shawn and until things change, we can't be together. Please just, just don't call me anymore.”

Not letting him time to say anything else, to say it will change, that he will talk to his team, you hang up and put the phone back in your purse. You look at yourself in the mirror on the back of the sun visor to make sure you still look presentable, and it's a miracle your mascara and eyeliner didn't run down your cheeks. You close the visor and start the car. It will be a long day.

Surprisingly Shawn listened to you and stopped calling. He still send a text message from time to time, asking you how you are doing, telling you he's nervous about an upcoming appearance on a morning TV show or when he sees something that reminds him of you. You never reply, you want to, so bad, but you know you can't let him win you back with pretty words and empty promises. When you were together he promised many times that soon you’d be able to live your relationship openly but it never happens. You still wonder if he really talked to his team if he just said that to appease you, to make you stay.

Day turns into weeks and weeks into months and you still feel sad sometimes, you're getting better. It's easier to smile and laugh. Shawn stopped texting you a while ago and it hurts at first because you felt like he had finally gave up on winning you back. You know your thoughts are contradictory but deep down you loved when he messaged you random things but it also helped you when he stopped. You realise it's when you started feeling better.

When you open your tv and see Shawn, which happen all the time since he's back on tour, you don't feel like your heart is breaking, you don't shake and cry anymore. You still love him, with all your heart but you let go of your anger and prefer to remember all the good times you had together.

You wake up from the incessant vibration of your phone on the nightstand. You rub your eyes with the back of your hands and take your phone. It's only 7 a.m. and you have nine missed text from your best friend. Your guts twist, she never message you like that unless there is an emergency and as you swipe your finger across the screen to unlock your phone, you fear for the worst. You open the messages and all you see is eight messages in caps lock and your friend seems very excited about something. It must be important because she never do this.

[6:40] OH. MY. GOD.

[6:43] YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE THIS

[6:47] COME ON WAKE UP!!

[6:47] WAKE UP!

[6:48] WAKE UP!

[6:49] WAKE UP!

[6:53] YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!!!!

[6:57] WATCH THIS!!!

The last message is a YouTube link. You click on it, not too sure about what you're about to look at. The YouTube app open and it's a fan video from Shawn's last show. For a second you almost close it, not sure you want to see whatever happens in this video but you trust your friend and she wouldn't send something that could upset you.

Shawn looks gorgeous, as always, he's wearing his usual tight black jeans and a deep red shirt, his messy curls falling on his forehead and you swallow the thick balls of emotions forming in your throat. You miss playing with his hair while he laid his head on your thighs. He's talking to the crowd and you realise you haven't heard a word he said when you hear the girl holding the phone scream an excited “oh my god”. You start the video again and this time you pay attention to what Shawn is saying instead of just looking at him.

“The next song is a new one, I wrote it for someone really dear to my heart. Last year I met an incredible woman who made me extremely happy, but I have been an idiot and I let her go. I don't know if she will see this, I hope she does, because I love her with all my heart and I don't want anything to keep us apart. I love you and this song is for you, this is ‘Because I had you’.”

Shawn takes his guitar from behind his back and you start crying at the moment you hear the first notes and the lyrics.

“I think it's time that I be honest Should've told you not to go Thought I knew just what I wanted I didn't know myself at all…”

The video ends and you don't know what to do, you're frozen in place, in the middle of your bed. You can't believe what just happened. Shawn really did that, you don't know if his management team let him do it or if it was his way of telling them to fuck off but either way Shawn did it. He did what you wanted him to do for months. You have to call him, you need to talk to him. He said he hoped you would see this and he said he still loved you.

You put your phone back on the nightstand, deciding to get dressed before you call Shawn. It will give you the time to get your ideas in order. You're standing in front of your closet, searching for your favorite sweater when there��s a knock on the door. You grab your bathrobe from the chair in the corner of your room and you shiver when your bare feet touch the ceramic tiles in the lobby. You open the door and Shawn is standing there, a small smile on his lips and your heart is suddenly beating so fast you fear it will leap out of your chest.

“Can I come in?” he asks gently and you move to the side and let him in. The door close behind him and you catch him by the lapel of his coat and crash your lips together, catching him off guard. He puts his warm hands on your hips, under your bathrobe and you sigh. Eventually you break the kiss but you keep your forehead pressed against his, breathing deeply.

“How did you know I wouldn't close the door in your face at the second I saw you?”

He looks at you and he has a sheepish grin on his face.

“I made sure you saw the video, I sent it to your friend asking her to send it to you. But honestly I don't know how you would react, I just hoped for the best.”

“I can't believe you really did that.”

“My manager is pissed at me but it's worth it if it means I get to have you in my life. He'll get over it, but I can't get over you.”

You’re smiling so much your face is starting to hurt but you just can't stop. You know you will have to talk about it but right now all you want is being close to Shawn. You take him by the hand and dragged him to your bedroom. Talking can wait.

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x you #Shawn Mendes/reader #Shawn Mendes/you #Shawn x reader #Shawn x you #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes angst #my writing

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wanderingcas · 5 years ago

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@bekindplsrewind prompt: Found the phone number of an old childhood friend in some box at the back of the closet and decided to call it to see if it still worked AU. in other words: dean is afraid of phones destiel. 1.7k. fluff & phone shenanigans.

“How did you accumulate all this junk?” Sam asks. He punctuates the point by throwing a pink crop top that says “Real Women Lift Weights” at Dean’s face.

“This isn’t junk,” Dean protests, “this was from my junior year in high school.” He carefully puts the crop top on the bed, letting out a sigh. “What a time of sexual discovery.”

“God, Dean. The fact remains—” Sam dives in deeper into Dean’s closet, on his hands in knees, pushing boxes and clothes across the floor at random, “—that Mom is showing this house on Wednesday, and no one is going to want to even consider buying it with all your cluttered crap all over the place.”

Dean snatches a Spock figurine off the floor before Sam’s knee collides with it. “Your room was worse.”

“Yeah, but I cleaned it.”

Making a face at the back of his brother’s head, Dean sits cross-legged on the ground. “Fine. But I’m the final say on what’s garbage or not.”

“We’re never getting out of here,” Sam sighs. But he reluctantly passes Dean a small shoebox anyway.

Dean opens it and sneezes. It clearly hadn’t been opened since before he had to start shaving on a regular basis. He rifles through the contents: colorful paperclips, a note that a cute girl had written to him in eighth grade, a small notebook that had SAM RULES written on the front that was crossed out and modified to SAM SMELLS. Dean chuckles and launches the notebook at Sam’s head.

Not stooping to Dean’s tactics to derail the cleaning situation, Sam calmly slides another Nike shoebox in Dean’s direction.

“You’re no fun,” Dean mutters, taking the top off of the shoebox. He pauses.

The polaroid picture staring at him from the bottom of the box all but slams into his brain, making him remember the moment like it was yesterday. Him and Cas had found a polaroid camera at a neighbor’s garage sale, but instead of buying it, they held it under their chins and took a picture with it, stealing the picture and running away with it. They giggled in Cas’ tree house as the photo slowly revealed their chins, stuck-out tongues, and wayward eyes drawn into obnoxious faces.

“Who’s that?” Sam asks over Dean’s shoulder. Dean jumps almost a foot in the air.

“Jesus, Sam, warn a guy.” Dean hastily shoves the picture back into the box. “And you remember Cas, you dumbass.”

“I was only four, Dean, give me a break,” Sam says. “That’s the kid you hung out with in Dad’s neighborhood before he sold the house, right?”

Dean softly scoffs. ‘Before Dad went off the alcoholic deep end and lost the house in a foreclosure,’ was more accurate. John had ghosted soon after that, leaving Mary with full custody of Sam and Dean. Her neighborhood was across town from Cas’.

“The last time I saw him was probably… I dunno…” Dean whistles through his teeth. “Probably when I was eight or nine.”

“I remember when you tried to run away to see him once,” Sam says. “You got a garbage bag full of your stuff and everything.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, and Mom just watched me drag that thing down the street until the bag ripped and I had to come home.”

“Overdramatic,” Sam says with a grin.

“Whatever, like you were an angel.” Dean rifles around in the box for more Cas-related stuff: broken, smoothed-over green glass they found by a creek that they were convinced were priceless jewels (they weren’t), an old broken ping pong ball they thought was a bird’s egg (again, it wasn’t), notes from Cas that were passed to Dean during class.

And a phone number.

Dean remembers the number as soon as he reads it: 555-9875. Cas had told Dean that if they ever get in trouble, or move away, they have to remember each other’s phone numbers so the other person can help. “Even when we’re adults!” Cas proclaimed from atop the slide, arms outstretched before he tumbled off the side (he did that a lot, climbing to high places, and making Dean’s too small heart already having premature attacks from fear).

“You should call it,” Sam says, again prying his big nose into Dean’s personal business.

“What? No way. It probably wouldn’t even work.”

“I dare you,” Sam offers.

“Jesus, Sam, how old are we?”

“Fine.” Sam crosses his arms. “If you call that number, I will clean out most of this closet myself, and you won’t have to lift a finger.”

Dean considers. He looks down at the frayed, yellowed paper. It’s been twenty years. It’s likely that the number is disconnected, or belongs to someone else.

“Deal,” he decides, whipping out his cell phone. “But you can’t throw away anything, okay? Not without my say.”

“I’ll get a box,” Sam sighs, rising to his feet.

Dean waits until Sam stomps out of the room before carefully dialing the number. He holds it to his ear and waits, hearing his own heartbeat vibrate the receiver.

One ring. Two. Three, until—

“Hello?” asks a voice.

Dean hesitates. It’s male, but couldn’t possibly be Cas, because the Cas he remembers had an obnoxiously pipsqueak voice, not this gravelly one that sounds like the guy just got finished chewing nails for breakfast. “Uh, hey,” he says.

There’s a beat too long of silence. “Can I help you?” the man asks again.

“Oh, yeah, well. Uh. I was just wondering—does Cas Novak still live there?”

“This is he.”

Dean’s face freezes. He gapes at Sam who has just walked back into the room. Sam’s mouth moves into a silent “What?” while Dean frantically gestures at the phone and yells silently “Cas! CAS!”

“Hello?” Cas asks over the receiver.

Sam, saving the day as usual, does a dive toward Dean and smacks him over the head with a box to stop his panic attack in its tracks.

“Oh, awesome.” Dean clears his throat. “It’s, uh—it’s Dean. Dean Winchester. I… yeah.”

The wariness in Cas’ voice is completely dropped when he repeats, “Dean? Oh my god.”

“You remember me?” Dean blurts out.

“Of course I remember you, I—” Cas laughs. Dean breathes in sharply. “This is so strange, I’m just here helping my mother move and the phone rings and—” He laughs again, more airy and bewildered. “It’s great to hear from you. What’s it been, twenty years?”

“Something like that,” Dean says. “You know, we’re moving my mom out of her house too. Must be a ‘moving your mother’ convention in town.”

Across the room, Sam groans and holds his head in his hands.

But Cas laughs, miraculously, and says, “Must be. Do you still live in town?”

“Uh, yeah. You?”

“Yes. I moved away for college, of course, but now I’m back.”

Dean smiles down at the floor. He picks at a thread of carpet. “Remember when we made a pact to go to the same college?”

“I do. In Australia, if I remember correctly.”

“Did you go to Australia?”

“No,” Cas chuckles. “Did you?”

Cheeks coloring, Dean stutters, “Uh, well, the college route—it wasn’t for me. So that’s a negative.”

“College is an ample waste of time, I don’t blame you,” Cas says. There’s a noise in the background that Dean can’t quite identify. “Dean, I’m sorry to cut this short, but my mother needs help dealing with the movers.”

“Oh, sure, Cas, no prob.” Dean looks up at Sam, who is gesticulating wildly, miming out a pen and paper like a crazy person. “Do you uh…”

“Dean—” Cas says at the same time. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, you go,” Dean says, smacking his forehead with a palm.

“I was just—I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee. Maybe catch up. I know it’s been a while, but—”

“Yes!” Dean blurts out. He gapes at Sam, who is giving him a very enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Yeah, uh—that’d be awesome, Cas.”

He can hear the smile in Cas’ voice when he says, “Wonderful. I’ll give you my number.”

Sam digs in his pocket and flicks a pencil at Dean’s head. Dean quickly scribbles down the number Cas gives him over the phone, on the yellowed paper just under Cas’ childhood one.

“So I’ll just text you some times and days, then?” Dean asks.

“That’d be wonderful.” Cas pauses. “Thank you for calling, Dean.”

“Uh, sure, Cas. Thank you for, uh. Answering, I guess.”

Cas laughs. Dean could listen to that laugh for days. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Ciao, Cas.” Dean flips his phone shuts and yells at it, “CIAO? Who the fuck do I think I am!?”

“We’re looking him up on Facebook!” Sam declares, making a nose-dive for his backpack. He yanks out his turn-of-the-dark-ages laptop and begins to wildly type.

Dean lays on the ground and pulls the pink crop top over his face. “That was the fucking worst thing I’ve ever done,” Dean declares.

“What’s his last name?”

“Novak,” Dean groans into the fabric. “I’m gonna text him, but he won’t text me back, because who would text back a psychopath that just randomly calls your childhood best friend’s phone number—”

“Dean,” Sam says.

“—and what if he’s the psychopath, or worse, not even Cas and he was just pretending and I meet up with him and get killed or worse he steals Baby and—”

“Dean,” Sam barks.

“What,” Dean yells back, flinging the crop top off his head.

Sam turns the laptop around and taps, hard, on the screen. “Dean, your childhood best friend is hot.”

Squinting, Dean raises his head toward the Facebook page sprawled out on the screen. There’s a picture of a very blue-eyed, very chiseled, very dark-haired man smiling in his profile picture. Dean can immediately match the voice to the face—he even recognizes remnants of young, eight-year-old Cas in between those smile lines—and his soul leaves his body for a moment.

“I need to text him immediately,” Dean says, wide eyed, to Sam.

“You need to text him immediately,” Sam agrees.

(Dean does, of course, after many beers and a lot of texting with subsequent deleting. It’s a story that Sam loves to tell at Dean and Cas’ wedding, a few years later.)

#destiel #destiel drabble #inacatastrophicmind #starsmish #woefulcas #spncreatorsdaily #mowripro #wanderingwrites #anyway there it is #*flings it into the universe*

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