#morning inspiratio | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alleiradayne · 5 years ago

Photo

There’s Something Strange A Reader/Sam Winchester Series

When Y/N Y/L/N escapes to the upper Midwest for a weekend of inspiration to begin her tenth paranormal thriller novel, she never imagined the source of that inspiration to be her own life. Between the old mansion, two peculiar men posing as antiquers, and the mysterious death of the heiress of Hill Manor one-hundred and fifty years ago, Y/N learns the truth about far more than the paranormal.

Part III - The Inspiration

Summary: Sleep can’t shake her writer’s block, and so Y/N goes wandering for inspiration. Warnings/Tags: Even more fluffy flirting, kissing, sort of dirty thoughts Square filled: Author AU Characters/Pairings: Reader/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 2,021 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this entire series fills the Author AU square. Super giant huge thank you to @atc74 who beta’d this giant thing for me.

All was decidedly not well again.

Far from it, the moment Y/N had fallen asleep, everything had gone terribly wrong. Nightmare after nightmare kept any rest from her. Worse was waking up unable to recall any of those dreams. If only she has managed to hold on to one of them, her book would write itself.

Instead, she ate breakfast as she stared at the blank page in her notebook lying open on her desk. The longer she stared, the fewer coherent thoughts formed. And the longer she struggled against that impenetrable barrier, the more she returned to the single constant figure in her mind, with his long hair, broad shoulders, and killer smile.

Fuck.

The notebook snapped shut as she flicked the cover, then it thumped into the draw of the desk where she shoved it. A large bite consumed the last of her toast as she stood from her desk, strode to her door, and headed down the hallway.

If the mansion had managed to inspire her earlier, maybe it could do so again. The heavily furnished hallway to her right loomed strangely empty despite its copious décor. The end of her eastern wing of the house lay that way, so instead, she turned to her left and headed for the main staircase.

Something about the house had gripped her imagination upon arrival yesterday. That much had been evident the moment she had attempted to start her novel that afternoon. And while the people had interested her at dinner, only one of them continued to permeate the cloudy suffuse that comprised her rambling thoughts: Sam Winchester.

Instead of fighting her instincts, she submitted to her wandering mind and followed her feet. Through various hallways she traipsed, no clear path determined, and her thoughts trailed in tow. Off its leash, her subconscious found its way back to the events of the previous night. Dinner, while pleasant, had served up little besides food. Her educated guesses as to the pasts of the other guests had all been spot-on. Even Sam and Dean’s antiquer disguise had been a narrow miss. That had been their intent, after all.

But what had surprised her was Sam's warning on the heels of his apparent admiration. As she strolled through another gaudy corridor of the mansion, her fingers itched, suddenly eager to touch. Why the warning? With five other guests, how would any detective single out her fingerprints? And for what crime?

Y/N found herself on a sunny patio after several minutes of traipsing. Golden rays of warm sunlight angled across a wrought iron table painted white to match the pale stone upon which it stood. Myriad of planters and pots bearing lush autumnal flowers revealed the source of the previous night’s centerpiece at dinner. And in the far corner stood a tall sculpture of a robed woman bearing a pot from which water flowed.

Detectives. The worst kind, Sam had said. While he had initially seemed irritated by Dean's drunken admission, Sam had not evaded her when she had prodded further. Homicide then? Special Victims? Cold case?

A derisive snort echoed off the glass of the patio walls as Y/N turned on her heel and stomped from the room. How had he managed to distract her so? Sure, he was easy on the eyes. But a romance novelist she was not. Perish the thought, she had never entertained the idea of writing such a book. She wouldn't even know where to start.

Not that she knew where to start yet another paranormal thriller either.

As she traced her steps back through the mansion, a gnawing worry crawled up her spine and settled at the base of her head, fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. His warning, while subtle enough, set off all sorts of alarms. She could use that. It may not be a bad place to start. Foreboding warnings typically hooked readers. The curiosity to see how it all played out motivated the human mind like little else. The possibility of danger looming around every corner thrilled. But that road, that winding wandering path with its ominous tone and obfuscated truth demanded the reader’s attention.

If Sam's warning started the story, then what would end it? Don't touch anything. What if a protagonist did touch something? The final piece to their puzzle. It needed work. But at the very least, it was the start to and possibly the plot of a proper story.

A familiar baritone dragged her up from the depths of her thoughts, his curse permeating the fog. Y/N found herself outside of the library, two large dark oak doors framing the wide entrance. She leaned over the threshold with a careful look to either side, then entered when she found it empty but for copious books in a vast array of shelves.

She heard it again, another curse hissed under his breath. A part of her wondered what anger might look like on his too pretty face. Probably no less attractive. Maybe even more so. Something about that thought, about the library and finding him there, broke a fine sheen of sweat out across the back of her neck, and so when she rounded the last set of shelves baring the weight of old writing supplies to find Sam sitting at a table laden with books, she hesitated.

That single beat of uncertainty allowed Sam the time he needed to drag his eyes from his book and up her entire form, drinking her in from heeled feet to coiffed hair. That look, the wide-eyed gaze and gaping lips sucked the breath right from her lungs. Christ, how had anyone ever survived his stare? Or that squirm in his seat as he openly ogled her? How she had ever resisted the urge to shove his books aside, pin him to the table, and ride him until she passed out, she’d never know.

A thick swallow preceded his greeting. “Y/N,” he breathed. “Sleep well?”

Ruined. All her plans for the weekend had been ruined by that one little question. It was then that she gave up on writing about her beloved protagonist inheriting a haunted house. Darling Natalie would instead be meeting Sam Winchester in said house and together they would solve a mystery while they fell in love.

Romance novel stigma be damned.

“I ah… yeah, I did,” she stammered. “Slept alright. Do you… mind?” she asked as she pointed at the table.

Sam glanced at his books, then shut several as he gathered them up and placed them on the chair to his left. “Please,” he added as he motioned to the chair in front of him.

Measured steps bared her to the chair where she sat, her eyes never leaving his. “How’s your… research? Investigation? What are you doing?”

Either Sam played everything close to the chest, or his detective’s nature forced him to behave that way. He slid the open book in his hands to the side, just far enough where Y/N couldn’t make out the text. “Investigation. And it’s… slow. But we’re making progress.”

“Where’s Dean?”

He smirked at that. “I could give you his number if you’re interested.”

“Only if I get yours, too,” she retorted. “You know. In case I find anything.”

His chair slid closer with a rough pull at the seat as Sam leaned near her, one forearm propped on his thigh. “I thought you said you were writing a novel?”

As much as she wanted to bite back, Y/N held her tongue. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m not looking for things to write about.”

“Find anything interesting so far?” he asked with a coy smile.

“Maybe,” she said as she crossed her legs and dropped her heel to dangle from her toe. “Plenty of inspiration. All those fascinating people at dinner gave me plenty to work with.”

His eyes snapped to her bobbing foot, and before she could move, he pointed and asked, “Would you… do you wear heels all the time?”

Strangely attractive men in stranger mansions investigating murders and offering foot massages. That had to make it into the book somehow. She slipped her shoe from her toe and it thumped to the floor. Deft fingers enveloped her foot as Sam set it on his thigh and rolled his thumbs through the knots in her sole.

“I usually wear heels, yes,” she replied.

“That’s pretty rough on your feet,” he started, “compromises bone structure. Invites fractures.”

She laughed at that. “And women are the weaker sex.”

“Men that don’t wear heels are the weaker sex,” Sam stated. “I could never wear shoes like that. Not in my line of work.”

There. A crack in the foundation. “Have you chased many monsters, Sam?”

His thumbs faltered as his mouth gaped. “Who said I chase monsters?”

That had not been the reaction she expected. “You’re a detective, right? Cold cases? The guys they call when nobody else can figure it out?” She flexed her foot when he continued to stare. “Sam?”

He shook his head as though confused. “Uh yeah, sorry. But no, I haven't chased many…” he paused with an averted glance, “… many criminals. You sound like you know a bit about investigations. What sort of books do you write?”

She ignored his casual shift in topics. “Paranormal thrillers.”

His hands froze as all the color drained from his face. “What?”

“You know. Like haunted houses,” she started as she casually gestured. “Vengeful spirits, cursed objects, demons, angels, religion, the occult. All of it,” she rattled. “I’ve got nine books on the market and I started the tenth this morning. For the most part. I think I’ve got plenty of inspiration with this house and the guests to come up with some sort of plot.”

She had rattled on so intently that Y/N missed his gaping mouth and green complexion. He remained that way, still as stone and staring until she slipped her foot from his hands. “I… think I should leave you to your research.”

With her foot returned to her shoe, Y/N stood and turned for the door, but only took half a step before the warmth of Sam’s massive hand slipped into her palm. He hadn’t grabbed her, hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even stood. When she turned over her shoulder, she found him seated and gazing up at her as if seeing her for the first time all over again.

“Help me?”

Her eyes snapped back to the table where she found his book shut. In the dark leather of the cover, gold inlay emblazoned the titled across the top in a curling script.

The Haunting of Hill Manor: A History.

“You’re not a detective.”

Sam shook his head but said nothing as her eyes flicked from the book to him and back.

“And this is Hill Manor.”

Sam nodded.

“And it’s haunted.”

He scowled as he glanced at the book. “The simplest answer is yes.”

Did he expect her to take him seriously? She smiled a crooked smirk as she asked, “So, does that make you Egon in this operation?”

His laughter burst from his lips in a rush of air as Sam clutched his stomach and stood. “Only if that makes Dean Dr. Venkmen.”

Y/N neared him, leaving little space between them. “He seems like the type,” she started. “But you don’t seem as… oblivious as Egon.”

“If you ask me to fix your computer, I'm gonna spend a little extra time under your desk,” he teased.

“I expected no less,” she said.

“But only if you agree to help me,” he added.

He wasn't joking. His tone, his intense hazel stare, his towering frame did all the dirty work his courtesies avoided. “It's all real, then? Ghosts, curses, dark magic?” she asked.

“That's just the tip of the iceberg,” Sam started. “I wouldn't ask for a civilian’s help if we weren't desperate, but if anyone finds this thing we're looking for before we do…”

Y/N considered herself an expert on expressions and emotions. Describing both required a deft hand and intimate knowledge of the human psyche. Though she had described the sorrow in another’s eyes time and time again, she had never seen such pain first-hand. Not quite like how Sam harbored guilt and despair. That look alone told her more than anything he might ever say to her; he had seen things he would never forget, had experienced traumas that had broken him over and over. Those eyes and their desperation said more than she ever could in any of her books.

“I'll help you, Sam,” she started. “If it means we have a chance to save these people, and I don't ever have to see that look on your face ever again, I'll help you for the rest of my life.”

A familiar, yet long-forgotten warmth blossomed deep in her center and spread like wildfire through her entire body as Sam hauled her into him and enveloped her in his massive arms. Her lips found his in her haste to soothe her own sorrow, and at first, he hesitated. But then the smooth heat of his hand cupped her jaw, fingers delving into her hair and Y/N melted into him as he returned her kiss.

“Hey!”

As though struck, Sam tore from her and leaped back a step. Y/N whipped about and found the source of their interruption at the corner of a bookshelf where Dean loomed out of the shadows. Heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor as he strode up to them both, and then he growled, “Find anything yet?”

Sam regarded Y/N before stuttering his response. “I might have a lead… from this.” He grabbed the history text from the table and handed it to Dean.

When he took it from Sam, Dean glared at Y/N, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. When she returned his glare, she planted her feet and folded her arms across her chest. No, there would be no scaring her off. Not with that pitiful excuse for intimidation.

“Not a civilian?” he asked her.

She looked at her watch. “As of five minutes ago, no.”

“Great,” Dean spat as he flipped his hand at Sam. “What were you—”

“She writes paranormal thrillers,” he interrupted. “She might be able to help. We need all the help we can get.”

Dean looked from Sam to her, then back to Sam. “Does she—”

“Iron, salt, and cleansing rituals for your everyday spirits that are stuck in between,” she interjected. “Might need a little Latin to force out a vengeful spirit. That’s what you’re dealing with here, right? A haunted mansion?”

Dean opened the book to Sam’s marker and scanned the page. “Not really.”

Y/N shook her head as she asked, “What do you mean? The house is either haunted or it’s not.”

He shoved the book into her hands and pointed at an artist's portrait of a woman at a writing table holding a pen to a piece of parchment.

“It’s not haunted yet,” Dean started, “but if we don’t figure out what item that woman attached herself to before she shows up, someone else will find it, and everyone in this fucking house is gonna die.”

Y/N took the book from him and stared as Dean turned to walk away. Sam remained by her side as he shuffled a step closer and placed a gentle hand on the small of her back.

The portrait was that of a woman in her thirties sitting at an ornately carved writing desk. She held a distinctly detailed fountain pen in her right hand, and a line of her neat script curled along the top of the parchment.

But that mattered least of all. The writing desk at which the woman sat stood beside a window in an all too familiar room.

“Oh fuck.”

Dean’s boots thudded to a halt. As he turned around, Sam leaned over her shoulder for a closer look at the page as he asked, “What is it?”

She pointed at the window, its gleaming rays of sunshine angled across the desk, and spoke.

“That’s my room.”

If you want to be tagged for this series specifically, send me an ask or a DM! If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), you can ask for that, too!

THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74 @hannahindie @bevans87 @meganwinchester1999 @plaided-ani-on-hiatus @oneshoeshort @jonogueira @andkatiethings @elfinmox @wonderfulworldofwinchester @princessofthefandomrealm @just-another-busyfangirl @jmekitchens @81mysteriouslyme @dolphincliffs @seenashwrite @canadianspnhunter @meowmeow-motherfucker @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1 @hobby27 @pretty-fortune @mypopculturediva @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sandlee44 @4llmywr1tings @claitynroberts @maddiepants @scarletluvscas @donnaintx @blackeyedangel9805 @rainflowermoon @winchesterprincessbride @lazinessisalliknow @the-is13 @waywardafgrandma @keymology @sister-winchesters99

Sam’s Sasstresses:

@morganas-pendragons @karouwinchester

There’s Something Strange:

@peridottea91 @amanda-teaches

#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #reader/sam winchester

32 notes · View notes

chimchiminiekookie · 6 years ago

Text

To All the Boys I've Loved Before | 1

Summary: Whenever you have a crush so intense, you write him a love letter, you pour your heart and soul onto that letter as if he'd never ever read it. Because he never does. You've never sent out the letters you've written, every handwritten word filled to the brim with you deepest desires and feeling for the person. They're your most sacred possessions... except the letters are out.

Pariring: Jungkook x reader

Word count: 7,008

Author's note: I'll update the summary and note and word count, I just need a little time, I'm deadass tired. My eyes are literally closing as I type. Alright! So i really love the book series and the movie just pushed me further to get this written. I'm just on an inspiratio binge right now. Lol. Hope you guys love it!

_______________________

When you were younger, you had a habit of collecting. Most people liked collecting rocks, or stamps, and in your little sister’s case, they collected strangely shaped crunchy leaves during the fall season. You weren’t like most people though. You liked to collect memories, and sketches of faces of people who inspired you, you collected strange cookie cutter shapes like one in the shape of a nose. It wasn’t until you were 9 when you decided to start saving the important things instead of collecting a lot of different types of a single object. Now, most people saved whales, the environment (yes to zero waste!), and even people, but that wasn’t you. You liked to save small bells, small glass objects like rabbits or hats, ribbons, and most importantly, love letters.

When you were 8, your mom gave you a teal hatbox, not too small, but not that big either, just the perfect size to put love letters in. Not love letters written to you though, you don’t have anything quite like that, you’ve never received one, but you have wrote them. Whenever you have a crush so intense, you write them as a farewell to your feelings, all your hopes, dreams, and desires for that person is fueled into that love letter, you write them as if the ones the letters are addressed to will never read them, because they never will, you never send them out and you never will. Once you finish the letter, it’s as if the feelings are gone, you’re able to go about your day not wondering what they were doing or who they were with, whether they liked to dip fries into ketchup or squirt ketchup all over them.

Every boy you’ve ever seriously liked in the past has one - there are a total of five boys. Chani from Camp Wakanaka, Kookie from middle school, Park Jimin from Model UN, Hoseok from Freshman Homecoming, and -

“Hey there Poppy, where’s Y/N?” your head pops up in the direction of your closed door.

You rush downstairs, just in time to see your big sister Irene and Namjoon holding hands while walking towards the kitchen. Kim Namjoon is your next door neighbor, but he spends almost every waking moment over at your house. Everyone in this house loves him, your dad who is a gynecologist has been surrounded by girls his whole life, which is why your dad loves him like a long lost son, your youngest sister Poppy, who everyone calls Pop loves him, especially when they play uno, and Namjoon lets her win all she wants without ever getting bored like Irene and I. For your older sister Irene? Well she loves him because everyone at home loves him, especially for that reason.

Everyone sits around the dinner table, as Namjoon passes your spot to get to his directly across from you, he ruffles your hair like a big brother would do to a little sister and gives you a fist bump, your dad who’s made another Korean Delicacy is already trying to saw through the charcoaled ribs. You and your sisters call your dad’s Korean food delicacies because they were just that. You’d never be able to find food quite like that, even in Korea, although you also wouldn’t be able to digest it correctly either.

Irene, ever the competent one, silently stands up to collect the tray and brings it to the kitchen where she fires up the electric knife.

Pop groans, “Ugh, I can’t believe we won’t see her until Thanksgiving.” she pouts.

“Which is why you should do the dishes tonight instead of Rere.” Rere is what you called Irene, pronounced like the singer, “So she doesn’t have to stay up tonight and she can finish all her packing and be ready early tomorrow morning for her flight.”

Pop rolls her eyes at you, “I said I couldn’t believe it, not that I want her to be on time tomorrow.” she takes a sip of her water, “And besides, the only reason I said that was because she’s not gonna be around anymore to give me rides to school, so now I’m stuck with you.”

Of course, in this household, your dad and Irene were the ones everyone counted on to drive. Last year, you and Pop would always catch a rude to school with Irene, but now that she’ll be leaving, you have been given the responsibility to drive Pop to school, and you were a terrible driver.

“Well, you guys could always get a ride with me.” Namjoon offers, “Besides, I’m not going anywhere.” He offers you a wink and you can’t help but smile.

“What I miss?” Irene comes strolling in, tray of cut up pork ribs in her hands and saying that she looks like the perfect stay at home mom would be an understatement, but that isn’t Irene.

Poppy giggles deviously, “We were just talking about how much of a bad driver Y/N is.”

“But we were also talking about your flight and how you won’t be coming home for Thanksgiving this year, so…” He holds up his index finger in anticipation as he dug around his pocket for a folded up piece of paper, handing it over to Irene, “I thought I’d bring a little piece of home to you.” his face and smile is bright, waiting for Irene to run over and hug him, but that never happens.

You look over at Irene who stopped putting pork ribs on your plate, “You already booked the ticket?” her face is dowbcast, her eyebrows knit together and her mouth a thin line, Irene was not happy.

Namjoon’s smile dissipates in realization, “ W-well yeah. I’ve had my google alerts set on for flights to Scotland ever since you decided you’d go to university there.”

The room is tense, so tense, that not even your dad is smiling, just looking between Irene and Namjoon because he’d never know who to side with on this one, and then just when you’re about to excuse yourself to your room to give the two their privacy, Poppy speaks up, “Mmmm, just like how mom used to make.” she gives a fake smile and scrunches her nose slightly, not even trying to make us believe that she’s telling the truth.

You sat at your desk which was propped against the window, and while you had your glue gun in your hand to continue on your scrapbook for Irene, you look past the window right at Irene and Namjoon as they bickered intensely, Irene was mad that Namjoon caught her blandished and embarrassed her in front of the family, while Namjoon was mad because Irene didn’t even seem the least bit happy about his surprise for her. Then that was it. You decide to close your curtain because this was none of your business, it felt intimate, something Irene’s little sisters shouldn’t be seeing, so instead, you go downstairs to bake some snickerdoodles for Irene to bring onto the plane tomorrow.

Whale rolling the dough into small balls in the palm of your hand, Irene comes in, silently closing the door behind her no Namjoon in sight. She sits at the island and starts typing on her already opened laptop. You two continue like that, you silently baking, and her silently typing.

“I broke up with Namjoon.”

The cookie dough ball falls right off your palm as your eyes widen and your mouth is agape, “What?! Wait, what? How? Why? When? Seriously?”

Her voice is straight, steady, not even a quiver of sadness, “It was time.” she shrugs, “Mommy always told me never to go to college with a boyfriend.”

She looked fine, not even a trace of a single tear, no, because that wasn’t Irene. Irene was always fine, she never cried and she always remained calm, and even when she wasn’t fine, she was.

You grab the ball of dough that fell in the sugar bowl earlier, “Well, I don’t see the point, Rere.”

She stops typing on her laptop to look at you, “The point is, Y/N. I’m going to a university thousands of miles away, keeping a relationship with him just isn’t practical. 95% of long distance relationships don’t last, I was just saving him future heartbreak.”

Ah, yes. This was a hundred percent Irene, always thinking with her head and never her heart, “Won’t work out? You can’t be serious, this is Namjoon we’re talking about, there is not a single guy out there who has ever loved a girl as much as he’s loved you.”

She rolls her eyes at that, but it was true, Namjoon loved Irene like no boy has ever loved a girl, in his eyes, there was only Irene, nobody else.

She shuts her laptop, already looking like she’s going to lecture me, “Mommy always said not to have a boyfriend in entering college because she never wants us to be the type of girls who cried to their boyfriends on the phone and say no to things and experiences instead of yes.”

She really thinks Namjoon will hold her back? Looking at Irene now, Was Scotland the first yes? To throw away a two year relationship because she was afraid that saying no to Scotland would be one of her biggest regrets? Were we also sacrifices she had to make for her dreams?

You walk over to sit next to Irene, “It’s just my two cents, but I don’t think Namjoon would ever hold you back. I remember when you ran for student body president and even though Namjoon wanted to run, he supported you throughout and was even here at god knows what time just to make your posters. He’s always supported you, Rere.” You look over at the clock, “If you hurry, it’s still not too late to go over there and take back what you said. I’m a hundred percent sure Namjoon would gladly get back together with you.”

Irene shakes her head, “It’s been done, Y/N. I’ve already decided.” If there’s one thing I know about Irene, it’s that when she makes her mind up about something, that’s it. She never changes her mind.

When you’ve finished up in the kitchen and Irene’s gone to bed, you climb up to your room, you grab your teal hatbox and set it on your desk, you look over at Namjoon’s house, his light was still on. You take the top off of the teal hatbox, the letters were neatly on top of each other from oldest going up, your latest love letter on the top most of the small stack all of them neatly tied together with a silver fabric ribbon that goes beautifully with your teal hatbox, you found it at a yard sale tied to a teddy bear that you gave to Poppy.

In your neat cursive handwriting is ‘Kim Namjoon’ along with his address and zip code below, this Kim Namjoon is the same one next door who was still up trying to make sense of what just happened, he is Irene’s Namjoon, but before that, he was your Namjoon. You smile sadly at the letter just before putting it back in the hatbox and putting the hatbox away on your topmost shelf in your closet. Absolutely nobody knew about your letters, they were your most private and sacred possessions.

___________

“Y/N, hurry up! I have to be at the airport three hours before my flight!” Irene’s obviously already prepared, without a beat.

Meanwhile, you’ve been debating on whether you should wear sunglasses or not for at least 10 minutes, you decide to bring them anyway, and just not wear them if you decide against it.

“Three hours? Honey, I think it’s supposed to be two. What are you gonna do there for three hours?” Your dad loads Irene’s suitcases in the trunk.

You look over at Namjoon’s house, just as Irene gets in, you see him sitting on his car’s opened hood, that pained expression on his face, his eyes red and swollen, he’d been crying over your sister. When you were growing up, Irene always had a Philosophy, if something no longer useful, you either donate it, recycle it, or throw it away. Looking at Namjoon now, you always knew that’s how Irene felt about objects… but you knew thought that she’d feel that way about a person.

At the airport, Irene’s giving her last goodbye hugs, strictly no tears, because Irene hates emotional goodbyes.

She pouts cutely at Poppy, “C’mere kid.” she opens her arms to Pop who’s already in her arms.

She looks over to you, the one standing the farthest away, and opens her arms silently, you want to be mad at Irene, to pick a University thousands of miles away, to leave you all behind, but you don’t think you could handle becoming the no that your mother warned her about, so you walk into her arms, as she gives you an extra tight squeeze.

“Gonna be okay?” she mumbles into your shoulder.

You break apart first, sticking your hands in your pockets, “Did you really have to pick the farthest college you could think of?”

She places her hand on your cheek, slowly caressing it, “You know I’m just a skype call away if you guys need me, Y/N.”

You stare down at your boots, “Yeah, maybe, until you start going to pubs and hanging out with Scottish University students and eating- ugh, Haggis and then you’ve already forgotten about us.”

She give you a tiny smile, a very Irene smile, “Y/N, I can promise you on my grave that I would never ever eat Haggis.” she makes a disgusted face, “You’re in charge now, alright? You the biggest sister now, you need to set a good example for Poppy alright? Also, don’t forget to clean your room when you get home.”

Your dad and Poppy come back with a small stack of magazines, something you already know Irene wouldn’t read. Knowing her, she’s already packed her favorite series of books for reading on the plane. You all give Irene one lads group hug, before she’s squirming from underneath your small hugging pile.

“Alright, I gotta go.” she grins at the three of you, looking the happiest she’s been in a long while, “See you on Christmas!” she blows kisses to everyone and then all the three of you see is her back.

You put your arm around Pop’s shoulders, “Think she’ll turn around, Y/N?”

You shake your head no quietly, “Nah, that’s not Irene.” you wish you were wrong, but you weren’t. Things with Irene were always definite, no turn backs, no looking behind, and this was one of those moments.

The moment between you three was a tender one, at least until Poppy goes, “Can we have a dog now?” and your dad is in stitches laughing at the great attempt to take advantage of the situation.

For the next week, all you do is scrapbook, try to clean your room, and lay around. No sign of Namjoon at all since he and Irene broke up, and all too soon, it’s already the morning of your first day of class.

You wait outside in front of your house holding up small rectangular chalkboards with your grade number on it, you with a Grade 11 board and Poppy with a Grade 6 board. You dad holds up his phone, and he instantly notices how difficult you were being. Honestly it was because of the thought that you were going to be driving.

He puts the phone down, “Come on, Y/N. It’ll only rake a second, I’m gonna send this to Irene.”

You sigh before giving him a smile, with Poppy next to you, smiling brightly while yelling, “Cheese!”

He puts the phone down after taking a few shots, “I can’t believe it.” He shakes his head fondly, “6th grade and Junior year.”

You put the chalkboard down, “Alright, ready to go?” you turn towards Poppy.

She looks at you, and then to the keys in your hands before she jumps in realization, “Wait just one sec!” she pushes her chalkboard in your hands before rushing inside and coming back outside equally as fast except this time, she had a pink sparkly helmet on.

You dad takes the chalkboard from you hands, getting in his car, “You guys look great! Drive safe alright? I gotta get going. I love you guys!”

You hold a small hand up quietly as a good bye and you turn towards Poppy, frowning, “Very funny.”

She looks at you while adjusting the straps, “Very necessary.” she states in a matter of factly tone.

________

You walk through the hallway, passing by Namjoon’s locker right as he’s unloading his books, your eyes meet, and then he gives you a slight wave that you return while walking backwards, slamming straight into someone’s locker, shutting the metallic door.

“Ow!”

You instantly straighten yourself out, you knew that voice, “Oh my God! Tzuyu!”

She turns to you, eyes wide, already angry and she speaks through gritted teeth, “Excuse you.”

“I-I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, “I was- I wasn’t paying attention.”

She folds her arms across her chest, voice dripping with disgust, “Oh. It’s you.”

Tzuyu. This is Tzuyu, you two used to be best friends, playing together all summer, and her sleeping over at your house for weeks, sharing secrets and telling each other your crushes, but after middle school with reasons having to do with her becoming popular and your lack thereof you two were now decidedly not. Tzuyu was beautiful, most girls in high school are pretty, but Tzuyu’s level of prettiness was top notch even up against college girls, much so that when you asked Namjoon who he thought was the prettiest girl was for each grade level during your freshman year, he picked Tzuyu out of all the Freshman girls, including you.

She stares at you up and down, “Cute boots.” she gives you a smile oozing with plasticity, “Gonna go around stomping on cockroaches with those? I’ll be sure to call you if I find a cockroach in the girls bathroom later.”

Your voice is stuck in your throat, you were always prepared for Tzuyu, but not this time this time around you didn’t even expect to see her on the first day, much less have a confrontation with her. You head starts to lower when an arm finds it way draped around your shoulders.

“And they’re the bomb! Those are definitely hard to pull off, and you, Y/N are definitely pulling them off.” She looks down at Tzuyu’s stiletto clad feet, “Can’t wait to see you in P.E running in those… eye pokers, cous.”

Lalisa. Lisa, Tzuyu’s cousin, your best friend. Practically your only friend, she had a habit of disappearing and sneaking out, usually to go dancing, Lisa loved to dance, but her mom hates it when Lisa does so, saying she’d never have a solid career through dancing. You loved it when Lisa dances though, she looks like a wood nymph in your eyes whenever she dances.

Tzuyu’s eyes fire up, already pissed at seeing her cousin this early in the morning, Lisa’s hatred for Tzuyu was completely mutual, “Oh screw you, Lalisa, at least I don’t hook up with a different guy every other night.”

Ah, yes. Lisa does have that reputation. She never comments on it, but you’ve known her and been with her long enough to know that these rumors were absolutely true. But that’s part of the reason why you two get along so much, you never say anything about it because you didn’t need to, even if that’s how she is, you’ve always accepted her, and all without her needing to say anything.

A voice calls out from the students passing by, “Babe.” and then in front of you, the golden boy himself Jungkook embraces Tzuyu from behind.

Tzuyu never takes her eyes off of you, “oh, hi~” her voice is sing song, taunting that you don’t have what she does, Jeon Jungkook.

She grabs onto his arm draped across her chest that connects with the hand he has on his bicep, “How are you?”

You see the way Jungkook looks at Tzuyu, nothing but affection, but even he can’t be blind at how much of a bitch his girlfriend is.

“I’m good, how are you?” Seeing Tzuyu like this, it made you sick, not in the jealous type of way, much the sickly sweet type of way. Ugh.

He raises his eyebrows, “I’m good.” He turns his sight from Tzuyu to you and Lisa, and gives you a tiny nod.

If you think of your letters in your teal hatbox, second to the bottom of your small stack of letters is for Kookie. This is him now, Jeon Jungkook, golden boy, but back the in middle school, he was just plain old Kookie. By eighth grade, he was finally allowed to play in the soccer club at school and ever since then he’s never been called Kookie, he was either, Jungkook, Kook, J.K., or Jeon, eighth grade was also the year Tzuyu and him started going out.

“I was just asking Y/N here to be a dear and put her boots to good use and squash some stupid cockroaches.” Jungkook’s mouth falls into a thin line, unable to say anything.

You give the couple a practically murderous close mouth smile, afraid that if you open your mouth in anyway, you’d just say something you regret and you exchange a look, the look, with Lisa. She gives you the same one, yeah. She understand completely.

“I see someone we need to say hi to…” she looks over a you and rolls her eyes, “Bye.” and the she’s off.

She didn’t. But that was her way of showing you how much of an outcast you were, she was someone important who needed to say hi to people, and you were nothing. It worked. Jungkook clears his throat.

“She’s on this new no caffeine diet. I think that’s just withdrawal kicking in.” he laughs awkwardly.

You smile at Jungkook, “Are you sure she’s not just psychotic?”

Lisa snorts a laugh, “Yeah or maybe she’s possessed, you know Kook, it you want, I know an exorcist. I’ll send you the number later.” she gives him a cheeky wink.

Come lunch time, you are stuck standing in the middle of the cafeteria. You know, you know. This is a high school cliché, but it’s real. There was no place for you here. The only ones who ate in the cafeteria are the popular kids and groups of friends, and that includes Jungkook with his soccer buddies and Tzuyu’s snotty group of friends, all you had was Lisa, and even then, she’s already ditched you to grab a bite at Subway.

It takes you half of the lunch period to find a place to quietly eat your carrots, and even the you’re unsure if you could go there just because that spot was sacred. It was Namjoon’s and your spot and when Namjoon and Irene got together, it became Namjoon’s, Irene’s, and your lunch spot. You half expect Namjoon to eat somewhere else, like his Comic Club or his movie club room but he’s here with an open bag of chips next to him, and an earphone popped into one ear while he reads Paulo Coelho. You approach him slowly, easily, he looks up, he looks kind of taken aback at your hidden presence, but he puts his earphones away nonetheless.

He gives you a small sad smile, “Hey.”

You inch closer to the bleachers, “This seat taken?”

He scoots just the tiniest bit to his right, “Yeah, well, by you I mean.”

You plop down next to him, it all feels awkward and you’re about to speak up on it, when he lifts his head.

“Sorry.” He places his bookmark in his book, “I gotta ask… Did you know? Like did Ire- Did she tell you she was gonna do it?”

You notice his voice cracks just the tiniest bit at the mention of Irene’s name so he corrects himself and refers to her as ‘she’

He kicks some invisible dust on the ground, “I just- I don’t know. I figured you guys talked about everything, right? So…”

You could hear the pain in his voice. No matter how calm he remained, you could hear the quiver, the nerves he had to go through to ask just this one simple harmless little question. You shake your head, “No, she didn't tell me about this.”

He sighs, looking at the ground and shaking his head, “But, like, we’re still good right?” This makes you smile, “We can still talk, and I can still come over for dinner.”

“Of course you can Namjoon, my dad would probably ball his eyes out if he didn’t see you at least once or twice a week.” you laugh.

He looks back at you, “Heh. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I guess, I just don’t wanna lose you too.”

That’s when you smile disappears, because hearing, ‘I don’t want to lose you.’ and ‘I don’t want to lose you too’ are two largely different statements. One meant he didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t handling losing you alone, but the other meant he couldn’t lose you and your sister, your sister especially, you were still only second to Irene.

“We’re still cool Namjoon, but I refuse to become a child of divorce from this breakup.” you giggle, opening your bag of carrots, “Want a carrot?”

He nods slowly finally putting the closed book in his hands down beside him, “Yeah, alright, Give me the carrot.” He offers you an earbud, the other already placed on his ear as the two of you munched on carrots.

This may seem like it looks strange, but it was real, it was genuine, the two of you were okay, maybe even better than okay, and whatever feelings you had for Namjoon? Well, that’s the one thing you’d never in a million years do to Irene.

__________

Poppy takes off her helmet upon getting off the car and inside the house, “Y/N, are we having scrambled eggs again for dinner?” she rolls her eyes.

You gulp, one of the things you were avoiding was grocery shopping just because you were still scared of driving, but even you had to admit that eating scrambled eggs for dinner was terrible and frankly? It was very unhealthy, “No, I’ll go get groceries, just do your homework and if anyone knocks, look who it is first before you open the door.” you put your backpack down on the sofa and grab your wallet and keys.

The trip to the grocery store is a nightmare, but you do manage to get there without a scratch, that is enough to put you at ease, enough to have you making different turns at shortcuts that would normally put you off because knew you wouldn’t be able to recognize these street signs and the only thing that would help you get home are the landmarks you pass by, like that doggy playground, when you passed by that, you were still in the middle, not too far from home, but not too close either, probably a ten minute drive, or a twenty minute walk. The moment you see the playground, you are absolutely ecstatic, you grin from ear to ear, unknowingly running a stop sign and just as fast as you got excited over the dog park, you were shell shocked at the sudden impact from a car that crashes straight into the side of your car. You stay in your car, hands and knees shaking, afraid. The other driver pulls over, gets out of his car and knocks on your window. Slowly you roll then down.

“Kid, running a stop sign is dangerous-” he begins his lecture but the moment he sees the tears already welling up in your eyes, he sighs, “Look, my car’s fine, I won’t be able to help you with your car, but if you want I can give you a ride home.”

You quickly shake your head, “No! It’s-it’s fine, I’ll just call my neighbor. Thank you though.” If Irene were here, she’d tell you to never trust strangers and never get in a car with them, but then again, jf Irene was here, you wouldn’t even need to drive in the first place. He gets back in his car and drives off as you stand next to your car, what would your dad think, what would he say? What would Irene say? Oh God, she’ll be so disappointed.

A minute passes before you decide to call Namjoon, on the second ring he answers, and you can’t help but cry.

“Hello? Y/N? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You sniffle and try to sound as clearly as possible, “Namjoon? C-c-could you come get me? I’m here at that dog park, I just got in a car-car accident.” you try to choke back the tears.

You hear the intake of breath he makes when you mention ‘car accident’, “Shit, where are you? I’ll come get you.”

You look around, not seeing any street signs, “I-I-I’m by this dog park-”

“That’s like twenty minutes away.” he sighs, “Alright, I’m on my way I’ll have to walk though, so I can drive your car home.”

You sniffle, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He pauses for a moment, “Want me to stay on the phone while you wait?”

You shake your head before realizing that he couldn’t see you, “No, no, no. It’s okay. I’ll manage. See you in a bit.” you hang up first, because knowing Kim Namjoon, he’d never let you wait by the roadside for him without any company.

A few minutes tick by before you decide to sit on the curb with you head bowed on your knees.

“Y/L/N? Hey. You good?”

You look up. to find Jeon Jungkook, his left elbow placed on his opened window and his right hand on the wheel.

You blink a few times at him, “Yeah, I’m good.” with a tear stained face, you know it looked far from the truth, but what would you expect Jungkook to do about it? You make a hand motion to get him to go on his way and he rolls up the tinted window of his Audi, and goes off, except he only goes forward a few feet and parks his car right in front of yours and gets out of the car, sitting on the curb with you.

“It looks pretty bad.” He takes a look at the dent on the side of the car, is the other driver okay?”

You put your head back on your knees, turning your head to look at him, “No, his car was completely fine.”

He goes back and sits next to you, and places his head on his knees as well, staring back at you, “So, how long have you been crying?”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks with the sleeves of you shirt, “I-I wasn’t crying. You don’t have to keep me company here, you know.”

He looks up, as if he were thinking of something, “Yeah, I know, but I can’t leave you here either.”

This is one of Jeon Jungkook’s charms. Everybody loves him, everybody. Even back in middle school when you, Tzuyu, Jungkook, and Jimin hung out together, he was still the best among everyone there. Of all the boys you had gone to middle school with, Jungkook was the first to grow taller, he was always optimistic, and had this boyish charm about him that he still had to this day.

His phone makes a sound and automatically he unlocks it to find numerous texts from Tzuyu, “You should get going. Tzuyu’ll get mad if you’re late.”

He stands upright, “You good here though, right? You already feel better?”

You nod your head, “Yeah. Thanks for keeping me company, that was really nice of you.”

The grin on Jungkook’s face is unmatched, Jungkook loves positive reinforcement, “See you around, Ace.” and then he’s off.

You smile at the nickname. He gave you that nickname back in the 7th grade when you were able to get all straight A’s even though Mrs. Bae’s Biology was one of the hardest classes to pass and almost everybody got a C or lower, except you.

“Hey.”

You look up and relief washes over you, “Namjoon!”

He gives you a dimpled smile, “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The ride back home is quiet, but not because it’s awkward, but because you were worrying about how you’d tell your dad. You decided that maybe, first telling him not to get mad would be the best choice and then explaining that you aren’t hurt but there’s a huge dent on the car after the accident. That’s probably the one that will make him less angry.

Namjoon chuckles from beside you, “Now that your sister’s broken up with me, you won’t even talk to me?”

You could sense half a truth in his statement, even is he laughs it off like a joke, you don’t answer, but he continues on talking, “You know, me ending up with Irene, surprised me as well.” he shakes his head thinking about it, “Especially since I had a crush on you first.”

You almost gag on air, did he just say he had a crush on me?

He laughs awkwardly, “I mean, when we first moved here, i had a pretty big crush on you, and I even let you borrow my bike, and you were putting on such a show about how you knew how to ride a bike but it turns out you didn’t even know how to use the brakes and when it fell over, you cried so much, and that was the end of my little crush on you.” he laughs, “You looked really ugly when you cried back then.” he teases you.

He pulls to a stop in your driveway, “Want me to come with you to break the news?”

You think back to that whole lecture Irene gave you about being responsible now so you suck it up, and even though you do want Namjoon there just so your dad feels extra happy to see him, you decline, “Nah, I’ll handle it.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.” He starts walking away before he looks back, “I’ll come over for dinner tomorrow so tell your dad to make something extra delicious for you guest.” he gives you a wink.

When you break the news to your dad, he isn’t even mad, just relieved that you’re alright, but he does take it to his go to repairman which is at least two to three towns over, that leaves you in charge with Poppy.

So you laze around in the couch, watching 10 Things I Hate About You with Poppy.

“I miss Namjoon.” she sighs.

You shrug, “Yeah, movies don’t feel quite the same without him around, huh?”

Poppy looks over at you, “Yeah! His Heath Ledger impressions are spot on!” she pouts, “By the way, Y/N?”

You sit up, alarmed at the sudden seriousness in Poppy’s voice, “Hm?”

She lays her head in your lap, “Don’t you find it just the ittiest bittiest pathetic that it’s Saturday night, and you’re spending it watching rom coms with your 11 year old sister?”

You brush her hair with your fingers and shrug, “Not at all. I love romcoms and more importantly, I love hanging out with you.”

She lets out a sigh and shuts her eyes, “Alright, well I’m not telling you this to embarrass you or anything, but I’m 11, and I even cancelled a sleepover, to be here tonight, but you’re already 16, and I don’t think you even had anything to do tonight.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Uh, that is mean, Pop!”

Poppy sits up, shrugging, “The truth hurts, Y/N.”

Come end of the movie, you’ve already fallen fast asleep right after Heath’s big number for Kat.

__________

You run track with Lisa, you’d think her long legs meant that she’d be great at this but you’ve only just started and she’s already wheezing and coughing, but she catches up to you nonetheless probably also because you did slow down just for her sake.

“So… what did… you do last night?” she has to take breaths in between to keep from wheezing anymore than what she was even when she wasn’t talking.

“I watched some movies with Pop.” you shrugs, “James Gordon Levitt is hot.”

She rolls her eyes, “I told you, you should have come with me to that hooping event in the town over, I even got to become a hula hoop girl and everything!” she begins to lag behind you again, “And just so we’re clear, Heath Ledger is hottie in that movie.”

“Hey!” you look behind to find Jungkook already running towards the two of you, “Hey, can I talk to you?”

You look at him incredulously, “Me?”

He nods slowly, “Yeah.”

Lisa takes advantage of the situation so she can stop running, “Hey JK, I hear my cousin dumped you for some college hunk, is that true?”

He scoffs and looks away, ego definitely injured, “Yeah, Lisa, I hurt you have horns, is that true as well?”

Lisa laughs out loud, “Of course it is! I mean the devil’s my cousin afterall.” you can’t help but giggle at that one.

“Alright, well I need to talk to Y/N.”

Lisa has her arm over your shoulder, “Alright, go ahead, we’re listening.”

He places his hands on his hips when Lisa doesn’t move, “Alone please?”

Lisa gets the meaning behind the words slowly, but she still saves face, “Oh, yeah, just uh, if you any one of you need me, I’ll be in the nurse’s office, ogling Taeyong over there, running track shirtless.” she shoots you a wink.

You clasp your hands together, “Alright, sorry about Chris.”

He wrings his hands together, thinking of what he needs to say, “Uh, ehem. I just wanted to that that um. Look, I appreciate it, but it’s never gonna happen. I mean I think it’s pretty cool that you think I have golden specks in my eyes, but Tzuyu and I just broke up.” he even shakes his head in emphasis.

You tilt your head in confusion, genuinely confused at what he was going on about, “Excuse me?”

He claps his hands together when he remembers something else, “That also reminds me!” In a quiet voice, Jungkook clarifies “Just so you know, I really don’t have any STDs. I’m perfectly clean.”

Huh? STD’s when have you ever? You stare at him, your mouth wide open in both shock and confusion, “ I don’t remember ever saying you had an STD!”

He maintains the quietness in his voice but he definitely sounded angry, “Also, I don’t always take the last piece of pizza, at least not when I know somebody wants it.”

Everything Jungkook was saying was news to you, you two have barely talked since eighth grade, what do STDs and Pizzas have to do with anything, “Sorry, but what are you talking about?”

He looks frustrated, “That’s what you put. In your letter. You wrote that I’m this egotistical boy who gives girls STDs. Remember?”

Letter? You haven’t written one in a while, much less, one to Jeon Jungkook, “What letter? I don’t recall ever writing you any letter!” Actually, you did, but he doesn’t know that. It couldn’t be that letter because that letter is stashes safely in your teal hatbox at home.

He chuckles butterly, “Yes. You. Did. It was addressed to me, from you. If you’re gonna write me a letter like that, at least remember what you put into it.”

This isn’t happening. This isn’t reality. You must be dreaming. What Jungkook is doing in your dream? You’ll never know, but this can’t possibly be real.

He starts mumbling to himself, “Alright, you don’t remember, hold on.” he fishes around in his pockets before settling on his back pocket and pulling out a classy looking envelope made of specialty paper, your specialty envelopes for letters and whatnot and oh God, he has his letter. You feel lightheaded and before you lose consciousness, you hear Jungkook yell out before it all goes to black.

“Y/N? Y/N. Hey, are you alright? I think you fainted.” Jungkook’s already kneeling next to you, helping you up when you tell him that you were okay.

His eyebrows are furrowed, “Want me to get someone? Anyone? Maybe get you some water or anything?”

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m good. But I will take that back, you yank the letter out of his grasp, and then you get the impulse to look up at the lunch tables near the grass area, and already making his way towards you was Kim Namjoon, blue envelope in his hand and his messenger bag in the other.

Realization hits you, “Oh my God.” you number as you remember every kiss you witness between him and Irene, all the tiny smiles he gave you, you had to do something about this, and the fact that he wasn’t even stopping and has shifted his sight onto you already has you panicking, “Oh my God!”

In that moment, you do what you can. You grab Jungkook by the shoulders and push him towards the ground, kissing him, he’s in shock but he does end up kissing you back, even securing his hands on your back and waist. You pull apart from him when Coach Sand gets your attention, making you run three extra full laps.

You look at Jungkook, his eyes wide and confused, you pat him on the chest, “Thank you.” you manage to say.

He looks at your retreating figure, his letter clenched tightly in your hand, “You’re welcome!”

#Jungkook #kookie #bts #bangtan #jungkook fic #jungkook fsnfic #jimin #namjoon #taehyung #jin #jhope #yoongi #hoseok #jungkook scenario #inspired by to all the boys ive loved before #mixture of both movie and book

26 notes · View notes