#.i saw the clown emoji and it's like god spoke to me

[sansloii]

ღ 🤡

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

attraction rating | @royaletiquette

#royaletiquette #🗪 ┊ ⧼ you all are some chatty cathys! ⧽ ⇹ ( asks. ) #.there is no way in hell i was putting this in the queue #.i saw the clown emoji and it's like god spoke to me #.but yeah andy's ah #.something special #.again i think you were onto something when you mentioned degradation earlier

[slightlymore]

Pride | Part 8 [The End]

Pairing: Doyoung, Y/N Other characters: Haechan, Johnny cameo Genre: Series | Smut | Angst | Crack | Fluff Warnings: as usual, language, same issues around mental health and unhealthy coping mechanisms, angsty, hard hitting family drama Words: 10K lol idk I wanted to write more bc it feels a little rushed but then it would drag too much

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |  Part 8 THE END

Okay so I did write this while severely sleep-deprived lol (please get enough sleep, don’t do what I do) so it might be all over the place anyways, when I started Pride I had no idea I would write so many parts, and that it would have been so angsty honk honk tell me if you liked the ending or not and I would love to hear what your overall thoughts on this series are (it’s fine even if it’s like “it sucked aha”) thank you for reading it, I appreciate your love and support a lot!! very many heart emojis here that I can’t do on the laptop, insert also sad clown emoji

TIME JUMPS EXPLANATION

Endind scene commentary 

Doyoung has always regretted the things he had done wrong, when he was feeling weak, or imperfect, or exhausted. He would think about those moments and learn the same thing all over. Never again. And he lived with that mantra for a long time. Never again. Don’t slip, don’t let yourself go. Because it was painful.

But was it effectively painful as is, or was it only because he knew he shouldn’t have done that in the first place? Would it have been painful if he consciously let himself go? Was he feeling guilty for the mistake or for not being perfect? And at night, while breathing in and silently screaming his desire to be fragile, to break, to show people his soft imperfect soul he would think about that again and again. He appreciated that in other people a lot. Why would other people hate it in him? Why has he hated himself for such a long time? It is a denial of the inevitable. Just accept yourself, Doyoung. Accept yourself. Accept. And he thought he did it. Doyoung was sure he did it all. But as the first rays of sun hit his trembling eyelids, he already forgot. He opened up his eyes and looked at his ceiling, not remembering a single thing he told himself in the intimacy of the night.

_____

When the phone rang for the first time, you jolted on your seat, staring it down as if it was some kind of poisonous reptile. 

God, you hated speaking on the phone. 

When it rang again your eyes darted around you looking at the way your desk neighbors were judging you for taking so long to pick it up. 

You breathed in and out. 

“Y/N from Marketing speaking?” you mumbled into it. “Pizza or noodles?” a lazy but confident voice asked. You blinked, silent for a few moments, and looked around as if checking what was going on. “Who is this?” you whispered. A loud snort made you wince and remove the receiver from your ear. “-can’t believe you don’t recognize the voice of the best boy, the light of your life, the reason of your existence, the spawn of god, the joy of your miserable-,” the voice said when you listened to it again. 

You closed your eyes and pinched the base of your nose. “Haechan,” you interrupted the litany, suddenly aware of the migraine lingering in the darkest part of your head. “So, pizza or noodles?” he chuckled satisfied.

It was pizza, and as you sat down for lunch you curiously looked around the dining hall.  It was the first meal at the company and if it wasn’t for Haechan you wouldn’t have even known that there was a cafeteria at all. Your eyes darted to your left. It was louder than you’d expect from grown-ups. 

“Yeah, it’s just like in high school”, Haechan swallowed his food, following the direction of your eyes as if knowing what you were thinking. Then he put down the slice of pizza he was holding and cleaned his fingers on a napkin. 

“Okay, so, that table-”, he indicated with his head a group of people behind him, “lawyers. They can suck my dick and balls. And I’m definitely not saying this because they bully the IT department and we’d kill each other. Then in that one”, he indicated another table in the middle of the hall, “graphic designers. You probably see them around in the marketing wing where you’re at. Eh,” he shrugged, “normal people. Kinda weird. You’d think they won’t have colors on their clothes since they use a computer, but they still do for some arcane reason”. 

You stared at them but only briefly before concentrating on your food as a few eyes returned the glares. The company was big and had hundreds of workers, but for some reason everywhere you looked around, people would stare back and whisper between themselves. “It’s because you made a ruckus at the party yesterday. Don’t worry, it will die soon.” Haechan explained, again reading your mind. It was kind of scary. “Where’s your group of people? Why are you eating with me?” you asked, unable to think about the day before. 

About to go home the previous night, you looked for Doyoung first. You had no idea why. No, okay, you obviously knew why, but you didn’t know what you would tell him if you'd actually found him. 

So you just gave up, suddenly anxious. 

During the drive home, you called Johnny, not caring about the late hour. He had some explaining to do. “I can’t believe you’ve done that,” was the first thing you said into the phone. 

Johnny’s voice was bright and not at all sleepy. He probably wasn’t home. 

“So you’ve met him,” he chuckled lightly. “John,” you murmured tired, unable to say anything more and hoping that the tone of your voice would make him understand. And he did. “I know, I know. But listen, you’re in love with him,” he said. You groaned. “I don’t know, Johnny. I was alright before meeting him again”.

Johnny’s voice got clearer signaling that he went somewhere quieter. “It’s not true. You were not okay. Do you think I don’t have eyes?”

“But what if-” your voice stopped working and you had to gulp down. Your eyes stung as finally, you let your emotions flow after seeing Doyoung. 

God, you didn’t want to cry. 

“What if I’m like this only because I can’t have him? What if, I don’t know, we get together, right? and, and, what if, fuck, I don’t know, I just change my mind? and I hurt him? again? like, like-” you stuttered and ate your words. “Like you did with me?” Johnny asked. You started to cry silently. “Listen,” he repeated calmly, still able to hear your muffled breaths, “it’s going to be alright. What happened with us it’s not your fault, okay? Not entirely. We-” he stopped as well, thinking. “Johnny, it’s fine, we don’t have to talk about that again,” you sniffled. “No, no, wait, I need the right words,” he assured you. “We just weren’t a match, okay? We liked each other because we were good friends and we saw each other grow up, we were always together and we do love each other, okay? we really do, but not- just not that way,” he added after a pause. You nodded, even if he wasn’t able to see, remembering the long and emotional conversation you had a few months ago. “Doyoung though-” he went on and you breathed in and out, “he’s different. And you know that. Everything is different with him. So go and tell him what you feel, Y/N, please. I hate seeing you this way,” Johnny’s voice got thinner as if was worried. You sniffled again in silence and you both just listened to each other's breaths for a while. It calmed you. “Well,” you finally spoke with a hoarse voice. “It’s too late now” “No, no, Y/N-” Johnny interrupted you. “John, he’s married, he got married, he did it, it’s too late, I can’t-” you interrupted him as well. “Okay, okay, he’s married, like a fucking dumbass, okay,” he calmed you again. “But, honestly, I don’t give a single fuck at the same time. You said he didn’t even know the girl. He got set up. By his family. Like in a fucking soap opera. Who does that nowadays?” You sighed slightly amused. “Say fuck one more time”. “Fuck,” he swore then lightly chuckled. “Seriously though, talk to him, okay?”

And you said that you would. 

And now you were there, eyes darting in the cafeteria looking for Doyoung again, heart stinging and anxiety as never before. 

Haechan raised an eyebrow at your question. “I’m eating with you because you would probably eat alone right now. And-” he talked raising a finger as he sensed you wanting to interrupt him, “-if by 'my group of people'" he mimicked the quotations marks with his fingers, "you mean Doyoung, he never eats here. He stays in the office.”

You put your slice of pizza down and crossed your arms on your chest as if indicating that you didn’t like how Haechan assumed things.  Haechan smiled.  “I wasn’t looking for Doyoung”, you lied.  Haechan mocked you with a bemused face. “I wAsn’t loOkiNg foR DoYouNg. I can tell him that you were looking for him if you want”.  “No, Haechan. Wait, I’m-” you clenched your jaw and closed your eyes briefly. 

Haechan stared at you waiting for you to go on sensing something more than just you wanting to see your crush. 

“Do you think I should talk to him?” you asked after the pause.  The boy's eyes turned serious.  “About what?” he asked as well.  You sighed. “About us. We… I don’t know. We almost kinda dated and he liked me first but I liked another guy and then when I understood my feelings he said that he was getting married and I had to act so quickly and I fucking panicked and then he was gone and I realized how much I’m in lov-” you stopped yourself from the frantic babbling. You gulped and looked around, as if afraid of people hearing you, or - worse - Doyoung himself. 

Haechan breathed in and out slowly while adjusting his glasses on his nose. “I think you should talk then,” he replied quietly. 

Your eyes darted towards his, but he wasn’t looking at you. Staring down at his pizza he played with a piece of it, rolling it around. “Are you guys not going along? Do you hate talking about him?” you asked, suddenly aware of his discomfort. 

Haechan thought about it for a second then when he raised his face he got a wide smirk on. 

“Every day that I see him he has a resting bitch face,” he replied, “or he’s annoyed, or he wants to punch me, or he’s like I had enough of you, Haechan,” he deepened his voice trying to imitate him.  You rolled your eyes amused, almost if seeing Doyoung in front of you. 

“Honestly? He’s… weird,” he added a little more seriously. You waited for him to go on, a light pressure wrapping your heart. 

“It’s like,” Haechan spoke again looking at the ceiling as if unsure of what words to use, “he’s a house with all the lights on, and you come closer, but no one is inside?” he questioned looking back at you.  “So you’re left with this sense of worry and uneasiness. I want to understand him but he… won’t let me get close. Not that I actually want that,” he explained with a smile. 

You rested your back on the chair, pensive and suddenly feeling uneasy yourself by Haechan’s smile that didn’t reach his eyes at all.

_____

Insomnia, change in appetite, dizziness, rapid mood swings, intrusive thoughts, lack of concentration, pronounced sensitivity to external events, unfulfilled and intense longing. Isn’t this what Doyoung feared all along? Isn’t this what he tried to avoid? 

“You don’t look that good, son.” 

Doyoung turned his head towards his father as if seeing him for the first time. He hasn't been for a while now but thanks for noticing. 

It was a bright and yellow morning. Rude and unnecessary. 

“Maybe,” the man talked again with a weird twinkle in his eyes, smiling at his wife, making her chuckle as if she was already able to understand what he was trying to say, “you didn’t get enough sleep last night?” his father finished. Doyoung’s mother hit her husband’s hand tenderly with a little stop it. “I know you’re a grown-up man, Doyoung, but we still have some rules in this house. Sleeping with a lady on the first date it not gallant”. 

Doyoung stared at them both. 

Oh. 

Right.

He met his allegedly future wife the previous night. And they were right. He did come back in the morning. It was a beautiful evening. Doyoung was sitting down rolling the stem of his glass of wine between two fingers, watching the way the dim lights of the restaurant made the golden liquid shine. Then he opened up another button on his shirt, feeling pathetic that he actually made an effort to look good for someone he didn’t care about. He ruffled his hair. He sighed. When The Wife came, he saw her legs first, walking slowly in a high pair of heels. Doyoung let his eyes gaze on them, going up shamelessly until meeting the seam of her tight dress. So he wasn’t the only one that tried for no reason. In spite of everything, Doyoung stood up and put a smile on his face. The Wife did the same and shook his hand. She sat down and the waiter came to fill up her glass as well. She said she was sorry for being a little late. Doyoung said it was alright. It was a nice night, wasn’t it? Yes, it was indeed. Kinda chilly. Yes, it is. The smog these days is terrible. Have you ever eaten in this restaurant? No, it’s my first time. What do you think is good? Let’s check the menu. 

“Listen, Doyoung,” she finally said his name after a moment of silence, the cutlery gently hitting the plates as the only sound to fill the room. Doyoung looked up chewing slowly, unable to feel any taste. “You seem like a good person and I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your family and what’s your opinion on all of this-” she started gesturing vaguely at them both, “-but I am in love with somebody else”, she finished. 

Doyoung blinked at her, feeling nothing and gulped down. His head was completely empty. 

He looked at her worried and pained face and felt like seeing his reflection in a mirror. She was in love? He felt sorry. 

But she was also happy. He could see it in her eyes, in the way her expression wrinkles weren’t accustomed to frowning like that. She wasn't unhappy. She was just worried. That Doyoung would say that he doesn’t care about her love. Forcing her to marry him anyway. 

“Me too”, Doyoung said after a few seconds. 

The relief that washed over The Wife’s face was so contagious that Doyoung felt like smiling himself, but he didn’t. It wasn’t nothing to be happy for. Not for him. Not at that moment. 

“So what are we going to do?” he asked her. She blushed. “We’re not going to get married. If my parents don’t agree... I’ll just run away! - with him!”. 

She was so confident, radiant, and - in love - that Doyoung had to recollect himself after being hit with so much light. She knew what she wanted and she was going to get it. She was in love and she was loved back. 

Doyoung felt like crying. He wanted that so badly as well. 

“I came here to speak to you directly because even if I already knew what I was about to do, I thought it wasn’t unfair to not explain myself and just vanish”, she added. Doyoung nodded and sipped on his drink, unable to speak. The Wife-but-not-Doyoung’s-one-anymore looked at him with a wide smile but he saw how it flattered a little seeing his expression.   “And what are you going to do?” she asked cautiously. Doyoung shrugged, letting his lips stretch in a smile that couldn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know. Live in the moment, I guess,” was his reply, hoping that it was an adequate answer and to just drop that conversation. 

The Wife furrowed her eyebrows. 

“Did you come here with the intent to actually force yourself into this stupid relationship? While being in love with somebody else? Like an idiot?” the Wife asked. 

Doyoung felt his eyes widen at her use of words. He suddenly felt pathetic and weak in comparison. 

“No one is waiting for me,” he explained. “It’s too late now”. The Wife scoffed. “Are you in love or what?”. 

Doyoung emptied his glass with a trembling hand. 

“I just feel like I’ve been fighting a lot by myself while no one is fighting for me, so I gave up, as pitiful as that might sound,” he explained himself. His voice got sharper and he just wanted to go home. 

The girl rested her back on the chair while crossing her arms on her chest with an angry expression. The fact that she didn’t need to walk on eggshells around him anymore made her real personality shine through. Doyoung found it rather refreshing but he hated it at the same time. He was scrutinizing himself very well already, judging his every step and word and thought. He didn’t need other people to do it as well. 

“So you never broke down,” she observed. Doyoung looked up. 

“Do you need to reach a breaking point?” he questioned. “Do I really need to get to the point of losing all my pride and sanity? It doesn’t have to be like this. Love is not like this”. 

The Wife tilted her head to the side as if analyzing him. Doyoung felt vulnerable all of a sudden. 

What was he doing? Talking about feelings with a stranger? A stranger he was sure he was about to marry just 5 minutes ago? He felt dizzy and his head hurt. 

“No,” she agreed. “Love is not only this, no. But it can be like this sometimes." Doyoung poured some more wine into the empty glasses. “Why is she not doing it then? Why does it always have to be me?” Doyoung asked with the littlest voice. “Why did she let me go so easily?” The Wife sighed. “I don’t know her nor do I know you. But it sounds to me like she perhaps loves you too much-”

Doyoung interrupted her with a chuckle, shaking his head. 

“-because!” the girl raised her voice for fear of being interrupted, “-she did not let her egoistical feelings get in the way. If you told her that you were about to get married, she obviously thought about you first, instead of herself and her needs. What would have you done in her place?” she asked. 

“Fight,” Doyoung whispered. “But did you?” she asked again. 

Doyoung gulped. 

“Did you fight for her love? Your parents told you that you had to get married and what did you do? Accepted it? You went to her and were like 'listen this is the situation, can you promise me you’ll love me forever so that I know it’s worth fighting for you?' Is this what you did?” the Wife was almost angry and in another situation, Doyoung would have found it entertaining. 

He didn’t reply. The Wife took it for tacit approval and went on. 

“We’re taught to not be selfish in love, that if you love them then just let them go, and all of this bullshit, but!-” she slammed her hand on the table suddenly making Doyoung jolt, “-it doesn’t mean that’s how she is really feeling. I’d say she loves you." she pointed her finger towards him as a politician would after their speech. 

“No, don’t feed my hopes, please. You don’t know anything,” he shook his head. “Doyoung, this makes no fucking sense. Get out of your head. I want you to call her, now. Just talk. Communication." “What?” “Call her. Do it. I want you to explain the new situation to her. Tell her that you aren’t getting married and that you love her and you’re ready to fight for your love. Show yourself."

Doyoung shook his head again. “Stop it.”

“Do it."

“Who do you think you are?” Doyoung was starting to get a little angry. 

The Wife didn't budge and just smiled. 

“Fate."

“We’re done. There’s nothing else to do now." Doyoung got up suddenly and retrieved his wallet. A waiter came from the shadows to accept his card. The Wife sighed and just looked at him as if disappointed. “Alright, but when Fate is going to kick you in the butt again when you least expect it, please think of me and my words." “I don’t believe in fate,” he replied putting on his jacket. 

But Doyoung thought of those words all night while moving his phone from one hand to another, walking home slowly. It was cold as hell and he enjoyed the pain of it. He wasn’t alone. He could almost see the black car that was following him from a certain distance. “Yes, sir,” was the bodyguard’s answer when he told him to fuck off after he insisted on taking him home as programmed. 

And he thought of those words again, months later, the instant he heard your voice in that party hall. He swore he was hallucinating. He felt his limbs paralyzing and shaking at the same time. But he was trained. He knew how to work in these high tension situations. It was a little click and he couldn’t feel anything, adrenaline killed and buried in the deepest parts of his brain, like hungry wolves ready to tear him to pieces when he wouldn’t have had the force to keep them locked anymore. And so he moved like a machine, like something as far from human as possible. Later. We’ll deal with this later. I can’t. I can’t do it now. I can’t let myself fall. Stay. Focus. Later he could feel it indeed. It came eventually. He felt it right there while worried about your cut. He felt it as he held your hand and dragged you away. Pain washed him all over as if for the first time and love. Oh, love, it was so much love, he felt like drowning, he felt like a withering garden begging for rain and it came suddenly, so quickly, that he couldn’t possibly absorb it all at once. 

When he opened the bathroom cabinets he saw the first aid kit in a second, but he felt so overwhelmed and all over the place that he couldn’t bring himself to face you properly. He pretended to look for it for a while and his body felt your burning gaze all over his skin. Why were you looking at him like that? Stop it, no, please continue, no, stop, it’s too much, please, please, never stop looking at me. 

When he turned around he couldn’t bring himself to touch you again either without dragging you against his chest, never letting go. Was this fate? Was this the fate The Wife was talking about? Is this real? Is everything real at all?

As Doyoung’s parents were scolding him about apparently fucking like a rabbit the whole night, he put down his coffee and intertwined his fingers together, resting his face on them, closing his eyes and breathing in. 

“We’re not getting married,” he suddenly spoke up. The cutlery stopped moving and his parents’ faces fell off. 

“What?” Mother asked with a tiny voice. “What are you talking about?” Father furrowed his eyebrows, no amusement left in his eyes. Doyoung looked at them.

“I-am-” Doyoung articulated every word well and slowly as if talking with a stupid person, “-not-getting-fucking-married."

Father’s breath grew in pace, eyes out of his orbits. 

“Doyoung,” his mother’s voice was a little surprised whine. 

He looked at her with the corner of his eyes and his expression was probably one of his worst ones so far since she jolted imperceptibly as if seeing her son for the first time. 

“What’s with this attitude? Who do you think you are?” Father’s voice was getting deeper and his cheeks and neck reddening. 

Doyoung looked back at him with a killing glare. 

“Doyoung, sweetheart, you don’t have to get married tomorrow. Get to know each other first. You’ll definitely like each other as time goes by-” Mother tried to calm everyone down. 

“Like you and dad?” Doyoung let his tongue be as poisonous as it wanted. “Getting married to someone for convenience to just fight like fucking dogs every day in front of a child, huh?” he asked. 

Mother gasped and covered her mouth with the impeccable napkin. 

“Kim Dongyoung!” Father hit the table with his fist making all the tableware tremble. 

Doyoung didn’t flinch. 

“Do you want my son to assist at how I fuck different women every night? Pretending that he doesn’t understand what’s going on?”

Mother started to sob. 

“And you,” Doyoung spoke to her, ignoring her tears, “do you want my son to listen to his mother bad mouthing me from the most tender age? Telling him what a terrible father I am, that he shouldn’t love him, letting him know how unhappy she is while the only thing he should be preoccupied about is the multiplication table and which toy he should be playing that day with?” Doyoung directed his gaze towards his mom raising his voice on the last words. 

“Do you want me to bring my son to work to prove to my wife that I am in fact not fucking the secretary while letting her suck my cock under the desk?” he continued this time directing his speech towards Father. 

The man was fully red at this point and when he got up from his chair Doyoung thought that he was about to punch him or just drag him on the ground. 

But he didn’t. He was shaking as if no one had confronted him like that before. 

His voice was dangerous and slow, like a poisonous snake. 

“You’re going to get what you deserve, Dongyoung,” he spoke and Doyoung knew what that was. 

Because in his father’s eyes, Doyoung was the faulty one.  For speaking up. For telling the truth. For letting both of them, grown-up adults that were still running away from themselves like children, face their own feelings and shortcomings. Forcing him to be perfect and to do stuff that they wanted. Forcing him to accept every shitty thing they did but making him feel guilty for his actions. 

“I will. And you as well, Father,” he replied getting up and throwing his napkin on top of his plate. His mother’s sobs were the only sound he could hear as he exited the room.

Doyoung apologized for having spilled his drink on you. And you looked up as if that was the last of your problems. Your fingers were trembling as you disinfected your cut and Doyoung knew it wasn’t because of the pain. 

Right? 

No, don’t do it. Don’t go there again Doyoung. For once, for a single time, stop jumping ahead. Just ask. Stop living in your head. Don’t assume. She’s not in love. She’s not here because of you. This is not fate. 

So he did ask. He asked why were you there and the transient relief he felt when he was as close as to believe he was the reason for all of that, that maybe, just maybe, you tried to be selfish again, washed away. Because he could see how sincere you were while assuring him that you had no idea it was the place he was working at. There was no plan. 

So this is fate? This is how it works? It gives you the possibility but you still have to work for it? You still have to endure the pain of trying and trying and failing over and over again? If fate could make you both meet again, why didn't it do everything? Why did fate bring you in front of his eyes again just to listen to your sweet voice say that you were over him? Like a slap. Like giving a thirsty man a cup of water and taking it away right before the moment a single drop of refreshing sweetness could have eased his burning tongue.

It’s not so simple to draw the line. This was the only lesson Doyoung fully understood. There’s no one way someone can be. It’s not black and it’s not white. Everything is blurry. Everything is gray.

_____

“Y/N." It took only that single word to make Doyoung snap his head up and look at Haechan. “She was looking for you,” he added while standing in front of Doyoung’s desk, one hand comfortably inside his pants pocket, the other holding a coffee. 

“Is that for me?” Doyoung asked eyeing the cup. 

Haechan snorted incredulously. 

“I’m telling you that the ex you’re still in love with was looking for you and you talk about a goddamn coffee?” 

Doyoung straightened his back. 

“She told you that she’s my ex?” he asked surprised. “So you don’t deny that you’re in love with her,” Haechan considered while sipping on the coffee. 

Doyoung’s eyes got darker as they usually did when talking to Haechan but the younger one could see the redness on his cheeks and the way his adam apple traveled up and down, anxious and embarrassed. 

Oh Doyoung, Haechan thought, you’re so fragile. 

“How is that your business?” Doyoung didn’t budge, even though he was aware that Haechan was your new interest. 

Was Haechan jealous? Was that a new way Haechan tried to make him angry with? Since Doyoung arrived at the company Haechan has never let him alone. He was nagging and whining and messing up with Doyoung, making him angry and irritated, laughing when Doyoung snapped. 

Haechan shrugged. “I’m a Gemini. Everything is my business."

Doyoung sighed and flipped the papers he had underneath his hands as if telling the other that the conversation was over. 

But he still felt the other’s gaze on top of his head for long seconds. “So you’re going to be a pussy about it.” Haechan didn’t move and talked with a low voice Doyoung has never heard before. “You’re going to hold yourself back and prepare some escaping routes, just like always."

Doyoung stilled and looked up.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked almost in a whisper, too surprised by Haechan’s serious tone to actually get angry at the insult. 

“I see you, Doyoung. I really see you. And I see how your father treats you,” Haechan sipped on his coffee again while staring out of the office windows as if talking about anything besides that. “Y/N was surprised when I told her that you weren’t some CEO or something. I didn’t tell her that you were punished.” Haechan filled the silence again as Doyoung was just staring. “I wasn’t punished,” Doyoung gave him a death glare. 

Haechan shrugged. 

“Do something for yourself for once, would you?” he added and Doyoung could have sworn that underneath the nonchalant mask Haechan had on, rested a troubled and sensitive soul. 

“Are you two not dating?” Doyoung finally spoke when finding his voice. 

Haechan came back to his normal self with a nasal laugh. 

“You are so fucking stupid, oh my God,” he groaned. “No, darling, we’re not. That poor girl was too proud to admit that she’s in love with you while you probably just got back from your 'forced newlywed trip'”. 

Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows and that was enough for Haechan to widen his eyes. 

“So it’s not true,” he whispered. 

Doyoung didn’t comment on that and Haechan didn’t add anything. 

He looked out of the window again, lower lip slightly trembling so he bit on it. Then he smiled bitterly. “Fuck. Then you have to tell her that. Talk to Y/N,” he whispered again and just left leaving Doyoung confused as never before.

_____

You didn’t see Doyoung that morning and you didn’t see him during lunch either. Then at almost 5 o’clock your phone rang again. You rolled your eyes wondering what Haechan wanted to say to you. “Y/N from Marketing speaking." Your voice was flat but a little amused, ready to listen to whatever nonsense Haechan will talk about. 

But when you heard the voice you gasped silently. 

“Hello, Y/N. Doyoung from IT here."  

His voice was warm and deep. Your breath grew heavier. 

You couldn’t speak so you closed your eyes. Doyoung didn’t add anything either and you both ended up just listening to each others’ breaths for a while. 

“Doyoung,” you said after what felt like ages and a few seconds at the same time, your nerves thin as never. 

What were you both doing? What was this? 

“Y/N,” he said in the same tone but then cleared his throat. “I-” he stopped. “I actually called with a purpose,” he added. 

You imagined him, sitting behind his desk, cheeks flushed, fingers restless. 

Or so you hoped. 

Maybe he was just nervous. Maybe he hated to see you again. Maybe he was over you and now his pain just got back and it was all your fault. 

“Yes?” you asked, raising your voice to seem nonchalant. “Yes. There’s this project that Haechan and I are working on,” he started, “-and we’ve been told to work with someone from marketing for the selling issues. And they suggested you since you’re new and you still have to prove yourself” he finished explaining. 

You nodded. “Yes. Okay. Alright,” you almost stuttered. 

“Come to my office. The map is on the server,” he ordered softly and hang up. 

Just like that. 

You remained still for a few seconds, with the beep-beep of the line ringing in your ears. Then you swallowed with a certain difficulty feeling your throat dry.

When you arrived in front of his door, thin nerves and muscles shaking, you just closed your eyes and forced yourself to calm down. You were about to see Doyoung. You were about to see him and talk to him. It wasn’t a dream and it wasn’t a fantasy. He was there, behind this thin closed door. 

God. 

You knocked. 

His melodious voice told you to come in. And you did. He was sitting behind his desk, blinds slightly closed making the office semi-dark. “I didn’t know IT people had their own offices,” you smiled awkwardly while stepping in and closing the door behind you. “Well, we don’t need human interaction to do our jobs,” he replied in the same tone. 

He got up and indicated you to sit down on the couch in front of his desk. He brought his laptop with him and placed it on the coffee table in front of it. You sat down, hands neatly placed on your thighs and you hoped he didn’t hear the way your breath hitched as he sat down as well, his thigh touching yours slightly. 

His cologne was the same, you noticed, and your fingers vibrated, trying hard to stop themselves from touching him. You looked at his shoulders and imagined tracing them with your hand. Then wrapping them as you got closer. Then sliding them up to his nape, slowly, into his hair, closer and closer and closer and feeling his breath and kissing his lips and sitting on his lap and as you did so, his arms would hug you, pulling you close while he whispered your name. 

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. 

“Y/N." You jolted. He was turned to you, hands on the laptop screen, a PowerPoint on it. You looked at the computer then at his face. He understood that you haven’t been listening to him and sighed.  

You breathed in and out. 

“Doyoung,” you said and you saw him visibly shiver hearing your voice call his name. 

“I think that we should t-” but you couldn’t finish the sentence as the door got opened with a loud thud. 

Haechan was almost breathless when he barged in. 

You and Doyoung looked behind your backs, both surprised to see Haechan with flushed cheeks and red eyes. “Haechan,” you said. “Is everything alright?” Doyoung asked as well. Haechan caught his breath by now, staring at you both then his lips tightened in a straight line. “Yeah. Yes. Sorry, I’m late. Let’s go to the conference room. It’s more spacious there,” he spoke up and turning around he just left. You and Doyoung looked at each other surprised. 

You bit your lower lip, unable to carry on the conversation anymore. 

“You were saying? I think we should?” Doyoung didn’t budge. 

His eyes were dark and his lips slightly parted. You stared at them, perhaps far too long because you suddenly felt your cheeks hot and your breath hitch. 

You were leaning in, imperceptibly and Doyoung saw. 

He didn’t get away and he didn’t refuse you. Looking at his eyes for a split second you could see that he was nervous. 

Then the magic disappeared again as Haechan’s voice made you both jolt again.  “What are you doing? Are you coming or not?” he yelled.

_____

You were sitting down, each with their own computer, clicking and typing. Doyoung briefly filled you in, explaining again what you needed to do. You just nodded and got to work. 

“When is this due?” you asked after probably twenty minutes of full silence. You knew Doyoung would be silent but Haechan? It was surprising to see him so concentrated on his work, not looking up even once, no jokes, and no smirks. He was also in a bad mood, you thought, his red swollen eyes still fresh in your memory. 

“Tomorrow morning. We’ll have a meeting and we’ll present the project. Hopefully, it goes well and we can go on with it,” Doyoung replied softly, almost in a whisper. You nodded. It was doable. You got back to work a didn’t speak for some time. 

God, you were about to kiss him. 

What were you thinking? What the fuck were you thinking? And him? Not pulling away? Staying still and looking at your lips the way you looked at his? You could do it, right? Maybe it was possible. You could talk to him and everything would be alright. Just like you’ve always dreamed. 

Right? Right?

After an indefinite amount of time, you looked up and glanced at the time. 

“Fuck,” you swore. 

It was already night and you did almost nothing. 

Haechan raised his eyes as well for the first time and turned around to see the dark windows. “We can take a break,” Doyoung murmured closing his laptop. 

Haechan relaxed on his back. “Who appointed you as a leader?” he asked amused. You smiled a little, happy to see him that way again. 

Doyoung crossed his arms on his chest. “You can be a leader then.” “Okay, then I decide that we can take a break,” Haechan giggled and you chuckled as well. 

Doyoung opened his mouth to say something but his voice got suddenly swallowed by a loud, weird noise. 

You all looked up and in seconds water poured out of the ceiling. 

You screamed and got up suddenly. 

“What’s going on?” you asked no one in particular putting your hands on your head instinctively.  “The sprinkles!” Haechan yelled. “But there’s no fire? Is it?” you asked looking around the room, shocked. 

"Haechan Lee!" Doyoung groaned, eyelashes fluttering in an attempt to see through the drops. "It's not my fault! I didn't do anything this time!" Haechan screamed back, one hand shielding his head. "Go and stop this mess!" the older ordered. 

Haechan had the time to roll his eyes before running to the wall on the opposite side of the conference room. 

You whined, leaving them to their bickering and tried hard to cover the computers ignoring that they were already wet in a desperate attempt to salvage them. 

Doyoung looked at you and promptly came closer, grabbing stuff and throwing it under the desk before realizing that it was too late. 

He groaned again. 

You fell to your knees defeated, fists holding handfuls of melted paper. 

"It doesn't work," Haechan yelled. Doyoung looked at him with such anger that you sensed it radiating through him even if unable to look at him in the face. "For fuck's sake, Haechan, you're useless!" Doyoung walked over and pressed the buttons on the switchboard then looking up at the ceiling as if expecting it to stop soon. 

"What the actual fuck," he swore loudly since it wasn't working indeed. 

Haechan whined beside him. "This was my best suit". 

Doyoung ignored him and walked towards you again, looking around for his phone. "Aren't there other people in this god-forsaken company?" "Shouldn't it stop by now?" you asked, your voice almost inaudible. "I don't know. Something's broken," he spoke more softly to you.

You patted your jacket and retrieved your phone from the inside pocket. It was slightly damp but it worked. "Here," you handed it to Doyoung as he was about to lose his mind from not finding his. He took it and putting one hand on his hip he called someone. 

In the meantime, Haechan crossed the room again and looked at the desk near you and the papers on the floor. "Shit," he commented. “At least I saved on the server,” he added. 

You looked at his wet strands of hair as he passed a hand on his forehead throwing them back. “Me too,” you said to Haechan, then you both turned to Doyoung. 

"They're coming. Let's leave the roo-" he ordered but his voice died in his throat when he heard what you were talking about. He looked down at the computers, pale as a sheet. “Doyoung?” Haechan’s voice was low and dangerous. “You also saved on the server, right?”

He didn’t and while you’ve followed angry Doyoung fighting with an angry Haechan through the corridos directed to the janitor’s room your head was hurting so badly that you thought it would burst. 

“Listen,” Doyoung stopped suddenly making you almost bump into him, “I am a fucking mess, okay?” his index was pointed towards Haechan. “I am a mess and I have so fucking much on my mind, I can’t concentrate, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and I know this is not an excuse for not doing your job well but guess what, I am not perfect, okay? I am not fucking perfect. I make mistakes and I don’t give a shit, alright? I don’t give a single fuck about anything. And now shut up and go home if you want. You’ve done your part,” he spitted out then busted the janitor’s room open and entered it. 

Haechan was still in the corridor a few steps ahead of you. 

You were both still, shocked by Doyoung’s rage. 

But then Haechan started to chuckle softly and looked at you. 

“He did it, finally,” he said, without giving you any explanation and got into the room as well.

_____

"You've already seen it, Doyoung," you whispered slightly embarrassed. 

Doyoung was in front of you, one hand placed on the other hand’s wrist trying to undone his sleeves, as he watched you getting undressed. 

He looked at the way your bra cupped your soft breasts then promptly turned around. 

“You could have gone to another room,” his voice was steady but his reddish ears gave him away. 

You were told that the janitors had clean uniforms in the storage room and now you were in the middle of getting your soaked clothes off, with no time to go home and get changed since the dear Doyoung didn’t save any of your work. 

“And also, I've never seen anything," he said. "Well, I’m not saying naked but you definitely saw me in a bra before,” you replied. 

Doyoung’s back tightened and he turned around, looking at you from under his wet hair. "I'm afraid you're mistaking me for Johnny," he raised his eyebrows before turning away again. 

You opened your mouth to speak but you were too surprised to say anything. Doyoung's eyes were - you might dare say - jealous and furious. 

Was this what Haechan was talking about before? That he’s done it? Was he talking about Doyoung just owning his true feelings and wearing him of his sleeve? Did he finally snap? 

"Okay, so who is this Johnny guy?" Haechan stepped closer with a sly smile. You looked at him but he wasn't looking at you. No, he was looking at you but not at your face. 

Doyoung raised his gaze for a second and slapped his shoulder. "Look away."

Haechan exaggerated a cry. “I was just curious. I don’t care about Y/N."

“How can you not care about her?” Doyoung mumbled and you swore that your face turned violet. 

Haechan put his tongue in his cheeks annoyed. "Doyoung, you're so fucking stupid. So many months working together and you still didn't get it?" 

"Doyoung," you called him softly. "He's not interested in boobs," you explained with a smile, still shy from Doyoung's previous words. 

Haechan gulped, suddenly blushing even harder. 

Doyoung turned his head around and furrowed his eyebrows at you. 

Then his eyes got wide and when he looked back at Haechan he noticed his red cheeks and the way he tried to not look at Doyoung's naked upper body. 

Doyoung covered his nipples. 

Haechan groaned and hit him. 

“I’m not interested in you either, dumbass,” he added but still turned around to not look at either of you.

_____

It was hours later and you kept glancing at the neon green number on the clock in front of you. You got back to Doyoung’s office to, well, continue or start again everything you’ve done before. 

“If you’re tired, you can go home, it’s fine,” Doyoung’s soft voice grabbed your attention. 

You sighed and closed your computer. 

“Do you want to talk?” you asked with a low voice. 

It was almost a whisper but in the thick silence of the room, disrupted only by the buzz of the computers and your breaths, it sounded almost too loud. You glanced at Haechan, fast asleep with the head on his arms then you glanced at Doyoung again and at his slightly surprised expression. 

That was blunt and all of a sudden. But it was so late and you were exhausted physically and mentally and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You both knew that you weren’t asking to chat about the weather but he still wanted to make sure. 

“Talk about what?” 

Yeah. Talk about what? Us? Is there an us? There was only you and him and the feelings in between. Talk about feelings? Does he have feelings as well though? Talk about me and my feelings? Fuck. 

You looked down at your hands still on the keyboard and at the way your fingers started to shake. You clasped them together. 

“I still have feelings for you,” you breathed out suddenly, then you looked up for a split second to see Doyoung’s expression. 

His eyes were wide and round, his glossy pupils shaking imperceptibly. He didn’t expect you to say it like that. 

“I know,” he whispered. 

Your breath hitched at his words and you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

He knows. He knows? He knows. 

Of course, he knows. He probably noticed. You were no actress and you couldn’t fake your emotions. Also, you tried to kiss him just a few hours before that.

He knows. 

Okay. 

That’s it? And now?

You shook your head. “No,” you said. “I don’t think you do”.

Doyoung blinked, a single expression line between his eyebrows. “I don’t just have feelings for you, Doyoung. I am in love with you,” you confessed and this time you tried to sustain his gaze. 

Doyoung’s adam apple went up and down and his lips opened as if he couldn’t breathe. 

“I am foolishly in love with you. I am foolishly in love with everything you are and with everything you do,” your voice trembled. “ “When I think and when I don’t think, you’re still in my mind, roaming around the whole day. And during the night I can’t get any relief from this mind of mine because you’ll visit me again and for a while," you breathed in sharply, talking fast, "-just for a while, the gap inside of me would get filled only for me to wake up and realize that it was just a dream. I have so many feelings and all of them are consumed by you and I have so many things but they all mean nothing to me, without you. And I could blame everything and everyone for this but it’s all on me. It’s all on me, Doyoung. I knew everything and I still acted that way and when I heard you before when you said that you couldn’t concentrate or sleep or-” and you choked, tears spilling on your face. 

Your hands found them and you hid your head in your palms only to jolt and look up at your side after a moment.

Doyoung got up in a second and grabbed your hand. 

He was standing there with his fingers around your wrist, flushed and short-breathed. 

Then he pulled you towards him making you stand up and you let him do that, landing in his arms, wrapping yours around his torso, muffling your cry with his shirt, closing your eyes, drifting away, head empty and heart full. 

Doyoung was holding you tight, one hand on your back and the other one on your nape, stroking your hair and shushing you softly. “I hate to see you cry and I hate that I’m the reason for that. I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered against your temple. You shook your head with an exasperated whine and looked up at him. “You didn’t do anything, Doyoung,” you objected. 

He looked at your face as well. He didn’t expect that. He didn’t expect any of that. His mind was racing and his heard was about to give up. 

“That’s the point,” he explained. “I didn’t do anything. I could have tried more. I walked on eggshells around you the whole time and at the first problem I would just let you go, finding an excuse, being afraid-” “No,” you interrupted him, shaking your head again, “I don’t want to hear you blame yourself." “I don’t want to hear you blame yourself either,” he replied. 

You opened your mouth but didn’t say anything, knowing how stubborn Doyoung could get. 

Okay. Okay. It's fine. 

“Okay, now I-” you looked at your hands, pressed on his chest feeling his heart pumping blood like crazy. 

Your first instinct was to just pull yourself away, telling him that you’ve said everything you had to say. And wait. Wait for him to take the second step, to understand your thoughts without you explaining anything, just like he has always done before. But Johnny’s voice thundered in your head telling you to talk and explain yourself and to use your words, so you raised your head to look at Doyoung again. 

He didn’t look away from you, not for one second, and when you locked eyes he brought one hand up to cup your face and with his thumb he caressed your cheek, removing the last tear. 

“What about you, Doyoung? Do you love me?” your voice trembled. 

Doyoung sighed as if relieved. 

He pulled you close and cupped your face with the other hand as well. 

He leaned in until breathing on your open lips.

“I love you,” he said in the tiniest of whispers. 

“I love you,” he repeated. You whimpered. 

“I love you, Y/N. I love you,” his soft chant continued. 

He said that again and again, kissing you with little pecks, then again after the kiss got slower and as your lips didn’t want to leave each other anymore. 

“Look, I’m glad you idiots finally aren’t idiots anymore,” Haechan’s voice startled you for the third time that day, “but would you get a room? If not I’m going home."

_____

You ended up all going home that night - or very early morning. The project could have granted you all a promotion but you decided that you all didn’t give a single fuck. Everything looked so unimportant now that Doyoung was holding your hand and your muscles relaxed in his arms. 

You felt asleep there, in the crook of his neck, deeply, after months of insomnia. 

You remembered little snaps as he carried to his car. He would shush you when your fingers gripped his shirt harder. 

“Doyoung, it’s fine, I can walk. Put me down,” you whispered going in and out of sleep. “Sleep, I’ll take care of you,” and the kiss he planted on your forehead felt like a spell as you lost consciousness soon after. 

You didn’t wake up a single time during the drive and it was only when you reached your front door that Doyoung woke you up by gently shaking your shoulders. “Sorry,” he said. “Last time I had luck but this time I can’t find your keys,” he added when you fully opened your eyes with a yawn. “My bag now has more stuff in it than when I was at university,” you smiled. Your voice was hoarse from the nap and from the cry you had. 

Then you entered your apartment, walking slowly in silence, and you both undressed, throwing the coarse uniforms away. 

You did it lazily and with no malice, looking at each other bodies, this time without blushing. 

Then you sat down on your bed, completely naked and you looked at Doyoung, naked as well, standing in front of you as he removed the last piece of fabric from his body. 

“Wait,” he suddenly said, and turning around he left the room. You looked at his back as he was walking away and sighed. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

It was so surreal. 

You sighed again deeper, feeling it difficult to breathe. 

You were exhausted and drained, body aching and head-spinning so when Doyoung came back with a glass of water all you could think of was the morning after your terrible meeting with Doyoung. 

That time he was also standing in front of you, with one glass of water in his hand, face lit by the new rays of the sun. He had fewer clothes on now, of course, but for some reason, you started to feel as if no time has passed at all between the two events. There was no misunderstanding, no pain, no fights. 

You smiled and took the water from him. He smiled back and sat down on the bed beside you. His eyes were telling that he knew what you were thinking, like soulmates reading each other’s minds and that he was thinking about it as well. 

“Another thing,” he said and his voice was as tired as yours. “Someone, let's say Fate, told me to tell you that I am not married and that I am ready to fight for our love,” he added looking at you with a little nervous smile. 

Your eyes widened. 

“But-” you felt overwhelmed. “But the ring,” you mumbled looking down at his hands as your brain was trying to run at a speed too high for your tired cells. Doyoung looked at his hands as well before raising them up and showing that they were bare. “It was just a random ring. You assumed things,” he replied. 

You looked back at his face, confused and dizzy. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why-” you gulped, “why didn’t you call?”

Doyoung sighed. 

“I also assumed things. I thought you didn’t love me,” he tightened his lips. “I am sorry,” he whispered wrapping your shoulders with his arms and pulling you towards him. He nudged at your temple while you processed the information, repeating the apology, planting little kisses on your temple. 

“Does this change something?” he asked after a whole minute of silence. His voice sounded afraid and you looked up at him. 

“No, love, no, shh, don’t get me wrong,” you assured him with a pained expression, cupping his face. 

He let you do that, slightly surprised and definitely flushed by the sudden pet-name. “This is even better, isn’t it? I mean, you’re not married,” you chuckled a little. 

Doyoung cupped your face as well, his thumbs pressing at the corners of your eyes. 

“Then why are you crying?” he whispered so softly that it made you sob even harder. 

Your lower lip trembled looking at his eyes, at his expression, at his face, drinking him in. 

“I’m just happy. And I love you. I love you so much and all of this is just-” you smiled through the tears unable to go on. 

You were too exhausted and emotional to be rational in that moment. You had do idea what to do and you just wanted to be. 

Doyoung’s pupils shook as he bit his lip, trying not to cry as well. 

“God, how much water do I need to make you drink to make up for all of these tears?” he chuckled lightly as a few tears fell on his cheeks as well. 

You were both there, naked, crying, and laughing at the same time and you’ve never felt happier in your whole life. 

“What happened though? How did you end up not getting married? What did your parents-” you started to ask wiping your face. Doyoung closed his eyes and shook his head, letting himself fall down on the bed and dragging you with him. “Later,” he mumbled getting you both under the covers when you landed on his chest. 

You smiled and closed your eyes as well. 

And you both slept a lot, hugging each other tight, bare limbs intertwined together, skin pressing on skin, lips murmuring loving whispers. It was the highest level of intimacy, naked in front of each other, and clothes had nothing to do with it. 

Your souls were open and your emotions out, telling each other everything, with no fear and with no more pride.

#doyoung #doyoung smut #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan #johnny suh #nct angst #nct fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct fanfiction

[multiplefandomsblog]

🖌️

As soon as he drew attention to them once again she rolled her eyes, god he was such a little lying troublemaker! Her blush lit up again as a few people stared, she had half a mind to kick him but instead she pulled him along by their attached hands to a quieter part of the train and took a seat to look out the window. It had been a while since she'd been on a train so it was nice to get a good look at the view zooming by. She kicked her feet a little in excitement.

She didn't skip classes all the time, but to be honest she hadn't gone out into the city for a long time. At least not during the day when stores and cafes were open, she often hid in the darkness and alleyways to do her work so she never ventured out much.

Her phone buzzed unexpectedly, looking down she saw it was from Angie- or in her phone 'Art Girl'. A curious thought came to mind. What did Shuichi call her in his phone? He seemed like the kind of person that had many contacts so she hoped she wouldn't get lost in there.

She referred to people by a trait, unless they had a name of course. Her phone buzzed again and she opened the messages.

Angie (Art Girl): Hi hi!! You're not in biology? Where aaaarrreeee yooou? Did you die? Or get lost?!

Angie (Art Girl): Oh! And do you have my brushes?

Me: 👍

Her gaze returned back to her new friend, deciding to start asking some questions. She really didn't know much about him, he was definitely someone she wanted to know.

She wanted to know a lot about him.

Me: 🍇=🏆? 🧥... 🎰! / 🤹. (What's your Ultimate? From your clothes I guess.. a Gambler! or Circus Performer.)

She hoped her question wouldn't offend him, she had other ideas as to what she could be but maybe she could gain a better insight if she knew what his Ultimate was.

Laughing at her embarrassment, he let her drag him to wherever she wanted, smirking deviously as he did, “Whaaat, are you going to take me somewhere quiet to make out or something? You’re so sneaky, nishishi!” He made his voice high-pitched, almost shrill as he spoke. Sitting down next to her, he watched as she kicked her feet in adorable excitement, feeling a flush adorn his face at the action. 

He wondered how long it had been since he last was out with another person, no one exactly wants to hang out with someone who’s either constantly looking for danger, attention, or known for pranking anyone who breathes. He had successfully given trust issues to everyone who knew him. 

Although, Shuichi occasionally... He snickered to himself as he remembered, oh wait, he was Shuichi. Checking his phone as he heard a notification, he slightly tilted it to make sure she wouldn’t be able to see the countless cringy heart emojis and in big bold letters, “My Soulmate” he had as her name. 

He had been planning to show off his phone to his classmates every time she texted him, so he could brag about finally getting a girlfriend. Everybody used to laugh, but not this time, not now when he had her! Although they probably still wouldn’t believe him-

 He pretended to get offended, “Circus performer? How rude, to compare me to an acrobat- Do I really look the clown-ish?” He pretended to sob, before almost immediately changing his expression, “Just kidding! I’m actually the ultimate liar!” He grinned as he lied yet again.

#mod chia #rp #🖌️anon

[quiet-onset]

One Normal Case

Hsquad Write-a-Thon Day 2: Crossover Day - Psych x SPN (fight me, I dare you)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,947

A/N: I know I missing day one, but my computer shut down in the middle of writing, so I have to write it all over again (insert rolling eye emoji here). If you’ve never watched Psych, I definitely suggest it; It’s hilarious! Don’t forget to tag me in your writing if you participate!

“Shawn.”

“Gus.”

“Shawn.”

Shawn sucked his teeth loudly, “Come on! You really don’t want this case?”

“No, Shawn, I don’t want this case. I didn’t want the last case. Or the one before that. Or the one before that.”

“What about the one before that one?”

“No!”

You chuckled at the pair from behind your newspaper, growing accustomed to their bickering. You hadn’t been a part of Psych Investigations for more than a year, but they were already like the big brothers you never had. You’d join the team as their brains; you were the best when it came to technology. Phones, computers, security systems, you name it.

“Don’t laugh at us.” Shawn teased. “You haven’t even given us your thoughts.”

Gus looked at you pointedly, “Yes, let’s hear what the other sane person thinks.”

You parted your lips to speak, but Shawn spoke up, his brow furrowed and his hands up defensively, “I already said what I think.”

“I think,” You started. “That the rent is almost due, and we’re broke, so sorry, Gus.”

“I am the winner. Suck it.” Shawn sang in a ridiculous voice.

“You suck it!” Gus retorted.

“You suck it!”

“Both of you suck it!” You interjected. “Now, let’s go.”

It was a matter of time before the three of you were in Gus’s blueberry of a car. The two decided that a pit stop for food was necessary, so you arrived at the station ready, bellies full of chicken tacos. Shawn stepped through doors, calling for the attention of the tall detective, “Lassie, sound the trumpets and roll out the red carpet! The master is here!”

“Spencer. Guster.” Lassiter nodded. “You.”

You rolled your eyes as you looked up at him playfully, walking towards the interrogation room. “You know, just because you don’t know how to use Microsoft Word doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.”

He followed quickly behind, “I know Word! It’s Excel I don’t know.”

“Ouch, self-burn!” Shawn said from the rear.

Gus snickered, “Those are rare.”

“Shut up!” Lassiter said quietly. “You all need to tone it down today — Spencer, I swear to God if the next word you say is in a deep voice, I will strangle you myself.”

Shawn looked at Gus, then to you and Lassie before clearing his throat, “Point taken. Continue.”

When you arrived in the spectator area of the interrogation room, you looked through the glass with confusion. There were two men in suits you didn’t recognize, questioning the suspect that had been apprehended.

To say they were attractive would be an understatement. They were a pair of Adonises. They were clearly very tall, and their suits formed to their bodies well. One had short brown hair, a stern look on his face as he pointed down to the picture and back at the suspect. The other leaned back in his chair, observing the suspect as he pushed a strand of his long, shiny hair away from his face.

“Jesus, Y/N, close your mouth.” Shawn chuckled.

“What?” You defended. “They’re attractive. And one of them might have better hair than you.”

“You take that back.”

“Who are they?” Gus interrupted with the obvious question.

Lassiter glared at the two, “FBI. They say they’re laying claim to the case.”

“No, we need this case, Lassie.” You said urgently.

“Captain says we’re only supposed to help if asked. Otherwise, I don’t want to see any of you anywhere near this.”

You huffed as Gus and Shawn answered with a yes that obviously meant no. Looking back into the interrogation room, you saw the two men stand from the table. You watched the man with the long hair pull his suit jacket closed with one hand as he followed the other. In a matter of seconds, they were standing in front of you and the rest of the gang.

The one with short hair spoke up, his voice gruff as he directed Lassiter, “You keep him locked up until further notice.”

“We’ve got some leads we’re gonna follow up on, but we’ll be back. So call us if you find anything.” The taller man nodded.

The other looked at you, Shawn, and Gus, a look of boredom mixed with confusion in his eyes. “Who are you?”

Shawn stepped up first, as usual. “I am psychic detective, Shawn Spencer.” He pointed to Gus. “This is my partner, John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,” Then to you, “And our assistant, John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.”

“His name is my name, too.” You added with a smile.

The one with long hair let out a quiet chuckle, while the other deadpanned Lassiter. “What the hell is this?”

“These are a bunch of dimwits who were just leaving.”

“I was not and I shall not. I shan’t.” Shawn started simply. He turned to the FBI agents, scanning them quickly. He noticed that the stern one had bruised knuckles and placed his fingers to his head; his signature psychic move. “I sense that you’ve been in a fight recently.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s what he does.” You told him. “He’s a psychic.”

“Then what does he need you two for?”

Gus shrugged, “Sometimes we help. But most times, we’re his self-control.”

“Also!” Shawn said loudly. He pointed to the tall one and looked back at you, “That one is single, so you might wanna hop on that saddle.”

Your mouth dropped open as you punched Shawn in the arm. He groaned loudly, holding his arm as you looked back at the FBI agent, who was simply smiling and laughing. The other one shook his head and walked past you toward the exit, “I don’t want these clowns near this case, Lassiter.”

“Noted,” Lassie answered.

You watched as the remaining agent pulled out a card and handed it to you, “You’re not supposed to be actively working on the case, but if you happen to come across something, give us a call.” He trailed off, asking for your name.

“Y/N.” You felt the heat creep up through your neck as he smiled.

“Y/N.” He repeated, a kind smile on his lips.

He was gone moments later, and Lassie took the suspect to lockup. Shawn and Gus began to tease you, singing about how you now had a boyfriend in the FBI. Before the two could start their ridiculous attempts at belting, you punched them both in the arm, “I hate you both.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Gus whined.

Shawn rubbed at the spot, “Now, my flawless skin is gonna have a bruise. I hope you’re happy.”

As you looked down at the business card, reading over the name and phone number, you smiled, “Actually, I am.”

“John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt?”

“It was a joke, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes as they got into his car, preparing to go for the first lead. He huffed as Sam settled into his seat. “This was supposed to be a break from crazy, Sam.”

“I know, and it will be. Just relax.”

Dean let out another annoyed sigh as he drove toward their first lead in downtown Santa Barbara. After everything the brothers had been through, they just wanted a simple case. Open and close, like they used to do. Call it the Winchester way of getting back to normal. But, of course, every case had a catch.

This catch seemed to be a wanna-be psychic, Tweedle-Dee, and Tweedle-Dum.

“Maybe he really is psychic,” Sam said. “You don’t know.”

“If he was really a psychic, he would’ve turned and run at the sight of us.” Dean scoffed.

“That other guy and the girl vouched for him though.”

Dean side-eyed his brother, rolling his eyes at Sam’s naïvete. “Is this about the girl?”

Sam returned the favor, “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I know it’s been awhile since you got some, but are you really gonna go for the girl who is the assistant to a quote, physic detective?”

“So you think she’s crazy?” Sam asked with a light chuckle.

“Batshit. All of ‘em.”

Sam thought back to the way you punched Shawn in the arm and the way you tried to hide your smile when he handed you his card. He bit his lip to keep Dean from noticing his smile, “Well, if they’re working for the Santa Barbara PD, they’ve gotta be doing something right.”

“Sure, whatever.” Dean waved him off as he pulled into the parking lot of a commercial building. “All I know is that I’m not gonna be responsible for them getting killed, so they need to stay away from this.”

The brothers went into the building to follow up their first lead. Based on the autopsy report, they were fairly sure they were dealing with a wraith. The suspect in question was a janitor in the building where the victims saw their therapists. So, all that was really left was to find out which of the therapists was the wraith.

As the two approached the doors to a group therapy session, Dean heard a familiar voice. “No, the guy is Yin and the girl is Yang, but they work together to outsmart me when I solve crimes. Did I not introduce myself? I’m psychic detective Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, Michael ‘Mailman’ Wobbles.”

“My legs are uneven.”

Dean groaned and ran a hand over his face, “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“I’m gonna check out reception.” Sam chuckled, leaving Dean to deal with the two men.

When Sam arrived at the reception desk, he saw you once again. You were sitting behind the smooth wooden desk with an earpiece in your right ear, typing away on the computer as if you belonged there. He chuckled to himself; to any other person, you’d be the perfect picture of a cute receptionist. He, however, knew better.

When he walked up to the desk, you didn’t look at him. The sound of the pads of your fingers hitting the keys on the keyboard filled the silence. Same cleared his throat, and you finally looked up. You smiled at him, “Oh hey, what’s up?”

“So you’re a receptionist now?”

“I’m basically a receptionist at Psych anyway. Shawn and Gus never let me do the fun stuff.”

“Gus?” Sam asked.

“The other John Jacob…”

“Gotcha.” Sam nodded, a small smirk tugging the corner of his mouth upwards. “So, Psych must be where you really work.”

You looked back at him with the same face. “Yep. Mind telling me where you really work?”

Sam was taken aback, “Excuse me?”

“I’m really good with computers and hacking and stuff. Shawn had a premonition of sorts, so I did some digging.”

“You hacked into the FBI?”

You shrugged at his surprised face, “You say that like it’s hard.”

Sam couldn’t believe that they’re cover had been blown so quickly. That combined with the fact that you technically worked with the SBPD had him on edge. He and Dean could not get caught again. They had too much to worry about without having to figure out how to escape the police again.

You noticed the worried look on his face as you returned to typing. “Don’t worry, we haven’t told anyone. Shawn and Gus are actually kind of in awe.”

Sam let out a nervous breath, “You say anything confident enough, and people will believe you.”

“Apparently so.” You snorted.

Sam leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper, “There are things going on here that you don’t understand.”

You’d have been lost in his eyes if you weren’t so prideful, “And you do, Agent?”

“Yes, I do, and—“

Suddenly, Sam's eyes were locked on the security camera feed behind you. He saw not one, but two wraiths. Their true faces showed on camera, their rotting flesh pulling apart at the seams. But when Sam turned around, they seemed like two normal therapists having a conversation. “Do you know who they are?” Sam asked, nodding in their direction.

“No, but I can find out.” You said slowly, your brow furrowed in confusion.

“I need names and addresses.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s something I have to deal with. Just,” He paused when you handed him the printed sheet of paper, two names and addresses listed on it. He sighed as he looked back up at you, sensing the all too familiar weakness of emotion building up in his chest. “Just stay away. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You sensed a level of sincerity in his eyes and nodded, “Whatever you say, Sam.”

Sam thanked you and turned to leave before doing a double take. With a small smile on his lips, he asked, “You know my name?”

“The internet is a vast place. Tell Dean I say hi.”

You watched as Sam laughed quietly and turned to leave again. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that you pulled the information back up on the computer. You opted to scribble it down instead of waiting for the printer. You got up from the receptionist’s desk and quickly made your way to the entrance where Dean had just finished scolding Shawn and Gus. “2554 Cobalt. 6243 Brentwood.” Shawn whispered.

“What the hell are you talking about, Shawn?” Gus asked.

“The enormous tree of a man with the hair of a wild stallion. The paper in his hand had two addresses on them.”

You jogged up to them, “You were right. They’re not FBI.”

“Well, we gotta tell Lassie,” Shawn said, reaching for his phone. You smacked his hand away and rolled your eyes when he whined.

“I think they’re doing something dangerous. We gotta go after them.”

Shawn gasped, a grin slowly appearing, “An adventure, you say?”

You both looked to Gus, who folded his arms, “No. Nuh-uh. No way. You can’t keep dragging me into this white nonsense, Shawn.”

“Normally, I’d be with you, Gus. But whatever these guys are into, I don’t think the police can help.” You offered.

“Besides, I need you, Gus.” Shawn threw his arm around his best friend. “Who else would keep me from doing too much white nonsense? Otherwise, I’d just spiral into the pool that is White Nonsense, trademark, and you know I can’t swim.”

“Yes, you can, Shawn.” Gus glared at him.

Shawn sucked his teeth, “Oh, come on!”

You and Shawn stared at Gus until you could feel him breaking down. He rolled his eyes before roughly digging his car keys out of his pocket, “I swear, if I die, I’m haunting both of you.”

You chuckled as you followed them to the Blueberry, “Gus, you’ve literally had a gun pointed at your face before. What could be worse than that?”

It could, apparently, be worse than that.

The three of you had been sitting in the Blueberry for a few hours down the street from the first address when one of the therapists arrived. You recognized Dean’s old Impala parked across the street from the house and hoped they hadn’t noticed you. You watched as the therapist pulled into her garage. Before the garage door could close, you saw her walk to the trunk of the car. She hit the trunk with the palm of her hand just the garage door closed completely.

“I think someone’s in there,” Shawn noted.

“What do we do?” Gus asked.

Just then, you saw Sam get out of the car and lean over to speak to his brother. “Guys, look.”

You all watched as Sam pulled out a gun from the back of his pants and headed toward the house. Gus leaned back in surprise, “So, we’re just gonna watch a fake FBI Agent break into this lady’s house?”

“Don’t be such a wuss, Gus.” You teased.

“Yeah, Gus.” Shawn snorted.

“So I don’t wanna be an accessory to murder, and, all of a sudden, I’m a wuss,” Gus muttered.

“If you were an accessory, it’d be sunglasses. Maybe a sleek watch, but that’s a bit overboard.”

“Um, I’d make a sexy-ass watch, Shawn.”

“Can we focus here?” You clapped loudly, gaining their attention. “Because the other therapist just got here.”

It dawned on you then that Sam had gone by himself. His brother had driven off to God knows where, so Sam was outnumbered. You unlocked the door and slid out, “I’m going inside.”

You could hear the pair calling after you, but you kept jogging towards the house. You snuck around the side to get to the back, trying your best to stay quiet. You noticed that back door was open, so you slipped inside.

You pressed your back against the wall of the kitchen, leaning over slightly to get a glimpse of the living room. That’s when you saw a heinous sight.

A young girl, probably no older than twenty-five, was tied to a chair and gagged as tears ran down her face. You could hear her trying to say, “I’m not crazy! I’m not!” As she sobbed into the gag. She saw you then, and her eyes widened. You gestured for her to stay quiet as the two therapists smiled at each other, saying something about sharing her. You looked around the room to try and come up with a plan when you saw it.

In the mirror, you saw their faces of rotting flesh and almost gasped. It was like they were dead, but only in their reflection. The moment you parted your lips to gasp, you felt a hand over your mouth and an arm around your waist.

You were pulled back against the wall, the confusion never leaving your face. When you looked up, it was Sam’s eyes that were boring into your own. He placed a finger to his lips and gave you a pointed look that definitely meant you’d talk about that later.

“What was that?” One of the therapists, Dr. Franklin, asked.

“I’ll check it out.” The other, Dr. Hanley, said.

Sam quietly handed you the gun which trembled in your hands. He went into his suit jacket and pulled out a long metal blade. Your mouth fell opened when he reared back, grunting as he sent the blade through the heart of Dr. Hanley.

You felt the urge to scream as blood started to flow from the wound, but someone else had beaten you to it.

When your head turned, you saw Gus shrieking at the sight, Shawn stoic next to him. “What the hell?” Shawn shouted.

“Look at his reflection!” You called to them.

You watched their expression change slowly from surprise to fear when they caught sight of Dr. Franklin’s rotting flesh. “Oh my god. Oh my god!” Gus screamed.

“Get the girl and get out! Now!” Sam ordered as he began to fight Dr. Franklin.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Gus said, already headed out the door. Shawn grabbed him by the collar and gave him a disapproving look when the first gunshot sounded. They scrambled for the wall, pressing their backs against as another gunshot sounded.

“Sam!”

Suddenly, the front door was kicked open, Dean on the other side. He quickly saw the wraith and aimed his gun, shooting three times. The wraith turned, unharmed by the bullets. “The one time I don’t use silver bullets,” Dean grumbled.

You peeked back out to see the wraith headed towards Dean. Sam was on the floor, cradling his head with blood pouring out of his shoulder. Dr. Franklin must’ve shot him, you thought.

You turned to Shawn and Gus, “Get the girl out.”

“Are you crazy?” Gus asked. “We’re not leaving you here!”

“Just do it!” You demanded.

They gave each other reluctant looks before heading into the living room and untying the girl, leading her out fairly easily since Dr. Franklin was preoccupied with Dean.

With Sam nearly incapacitated and Dean unable to kill the wraith, you knew there was only one option. You scrunched your face in disgust as you leaned over and yanked the long silver blade out of Dr. Hanley’s body. Slowly, you walked over to Dr. Franklin with the blade in your hand, your presence undetected. You watched in fear as a long needle started to protrude from Dr. Franklin’s wrist. Then, after taking a deep breath, you raise your arms over your head and forcefully brought the blade down through Dr. Franklin’s chest.

His body fell over to the side as you offered Dean one of your bloody hands. He cleared his throat before quietly thanking you, taking your hand. You both went over to Sam and helped him up, his groan of pain rumbling through his chest.

When you arrived outside, Shawn and Gus were comforting the girl as the sound of sirens became evident. Dean looked at all of you with sincerity, “Thanks. You were actually a big help.”

“So what are we gonna tell the police?” Gus asked.

“That rotting flesh people were trying to kill this girl.” Shawn started. “Obviously.”

Dean tried not to deadpan the two but patted them on the shoulder anyway. “Just let us do the talking.”

“I leave town for one day, and you’re in a fight with kidnapping therapists.” Jules hugged him tight as he chuckled. “Shawn, promise me you’ll stop doing stupid stuff.”

“You know I can’t promise that. Stupid is in my nature.” He told her, kissing her forehead.

She turned to Gus who patted her on the back. “You know I’m looking out for him.”

“Sadly, I am, too.” You told her. You quickly found yourself looking past Jules at Sam who had just finished wrapping up his gunshot wound. He was with his brother, a smile on both their faces as he sat in the back of the ambulance. Jules followed your eyes, and she gasped.

“Which one?” She asked.

“Long hair,” Shawn said.

“Y/N!” She grinned, slapping your arm.

“And he’s single.” Gus teased.

“If you don’t go over there right now, I will be disappointed in you forever,” Jules warned as she tucked into Shawn’s side.

“I’m going, I’m going.” You laughed.

You approached the Winchesters with a shy look on your face, immediately catching Sam’s attention. When you stood in front of the two, Dean rolled his eyes with a small, endearing smile on his lips. “I’m gonna go fill Lassiter in.” He said, letting his hand rest on your forearm as a gesture of thanks before leaving you to speak with Sam.

“Wraiths?” You asked.

“One of the many supernatural creatures we hunt.” He nodded. “Hey, I really just want to say thank you. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

“Well,” You grinned bashfully, “If you really want to thank me, I can think of a way or two.”

“Really?” He smiled, his dimples indenting deep in his cheeks. When you nodded, he laughed and offered you his hand. “C’mere.”

He pulled you closer until you were practically standing between his legs. You leaned down instinctively as he tilted his chin up, brushing his nose against yours. It was only when Sam heard your quiet, cute laugh that he pressed his lips to yours. You cupped his jaw, reveling in the scruff that tickled your palm as your lips moved languidly together. When you both pulled away to breathe, you heard Shawn’s voice rise over the murmur of police officers.

“I saw that in a vision! I predicted that!”

Your forehead resting against Sam’s, you both laughed breathlessly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Is he really psychic?”

“Not at all, no.” You chuckled, pecking his lips once more. “But don’t tell anyone that.”

“I would never.”

#hsquad write-a-thon #sam winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #psych the tv show #psych #day two

[fly-like-a-grayson]

Yellow Sweater (Jared Kleinman x Reader)

A/N: This BARELY fits the request and I’ll rewrite if I need to. I promise. 

Request:  Hi there! Could you pls write some Jared Kleinman x Reader where the Reader is the quiet but stunning girl who all the guys are after and Jared feels like she’s way super out of his league because “Holy Fuck, I’m just a lowly class clown/hacker and she’s a fucking princess” but as he starts talking to her, he realizes there is smarts as well as deep insecurity underneath her looks & deep convos ensue and they soon start dating? Bonus pts for Jared fist-pumping the air when she says yes. Thanks!

WC: 2,201

Warnings: Language, Sex mention

“Look, Tom, all you have to do is suck it up and use your paladin instead of your bard,” Jared tried to sway the younger boy he was talking to.

Tom sighed, “I don’t know, Jared. There’s a lot at stake, I mean Lein is my pride and joy. I can’t lose her just for some simple raid.”

Jared groaned, “Do you want 3,000 gold coins, or not?”

“Fine, I’ll do it, but you have to buy the pizza,” Tom said leaving to go to his own class.

Jared smiled to himself, “Oh, freshman. So gullible.” He went to sit down in what he thought was the perfect seat in the entire classroom, the desk that was in the middle of the back row. It gave him the perfect cover to sit on his phone if the lesson got boring, the perfect view of the board, and it was right next to you.

After all these months of his sneaking glances at you, he never got sick of it. Every day when you came into class, he felt his heart flutter. You were beautiful and everyone knew it. He guessed that’s why you never told him to stop looking at you because he wasn’t the only one. Jared knew there was something different about you. Not just because you sometimes drew on your arms or would sit and try to touch your tongue to your nose. No, it was because every boy with some high standing position in the teenage social ladder had asked you out, and you never said yes. Jared always assumed this was the goal, you know? Go out with the captain of the football team graduate college with a bachelor’s degree and live a nice suburban life with your two perfect kids. Well apparently for you, it wasn’t.

Today, you had chosen to wear a pair of jeans and a loose mustard yellow sweater. Jared had seen that sweater many times. He enjoyed it, it looked soft. All he wanted to do was touch it, but he knew he couldn’t. You could deal with him staring but he knew you wouldn’t be okay with someone just touching you.

As the class went by, he didn’t pay one bit of attention to whatever the teacher was saying. He was too busy with imagining different conversations you two could be having but never did. And that’s how that class went every day. Jared would stare at you, wish to talk to you, not talk to you, and repeat. He was sure you weren’t into him, or even wanted to be friends with him. After all this time with being in the same class as him, you would’ve talked to him right? Well, he hadn’t done that to you, so maybe you did want to know him. He’ll never know unless he tried.

The day in class, Jared decided to be suave and ask you if you had a pencil. You pointed out to him that he had one sitting on his desk. He started to get flustered and panicked, throwing the pencil to the other side of the room and saying that he didn’t have one. You laughed and handed him one of your mechanical ones, instead of one of your pastel wooden pencils. He froze with the pencil in his hand. He was taken back at your laugh. Sure he had heard your small giggles when someone said something stupid in the class, but your laugh that was a completely different story. It was… it was… it was beautiful. That’s the only way Jared could describe it. The rest of the day, he was very giddy and his friends noticed it.

“Why are you so happy?”, Tom asked Jared at lunch.

“You’ll never believe it,” Jared said with a cocky smile.

Tom scoffed, “Try me.”

“I made Y/N Y/L/N laugh today.”

Tom looked at Jared in disbelief, “No fuckin’ way.”

Jared leaned back in his chair, “Yeah, a full on genuine laugh.”

“Well, how did you do it?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said with a wink.

A girl walking by said, “He threw his pencil across the room.”

“Can it, Brenda!”

Over the next few days, Jared brought up the confidence to talk to you more and more. He asked you about how your day was if you understood what the teacher was talking about, and what stuff you liked. He really felt like you enjoyed his company at school, maybe he should try for outside of school. In class, he asked you if you wanted to see the Emoji Movie with him that weekend. You cringed but said yes, but quickly asked if it was as friends or if he intended it to be a date. He thought it over, he went with friends. He wasn’t prepared for it to be a date.  

He picked you up from your house that Saturday and you saw that god awful movie. Jared was freaking out the entire time, but not because he was watching this ridiculous movie. No, because him one of the biggest losers who usually spent his Saturdays playing D&D was sitting next to the most gorgeous girl in school. No biggie. After the movie, he dropped off at your house and he got your number. He was probably the happiest he ever felt since he got the Nintendo Switch.

“Dude, Jared! Someone said you were at Y/N’s house this weekend,” Tom said with a teasing smile.

Jared brushed it off like it was nothing, but it was everything to him, “Yeah, I was just dropping her off.”

Tom lowered his voice, “So, did you like, do it?”

Jared looked at him confused, “Do what?”

“You know? Did you screw her?”, Tom asked with a roll of his eyes.  

Jared looked at him like he was crazy, “What? No, you fucktard. We’re just friends, plain and simple.”

“There’s no need to be modest. If you had sex with her, you can tell me.”

“Well, I didn’t! So just shut up about it okay? ” he harshly said. He left Tom at the doorway to his class that he had with you.

You noticed the anger written all over his face immediately, “Jared, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My friend is just being a dipshit,” he said, instantly feeling better from being around you.

You smiled, “Well, I hope they stop.”

He smiled back, “Thanks.”

The rest of the day went by as normal, and it seemed like Tom kept his mouth shut. Well, it did until Jared was getting an unusual amount of attention from the surrounding people in the halls. He had really hoped what he thought happened, didn’t. His assumptions were proven true when a basketball player high fived him and asked if it was hard to get you in bed. Jared’s face turned the color of Mario’s hat, in anger and embarrassment. He ran to class to try and see if this had come to your attention yet. You saw him enter the room and didn’t look pissed, so either you hadn’t been told or you were very good at hiding your anger.

He walked up to you and could feel people’s eyes following him. He nervously smiled, “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey Jar,” you said with a bright smile. Dammit, this was going to make telling you this harder than it already was.

He coughed awkwardly, “I have something to tell you.”

You eyed him curiously, “Yeah?”

He looked around the room and saw that almost the entire class was watching you two. He couldn’t say that right now, not with everyone looking at him like that. “Um, I uh, I had a great time this weekend,” he said nervously.

You smiled in relief, thinking it was going to be something serious, “Me too! We should definitely do it again!” He cringed at the snickers from around the room. He then sat down and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.

He thought he was in the clear until lunchtime came around, and you literally dragged him into an empty hallway. He could tell that there were tears forming in your eyes and your broken voice made his heart shatter.

You looked at him with a mix of anger and sadness, “Why did you tell people we slept together?”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he tried to defend.

“Bullshit you didn’t do you know what people are saying about me?”, you said through gritted teeth.

“Well, why are you so against it being me?”, he said, ignoring your question.

You felt some of your tears start to fall and progress with every word you said, “Jared, I don’t care that it’s you. What I care about is the fact that people have been calling me a slut and saying that I’m an easy lay because I apparently had sex with you and barely know you. The thing that really pisses me off is that people are congratulating you, but harassing me! I thought you were different than all those other boys who just tried to get into my pants. I thought you actually wanted to be my friend.”

“No, Tom asked but I said no, I swear I did!”, Jared yelled, wanting to stop the tears that were falling from your eyes.  

You wiped the tears on the sleeve of your sweater, “Just, please don’t talk to me. Even if what you’re saying is the truth. I just can’t handle the teasing and if we never spoke again it would stop. If you cared, you would do that for me.” And then you left him alone in that hallway.

Jared didn’t see you anymore that day, he hadn’t expected to. But anytime he saw someone who shared even the slightest bit of resemblance to you, he felt his heart jolt. He even saw someone wearing the same mustard yellow sweater as you, and felt angry that they were. He didn’t know why he was angry at them, he just thought that it was only reserved for you.

The next day in class, you weren’t at your usual seat. You were sitting at the edge of the first row and Jared was tempted to sit next to you, but he remembered what you said. He did care about you, so he sat in his usual spot, but he wasn’t sure he liked it that much anymore.

Jared felt like this hole was ripped out of his heart and he would never be able to fix it. The attention from the lie died down until he was back to being his usual friendless self. He didn’t even have Tom, the gullible freshman, to boss around. He hadn’t talked to him since the day he fucked everything up. As the time went by, Jared started to miss just being around you more and more. So he sucked up his doubt and headed to your house. He remembered exactly where it was from that one time of dropping you off.

When he got there, you answered the door, wearing that same yellow sweater. His heart pounded loudly as he made eye contact with you. He let out a meek hello.

“What are you doing here?”, you asked him.

He flinched at the harsh tone in your voice, “I wanted to apologize.”

“You already have, please leave me alone,” you said to him.

He looked down at his feet, “I can’t”

You sighed, “Why not?”

It’s now or never, he thought to himself. “I can’t because I love you,” he said trying to look at your face for some kind of hint as to what you were feeling.

You face visibly softened, “Jared, you can’t love me. You don’t even know me.”

“Then let me,” he pleaded.

You shook your head, “But what happened I don’t know if I-”

He interrupted you, “I know I’m not the strongest guy in the world, but if anyone says anything rude or even breaths at you in the wrong way I’ll beat the shit out of them. I want to get to know you, not just sleep with you. We had a nice time at the movies, let’s try that again, please. I’m begging you.”

You sighed before thinking it over for an agonizing minute, “You have one date. Pick me up on Friday at 6 and we get to do what I want to do.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll do that,” he said, his mood lightening up.

You smiled, “Okay, well I have to go because I was actually in the middle of cooking, but I’ll see you Friday.”

“Yeah, Friday!”, He waved you goodbye and walked to his car. When he did he pumped his fist in the air like from in the Breakfast Club and yelled out a loud hazaa! He couldn’t be happier

#jared kleinman #jared kleinman imagine #jared kleinman x reader #jared kleinman headcanons #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen headcanons #dear evan hansen hc #deh hcs #deh x reader #deh headcanons #deh imagine #deh #will roland #will roland imagine #will roland x reader