#i remember that fanfic and-
Hopefully this is relatable and it isn’t just me👀
8K notes · View notes
does anyone else remember when characters would have conversations with the author at the beginning and/or end of the fic or is that just me
3K notes · View notes
if dsmp/mcyt fans are actually moving to tumblr from twitter i just have one thing to say: for the love of god, please reblog fanart/fanfic/analysis and basically any other original content you see on your dash that people have put time and effort into. likes are more of a way to “archive” posts that you enjoy - reblogs are what actually support fan creators. thank you!!
2K notes · View notes
Let’s face it, we all went through the “tongues battled for dominance” phase.
437 notes · View notes
But they’re idiots. (who are very much in love.)
[PART I] - [PART II] - [PART III] - [PART IV]
2K notes · View notes
living with draco
2K notes · View notes
For dialogue prompts- surprise #10 and maybe some supercorp ?
surprise #10 from this prompt list:
“Christ! What happened to your eye?”
It’s the first thing Alex says to her when she makes it back to the DEO, which definitely means her eye looks worse than she thought, given the fact that she’s also limping and cradling a broken arm.
Kara leans against the wall, and presses her fingers gingerly to her cheekbone, wincing at the sharp stab of pain it sends directly up her eye socket and into her skull. There’s a good chance that her cheekbone is broken, and her eye is already swollen tightly enough that she can barely see out of it.
“Took on a bunch of superpowered aliens,” she says, swiping under her nose and looking at the blood that comes away on her knuckles. “Then I got punched in the face.”
“By what, a house?” Alex asks, incredulous. Her eyes widen in concern when Kara tries to take a step towards her and stumbles, and she hurries forward to grab Kara’s uninjured arm and steady her. “Okay, let’s get you to a solar lamp before you pass out.”
Alex sets her arm in silence, and then probes her ankle and declares it only sprained. She’s gently examining Kara’s swollen eye when she starts to speak again, and it’s only the slight tremor in her voice that tells Kara how angry she is.
“I didn’t find out you’d even gone anywhere until I heard you were injured. Kara, you always let me know when you’re going to do something dangerous. We’ve agreed on that before. I didn’t even hear from you over the comms.”
“I know, I know,” says Kara, closing her working eye. “I’m sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean to worry you, it was just…”
“Lena?” Alex’s fingers freeze against her cheek. “What about Lena? What happened?”
The corner of Kara’s mouth quirks up. It sends another wave of pain through her eye. “Oh, you know. The regular quarterly kidnapping-slash-assassination attempt. It was about Lex this time, I think. They were trying to use her as bait, though they clearly don’t know Lex if they think he’d risk anything for Lena’s life.”
Alex hums. “But you would,” she says softly.
Kara groans. “Rao, I shouldn’t have—I just got so angry. I know I should have called you, but I wasn’t thinking straight. You should have seen what they…I wanted to burn the whole place down. If J’onn hadn’t showed up when he did…”
“Shh, okay, it’s okay,” says Alex. “I know. Did you get Lena out?”
“Yes, I think so, I—” She swallows. “I think J’onn got her, could you go…?”
“I’ll go check,” Alex confirms. She brushes Kara’s hair back, lays a careful kiss on her forehead. “You try and sleep for a minute, okay? I’ll come back if anything important happens.”
“Okay,” Kara whispers.
She doesn’t actually intend to fall asleep, but apparently the exhaustion of the fight sits heavier on her than she thought, because the next thing she knows she’s being jolted awake by a whole lot of yelling. She tries to blink her still-swollen eye open, but it still feels like her eyelids are fused together, despite the improvement she can already feel from the sunlamps. There’s a crescendo in the yelling outside the door, and Kara makes out Lena’s voice in the chaos. She’s struggling to sit up before she can stop and think about it.
“I don’t care, I need to see her,” Lena is yelling as Kara limps to the door, and another low voice responds in a placating tone.
“No!” Lena shouts. “You don’t understand, it’s my fault she’s like this, I have to—”
The conversation stops when Kara peeks her head around the door. Lena swallows, her eyes roaming Kara’s bruised face, the sling on her arm. Her face is pale, old mascara smudged into the circles under her eyes, her hair half pulled out of its updo, dried blood on her temple. She’s still wearing the same outfit she was kidnapped in, and there’s blood soaked into the sleeve of her shirt.
“You’re awake,” Lena whispers. “You’re—oh god, your eye.”
“It’s fine,” Kara says, wondering why everyone is so bothered by it. She nods at the DEO agent who Lena was fighting with, and he seems to accept this as a dismissal. “Nothing I haven’t had before. I’ll be fine by tomorrow, really.”
Alarmingly, Lena’s eyes fill with tears.
“Oh no,” Kara says, reaching for her arm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of there myself, I saw that J’onn had you and then I was just really angry and I wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine but I really shouldn’t have—”
“Kara,” says Lena. “I’m okay, really. Just a little shaken up, but I’ve had worse, I was just… god, I was just so worried about you.” Then she notices the way Kara shifts her weight to avoid aggravating her ankle (which is mostly better now, really), and immediately starts guiding her back to the bed. “No, you’re hurt, this is all my fault,” she says at Kara’s protest.
She refuses to continue the conversation until Kara’s set up under the sunlamp again. Lena sits in the chair beside her and brushes the hair from her face, running her thumb over the ridges of Kara’s knuckles. Kara lets her touch gently around the damaged eye, and then smooth her fingers over the rest of Kara’s face as though Kara will disappear if she stops.
“Don’t you usually get better faster than this?" Lena asks. "It’s just… your eye. I’ve never seen you like—you’re supposed to invulnerable,” she finishes in a whisper.
“It’s just a little swelling,” Kara says. “It barely hurts, Lena, really, I’m fine.”
“This is because of me. If you hadn’t been trying to save me, you wouldn’t be hurt.”
“If I hadn’t been trying to save you, you might be dead. This isn’t your fault.”
Lena buries her face in her hands. “When J’onn was carrying me out I saw—I saw when he hit you. With that entire support beam. I saw you go through the wall. I couldn’t stop screaming, they had to sedate me, I thought, I thought…”
“Hey, hey,” Kara says. “Invincible, remember? I’m just a tiny bit banged up, I’ve had way worse. I was more worried about you.”
“Me? I’m fine, I’m nothing, they just knocked me out and tied me to a chair for a couple hours, I didn’t get hit in the face by a metal post that probably weighed a metric ton.”
Kara feels the dying embers of her anger spark back up in her at those words, and for a moment she wants another chance at those aliens, wants to return fully charged and blast them into the stratosphere for causing Lena distress. But Lena still has her face hidden in her hands, and her shoulders are shivering a bit, and the instinct to hurt is quickly overridden by the instinct to soothe.
“Hey," says Kara. "You know how you can make it better?”
“How?” Lena lifts her face from her palms. Her eyes are slightly reddened, her makeup smudged, her face wearied. She’s breathtaking.
“Kiss it better. Works like magic. It’ll be better than the yellow sunlamps.”
The corners of Lena’s mouth upturn in a tiny smile. “Very cute.”
“Kiss me,” Kara whispers. “And I promise everything will be better in the morning.”
Lena leans in with a soft smile, her palm warm against the uninjured side of Kara’s face, and nudges their noses together. Her lips brush against Kara’s. “Okay,” she whispers.
769 notes · View notes
the cinderella search
summary: you’re a staff member at SM, and during the annual Halloween party, you go dressed as Cinderella. Enter Johnny as Prince Charming. You talk, you flirt, he falls in love, but you forget to tell him your name before the night ends, and thus begins his Cinderella Search.
tags: near-strangers to lovers, bed sharing, fingering, dry humping, fluff, light on the smut compared to some of my other works tbh
Growing up, Cinderella had always been your favorite fairy tale. You just really loved the glamor and romance of the story, the idea of dressing up all beautifully and mysteriously, going to a ball to be noticed by the Prince.
And once you grew up, you still had that fantasy tucked away in the back of your mind, made more real when you entered the idol industry by joining SM Entertainment as a staff member. You were just a minor staff member, not important enough to be a manager (though that was the dream), but you were around idols so often that the fantasy was there, prodding you in the back of your mind.
There were days when you dreamed of being swept up in a Cinderella-style romance with one of the idols in the company.
“I can’t blame you one bit,” your close friend Jiwon tells you one day. She’s a makeup artist for the company; she’s seen their bare faces, seen them up close and personal, and having worked there for longer than you, she knows various artists under the company better than you do. “I won’t disagree with you at all that a secret romance with one of them would be amazing. Just like a drama. I want Kyungsoo to be my prince charming.” She sighs dreamily. “I can’t wait for the Halloween party.”
That’s exactly what you’ve been talking about almost non-stop since you first heard that it was happening this year. With the party not having happened for a few years now due to one thing or another, this year it’s come back with a bang, and when the memo was put out that every staff member was invited to come in costume as well, just as a celebration for how hard everyone’s worked, it’s all that pretty much everyone’s been talking about. You’re excited that you get to go, that you get to dress up as well, and what caused Jiwon to start gushing about D.O. is you mentioning that you wanted to go dressed as Cinderella.
“Promise we can get ready together?” She asks you. “I really, really want to do your hair and makeup, I can already picture it.” Jiwon holds her fingers up, framing your face between them.
It helped that you already had the dress to wear for your costume. You’d spotted it a few years ago in a thrift shop, and because of your pure love for Cinderella, as soon as you saw the dress, you knew that you had to have it. Sure, it had been collecting dust in your closet for a couple years, but now you had found the perfect use for it at last.
The day of the Halloween party, Jiwon comes over just as she’d planned, taking as much of the day as she possibly can to make you up and style your hair to make you look like the Cinderella of her imagination. She’s just going simply, wearing all black with some cat ears, some whiskers drawn on her face, but most of her attention to detail is poured into her work on you.
By the time she finishes the last touch, you’re ready to leave. Already you’re going to be cutting it close to showing up late, so as she drops her brushes back in the bag she brought, you grab your phone, and make for the door.
“Oh no, you’re not finished yet.” She snakes her hand around your arm, bringing you to a halt. Jiwon tuts at you. “Cinderella can’t go to the ball without her mask.”
Like a true fairy godmother, Jiwon pulls a beautiful mask out of the makeup bag. “I saw this when I was shopping for my costume, and I knew it would just be perfect. You can’t be Cinderella and have everyone know who you are, that goes against the point of being Cinderella, right?”
She carefully sits the mask on your made-up face, ties the ribbons around the back of your head, trying not to disturb the work she put into your hair.
“Can we go now, fairy godmother?” You ask. “Before midnight, preferably.”
The fairytale vibe of the night truly hits home once you arrive at the party’s venue. Everyone’s in costumes, and at first it’s overwhelming because you can’t immediately distinguish the idols from the staff from the higher-ups in the company. As you and Jiwon step inside, you can only make out a few distinct people.
Red Velvet’s Irene is dressed like an actual goddess, complete with an array of stars in an arc around her (an interesting choice that definitely makes sure no one gets too close to her). You spot Chanyeol standing tall over the group of people he’s talking with too. And then you see him.
He looks breathtakingly handsome, wearing a white uniform adorned with golden tassels and medals. His hair is gelled back from his face, and he’s in the middle of laughing at the princess beside him, though her back is to you. Johnny literally looks like a prince with his face full of sunlit radiance, and in that moment your heart yearns. You wish you had a Prince Charming, but it’s clear that this one already has his princess.
And then she turns around with a flip of her long, dark wavy hair.
You burst out laughing so loud that Jiwon hits your arm to make you quiet down.
Hendery is dressed as a princess, clinging to Johnny’s arm as Jungwoo and Ten stand there with them, both of them laughing along with the costumed couple.
There are several other princesses you soon realize. Staff members and female artists have both dressed as princesses, and the more of them you see, the more you think that you’re not the Cinderella of this ball. There’s others that shine with more glitz and glamor than your thrifted dress ever could. So you mostly stick to yourself, seated at a table in the corner, sipping at your drink to avoid talking to a drunk coworker when he stumbles into his seat at the table.
You just watch the party, suddenly no longer feeling it because the best looking man here tonight is clearly Johnny Suh (which you’ve thought that numerous times before, but especially so tonight) and it’s obvious that everyone else thinks so too. He wins a prize. He has people coming up to him all night, fawning over him, running their fingers through the tassels on his shoulders.
“Stop pouting,” Jiwon tells you as she drops down into the seat beside yours. She sits a fresh drink down in front of you. “Just drink this down and come have fun with me. We can mingle and actually get the chance to speak to some of these idols we never work with.”
You know she has her eyes on D.O. who’s standing in a clear line of sight from where you’re both sitting, holding an audience of a few people captive with his story.
“You go.” You nod toward him. “Here’s your chance, Jiwon.”
She frowns at you. “I didn’t spend so long making you look like Cinderella just for you to sit all glum in the corner. You look fantastic, darling, and if you don’t get up and show off that lovely dress and your beautiful face, then we can’t be friends anymore.” She folds her arms in front of her and pouts.
“If I go get some more drinks, does that count?”
“It’s an improvement at least.” She sighs. “I’m going to try to talk to him. While I’m gone, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She eyes your coworker who’s slumped over in his chair now, starting to snore. “And make sure he doesn’t puke on himself.”
You have no intention of babysitting a guy who takes every opportunity to steal credit from you, so you definitely leave the table as soon as Jiwon walks away.
You’re standing at the bar area, waiting for the man behind the counter to make the drink you’d requested, when someone comes up beside you, just a figure in the corner of your eye. It’s only when he speaks that you look up to see who he actually is.
“I think you dropped this,” Johnny says, and he’s holding up one of the satiny blue gloves you’d worn tonight. You’d taken them off while you ate, and you forgot you’d tucked them in the ribbon around your waist.
“Oh, thank you.” You incline your head and reach for the glove, but when your fingers brush Johnny’s, you pull away with your whole hand tingling. “I probably dropped the other one somewhere too.” You look around, searching the floor.
Johnny chuckles. “No, it’s still right there.”
You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you’re grateful that you’re wearing the mask that hides most of your face. The other glove is still safely tucked at your waist, and as Johnny tells the bartender what he’d like, you pull both gloves onto your hands.
“Here’s your drink, Princess.” The man behind the counter winks as he says it, pushing the drink toward you. “And yours, Prince Charming.”
You take your drink and start to walk away, planning to head back to your comfortable corner to drink alone in peace, but then you notice Johnny just a step behind you.
“I think you’re the only person dressed as a princess tonight that hasn’t come up to talk to me tonight.” He says, “Which is unfortunate, since I saw you the moment you walked in, and I wanted to come talk to you then, but Hendery wouldn’t let go of me. I think you deserved best costume; I’ve never seen a better Cinderella.”
His flattery works wonders on melting what nervousness you have in talking with him. Johnny’s all but a stranger to you. You don’t work closely with NCT, but on the few occasions you’ve gotten to work with them, Johnny was always such a large personality, so nice and funny and handsome. Maybe you definitely have a ridiculous crush on him. But it’s always been foolish and far-fetched.
This is the first conversation you’ve ever had with him, and you don’t quite make it back to that table in the back corner. Johnny drags you down to sit beside him at his table, and even though you’re surrounded by the other members, the way he’s looking at you as you talk makes it feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole building.
You finish your drink, lose track of time, and by the time that the party’s really and truly ending, you’ve forgotten everything but the way that Johnny looks at you, the sound of his voice, and how much that you have in common with him. Maybe it’s ridiculous to form such a deep connection with someone at a party, especially when tomorrow you go back to being just a lowly staff member and he’s a world-famous idol.
But Princess Hendery is the one to break up this intimate conversation. His hand lands on Johnny’s shoulder, and Johnny’s head snaps around.
“Hyung, your ride’s about to leave.” Hendery pats Johnny’s shoulder, and then points down the length of the table to a man you recognize as an NCT manager. A tipsy Jaehyun walks by, his fingers twisting in the neck of Johnny’s uniform, and he leans in to whisper something in Johnny’s ear, his fingers slipping down to get a better grip on Johnny’s uniform, and then he’s dragging Johnny out of his seat, pulling him away out the door with their manager before you can get another word in.
You look around then, somewhat dazed at being pulled back into non-Johnny reality, and also slightly buzzed from your drinks, and you realize that the room has emptied out around you, only a handful of people remain. Including Jiwon. She’s bright red and grinning from ear to ear, leaning on a man in costume.
You refuse to let her make any drunken mistakes tonight, so you make your way over, loop your arm around her waist. “Come on, fairy godmother, it’s midnight and we need to get home before the spell wears off.”
Jiwon moans and groans, reluctantly letting you lead her out of the party at last, taking her home to pass out on your sofa.
And it’s a bit later as you fall into bed fresh from your shower with all the makeup washed away now, as you look happily at the photos you’d taken with Jiwon and some selfies you’d snapped several times throughout the night, that you tragically remember that you never gave Johnny your name.
By tragedy or fate or something else against you in the universe, you don’t get to see Johnny again before your position in the company takes you overseas. Not long term, just for a month. But during that month you build a lot of experience toward achieving your dream of becoming a manager for a group, getting your hands almost within reach of that prized promotion.
And as for your Cinderella moment, you try to put it out of your mind, just as you’re sure Johnny’s done. Over a month has passed since the Halloween party, and you doubt he even remembers the Cinderella he spent the night talking to. Even if he does remember, you feel that any chance has long since passed for you to find him and tell him it was you.
On your first day back within the building, you’ve barely made it inside before Jiwon finds you.
You hear her slippers slapping against the ground as she runs toward you, and then she loops her arm through yours in a vice. “Come with me. We need to talk,” she whispers conspiratorially, dragging you into the elevator with her.
“I didn’t want to tell you this while you were away dealing with everything, but,” she says excitedly in a hushed voice so no one overhears, “As your self-designated fairy godmother, I thought I should definitely give you a little heads up. Johnny’s been looking for Cinderella.”
Your heart thuds in your chest. “What?”
“Everyone’s heard him asking around casually about who’d been Cinderella that night, but you sneaky thing!” She pinches your side. “How did you manage to go the whole night without telling anyone who you were?”
Had you? You’d definitely talked with several other staff members at the start of the night, including your supervisor. At least one of them must have recognized you, right? But looking back now, maybe you hadn’t talked in particular about anything that would have given away who you were, and you don’t remember any of them calling you by name or even acknowledging that you were in their department.
You’re still trying to wrap your head around it when the elevator doors open, and Jiwon walks out, still arm-in-arm with you.
“Look, it’s even a company-wide kind of meme.” She points at a bulletin board nearby where normally notices about events and deadlines and everything are hung. But now there’s also a sheet of paper with the word WANTED at the top, a badly pixellated image of the Disney version of Cinderella beneath that, and below that LAST SEEN: SM HALLOWEEN PARTY. In tiny font beneath contact NCT Johnny if you have any information.
“What the hell?” You look around to see if anyone else is looking, and then you step forward and tear it off the bulletin board. “What are people thinking? What if this shows up in the background of a video?” Idols pass through here semi-frequently with cameras on them for one reason or another. You can only imagine the chaos of fans reacting to such a notice as this Cinderella one.
Jiwon laughs as you crumple the sheet up and toss it in a nearby trashcan. “At this point, everyone’s started assuming Cinderella was just a random party-crasher or a ghost since she hasn’t come forward.” She pats your shoulder comfortingly. “One of the aespa girls almost confessed to him that it was her.”
A flare of jealous heat sparks to life in your belly. “Well, it definitely wasn’t!”
“Of course not! She was dressed like a princess too, but not anything remotely Cinderella-esque.” Someone walks into the elevator area, so Jiwon drops her voice to a whisper once more as she tries to urge you, “You should go tell him that you’re his Cinderella! It would be so cute!”
“Are you kidding?” You hiss, glancing over at the man waiting for an elevator. “Look at me, Jiwon. He’d take one look and laugh that I couldn’t possibly be Cinderella. I don’t look anything like I did that night.” You gesture at the very casual outfit you’re wearing, your drastically less made-up face, and just everything about you. You’d truly experienced some kind of magical transformation that night courtesy of the woman beside you. “I couldn’t tell him. Plus, it’s been over a month. Is he really still looking for Cinderella? I’d have given up by this point, like you said, just thinking it was a random party-crasher or something. Plus, if this is like an actual Cinderella moment, it’s not like anything romantic can happen between him and I. It’s against policy.”
Jiwon shakes her head, disappointed. “You’re such a party pooper, darling. And, you’re right, this isn’t a fairytale, okay? I get that. It’s real life and there’s actual consequences, so I won’t blame you if you don’t tell him. But come on, the risk is well worth the reward here, I would think. This job or Johnny? The choice is obvious to me.”
Maybe once you would have agreed. Choosing the literal man of your dreams (because Johnny has been showing up in your dreams with some amount of frequency ever since Halloween) would have been an easy choice before you’d actually landed a position in SM Entertainment. Even then, it wouldn’t have been a crazy choice in your mind. But more recently things have changed.
“They’re promoting me.” You shake Jiwon loose so you can face her properly. “That’s what the whole point of me being overseas for the last month was. Training me up, seeing if I had the potential to really be a manager. And that’s my dream job, you know. I don’t think the risk is worth the reward in this case. But damn,” you sigh, catching sight of a screen showing a clip from one of NCT’s music videos, Johnny’s face filling the screen. “I wish it was possible.”
To give up your dream job just for the possibility of a romance with an idol seemed far-fetched and stupid.
So you ignore the Cinderella search. It’s not like you ever even see Johnny, so it’s not a problem at all.
Until the day comes when you officially receive your promotion.
“You’re being promoted,” your supervisor tells you, “NCT needs a new manager, and you’re best qualified for the job.”
Your stomach feels like it drops to the floor. “What?”
You’d been expecting that you were going to get to help manage a new group, or at least maybe aespa. You didn’t think they’d throw you to the wolves that was the confusing mess of NCT’s schedules. So it was a nightmare wrapped in a thin layer of a dream, and right at the heart of it all was Johnny Suh.
You were so nervous on your first day as a manager (because of course, you couldn’t manage one of the other units, you had to be assigned to 127) that Johnny would recognize you on the spot, call you out on being Cinderella, and make a scene. But you were equally as nervous that he wouldn’t recognize you at all.
The latter turned out to be the truer though not entirely accurate.
When you were introduced to the members, Johnny gave you a kind smile, and then said, “Hey, I recognize you.”
Your heart stopped and then started beating at what felt like double-time. “You do?”
He nods. “Yeah, you’ve worked with us before, right?”
Ah. Your heart rate slows back to normal. “Yeah, yes, I have. Just a few times.”
Then he repeats your name back to you as if making sure that he’s got it right, and an hour later you’re still thinking about the way that your name sounds from his lips.
That feeling doesn’t pass, not for a while.
Slowly you grow more comfortable and relaxed in your role a manager for the group. You get used to the stunning presence of the handsome men. You get used to the sound of Johnny’s voice and his laugh. You get used to driving the members around, shuttling them to and from schedules, getting them what they need, managing them and managing your feelings.
And best of all, you never hear Johnny mention Halloween or Cinderella, which makes it much easier to put it all from your mind. Well, somewhat easier. Jiwon refuses to let you forget; she calls herself your fairy godmother all the time, calls you princess, teases you when you mention stories that involve Johnny, which is most of them because within several weeks of you becoming a manager for the unit, you and Johnny have actually grown quite close.
“Oh, come on!” Jiwon exclaims one evening as she stretches out on your bed. “I’m tired of all of these cute, funny stories about Johnny! I want gushy romantic, hot stories.” She rolls over onto her stomach and looks at you. “God, let me tell you, one time when I was doing their makeup the stylist had to make an alteration on his pants, and that man whipped off his pants with no shame and stood there in his underwear for me to do his makeup. Babe, I know you’re already mentally going through hoops to avoid thinking about him, but trust me that you would reconsider if you had seen his--”
You slap your hand over her mouth. “Don’t.”
“No need to sound so pained about it.” She pushes your hand away. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard. Yeah, you’re a manager, but you and him are fully grown adults. This is a stupid policy because from the stories you’ve told me, if you and Johnny were just alone for like an hour together, you would probably end up together.”
You roll your eyes. There have been times you’ve been alone with Johnny, driving him to or from a schedule. It wasn’t like there was undeniable sexual tension in that van or anything like that. And even if Jiwon means totally alone in a non-mobile setting, you doubt anything like that would happen, but you’ve never yet had the chance to find out.
When the first winter storm hits, you’re driving Taeyong back to the dorm from a solo schedule he’d had that had run long. It’s very late. Taeyong dozes in the passenger seat, you’re yawning every other minute, and as you enter the city limits you realize that it’s starting to snow large, fluffy flakes that are coating everything they touch.
The city’s been extremely cold lately, so you’re not surprised that the snow isn’t melting, just piling up, making it hard to see at times.
By the time you reach the dorm, the roads are slushy and slick. Snow blows across the streets in waves.
Taeyong’s schedule had been a three-day event, so he has a few items to unload, and due to the sharp cold breeze and how deep asleep he’d been just moment before, you help Taeyong unload and carry his belongings up to the dorm. Your shoes squeak on the floor, and by the time you reach the door of the dorm, you’re both still shivering.
The door opens with a chime, and as you come inside, you see Johnny’s sitting at the kitchen table playing on his phone and eating cereal. Taeyong mumbles something, toes off his shoes, drops his bags, and just stumbles off to bed, too sleepy to even do anything else.
Johnny’s watching you as you let out a big yawn and sit what you’d been carrying down beside the rest.
You run your fingers over your hair, brushing away the last snowflakes that cling somewhat intact to your hair. “It’s snowing pretty good out there. I haven’t seen snow like this in years.”
Johnny glances over at the large window of their living room. The puffs of snow float by, lit up by all the city lights, and he stands up, walking over to press his face to the glass, looking down at the street below and the rooftops around their building. Everything’s already covered in a pretty decent amount of snow.
“It’s beautiful out there.” Johnny is pressed to the glass, looking out at everything.
Before you can register what’s happening (it is very late and you’re half-asleep on your feet, so excuse you if you’re a little slow at the moment), Johnny’s walking back past you, grabbing his coat from the back of a chair with one hand, and taking your hand with the other. He guides you along by the hand down through the building, out into the falling snow.
“What are we doing?” You ask, folding your arms around yourself as Johnny releases your hand once you’re outside. Shock at the situation kept you silent until then. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll catch a cold.”
Johnny laughs. “I’ll be fine. Come take my picture.” He walks out into the snow-covered street, tilting his head back to the sky, arms held out. The streetlight just down the road casts Johnny and the snow in a silver light, and he’s so beautiful in that moment that you’d be crazy not to take a photo, so you pull out your phone and start taking pictures of him.
This photoshoot goes on for several minutes before you pause to check a photo you just took, and for your efforts of trying to be a good photographer, you get a snowball right to the shoulder. Johnny’s laugh is loud in the muted silence of the falling snow, and he only laughs louder when you shove your phone into your jacket pocket and duck down to form a snowball of your own.
The snow fight lasts until you’re both pink-cheeked, sniffling in the cold air, and neither of you can feel your fingertips anymore.
“I’m t-too cold to keep this g-going.” Johnny laughs and shivers, tucking his hands into his armpits as he walks toward you.
“I - I should get going anyway.” Your teeth chatter together. “I still need to get home, and it’s late.”
“Come up for c-coffee,” Johnny suggests, his eyes lingering on you and the snow caught in your hair, wreathing your face. “You’re clearly tired and cold. You need some coffee.”
Damn your heart and Johnny’s good intentions. You follow him back up to the dorm, and while you shuck off your coat and wet shoes and damp socks, Johnny starts making you both some coffee. And minutes later, you’re still shivering as you clasp a warm mug between both of your hands, sitting next to Johnny while he swipes through your camera roll to check out the photos of him you’d just taken.
You know that you should leave. It’s not appropriate for you to just be hanging out at the dorm. You should put your coat and shoes back on, take the coffee to go, and head home so you can get some sleep before you have to work tomorrow. Just as you’re about to say something along those lines, your phone buzzes against the table and Johnny makes a soft, oh.
“What?” You lean closer, sitting the mug down on the table.
“It’s a weather alert.” Johnny looks up at you, and for a moment neither of you speak or move or breathe. You’re so close together right now. You can see all of the little water droplets stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes from the snow. You can smell the coffee on his breath and something a little sweet too. But then Johnny snaps his mouth closed and leans back a little, just putting some distance between you and him.
He clears his throat, then says, “It says the roads are really bad, that it’s just going to get worse. You should probably just stay here tonight, and I feel like you’re going to argue with that, but honestly, it’s for your own safety. Roads are dangerous, plus you’re already cold and tired. That’s a bad combination. You’re just going to have to be back here in a few hours to pick us up anyway since hyung is gone.”
You’d forgotten about that. The manager that normally stays at the dorm with them is gone for the week. That’s why you had to be the one to take Taeyong to his solo schedule, and why you were going to have to be up earlier than normal for work tomorrow. Maybe Johnny has a good point.
Johnny looks away from you, back down at your phone, and he swipes away the notification, then makes a little frown.
You look down as well, and there you see that your phone has gone back to the screen showing all of your photos, and there, just barely visible at the top of the screen, is a photo you’d taken of yourself in the Cinderella costume on the night of the Halloween party.
Johnny inhales and the silence as you wait for his exhale seems to last an eternity.
You push back from the table, already reaching to pull your shoes back onto your feet, forgetting entirely about your wet socks. “I’d really better leave.”
You’re halfway to the door, hopping on one foot, struggling to get your second foot into it’s boot, when Johnny loops his hand at your elbow, helping to steady you as you’d nearly just tipped over onto your face.
“Please don’t leave.” He pleads.
You look up at him. Your foot thumps heavily down onto the ground. “Johnny.... please. I shouldn’t stay here, I could get in trouble with the company.”
His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them before. “Please stay. It’s dangerous out there, I’ve said that already. If anyone has a problem with you staying here overnight for your own safety, then I’ll vouch for you. I’ll make the others vouch too.” His hand slides from your elbow down to your wrist, holding loosely now that you don’t seem to be in such a rush to leave. A slow, crooked smile appears on his lips. “And anyway, Cinderella, you’re supposed to leave a shoe behind, not your wet socks.”
You roll your eyes, but you smile as well. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
“That you’re the Cinderella I’ve been looking for for months now?” Johnny’s hand slips even lower on your wrist until his fingers are just clasping your hand. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I had so much fun talking with you that night, and after we left I realized I hadn’t even found out who you were.”
You shiver now that your feet are back inside your wet shoes.
Johnny clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Take your shoes off. You’re staying. Go on. Sit right there.” He points at the chair beside the table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare leave.”
His voice is so commanding, you wouldn’t dare leave now. He walks out of the kitchen, and when he returns a moment later, he’s carrying a change of clothes for you from his own closet.
“I know it’s your job to worry about us,” he says, holding out the clothes to you. “But please let me take care of you too. Don’t catch a cold. You can go shower in the bathroom off my room, put these on. You’re staying here tonight.”
You nod, accepting the sweater and slick basketball shorts.
When you emerge from the shower several minutes later, feeling much more thoroughly warmed, the lights in the dorm have all been turned off, but Johnny’s sitting on the sofa now with his phone lighting up his face. It’s very, very late. He looks as if he could nod off right there, but as you walk closer to him, he blinks up at you. A smile breaks across his otherwise sleepy expression.
“What?” You ask, sinking down onto the sofa with him. There’s a blanket draped over the back, and Johnny immediately pulls it down over your shoulders. You clasp the edges of it together in front of you. “Why are you smiling like that? Are you feeling feverish or something?” You lift a hand and immediately check his forehead with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t feel warm.
Johnny, still smiling, reaches up to lightly bat away your hand as he sighs and rests his head against the cushiony back of the sofa, staring at you. “No, like.... It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”
“You gave them to me.” You reply, amused at the dopey look on his face.
“I know.” Johnny whispers. “You just look really good in them.”
Your heart flutters in the way that you know you shouldn’t let it. This is Johnny. You’re his manager. This is inappropriate to be feeling this way about him. It’s definitely inappropriate to be sitting on a sofa in the dark with him, wearing his clothes, having just showered in his shower using his shampoo and body wash. But it feels good.
You lean your head against the sofa’s back too, draw your knees up toward your chest, and you look right back at Johnny in the same way he’s looking at you. You whisper, “You should go to bed. We all have to be up in a few hours.”
He bites his bottom lip and then stretches out a risky hand to touch yours. When you don’t pull away or tell him not to, Johnny keeps going, turning your hand over, pulling it into his lap. He touches your palm, caresses your fingers, treating you like you’re fragile and delicate like a little princess.
“Johnny,” you whisper a few moments later when he’s still just holding your hand, making no effort to go to bed. “Go.”
“There’s so much snow out there.” He says after another few seconds. “There’s no way that we’ll still have our schedules tomorrow. By the time morning really comes, we’re going to be buried in. I was looking at the weather while you were showering, and it’s not showing any sign of stopping before at least tomorrow night.”
“Banking on your schedule being cancelled doesn’t mean you don’t have to go to bed.” Your hand shakes slightly as you lift it, trembling with the risky nature of what you do next. Johnny’s hair is soft and his face is pleasantly warm as you push a few loose strands away from his face.
Johnny exhales at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing his skin. “Come to bed with me. Haechan’s not here. He’s upstairs tonight.”
You noticed that as you crept into Johnny’s room to use that bathroom. Both of the beds were empty.
It’s tempting to give in, to follow him into that bedroom and let the door close behind you as you get into bed with him. You’re sure that sharing a bed with Johnny would be very warm and comforting in this snowy cold night. But you can’t.
“Johnny.” Your voice trembles ever so slightly. “I can’t. I’m your manager, and it just.... I could get in trouble.”
“You’re still shivering from the cold,” he argues, “Basically hypothermic. I’m just trying to keep you healthy, trying to save you from freezing. No one would know but us. If the others ask questions, I’ll make excuses.” He smiles, and that almost does it for you.
You shake your head, close your eyes, turn your head away from him so you’re not faced with the temptation. “No. I’m serious. You should go to bed. I’ll stay right here. Just here.” You pat the sofa. “I’ll be comfy and this blanket’s warm.”
“Fine.” Johnny sighs, and he stands up, still holding your hand. “But don’t think that you can sneak out, Cinderella. Okay?”
You squeeze his hand lightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Johnny.”
He leans in so quickly that there’s no time for you to even protest before he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek. And then he’s gone, vanishing into his bedroom as you sit frozen on the sofa, looking after him.
It takes a long time to fall asleep after that. Just you lying there in the dark with the blanket tugged up to your chin, listening to all of the unfamiliar sounds of the dorm, watching the snow drift by outside the window, shivering in the chill air.
After nearly an hour of silence and cold and overthinking, you sit up, gather the blanket around your shoulders, and you tiptoe across the living room to the door of Johnny’s bedroom.
When you reach the door, you stand there in hesitation, your knuckles hovering just inches from the door. You’re being silly. Ridiculous. You’re putting the future of your career in jeopardy by just standing here before his doorway and contemplating going inside. You shift your weight uncertainly, drop your hand to your side, consider turning back and walking to the sofa, but before you can move, the door swings open and you’re faced with Johnny’s chest.
You lift your gaze slowly to his face.
“I could almost hear you thinking through the door,” he says with a smile, and then he steps aside, “Why don’t you come in?”
“It’s just cold out there,” you mumble as you step inside, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I was going to ask if you had another blanket.”
Johnny hums in a way that tells you that he doesn’t buy your lie one bit. He closes the door behind him, his back braced against it as he faces you. “I can’t believe that all this time you’ve been my Cinderella.” He shakes his head, gaze wandering over the shadowy shape of you.
His room is dark but your eyes are adjusted just enough that you can see him fairly well in the faint light coming in through the window. So you can see as he pushes away from the door, as he steps toward you. Your body tingles in anticipation, your fingertips go numb so you curl them into fists in your blanket, and Johnny stops right in front of you.
“It’s well past midnight, Cinderella,” he whispers. “The ball is ended, the magic spell is worn off, and you’re still just as beautiful and fascinating and enchanting as you were that night.” His hands come up to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers tucking underneath. Your grip on the blanket loosens even as Johnny starts to move the blanket.
It falls away, pooling at your feet.
His thumb brushes along your jawline. Your body feels on fire, your fingers burn with the desire to touch him too. So you do, curling your fingers at his hips, his skin warm under yours, and Johnny takes a shuffling step just a bit closer to you, his bare toes bumping against yours.
“Johnny,” you repeat his name, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. “Kiss me?”
He doesn’t wait for you to ask him again. Johnny leans in and catches your lips in a kiss. His palm rests against the side of your neck, his thumb still stroking at your jaw. When you try to press closer, to deepen the kiss, Johnny backs away.
“Don’t stop,” you whine, clenching your hands at his sides.
Johnny chuckles, dipping forward to kiss your forehead. And then he kisses you again. He takes a step back, you follow, and another, and then he’s sinking down onto his bed, his hands moving to your hips to guide you to straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss as you do.
Making out with Johnny Suh is certainly not what you imagined you’d be doing tonight when you brought Taeyong home from his schedule, but here you are, sitting in his lap in his bed, his hands on your hips, and your mouth on his.
“Wait,” he mumbles, pulling back momentarily. “Let me put some music on or something.”
You don’t want to move from his lap, but you let him lean away, reaching back across his bed toward the pillows to grab his phone. He taps at the screen for a few moments, and then music—soft enough to not wake anyone but just loud enough to mask any sounds the two of you may make—begins to play over his Bluetooth speakers.
As Johnny sits back up, leaving his phone tucked beneath his pillow, you admire the sight of him. His abs. His chest. His arms.
You’ve seen Johnny shirtless before in dressing rooms, for photo shoots and video shoots. But seeing him like this, in the half light of his bedroom with the tingling reminder of his lips on yours, is a completely different experience.
Like a magnet, he finds you again. His mouth on yours, kiss unrestrained under the cover of the music, letting out tiny little moans as he kisses you. Each sound brings a smile to your lips, and after a few moments, you’re grinning into the kiss, twisting your fingers into his hair, and Johnny smiles as he fits his hands under your borrowed sweatshirt, his fingers chilly on your heated waist and belly.
His fingers shift higher and higher, and your breath hitches as he caressed your breast.
“Alright?” He murmurs, giving you a moment to answer while he kisses the corner of your mouth, skimming his lips over your jaw, down your throat.
You shiver, twisting your fingers a little more tightly in his hair, shifting just that much closer to him. You can feel every inch of him against you, your body burns and tingles, your heart racing in your chest.
“So good,” you moan softly, tugging lightly on his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.
Johnny smiles into the kiss, his thumb drifting attentively over your nipple. Slowly he eases backwards until he’s flat on his back and you lie against his chest, still just kissing him and yearning to feel his hands touching you everywhere, not just your breast. You shiver against him again, and Johnny is gentle as he rolls you under him, as he tugs the blankets up over your bodies.
“Still cold, Cinderella?” He teases, his nose bumping against your cheek.
You push a section of his hair back behind his ear, spend a few seconds lingering there, your thumb against his face. He’s so handsome, and you being here beneath him in his bed, it’s unreal. Like a dream. Like a fairytale Cinderella moment you never thought you’d have because he’s an SM Prince, and who are you? Hardly any better than a servant.
Johnny shifts to the side, looking down at you. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got that expression.” He lifts a finger and traces the furrow between your eyebrows.
“I’m just thinking how I don’t belong here.” You sigh, looking away to the window. Your hand is on his arm and you absentmindedly stroke over his sunflower tattoo, mirroring the movements of his thumb moving back and forth on your waist beneath the sweatshirt.
Johnny’s lips touch against your throat, pulling a sigh from your lips, to which he asks, “What do you mean you don’t belong here? And don’t tell me again that it’s because you’re a manager.”
But that’s exactly why.
“Stay here. With me.” Johnny withdraws his hand from beneath your sweatshirt. “If you feel like this is moving too fast, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. Just sleep.”
He moves back an inch or two, just as much as his narrow twin bed will allow, but you don’t want him to go far. You scoot closer again, still gripping his arm. Johnny smiles at that. You sink your head onto the pillow, look up at him. “I’ll stay.”
“Good.” Johnny brings his hand up, tracing his knuckles lightly along your cheek in a way that makes your heart pound and your toes and fingertips tingle in delight, in the need for reciprocation, to touch him and hold him too. But you bring your hands up to your chest, clench them into tight fists inside the sleeves of the sweater, will yourself to not touch him because if you do, you’re pretty sure you won’t be able to stop yourself from going further.
“You promise you won’t run away after I close my eyes?” Johnny asks.
“I promise.” You watch as Johnny stands up from the bed, and he hesitates then for a moment, looking down at you, his hands on his hips. You think, for a moment, that he’s about to tell you goodnight and sleep in Haechan’s bed instead. But he takes a deep breath, his thumbs tracing along the waistband of his sweatpants.
“So, normally, I do sleep in my underwear. I get hot at night, so it’s just a lot more comfortable for me.” He explains, glancing away as he admits this. You have a feeling that he might actually normally sleep naked, but given that you’ve both agreed to draw the line at making out and some light touching tonight, being naked in bed with you might be a bit more than you wanted.
You appreciate his unspoken question, a request for you to consent to him stripping to his underwear to sleep in bed with you. But it’s his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment where you still feel you don’t entirely belong. You’re the intruder here. And besides--
“I like to sleep in my underwear too,” you tell him. “So it works out.”
Beneath the blanket, you shimmy easily out of the silky basketball shorts Johnny had lent you, and as you drop them out over the side of the bed, you watch Johnny swallow, his throat bobbing even as he smiles a little. You watch too as his thumbs tuck under the waistband of his pants, and then he’s pushing them down, kicking them off, slipping back into the narrow bed with you.
You keep the sweater on, but the bare skin of your legs, from toe to hip feel so free beneath the sheets, and when Johnny’s knee knocks into yours, you feel it from the point of contact all the way through your body. You’re hyper-aware of him, more than you’ve ever been with anyone else probably.
And then you lift your leg a little, draping it over one of his so your knee rests between both of his. You prop yourself on your side a bit, a hand tucked under the pillow. Johnny faces you too.
“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he whispers.
You don’t remember falling asleep. One moment you were listening to the music softly playing still from the speakers, to the even sound of Johnny breathing. And then you’re woken by the sound of your phone ringing while the sky outside is still a dim shade of gray.
Your phone’s in the pocket of the shorts on the floor, so you fumble around for a moment before finally fishing them out of the pocket. You stab at the button to answer the call, squinting against the brightness of the screen.
“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.
Johnny shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your belly where the sweatshirt has ridden up through the night. His thumb touches the lacy edge of your panties. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, on listening to whoever’s interrupted your sweet sleep so early in the morning.
“I’ve got some good news.” It’s your boss, the one who makes all of the big calls. “Schedules are cancelled for the day, that’s the official news. The city’s snowed in, so you can stay home today.”
You can’t believe Johnny was right about that. You’ve never had a day where you heard of their schedules being cancelled because of the weather like this, but you accept it, thank him for calling to let you know, and when you end the call, you lie there in the silent darkness of the bedroom.
At some point in the night, the music has ended. It must be very early, with the sky still so dark outside the window, but even in the half-light you can still see snowflakes drifting by.
Johnny’s fingers twitch on your belly, his pinky finger stroking along the top edge of your panties. You turn your head to look at him.
His eyes are still closed, but you can tell that he’s awake.
“Who was that?” He asks after a few moments, his voice soft and rough at the same time, drenched with sleep.
“You were right. The day’s schedules are cancelled.” You lay your hand over his. You’re half-tempted to move it just because it’s driving you to distraction, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop touching you like this.
“Mm, perfect.” Johnny opens one eye to look at you. “Now we can just sleep for the rest of the morning. Stay in bed.”
You want that. There’s nothing you want more right now than to stay here in bed with Johnny. “I should probably go let the other boys know. Tell them to turn off their alarms. To stay inside today where it’s warm.”
The tip of his pinky makes it just beneath the edge of your panties. Your nipples are hard, and you’re glad you’re wearing the sweatshirt so he can’t tell how just this tiny touch is affecting you so greatly. But it’s something in the way he’s looking at you right then--his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth, his eyes on your parted lips--that tells you that somehow he already knows how aroused you are.
You almost close your thighs, squeeze your legs together to do something about that burning need rising between your legs. But your one leg is still draped over Johnny’s, your calf against his. And when you move it just a little, the friction of your skin against his has Johnny breathing more deeply.
There’s a buzz running under your skin, zipping through your veins, and in the moment you forget everything else but that feeling and Johnny making you feel it.
Your hand covers his on your belly, and you apply just the lightest amount of pressure. His fingers slide so eagerly into your panties.
His breath sounds unsteady, and you’re sure yours does too.
“I’m gonna be so honest right now,” he tells you, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so hard, baby. The second you made that little whimper, shit, I felt lightheaded.” You don’t know what whimper he’s talking about, but you don’t care. His fingertips are edging lower and lower inside your panties and in a second he’ll be touching your clit and that’s all you want right now. You almost buck up into his touch.
You grip his wrist before he can, and Johnny freezes. “We don’t have any music,” you tell him.
Johnny smiles. “Guess you’ll just have to try to keep quiet then, won’t you?”
“Guess you should kiss me again then.” You reply, and Johnny’s only too pleased to satisfy that request.
The moment his mouth is on yours, he’s dipping his fingers lower, his middle finger touching your clit, and he gasps lightly as he feels the heat of your wetness coating his fingers. You can’t believe you’re doing this with Johnny.
He rolls closer, and as he does you can feel his erection against your thigh.
“You want me to finger you, baby?” His words flow over your lips, swallowed right down by your eagerness. You nod. “I want to hear you say it.”
A new wave of heat bursts in your belly at Johnny’s dominant tone. “I want your fingers, Johnny.”
He smiles as he kisses you now, pressing his long middle finger inside you in a way that would have you loudly gasping except for his mouth sealed over yours. Johnny curls his finger just right, his palm smoothly moving against your clit as he thrusts his finger inside you, soon adding a second then a third.
You’re openly panting and moaning into his mouth as he fucks you on his fingers. His other arm is wrapped around your back, bracing you against him as he works you quickly toward an orgasm. His erection is against your thigh, and occasionally you notice him grinding against you, thrusting forward to help with what he needs. But most of his attention is on you, making you feel good.
It’s still some time before dawn when Johnny brings you tumbling over the edge of your climax. Your thighs close around his arm, his fingers still pumping inside you, and you bite his tongue as you cum, and that just makes him moan.
You’re still shaking from the ecstasy when you break the kiss to drop your head to his shoulder, your breath coming out in shaky puffs.
Johnny kisses your forehead, his damp fingers pull out, slipping out of your panties to rest against your thigh, the other hand strokes your lower back, a relaxing weight keeping you resting against him. You try to move a hand down, wanting to touch him too, but Johnny makes a noise.
“You don’t have to.” His damp fingers close around your wrist. “I’m fine.”
“You’re still hard.” You raise your knee a little so your thigh brushes against where his dick is still full in his underwear.
His eyes flutter for a moment, his hips grinding forward.
You lift a hand to touch his hair, tugging lightly to bring his lips to yours as you tilt your head back. “Let me make you feel good, too, Johnny.”
Johnny slides his body over yours smoothly, his body bracketed perfectly by your thighs. You tangle your arms behind his neck, kissing him like your life depends on it as he grinds against you through your panties.
You can feel him very clearly now. Every inch of him. You wish he was inside you, stretching you wide open, filling you deeply with his length. You kiss him and trace all of those desires against his tongue. Your heart pounds with that desire, breath racing and your nails rake down his back as he picks a good rhythm. You’re going to cum again, you already know it.
“Fuck,” Johnny mumbles into the kiss. “I wish I could cum inside you.”
“Then fuck me.” You gasp back. “Where are condoms?”
His lips slide from yours, over your jaw to your throat. He groans. “In the drawer over there.” But you can tell from the tightness in his voice, from the broken staccato beat of his movements that he’s close, that he probably won’t be able to hold back much longer. Why wait? Why risk putting a pause on this if it might just ruin his orgasm?
You shake your head, tangle your fingers in his hair, guide his lips back to yours. Next time. He can fuck you next time. Right now you just want him to cum; you want him to get you to cum a second time.
A hoarse groan builds in the back of his throat, and Johnny thrusts one last time before he freezes, his cock twitching in his underwear, right against you. You can feel the wet heat of him spreading through the material right against you, and you buck your hips up, chasing your own orgasm even if it means grinding against Johnny’s sensitive cock as he comes down from his high.
Johnny’s mouth feels so soft against yours when you kiss this time as your orgasm crashes through you. Lazy kisses, bodies intertwined. Johnny doesn’t move from between your thighs, just holding himself above you, kissing you slowly and softly.
Morning is breaking outside, though with the heavy winter weather, there’s not too much of a difference visually.
Eventually Johnny moves away, his hand slides up under your sweatshirt, just touching your bare skin as you both tuck yourself against each other and catch your breath.
It’s still early. You could roll over to fall back asleep, but even as you consider that, you know it’s too late, you’re already wide awake. Johnny knows it too, so after a handful of moments, he kisses you and then sits up.
“I’m going to shower.” He stands out of bed, tugging uncomfortably at his underwear. You can see the damp spot spread over the front of them, and you hide your smile in his pillow. You made him cum in his pants. It’s cute. You close your eyes and replay that moment, Johnny pressed against your like that, the way he’d moved, the way he’d sounded as he came.
When you open your eyes again, he’s gone. The bathroom door is closed, only a thin sliver of light beneath it and the gentle patter of the shower turning on indicating that Johnny’s behind it.
The dorm is still thick with the sound of sleep, so you’re quiet as you redress and creep out of Johnny’s room. You stand to look out the window in the living room. The world outside is covered in thick snow that continues to fall. Your breath fogs the glass.
Taeyong’s the first one up, stumbling out of his room in just shorts and a tshirt, shivering as he walks into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, and when he turns around, he spots you and nearly drops the glass. He swears viciously before realizing it’s you.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covers his mouth. “Did you stay here last night?”
You nod. “The weather got worse and I was really tired, so Johnny insisted that I stay.” Taeyong makes a face that you can’t quite decipher before he hides it. “Your schedules are cancelled for the day, by the way. We’re snowed in.”
Taeyong nods. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He disappears back into his bedroom, and once more the dorm falls silent.
A shiver works its way down your spine as you yawn. You’re so tired, but you know you can’t go back to sleep, so you go make yourself a strong cup of coffee, watch the snow and think. You think about how what you did with Johnny was a mistake--it was great and you loved it and you can’t truly bring yourself to regret it, but it was a mistake nonetheless because if it gets out, if this becomes serious or ends badly, then it will reflect horribly on your career, and all of your dreams will be flushed away.
You want Johnny. You love the way he makes you feel. But you know that you shouldn’t indulge.
And for the next several minutes you sway back and forth on that dangerous line of thought--you want him, but you shouldn’t want him. Maybe you should just leave today, go home, and the next time you see him pretend that the events of last night and this morning never happened. Maybe he’ll forget you’re the Cinderella he spent months searching for.; maybe that was all just a fun game for him anyway, and he’ll lose interest now that he’s found you.
By the time the coffee finishes brewing, you hear the sound of movement in Johnny’s room as he leaves the shower. You pour yourself a mug, another one for him, and then you knock carefully (to not spill the coffees) on his door before opening it.
Johnny’s sitting in bed again, but when he sees you, he sits up and runs his fingers through his hair.
“Feel better?” you ask him, standing there beside his bed as you offer him one of the coffees. He nods and sips at his coffee, and you look over at the window again, at the steadily falling snow. "I guess I still need to figure out some way to get home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Johnny murmurs into his coffee. “You can stay here. Stay right here.” He lifts his face out of his mug just long enough to grab your hand and pull you down to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let go of your hand.
You say his name in a warning tone, but it just makes him smile.
“What?” His thumb rubs gently over your knuckles. “Cinderella kept running away from the Prince because she was scared of her stepmother and stepsisters, right? Well, the Prince found her and they lived happily ever after. I like you. I liked you before I knew you were my Cinderella from Halloween. Finding that out last night or this morning or whatever, that’s just a bonus. I like you in case what we did earlier didn’t make that obvious, and if you like me too, well we can find a way to be together even if our wicked company tries their best to keep it from happening.”
You feel very warm all of a sudden, possibly its the coffee or the bulky sweater Johnny had let you borrow, or it could very well be that he’s confessing to you. Confessing in such a cheesy manner, too. He has feelings for you. For you, not for the Cinderella fantasy version of you.
You push the sleeves of the sweater up your arms, trying to cool down some.
“Johnny.” You know that nothing good can come of what he’s suggesting.
“Don’t say my name like that,” he says softly. “Don’t say it like it’s a no. Don’t say it like you want me but you can’t. We already started down this path, so don’t turn your back on this, please. Say my name like you agree with me, like you like me too.”
“Johnny.” This time you put your longing for him behind those two syllables. You try your best to make it sound like a yes.
You want Johnny. You want this to work. And if he believes in it, then you want to too. But you won’t let this affect your dream. You’ll have Johnny and you’ll have your dream job too. You can figure it out as you go.
Johnny grins. “Yeah, that sounds much better.” He takes a drink of his coffee again, watching you over the lip of the mug, then says, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”
“Coffee is hardly breakfast, Johnny. Please tell me that you know that.” You groan, prying the coffee mug out of his hands.
He shrugs and grins, watching as you sit his mug and your own on his bedside table. And then he reaches for you, pulling you into his lap so you’re face-to-face. Johnny kisses you slowly, deeply, and when he pulls away, he murmurs, “All I know for now is that you’re my mysterious Cinderella, you’re wearing my sweater, I can still smell you in my sheets, and we have no plans for the rest of the day. If you’d like, I’d love to make you cum again.”
Oh God, you think to yourself, what have you gotten yourself into?
a/n: so months and months ago back when I was accepting requests based off a prompt list, someone sent me a prompt for Johnny to use both “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” and “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.” and thus this was born
I wouldn’t have taken so long to write this, and I’m really really sorry to the original requester (especially since I know I’ve messaged them and let them know it would take a while, but damn I don’t think either of us thought it would take this long, and I checked and they haven’t been active on their blog in a while, so now I feel bad) but I got distracted with writing the next part of the poly series (which was Adore You) and then forgot about this for a brief time, and then once I remembered I was deep into working on the poly finale, so I had to focus on it. But now I’ve finished that! And I’ve finished this too, so if the original requester is still around and sees this then I’m sorry it took so long please forgive me! I would tag them, but I’m not entirely sure if they wanted to be tagged in this or not!
682 notes · View notes
Captain Syverson (Jack/John) x Plus Size OFC (Izzy)
Warnings: foul language (that’s just standard for me), absolutely distasteful pie eating jokes, fluff, self doubt, gambling, fighting and violence, angsty cliffhanger ending - @angryschnauzer I won’t blame you if you skip this chapter but I PROMISE I WILL MAKE IT BETTER IF YOU CAN JUST POWER THROUGH IT!
Izzy can’t stand Jack Syverson. She can’t stand him one bit. But if she can’t stand him, why can’t she get him out of her head?
Author’s note: Thank you to the incomparable @amandalove for being my beta and bouncer of all ideas. And to the every lovely @luna-aestas for the amazing header and because now you have to listen to me too! You guys are amazing and I truly appreciate you humoring me and my constant blathering.
Y’all. I don’t own shit. Sy, Sand Castle, my car, my pride, nothing. I’m just playing around.
As always, please let me know if you want on or off my tag list - I only have one and I leave you on it until you request to be taken off :)
18+ only please - minors do not interact with my shit.
Please do not share my work on other platforms. Thank you!
Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four
..... this is Sy.... telling me not to fuck this up.... I promise, Sy. I know what I’m doing..... Maybe.
(gif by @henrycavell but tumblr gif search is a dirty bitch and would only let me find the top one from the gif set so I had to save the other from the gif set and add it manually.... i am not amused.)
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
Having tossed and turned for several hours, trying to get any sleep proved to be a fool's dream. I rolled out of bed well after midnight, trudging to the living room to try to read for a bit. I was just getting into my book when I heard a vehicle driving slowly down the lane. Thinking it was weird, because there was rarely traffic during the day, let alone at night, I got up to peek out the front window. My stomach dropped when I saw Sy’s van rolling slowly past.
He must have seen me, because he turned into the drive and sat there for a moment. Unlocking the door, I stepped onto the porch. It was bitterly cold, with little spits of snow visible in his headlight beams. Not dressed for the weather in my pj shorts and tee, I crossed my arms and waited.
What the fuck is he doing? Is he talking to himself? Fuck, it’s cold. I wonder if I can go in and grab a sweater?
Before I could go back in, I heard his door open. Boots crunching on the gravel, he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, licking his lips and rocking on his feet, one of his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Is he…. Nervous? Oh that’s adorable. God, what is he doing here? Is he going to tell me earlier was a mistake? Does he want to finish what we started? Oh god….
I tried to tamp down the flame that shot through my core. I had to admit that his obvious nervousness made me feel a little better, because I’d felt like I was going to vomit since he stepped out of the van.
“Hey, Captain. It’s a little late. Are you ok?” I asked, shivering.
He nodded and cleared his throat again, holding out a bouquet of flowers.
“I just wanted to make sure you got home ok… And I didn’t want to wake you up by calling… I meant to give you these earlier.” He stepped on the first step, handing me the flowers.
“Aw, Sy. They’re beautiful. Thank you,” I said quietly, trying to hold back tears at the sight of the vibrant blooms.
“You’re welcome, Sugar. Git inside now. It’s too cold out here. I’ll see you tomorrow at the festival, ok?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Night, Captain,” I whispered as I shut the door, watching him until the door was closed, hoping he didn’t hear the catch in my voice.
That was so fucking sweet. But why didn’t he come inside? Because you didn’t ask him. But maybe he would have thought it was too forward? Too forward? The man had his mouth on your… well. Why didn’t he at least kiss me? I wanted him to. He didn’t even come near me.
Watching him start the van from the sidelight, I felt tears start to roll down my cheeks. I wasn't sure if they were happy or sad.
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
He was sitting in the van berating himself for sounding like a dunce. He’d practiced what he was going to say to her the whole way there from the mill. For some reason, he’d known she wouldn’t be able to sleep after what had happened between them that evening and that she’d be up, most likely reading to try to calm her thoughts.
“Smooth, Jack. Real fucking smooth, man.” He leaned his head against the seat, staring at the ceiling in defeat.
He’d wanted to reassure her that he’d wanted to stay more than anything. That he’d had to go because that machine was the main one at the mill that employed over fifty percent of the surrounding towns that didn’t work the farms. That what had happened wasn’t how he’d wanted their first time to be, but that it had been amazing seeing her uninhibited like that, and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life seeing her unravel under his touch. He knew he was in deep. Deeper than he’d initially realized. He’d never in his life been dumbstruck speaking to a woman.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as she turned off the porch light.
Shaking his head, he reversed down the drive. As he was turning onto the road, he was struck by the nerve to do what he’d wanted in the first place. Why he’d driven all the way to her cottage after a long night of crawling around under the disgusting machines. He was a soldier, for god’s sake. He’d certainly faced scarier situations than Ms. Isobel Payne.
Well. Maybe almost as scary, he thought to himself.
Slamming on the brakes, he turned back into her drive, stopping just in front of the stairs.
He was up the stairs before he knew it, banging on the door like a mad man. The click of the lock sent shivers through his heart as she appeared in the doorway, tears streaking her cheeks. Searching her eyes, he brushed his knuckles down her cheek, wiping away the tears. She gave a little sniffle.
Not able to hold himself back anymore, he pulled her through the doorway onto the porch, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close. A hitch in her breath as he lifted her chin, her teeth teasing the corner of her lip, made him have to reign in his primal instinct to take her right then and there on the porch. Tilting his head and giving her a little smile, he kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let out a content sigh in his arms. He knew that she felt exactly the same way he did when his lips parted hers, soft and pliant against his.
Her tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip, disappearing too soon for his liking. So he followed it with his own, exploring the soft sweetness of her mouth. He groaned as her arms snaked inside his jacket, around his back, her hands gripping his t-shirt tightly as she pulled him closer.
Deepening the kiss, he gripped her ass, pulling her even closer. She whimpered into his mouth, making his inner caveman beat it’s chest in victory. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted how thin her shorts were and that her skin was freezing though the flimsy fabric.
Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers as they caught their breaths. He held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. She lay her head against his chest and shivered in the cold.
“I just wanted to say goodnight,” he murmured. “Again. Properly. I should go. It’s cold.”
She gave a little laugh.
He didn’t release her.
“Not that I mind at all, but I can’t go in if you’re still holding me.”
Unwillingly, he let her go. She stepped back into the warmth of the house, giving him a shy smile. He couldn’t help but grin. He decided he wasn't hiding his glee from her. He felt like a damn teenager and he was going to embrace it. He wanted her to know how he felt about her.
Grabbing her hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles, his beard tickling the soft skin on the back of her hand.
“Sleep well, Sugar.”
“I think I will now.” She bit her lip, a lopsided smile on her lips that made his heart soar.
He had to control his stride as he walked back to the van, wanting to run, jump, dance, something to let his excitement out. He settled for allowing himself a wide smile the whole drive back to his house.
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
“Where do you want the pies?” Tony asked, leaning out the window as he pulled to a stop behind our booths.
I gestured to the long table set up behind the smaller ones that the contestants would sit at. Pam rolled her eyes at her husband and graciously took over and directed him where to put the boxes full of pies.
“Half apple, half peach. The peach ones have a hole in the middle, apple has the crimped sides,” Tony called to me from behind the tables as he took them out of the boxes.
“Thank you!” I called back as I went back to laying out the auction items.
The late afternoon had cleared from the morning snow showers. I’d already shed my jacket, thankful I’d thought to put on a sweater dress with leggings and boots as it was warm enough on its own. Just as I was putting the number tag on the PlayStation I heard the chattering of little boys behind me.
“Mom! Mom! Mom! Look! Oh my god look! Can we get it? Can we? Please? Please? Please? Dad? Please?”
Joe and Maryanne were standing just beyond the edge of the tent with their little girls in a stroller and the twins hanging on Joe’s arms like he was a tree.
That’s how Sy would look with kids. Would we have twins? I wonder who’s side they run on? Oh my god stop, Izzy. He just went down on you, he didn’t propose for Christ’s sake.
“You’ll have to ask Ms. Payne how it works,” Maryanne told them, giving an indulgent smile. Quietly she whispered to me on the side, “We can’t rig this, can we?”
Joe tsked at his wife and pulled out his wallet to buy tickets.
“Just write your names on this side, and you keep this one. If your ticket gets pulled at the end of the night, we’ll call your name and you win the game.”
The boys excitedly wrote their names on the tickets their father had purchased. Joe also bought into the pie eating contest.
“I plan on winning!” he chuckled. “Not everyday I get to eat all the pastry I want. Got to keep up appearances and all that.”
“Oh please, Tony told me you get three donuts every morning.” Maryanne rolled her eyes.
“Tony, what the heck!” Joe called as he went over to talk to him. “Ratting me out to the little woman?”
“She was saying she shouldn’t get one. I thought it would make her feel better!” Tony laughed.
I really love this place. These people. I feel like part of their group. Like they’ve accepted me as one of their own.
“Izzy, please tell him there is no such thing as baker/customer confidentiality!” Tony called.
“Oh I think there might be, Tony.” I shook my head. “I certainly don’t want you telling anyone how many danishes I buy.”
People were starting to arrive, crowding the closed down Main Street. Games, food, raffles, and vendors lined both sides of the road, and a bandstand was set up in front of city hall with a local band playing top forty country music. I watched with amusement as more people than I expected signed up for the pie eating contest. The amount of auction tickets sold was making me have a permanent smile on my face.
We might have enough after all.
About twenty minutes before the pie eating contest, Mikey came running up the street, out of breath when he reached us. Steve and David were trailing behind him with Annie and Rebecca.
“I’m not too late am I? For the pie eating?”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You realize the prize is just another pie, right Mikey?”
“Yeah! Two pies for the price of one!” he nodded. “Plus, get to show the ladies my skills,” he smirked.
Annie tried to smack him in the back of the head, but he dodged her.
“If you think this is anything remotely like that, you don’t know what skills are, Mikey,” Rebecca laughed.
“Hey Steve, you got some cash I can borrow?” he asked his brother.
“For crying out loud, Mikey! What happened to the money I gave you yesterday?” Annie asked.
“I had a date!” He waggled his eyebrows as Steve handed him some cash.
“I’ll take one ticket please, My Lady.” He leaned down on the table I sat behind, winking at me.
“Your last meal, Mikey?” Sy asked from behind him, making him jump.
“Oh, hey Sy, how’s it going, man?” Mikey backed away, much to Annie’s joy.
She grinned and looked between Sy and I, elbowing David in the ribs. He nodded as he grimaced, rubbing the spot. Normally I would have been bothered by it, but I didn’t really care anymore. They knew that we liked each other.
Knew it before I did. They just want their friend to be happy. I hope I can make him happy. They obviously think I can.
“You gonna eat some pie, Sy?” Steve asked as he handed me money for him and David to enter the contest as well.
“I’ll buy a ticket, but I think I’m gonna sit this one out, boys. Gets stuck in the beard, you know.” He stood in front of me, stroking his beard as he handed me the money. “Nothing can compare to the pie I had last night, anyways,” he whispered, giving me a wink.
I almost choked on my tongue as I was handing him his change and ticket.
Dear god, let me be the only one that heard that.
Clearing my throat, I closed my cash box with a snap.
“Last ticket! Though we’ll have an extra pie if Sy doesn’t participate.”
“I’ll take it!” Mikey called from over by the tables, waving his bib in the air. “I’ll take the extra pie!”
“Good god, you’d think he didn’t eat half my fridge this morning when he got home.” Annie rolled her eyes.
“He still living with you guys?” Sy asked Annie.
“When he’s home from school. Which seems like he’s home more than he’s there. I wonder if he’s even still going. His grades don’t look like he is. But it’s Mikey.” She shrugged and smiled indulgently at her brother-in-law. “He’s the closest thing to a kid we’ll ever get. And he’s going to live in my basement forever.”
Sy was standing next to her, nodding.
“Yeah, I suppose. Yeah, let him have the pie,” he said to me, watching the rest of them head over to the tables, leaning in and whispering, “It’s the only one I’m willing to give up to him.”
“Sy,” I admonished quietly. “You can help referee.”
He chuckled and walked with me over to the tables.
There was an announcement at the bandstand that the contest would be starting shortly. The crowd began making its way up the street, gathering in front of the tables. Tony stood in front of them with a small trophy in his hand, raising it above his head to get everyone’s attention.
“Alright! We’ve got forty, well 39 contestants to the first Annual Fall Festival Pie Eating Contest! We might think of a shorter name for next year. Anyways! We’ll do groups of ten, one group of nine, obviously, and best times will go on to the final four. Winner gets a pie of their choosing from The Percolator, this spiffy trophy, and glory for God and Kingdom! Plus bragging rights until next year, where they automatically win a seat at the final table. And of course, all proceeds go to the library.” The crowd cheered loudly.
The first group sat, including Joey. Sy, myself and Pam stood watching to make sure the pie was all gone, Tony had a stopwatch. Calling for the contestants to be at the ready, hands off the table, Tony shouted “Go!”
The ten men dove face first into the pies, trying to eat as quickly as they could. It was messy, noisy, and a little bit revolting, but the crowd was loving it. Joey didn’t make it to the final table. Joining us on the sidelines, Maryanne handed him a towel.
“Mine was an apple pie. I hate cooked apples,” he griped goodnaturedly. “I want a redo!”
“Next year, buddy!” Tony called.
The next two groups each went, the winners joining the man that had won the first. The last group came up and in it were David, Steven and Mikey. As they sat down, Mikey was looking around excitedly. Tony gave them the go and they dove in. Mikey was face first into that pie before you could blink. Suddenly he pulled his head back, his mouth full of pie.
“Aw, what the hell? I didn’t get peach? This is a rip off!” Then he dove back in.
Even with his momentary break to bitch about the flavor of pie he got, Mikey still finished first.
The four men that had won their respective rounds all sat down, three of them looking a little sick to their stomachs at having already eaten a full pie in one minute, but Mikey just looked excited that this time, he did in fact, get peach.
They dove in at Tony’s word and gave it their all. Mikey came out victorious, pie all over his face and in his hair.
“That’s how you eat a pie!” He winked at some of the PTO moms hanging over by the bake sale table.
Steve laughed when Annie smacked Mikey on the back of the head again.
“No, Michael. No PTO moms for Christ’s sake,” she hissed.
“Ohhhh, Michael.” Mikey rolled his eyes but still shrunk away from his sister-in-law, eyeing her warily.
“Hey, why don’t you go check out the festival, Izzy?” Maryanne asked, coming over and grabbing the cash box from the table. “We’ll man the auction tent and the bake sale with Pam and Tony for a bit. You’ve never been, you should get to enjoy your first time.”
Joey nodded as he tried to get some of the apple pie filling out of his ear.
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Yeah, they’re sure, Sugar.” Sy placed his hand at the small of my back, steering me away from the tent.
I looked over my shoulder to find them all watching us, then pretending to not be watching us. I bit my lip to hide a smile.
We walked a little ways down the street, stopping to look at some tables of crafts and jewelry. I bought a cute bookmark that had a little silver cow on the tassle.
Sy tried to pay for it but I smacked his hand out of the way.
“Sugar.” He sounded annoyed.
“You still owe me dinner tonight, Captain. Save it.”
He stared at me, his blue gaze making me feel exposed and hot amid the crowded street, a little grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
Oh fuck. It’s not going to just be dinner. The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m going to be dinner. Maybe we should take it slower? Is this too fast? Do I care? I want him. I want him so bad. I don’t think I can go slow. I don’t think he can either.
Trying to breathe, I broke his gaze, moving onto the next booth where there were all kinds of knitted items. I picked up a very pink snow hat and matching scarf.
“You sure do love pink, don't ya?” Sy chuckled as I put the hat on, modeling it for him. “Very nice, Sugar.”
I bought the hat and scarf and a navy blue one for Sy. He protested, insisting on paying.
“Stuff it, Captain.” I paid the woman, who was staring at him in awe as he grumbled and moaned about me being a stubborn woman.
I get it, sister. I totally get it.
We walked over to the next booth and I was surprised to see John standing there. I looked up at the banner they had hanging over the table.
“Applewine Valley Cheeses. Is that Bea on the logo?” I asked him, smiling.
“That damn heifer,” he chuckled. “More trouble than she’s worth.”
“Oh no, did she get out again?”
“No, I think she realized all the apples are gone. Her new thing is trying to come into the house. Follows him around like a dog, for crying out loud.” He nodded at his son, who stood behind me trying not to laugh.
“I do like dogs.” Sy shrugged.
“It’s because you treat her like one.” John pressed his lips together, looking annoyed, but I could tell he was just trying not to laugh.
“How’s business today? We sold out the pie eating contest, and the auction is going well. Thank you so much for the cheese baskets, John.”
He waved me off, smiling at a couple that had stopped to look at the cheese.
“It’s nothing, Izzy. Glad we could help. It’s going fairly well. It’s starting to get dark, why don’t you two move along and let me sell some cheese. Taking up space, blocking the product.”
Giving John a smile and a little wave, we moved on down the street.
“Oh honey, this is the stuff that Maya had at their party last weekend. I didn’t realize they were local!” The lady sounded ecstatic as she started grabbing one of each flavor.
“You hungry, Sugar?” Sy asked, stopping at a food truck selling different fried foods. “Knowing you, you haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’m not starving by any means,” I joked, patting my tummy, and in return getting an annoyed stare from him.
“No, I haven’t eaten yet,” I said quietly.
He ordered a funnel cake, a large soft pretzel, and two coffees. I followed him over to a standing table that had been set up on the sidewalk.
“Don’t you want sugar for your coffee?” I asked him, noticing he was drinking it black.
He gave me a little lopsided smile and blushed.
He’s fucking blushing, I can’t survive.
“I don’t put sugar in my coffee. That whole thing with the sugar at Tony’s? I just did that so I could talk to you.” He looked down at the funnel cake, tearing a little piece off and holding it up to my mouth. “That was the most disgusting coffee I’ve ever drank in my life.”
Opening my mouth to his offering, he popped the little piece of fried dough on my tongue, the powdered sugar dusting my lip. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, picking up the sugar. I watched him in awe as he licked the sugar off his thumb, his eyes locked with mine.
Is there an alley around here I can drag him into? Maybe we can go back to the library for a few minutes… an hour… the rest of the night?
Nearly choking on the funnel cake, I took a large swig of the burning hot coffee, sputtering a little.
“You alright there, Sugar?” He smiled as he took a bite of the pretzel.
“Yeah,” I rasped. “Just a little thirsty.”
So fucking thirsty.
As we ate, we talked about the job he’d had to do the night before, how he’d managed to get the water supply to the machine working enough to run and how he’d spend the next several days there making sure the problem wouldn't happen again.
“That mill employs a large part of the surrounding towns. If it’s out of commission, so are they.” He finished his coffee. “I’ll try to get back to the library as soon as I can to finish. We need to get the water back on so the heat can be turned on.”
“Plus it's a little chilly in that portapotty. But I understand the mill is far more important.”
He chuckled as he threw the trash away. Coming back to the table, he took my hand and we walked towards the bandstand set up in front of City Hall. Couples were dancing to a slow love song. We crossed the dance floor towards the games.
Oh don’t they all look so sweet. I wonder if Sy dances? Probably not.
A booth was set up with a target game. Sy stepped up to the counter, handing the man some money.
“Three shots, but I should probably just give you pick of the prizes.” He chuckled, handing Sy the BB gun.
“Yeah, probably.” Sy grinned, glancing up at the stuffed animals hanging from the top of the booth.
“How many bullseyes for that one?” he asked, gesturing at a giant, fluffy, pink leopard.
Sy nodded, handing over the money for the shots and stood on the line, waiting for the man to hang the paper for him.
I turned to find Cindy, smiling at me. She gave me a little smile and gestured towards Sy with her chin.
“Special forces sniper,” she whispered. “He’s always been a crack shot with a bb. Took the head clean off the little cat on Mrs. Tanners Jag when she made Pam fail summer school by one point. Also pierced Billy Scott’s right earlobe when he was beating on Mikey one day. Literally clear through it. He wore an earring for years after that. But we don’t talk about that.” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“No, we don’t, Cin,” he muttered.
Oh wow. I know he said he’d seen a lot of crazy stuff, but special forces? Yikes. I want to hug him.
Sy rolled his muscular shoulders, lined up his sights and pulled the trigger. Twelve little pffs followed in rapid succession. The man shook his head as he returned with the paper, only showing one hole. All twelve went through the same hole.
Why is that hot? That’s fucking hot.
“I’ll be damned, son.” He handed Sy the ridiculously large leopard. “I’m giving this one to Earl to hang behind the bar.”
Sy grinned at me, handing me the plush.
“Figured you’d like the pink one, Sugar.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Do not cry over a stuffed animal Izzy. You are a grown fucking woman. I know, but no one has ever won me a carnival prize.... Oh my god, can you marry me?
“You guys heading back up?” Cindy asked, gesturing up towards our booths.
“Yeah, we should. It’s almost time to draw the names.”
“We’ll meet you up there,” Sy said, grabbing my hand and leading me to the edge of the bandstand. “Wanna dance, Sugar?”
“Sy, are you even real?” I asked him as he pulled me and the leopard into his arms on the makeshift dance floor.
“Sometimes I wonder the same about you, Sugar.”
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
Swaying to the soft music the band was playing, he couldn’t help but notice people watching them. She must have noticed too because she buried her face against his chest. Smiling, he tightened his arms around her.
She sighed in contentment.
“This just feels right,” he murmured. “Does it feel right to you, Izzy?”
She nodded against his chest.
“Yeah, Jack. It does.” Her voice cracked a little.
“You alright, Sugar? Never called me that before.”
“Never better, Captain. It just seemed to fit the moment better. It is your name.”
He smiled again, breathing in her scent and feeling her warmth in his arms. It was like he was home for the first time after being away for years. She felt like home.
They were silent for the rest of the dance, parting only after the music completely stopped.
Walking hand in hand back up to the library booths, he could have shouted in joy. His heart was full. He knew he was in love with her, he just didn’t want to scare her by saying so.
He’d wait. He had all the time in the world.
Pam and Tony were just closing up the bake sale table, Maryanne and Annie were counting the money, while the guys were gathering the containers with the raffle tickets in them. Putting all the money and prizes in Tony’s truck, they all walked down to the bandstand while he drove it down the backside of Main Street.
Izzy joined Mrs. Tanner and the other booth leaders that had raffles to announce on the stage. Sy joined his friends in the crowd, his eyes never leaving her as she stood on the stage. She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, but was trying her hardest to appear confident.
He couldn’t wait to be alone with her later. Even if nothing happened. He just wanted to spend uninterrupted time with her.
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome, welcome, welcome to the 95th annual Fall Festival! What a great day it was! Much warmer than last year when Mayor Hill lost a toe.” She gestured to the older man sitting on the end of the stage, who waved to the swell of applause.
“Let’s get these raffles going so we can move on to the main event! Our esteemed librarian, Ms. Payne, if you would please!”
Oh right. I completely forgot about that. I forgot to find out what I agreed to. What the fuck did I agree to?
Maryanne and Pam brought up the ticket containers with their corresponding prizes. I held the containers so Mrs. Tanner could reach in and pull out the tickets. After each one, the crowd clapped and cheered as the winners came up to the front to gather their winnings.
“The big ticket item!” Mrs. Tanner announced as the PlayStation came up on the table. “I’m sure all you kiddies were hoping for this one!”
She pulled out the ticket and read the name.
“Oh for crying out loud. Mikey?” she called. “Aren’t you a little old for these games?”
“Free pie and a PlayStation!” Mikey whooped as he jumped on the stage to grab his prize.
He stood between Mrs. Tanner and I, holding his game in one hand, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder with the other, smiling for the newspaper photographer.
“I won the pie eating contest, too!” Mikey told him happily as they both exited the stage.
I followed them down, joining Sy and the others as we watched the rest of the raffle winners be announced. Maryanne and Joe’s boys attacked Mikey asking if they could come over and play with his videogame.
“They can have it,” Annie said, pulling it out of his hands and giving it to the awestruck boys. “I saw your grades Michael. You won’t have time for games, you’ll be studying.”
Mikey groaned, looking to his brother for support, but only got Steve holding up his hands like he wasn’t getting involved.
The rest of the raffles finished off, and Mrs. Tanner once again took center stage.
“Alright folks! The moment we’ve all been waiting for! For the first time in over twenty years, the Date Auction is back! All proceeds go to the library repair fund.”
What the fuck did this bitch just say?
“The what?” I gasped, looking at Maryanne, who sank behind her husband’s massive form. “Maryanne, what the fuck did she just say?”
Oh. You’re dead. You’re all dead.
“That’s right! And it’s cash only! No checks, no credit! Ok, before we begin, Mr. Hill would like me to state a few obvious things due to legality reasons. By winning a date, you are getting two hours of the participants time. This is no way a promise of anything untoward, and the contestant may terminate the date at any time. It’s all in good fun, people, let’s not make it weird. Without further ado, let's get this party started!”
I’m going to be sick. Oh my god. No one is going to bid. Maybe a pity bid. A dollar twenty five. Oh my god.
She called up one of the local firemen, much to the single ladies glee, and the bidding started hot and heavy really quick.
“One hundred and eighty five dollars! Going once, going twice! One hundred and eighty five dollars for firefighter Paulson!”
A young woman bounced up and down, handing Maryanne the money. She was joined by the fireman who grabbed her and dipped her back, kissing her deeply.
“Her fiancé,” laughed Annie, looking at my horrified face.
Next she called the man that owned the hardware store, and he brought in over two hundred dollars. The man that owned the butcher shop came up next and the bidding started.
To my surprise, Cindy jumped on the first bid. The mayor’s secretary countered her every bid.
“Two hundred and seventy five dollars!” the woman called, smirking as Cindy dug around in her wallet looking for hidden cash.
I pulled out a hundred I kept tucked in my wallet for emergencies and handed it to her quickly.
“Two hundred and seventy five, going once… going twice…” Mrs. Tanner called, looking quite pleased at the stir her auction was causing.
“Three hundred and seventy dollars!” Cindy yelled.
It was now the secretary’s turn to dig in her wallet.
“Three hundred and seventy dollars! Oh my! Going once! Going twice! Three hundred and seventy dollars for Daniel Moss!” she cried.
“Oh my god, I’ll pay you back… what the fuck did I just do…” Cindy had a stupid grin on her face as Daniel made his way down the stage to her.
“Cindy… you could have just asked me out and saved the money,” he laughed.
“I… ah… it’s for the library....” She let out a nervous giggle as Daniel offered her his arm and walked away with her towards Earls.
“She’s been in love with him since middle school,” Rebecca murmured, smiling. “They were neighbors growing up.”
“Ok girls, get your wallets ready. Last up for the men folk, Captain Jack Syverson!” Mrs. Tanner called.
I looked next to me to realize he was gone, now standing on the stage. My heart sank. He was looking at me, and gave me a little wink.
Oh god. I have to bid for him. In front of all these people. What if….
All thoughts flew from my head as the bidding started.
“Fifty dollars!” yelled Louise, Mrs. Tanner’s friend from yoga class. I looked at her in shock.
“What? I’ve got a sink in the basement that needs to be looked at!” she laughed.
There was a counter offer of seventy five almost immediately. I looked around to see who had called the number.
“One hundred dollars!” I yelled, realizing who it was.
Amber looked daggers at me from in front of the band stand.
“One twenty five!” she called.
“One seventy five!” she barked.
“Two fifty!” I yelled, hoping by bringing it up so high she would back off.
“Two seventy five!”
“Three hundred,” I called, digging in my wallet.
“Three twenty five!” She sounded triumphant, seeing me scramble.
“Three hundred and twenty… eight,” I called, praying that she didn’t have anymore.
I knew by the nasty smile on her face that I had lost. The crowd was silent, watching the two of us battle it out.
“Three hundred and twenty nine,” she said.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m not going to punch her. I want to. Fuck. Do not cry. God fucking damn it Izzy, don’t you dare cry.
“Three hundred and twenty nine… going once, going twice… Three hundred and twenty nine dollars for two hours of Captain Syverson’s attention,” Mrs. Tanner said, sounding as if she had tasted something unpleasant.
Maryanne collected the money from Amber, who gave me a look over her shoulder. I looked away from her to Sy, who was pressing his lips together in annoyance.
At least he doesn’t look happy about it.
He came down from the stage, heading towards me when Amber stepped in front of him. He said something short to her and stepped around her, coming to a stop in front of me.
“That shouldn’t have happened, Sugar. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to it. I’ll tell her I won’t go,” he said quickly.
“No, it’s fine, Sy. It’s all in good fun, right?” I said, proud of myself that I sounded so calm when I really wanted to curl up and disappear.
“You alright, Sugar? I promise, I’ll take her to Earls, buy her a burger and listen to her yap for two hours and then me and you can meet up and do something else after.”
No. I want to cry. DO NOT CRY ISOBEL.
“It’s fine, Sy,” I said.
“I don’t want you to think-” He was cut off by Mrs. Tanner calling my name.
“Ladies and Gentlemen! New girl in town, librarian Izzy Payne!” She gestured for me to join her on the stage, but I froze.
What if no one bids? What if Sy doesn't bid?
“Izzy, you need to get up there.” Maryanne came over and grabbed my arm, leading me to the steps, smiling at all the people looking. “Go on, it will be fine, I promise! Nothing to worry about, just light-hearted fun!”
Shaky legs carried me up the stairs to stand next to Mrs. Tanner. She held the microphone down by her leg and whispered to me.
“It’s alright dear, don’t worry. You’re the most eligible bachelorette in town! They’re going to be fighting over you.”
I’m going to vomit.
I gave her what I hoped was a winning smile, but felt like it looked like I had a stomach ache.
“Shall we start the bidding, gentlemen?” Mrs. Tanner crooned.
“Thirty dollars!” Mikey called from the front row.
“That’s my change from earlier!” Steve yelled at him.
“Forty!” called someone else.
“One fifty,” Sy boomed.
“Two hundred,” called a man from the back.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see him.
No. No. No. No. No. It can’t be. It’s just my mind playing tricks.
“Three hundred,” Sy called, not taking his eyes off me.
“Four hundred!” called the man in the back, stepping forward.
My soul left my body.
Pete. Oh, I’m going to vomit. I’m really going to vomit in front of the whole town.
“Five hundred!” Sy yelled.
Please Sy. Please. Don’t let him win.
He was watching me, noticing the change in my countenance. He turned to look at the other man, just as he counter bid.
“Six hundred dollars!”
“Seven!” Sy barked.
“Eight hundred.” Pete almost sounded bored.
Oh god. He always carries so much cash on him. He thinks it impresses people when they see his roll. I can’t. I can’t do this. Oh my god, can I run? I’ll have to leave town forever if I do, it will be so embarrassing...
I watched as Joey, David, Steven, and even Mikey, emptied their pockets and handed Sy their money.
“One thousand ... “ He flipped through the cash, “two hundred and sixty one dollars!” Sy called.
“One thousand three hundred dollars!” Pete yelled.
NO. no. no. no. no. no. Fuck. I think I’m going to pass out.
“Two thousand, seven hundred ninety five dollars and twenty five cents.” John Syverson stepped up to the stage holding his cash box from his booth.
John. I love you.
“Oh my. Oh, Mr. Syverson, how very generous… Going once, going twice… “ Mrs. Tanner looked at Pete who shook his head. “Two thousand, seven hundred ninety five dollars and twenty five cents, to Mr. John Syverson, senior.”
Everyone was silent, watching me.
I started to walk off the stage, stopping to lean down to talk to John. I touched his cheek.
“Thank you. I will pay you back that money, but. Thank you,” I whispered.
He winked at me.
Then I ran. I ran all the way to the library, not stopping until I reached my car in the parking lot. I leaned against the side of it, trying to catch my breath. My side ached, I was fighting tears, and finally lost my battle when I realized that my keys were in my coat pocket, and my coat was in Tony’s truck which was still down behind the bandstand.
“Fuuuuck!” I cried, sinking against my car.
I’ll just hide out here until it clears out.
Turning to face the man who ruined my life with more rage in my body than I’d realized I’d had, it took everything I had not to strike the man.
“How dare you come here, Pete.” My voice trembled.
“Aw, Fizzy Baby. Don’t be like that. You know I love you. I had no choice, baby, my hands were tied!”
My skin crawled at the pet name he had for me.
“You didn’t love me, Pete. You only love yourself,” I muttered.
“I came all the way out here to see you and what do I find? You, being auctioned off like some piece of meat! I can’t even tell you how shocked I was… yet I have to say, I was a little turned on by it. Two hours of your uninterrupted attention… think of the possibilities.”
He stepped towards me, crowding my personal space. I backed up as far as I could, bumping into my car.
I suddenly became very aware that we were alone in the library parking lot with everyone else in town three blocks away.
Oh. No. This is not good.
“Clearly you missed Mrs. Tanner’s announcement in the beginning, friend,” came a low drawl from the shadows near the building. “Nothing is guaranteed. Not even the lady’s time.”
“Is this what you’re doing these days, Isobel? Slumming with the locals?” Pete looked dismissively in Sy’s direction.
Stepping into the light, Sy looked like a demon stepping out of the gateway to hell. Pete was a smart man. He looked terrified.
“You alright over here, Sugar?” he asked me as he walked closer.
Oh thank god. Yes, I’m ok now.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Sy. Pete was just leaving.”
Sy stood next to me, a little closer to Pete than me, his arms crossed, staring at Pete.
“Pete, huh?” He looked over his shoulder at me.
Sy turned and considered the man for a second. Then he punched him in the stomach so hard Pete’s feet left the ground. Pete let out a cry like a wounded puppy. Gripping his shirt, Sy punched him once more in the face and was advancing on him to keep going, and by the look on his face he would have killed him if I hadn’t gotten in between them.
“Sy! No! What the fuck!” I pushed him away from Pete.
“You’re fucking lucky I didn’t come across your sorry ass alone,” Sy said, backing away.
Pete was groaning on the ground, holding his eye.
“Get out of here Sy. Now,” I said to him.
I didn’t want him to get in trouble. I wouldn’t put it past Pete to press charges.
“But Sugar, this is the guy that ruined your life! He threw you away like yesterday’s trash!” Sy looked at me, incredulous.
It’s because I am trash. Thanks for reminding me, Captain.
“I’m well aware of that!” I yelled at him. “Go. I need to deal with this and I can’t do that with you here.”
Looking wounded, he turned to go, but thought better of it and took a step towards Pete, who scuttled away from the imposing Captain.
“If you ever show your face in this town again, prepare to be pig food, you piece of shit.” He spat, then giving me a burning look, he turned on his heel and walked off into the night.
Oh, Sy. No. Please don’t hate me. No. Please.
“Jesus Christ, Isobel! Who are these people you’re getting involved with!” He held his hand out for me to help him up. “Isobel?”
“Izzy! Izzy are you ok honey?” Maryanne called, running towards me, followed by Joe and the rest of them.
They all stopped at the edge of the lot, seeing the man on the ground. I held my hand up to them, signaling that I was ok.
“Why are you here, Pete? Why are you really here?” I said quietly, shaking with anger.
“I was in the big city nearby at the college, and I thought I’d look you up to see how you’re doing in your new position. I’ve missed you terribly, Fizzy Baby. I was hoping we could talk things out. It’s over with me and Felicity. She left me.”
One very small, miniscule part of me that had hidden deep in the lowest recesses of my mind felt a little jolt at his words. That little part was promptly stomped on by the entire rest of my being.
“You dare to come here? To come to my home? To think that I would ever want anything to do with you? You ruined my fucking life, Pete! You destroyed everything that I worked for because you couldn’t just be honest with me. Hate is not a word I like, you know that. I don’t hate you. No. No, it’s much worse than that. Much deeper. I fucking despise you,” I growled at him.
He flinched at my words.
Do not fucking cry, Izzy. Get through this. Get home. Then you can cry.
“Couldn’t you just leave it alone? Leave me to my banishment? This is my home now. You had to come here and ruin whatever I had going for me here, too? Get up, you poor excuse for a man. GET UP!” I yelled at him.
He stood, looking warily over my shoulder. I glanced back to find that Joe, Steve, David, and Mikey were all standing behind me, looks of murder on their faces. I shook my head no, signaling for them to stay put. Turning back to Pete, I took a step forward.
“I don’t want to ever hear from you again, do you understand me Pete? I want you to pretend I am dead. Because that’s what I am to you. A ghost. I don’t exist. Now go. Leave and never, ever think of me again.” I started to turn away, but he spoke.
“But Isobel, baby! We can be together agai-” I didn’t let him finish.
My fist connected with his jaw sending him flying back onto the pavement, passed out cold.
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
@nonsensicalobsessions @helenaisabel1994 @servent-alearika @she-means-everything-to-me @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @joseyslo @rjohnson1280 @beananacake @vulpixserpens @just-the-hiddles @chezagnes @tholittleshefierce @avenger-nerd-mom @arch-venus25 @theheartofpenelope @the-soot-sprite @luna-aestas @geralt-of-baevia @amandalove @angryschnauzer @oldstuffnewstuff @jebra1999 @feelmyroarrrr @angreav @sherala007 @madbaddic7ed @littlefreya @inlovewithhisblueeyes @bibliowormed @tuckersgirl @plaidcat4815 @shinebrightlikeafanbase @littlewrenofrivia @fourmarkdove @cynic-spirit @maximumninjavoid @mervinmous @jaded808 @eldarwen333 @sanjaaaaaaa @sammyissassy @stmeiou @charlielovexoxo @tilltheendwilliwrite @emelinelovesjc @mary-ann84 @everleigh44 @the-insomniac-cat2 @alexakeyloveloki @shadyskit @ksgeekgirl @moonfaery @winterisakiller @swiglit @ms-cellanies @lisas-stuff-and-junk @holacherrycola90 @coppercorn-and-cauldron @jennphoenix @inkededucatednnerdy
@kimanne723 @luclittlepond @amberangel112 @rnr1274
@thetaoofzoe @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @maddyreads14
@frostsoldier @littlewrenofrivia @libbymouse @mis-lil-red @omgkatinka @waywardsoldier88
@bluebird214 @kingliam2019 @ladycavillry @avantgardium-leviosa @ilovetardis-blog @zealoushound
@radaofrivia @spazzymamahenrylover @beck07990 @helenaellie @absolutepie @bigchoose
@xxxkatxo @laurakirsten0502 @tamzeriah @vale0413 @dragon-of-dreams @foodieforthoughts
@bascmve01 @ellefran @avengedwritings @novashine666 @summersong69 @kebabgirl67 @henrythickcavill @devikafernando @sesamepancakes
@worshipping-skarsgard @fangirl199812 @myloveforhenrycavill @sofiebstar @daddys-littlewhitegirl @memoriesat30 @daydreamerinadazedworld @endofalldays01 @sugarpenchant @as3garotas @nothingbettertosay81 @shy-violet-soul @palaiasaurus64 @moonlacebeam @justbehindmyself @purplelove75 @kaunis-sielu @mylani3110 @osugahunnyicedtea @seriouslygoodlookinggents @ashesofblackroses @toomanyfandomsshreya @scaryashmonster @sarabeth72 @littletime67 @wolfsmom1 @pedeka @craftynidan @tinchentitri @archy3001 @sweetsigyn @theblackthrone @ladyoftheteaandblood @sf0206 @mortaltrouble @the-celtic-swan @marantha @psiphidragon @jebra1999 @tinaferraldo @nuggsmumwriting @honeybournehippy @devilbat @libbymouse @happiness-in-the-dark @craftynidan @cavillsharman @wayward-gypsy @wheretheriversrunintothesea @mrmiyagislittletrees @deathbyukmen @mandapanda8 @outpouringpassion @itmighthavebeenintentional @mrsshiddleston @actionnerdgamerlove @hows-my-hair @lunedelorient @diehades @radkesgirl83 @bbkenna @sarcastic-coffeedrinker @jessiecavill @foxyjwls007 @missemrose @our-chaoticwhispers @its--fandom--darling @ronalduswanson @tryingtoliveonmywishes @whatbecameofsubtlety @sweetlybigdragonn -it still didn’t work :( @introvertedmouse
For some reason these ones aren't linking 🤷♀️please let me know if i’m a dumbass and have it spelled wrong. That’s the problem a lot of times.
606 notes · View notes
My favorite takes about Gil-Galad's parentage so far, ranked from least to most absurd:
Orodreth's son, Finduilas's brother (a solid take, the most easily explainable one)
Actually Finduilas, who somehow didn't die
Lalwen's son, who Fingon claimed as his own
Son of a Fëanorian, who Fingon is passing off as his own and everyone just lets it slide because they need an heir
Related to the last one, everyone thinks Fingon is doing a terrible job of hiding that he's the son of a Fëanorian, but actually he's doing a great job of hiding that Gil-Galad isn't even related to anyone in the royal family
Some rando who deliberately conned his way into kingship, but he's good at it and no one else wanted the job anyway
Some rando who accidentally conned his way into kingship and doesn't know how to get out of it
Someone who got hypnotized by a dragon into believing he's the rightful king, and no one -including the dragon - thought he'd do such a good job at it
Finrod had a Science Idea, and now he's the son of Finrod and Fingon and Maedhros too
356 notes · View notes
tommy in every sbi foster family au
278 notes · View notes
writing?? more like self-led therapy
755 notes · View notes
You know what canon?
*aggressively founds your family even more*
307 notes · View notes
What are fanfic tropes that you like to write the most? What are the ones you don't see yourself ever writing?
I don’t know if it’s a trope exactly, but I’m obsessed with writing the first time they cross the line, you know? Like I’m fixated on the moment that they break and their desire and love triumphs over all the things that hold them apart. The reason I like obikin so much is that there are so many reasons they can’t be together, but they love each other so much that it breaks all those barriers. I’m less interested in writing established relationship things because it’s the conflict that I adore.
Honestly the only thing I can’t imagine writing are my squicks (pregnancy, alien biology, exhibitionism, noncon, etc). Like if you’d asked me last year, I would have said oh I would never write fluffy modern AU stuff, but then I did write My Ananke lol so really everything else is on the table.
379 notes · View notes
I made a Batfamily-centric DC timeline that covers Pre-52, New-52, and Rebirth content in one slideshow, so here it is! Feel free to use this as a resource for fanfic/fanart references, sources for comic issues, or if you just want to read me narrating the DC universe with way too many puns and memes
2K notes · View notes
what the fuck I just found this in my drafts I literally wrote this years ago, like a very significant number of years ago this is old shit
and apparently I just saved it and forgot about it??? anyway I polished it up and now it is here, I have no context and I barely even remember writing it, enjoy!
my apologies for the long post I still can't figure out how to do read mores in the app
edit: some lovely people have unformed me how to use readmores, thank you ~
Jack was starting to wonder perhaps if he'd done something wrong.
It wasn't uncommon for him to accidentally say or do something to upset his wife or daughter, although usually when such an event occurred Maddie would glare at him to express her displeasure, and Jazz would always take the opportunity to tell him in exact detail what he'd done wrong and how to make it up to them (something he was honestly very grateful for).
It must have been something pretty bad this time, because both women wouldn't even look him in the eye.
Jack first twigged that something was off that morning during breakfast, when he sat in the empty chair by Jazz's side and gave his usual greeting, "Hey Jazzypants!"
She ignored his presence completely, steely eyes glued to the wall opposite her, they were puffy and red and Jack wondered perhaps if she'd been crying.
It had been a long time since her problems were easily pushed aside by her father's warm hugs and jovial attitude, he had stopped being able to handle a crying Jazz after she'd turned twelve and countered his attempts at humour by insisting that he 'stop trivialising her distress', whatever THAT meant.
Nevertheless, warm hugs and gentle jokes were the only method he knew and so he wrapped a comforting arm around her thin shoulders, noting that she continued to sit still as a rock, not even glancing his way as he tried to coax a smile out of her.
Jazz didn't say a word as she pushed herself away from her unfinished breakfast and left the room.
It was when he walked down to the lab intending to ask Maddie about Jazz that Jack started to suspect he may have been the one responsible, as it became apparent that the two had seemed to coordinate their punishment for whatever transgression he'd made.
"Hey Mads!" his voice boomed over the noise of his wife's current project. He strained to see through the bright light of her blow torch at the large gun-like weapon on the table. Jack whistled in appreciation is he took in the size of what he assumed was some kind of rocket launcher. "So what are we calling this one? Ooh! How about, The Fenton Spectre 'Sploder!"
Maddie's goggles made it difficult to see what expression adorned her face, but her tensed shoulders and the shaky grip on the blow torch told him that she was most certainly upset about something.
"Mads? Are you alright?" his voice quivered slightly as he took a few steps closer, seeing his wife this tense tightened a coil within his chest. Suspecting that he may be responsible added an extra weight to his stomach that he knew wasn't cause by the breakfast he'd skipped.
The light from the blow torch snapped off and Jack had to blink the bright spots it left behind from his vision, trying to peer through the blotches to find any indication that Maddie was going to acknowledge his presence. It seemed as though she'd looked his way for a moment but before his eyes could clear enough to meet hers she'd looked away again.
Jack watched, puzzled as his wife raised a hand to cover her mouth and catch the sob that ripped its way from her throat, she hadn't succeeded as the sound echoed across the lab and tore its way straight through Jack's heart, causing his eyes to sting and his throat to close up.
He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, intent on giving her some form of comfort. He'd barely brushed it with his finger tips before Maddie stormed right past him up to the stairs, Jack had to quickly stumble backwards to avoid being trampled.
He couldn't imagine what he possibly could have done to elicit such a response from the woman he loved, but he knew for sure that he must have done something terrible for her to not seek him out for comfort like she did any other time she was upset. He just wished he could remember what.
Jack's shoulders slumped under the dim light of the glowing jars of ectoplasm lining the various counter-tops, he dry-swallowed a few times, trying to push down his confusion and distress before following his wife's light footsteps up the stairwell.
He found her in the kitchen, leaning against a counter with her goggles slung around her neck and her wild red hair loose around her head, abundant with the kinks and tangles Jack usually watched her brush out of it every morning.
"Mads?" Jack said, voice rough and quiet, "Look I... if I did something wrong I-" Jack's apology froze in his throat as Jazz poked her head through the kitchen door, eyes once again glancing right over Jack and instead locking onto her mother.
Neither woman shared a word as Jazz crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Maddie, who desperately grabbed at her daughter in return, burying her face in long red hair as violent sobs wracked her whole body.
Jack, at a loss of what else to do, wrapped his own arms around his girls. Nestling his chin on his daughters hair, he expected the annoyed scoff that Jazz usually gave him for his 'chin noogies', but it never came. Neither Fenton woman pushed him away though, so Jack considered it progress.
Finally, after an age of rocking and sobbing, Maddie's muffled words escaped through strands of Jazz's hair.
"Where is he? W-where'd he go, where'd he go?"
A deep chill coursed through Jack's veins, Danny? Had something happened to Danny? Jack pulled away, a million questions thrumming through his mind.
What happened? Was he missing? Was he hurt? Had he run away, been kidnapped, been kill- no. Jack shook his head violently, running a hand through the shorts strands of his thick hair. No he couldn't be. He couldn't be he couldn't be.
Jack's mouth was on the verge of catching up to his brain, multiple questions bubbled at his lips when he heard a voice echo down the stairs.
Jack took a steadying breath and grasped at the counter for support, relief flooding his body as his son rounded the corner and came into view. Danny was fine, Danny was safe. He had been fretting over absolutely nothing.
Then Danny's eyes locked into his.
A number of emotions flickered across his son's face, the first being a brief moment of sheer relief and delight, but it didn't last. Soon, too soon, Danny's dark brows pulled together and his lips curled sourly in confusion before a new expression swept it away. It was one Jack had never seen before.
He felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room, an icy chill prickled up his arms as the sudden wave of absolute horror overtook Danny's face. Jack couldn't tell if his son was about to break down crying or scream.
And then it was over. The tension in Jack's limbs released as Danny's face flattened into an unnaturally blank expression, he dropped his gaze and continued his way over to Maddie and Jazz. Once again it was like Jack wasn't even there.
Danny placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Maybe you should do another lap around town, you might find something today." he spoke softly into her frazzled hair.
Jazz looked at Danny strangely, her brother sent her back a glance that must have held some meaning because she then gripped Maddie tightly around the shoulders and led her straight out of the house, and suddenly Jack recalled that he still didn't know who it was that had gone missing.
"So... is anyone gonna tell me what's going on?" the jovial tone Jack meant to use came out flat and strained, Danny didn't look even remotely amused.
"I think you should sit down." Danny said quietly. He was no longer meeting Jack's eyes as he pulled out a chair for himself and one for his father.
Jack took the offered seat and prepared himself for the worst, obviously someone dear to Maddie and the kids had gone missing, Jack ran a list of all the people they knew, preparing himself for the worst, it was obvious Danny did not want to tell him what had happened. Perhaps whoever was missing was someone that Jack in particular had been close to? Was that the reason behind the horrified look on Danny's face? Because he'd realised he was going to have to be the one to tell him?
Something in Jack's gut told him he was on the wrong track, but try as he might he just couldn't imagine what else it could possibly be.
Jack kept his eyes on his son as the boy's thin torso straightened up in his chair and his icy blue stare bored into Jack's. Danny took a deep breath, then took several more, eventually he seemed almost ready to speak, Jack didn't rush him.
"Dad... you're dead."
524 notes · View notes
Okay so... as I've been sort of saying I'll do for ages, I'm starting to transfer over fics from here to Ao3. Gonna stagger it a bit and do a few fics at a time
Old Wounds (Danny Phantom) - original tumblr post
For Pennies (Danny Phantom) - original tumblr post
Fallen on Deaf Ears (BNHA) - original tumblr post
188 notes · View notes
Bleeding butterflies - OT7 vampire au
This was supposed to be written one way but then it became softer than what I originally planned.... oh well. Fluff and angst below
“Sweetheart don’t stray too far,” Hobi mumbles into your hair as you pull away from him to find a bathroom.
A hand grabs yours as you stand, “shall we come with you?” There’s a serious expression on Yoongi’s face filled with concern that makes you roll your eyes with a smile.
“I’ll be fine Yoongi,” you reassure him but he doesn’t look convinced.
“You know what to do if you need us sweetheart,” Jin says.
“Yell for you, I know,” you say. “Guys I’m just going to the bathroom, stop over worrying.”
Yoongi kisses the hand he holds and lets it go, “It’s you precious, we can’t help but worry.”
You shake your head at their concern but smile, love spreading across your chest at the yearning gazes on you. You hated they thought you were so fragile but in their world you couldn’t deny that you were compared to them.
The lights are dim in the club, you were all out tonight because Jimin wanted to drink and dance for his birthday. It was 11pm and you wanted to be in bed, but watching Taehyung and Jimin on the dance floor amongst other bodies, enjoying themselves, made the loss of sleep worth it.
Jimin spotted you, gazes finding each other as if spotlights were on you both, the blood bond worked like that sometimes. He smirks, tongue gliding over his lips without breaking eye contact as he moves his body with lust, no one could move their hips like Jimin and he knew it.
You ignore the blush building in your cheeks at his stare and look away, walking towards the back of the building where the bathrooms are located. There are swarms of bodies around you, Friday night proved to be the busiest, slurs of sounds surrounded you but you couldn’t make out a single word, a thousand scents invaded your senses. You couldn’t understand how they could always find you no matter how chaotic the background, your beating heart was the only sound they bothered to tune into, they were addicted to the way you smell, so sweet like the blood in your veins, mouthwatering, tempting, a fruit they would never allow to be forbidden from taste.
“Just a bite,” the words you’ve heard so many times from 7 men was now uttered by a foreign voice that stood out amongst the crowd. You spot it’s owner hunched by the entrance of the restroom, clutching his throat in pain as his red eyes begged you for blood.
“I’m so hungry please,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks and you can see the amount of pain he’s in. Against your better judgement you approached him in worry. “I could smell you from a mile away, I’m dying I haven’t fed in so long.”
The boys had explained it to you before, your blood was different, it was a gift for supernatural beings, a beacon of life in a very bleak world.
“Just a drop,” he begins to cry, shaking violently as he succumbs to the pain he’s under. “I want to live.”
Immortality came with a price, there was balance of life in the universe, to live you must take the essence of life away, maintain the scales of energy. Thus the cost, blood was used in all supernatural practices to remain young and alive; witches in their brews, werewolves in their sacrifices to the moon, for vampires, blood was the fountain of youth.
You knew this dishevelled man could not help but seek you out, of course he knew who you were, you were claimed by the princes of his world and still out of desperation he risked a torturous death to live. You understood why, he was going to die either way, he had nothing left to lose.
“I don’t want to kill anyone, please just a drop,” he reaches out to you but does not touch you without your consent, you can feel the anguish overcoming his senses, the instinct to survive and yet he was holding back from tearing you alive. It reminded you too much of the first time you allowed Jungkook to drink from you, back when you hated the 7 men, when you refused to bow to the rules of their world, and the resemblance makes you weak.
There came the dilemma, if he drank from another human his venom would turn them into a vampire, or he’d drink them dry. You were immune to their venom, every immortal kind knew of you, you were called different things in each clan’s prophecies but the general gist was the same. The blood moon, the blood candle, the blood fruit, the blood stone, the many names that you learnt of when you met the bangtan coven, and tried to run.
So many names for a mere human being, but the blood your heart held was blessed, no clan or coven knew how, the stories were inconclusive but the fact remained, a drop of your blood was equal to buckets of blood from a thousand lives, a drop of your blood could cure any illness that plagued the supernaturals, increase strength and abilities tenfold, there were no limits and no one knew the extent of what it could do.
Bangtan found you first, and when all was revealed you thought they wanted you for themselves, but it took time to realise their intentions in capturing you was to protect you from the other covens who would treat you like a blood mule, constantly milking your blood for their own gain. They wanted to give you a choice, there was a war over who got to control you and bangtan won you over and won the battle to your relief.
To prove themselves to you they didn’t touch an ounce of your blood, refused to drink even when you were temptation in a glass, it was only when they were on deaths door you begged them to give in and they let themselves. You remembered the pain they were in so vividly, you could see it reflected in this man’s eyes and it made you nod without realising. You would never refuse them, you couldn’t refuse this man, his doe eyes reminded you too much of the youngest of the princes.
His hands grab your arm, pulling you close, “forgive me please.”
You focus on the darkness as you closed your eyes, the deep beat of the music that resonated in your veins with your heart rate that increased as you felt his breath on your neck. It felt so wrong to have anyone else touch you like this, panic and discomfort made themselves home in your limbs not that this stranger cared or could tell. You try not to think about the reaction of the boys when they find out, how angry they were going to be.
You wonder why he hasn’t taken a bite yet, why he’s torturing you both with this pause. You open you eyes and meet red eyes filled with fury and you both are frozen in fear.
“Step away from her,” the growl in Namjoon’s voice made you shudder in terror. The grip on you didn’t relent despite the command. Jungkook stands ready to attack at any given second, breathing heavily as he holds himself back.
“Sire, I can explain,” the hoarse voice next to you begs.
“Let her go. Now.” Jungkook’s ferocity is seen like a fire on his face, your usual soft prince could tear someone’s head off without blinking and his eyes did not leave the pair of you.
“Joon,” you try to plead but you don’t know what to say.
“Don’t say a word,” he warns, glare turned directly to you rather than the scene in front of him, and it makes you cower where you stand.
“You’ll kill me if I let her go,” the grip on you tightens, as he gets closer to you so that if they made a move against him he could compensate by hurting you.
“You’re dead either way, but if you hurt her I’ll make it painful,” Jungkook promises with a dangerous dark look in his eyes.
“Don’t let me go,” you say to him, defying the men in front of you who’s eyebrows raise with surprise and they do not look impressed. “Not until they promise me they won’t hurt you...”
Namjoon bites his cheeks in anger as his nose flares and jaw clenches. Jungkook looks like a bull ready to charge.
“Butterfly?” Jimin joins you from the crowd with a solemn expression. You could see the doubt in their eyes for a moment that your heart was somewhere else.
“He’s hungry and dying, he just needs a drop,” you try and reason but it makes Jimin look at you in displeasure.
“Absolutely not,” Taehyung’s low growl makes its arrival with the others and the crowd begins to notice the gathering despite the low lights and loud bass.
“Your people are suffocating and dying because of the restrictions you’ve placed,” the previous desperation turns into guttural anger. “You’ve forbidden us from drinking from humans, the blood banks are running dry and yet you hoard the blood fruit selfishly without sparing us a drop.”
His hand travels to your throat and you suck a breath in before he presses. The pressure is harsh, not enough to break your wind pipe but enough to stop air flowing. Namjoon holds Jungkook back as he takes a step towards you both. Yoongi has his hands on Jimin and Taehyung as they move forward in panic.
“If you won’t share why should you have her?” He goads them with a death wish, you can feel the room begin to spin, the men you loved begin to fade. “If you won’t use her blood for our gain then what’s the point of her? Why did we fight in a war and lose our loved ones and lives for this?”
He squeezes harder with each word and you can the drumming of your heart beat in your ears as you struggle against him.
“I lost the love of my life because of you,” he says and the world turns black.
It hurts, your throat is dry and on fire, your limbs are heavy. The world is still dark before you realise your eyes are still closed against the light. There’s a pounding in your head as you regain awareness, asking yourself what happened, forgetting what occurred.
“Sweetheart,” it’s Jin’s voice that rouses you to rise to the surface of consciousness and break through. You open your eyes to the sight of him pressing his lips against your hand as he held it. “I told you to yell,” he scolds softly.
You try to speak but it burns causing you to wince and his lips are firmer against your hand at the sound.
“Don’t try and speak Angel,” Taehyung leans against the door frame solemnly, he doesn’t take his eyes off the bruise on your neck.
You wanted to ask how much trouble you’re in, you look at Jin pathetically and he can read your thoughts, call it the blood bond.
“Don’t worry about it now, just rest my love,” one hand still holds onto yours as the other strokes your hair back as comfortingly as he can. Your eyes go to meet the younger prince and you wonder why he’s so far away. The pain in your body is minimal compared to the ache in your chest when he looks away from you and leaves.
You whimper as he takes his steps and Jin is the one hushing you. He kisses the tears that are escaping from your eyes to the pillow. You want to ask him where the others are, you want to know if they’ll forgive you.
“It’ll be alright my love,” he tries to reassure you. “We thought we lost you, they just need time.”
It’s hard to catch your breath through the pain and tears. You notice the IV drip in your other arm, how long were you out for? How did they get you out of that man’s clutches? How angry were they at you?
You let go of Jin’s hand to clutch onto his shirt with all your strength and pull him closer. You beg him with your eyes to not leave. He sighs before lying down properly next to you, trying his best to soothe the ache away, but he knew you wouldn’t rest until you saw the others. He hates playing dirty with you, he knows he’s not allowed to do this against your wishes but he could hear the gears turning in your head and smell the anxiety you were building in yourself. You’ll forgive him eventually.
He grabs your chin to make sure your eyes are level with his, “relax,” he commands and through compulsion he can feel it take effect. “Sleep.”
You’re alone when you come round the second time, the room’s dark, the light from the full moon illuminates enough of your surroundings through the glass wall.
“J-oon?” Your voice comes out broken and croaked, the single word uttered felt like your throat was being crushed again, but you didn’t want to be alone. “Na-amjoon?”
You try not to sob but you can’t help it, the anxiety was back tenfold and you needed one of them here with you. You called the head of the Royal house of Bangtan because the others would follow. He would be the only one who could reassure you it would be okay, he was the decision maker, he was the one to lead them. Nothing the others could say would calm you until you spoke to Namjoon.
He moves too fast for you to see when he enters, but you feel the gust of movement before he takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. His gaze is stoic as he looks down at your figure. You can’t help but latch onto his hand to keep him close to you.
“I’m sorry,” you’ve nearly lost your voice with how hard it is to get sound out, but he hears you fine.
He sighs as he looks away but doesn’t remove his hand from your hold, instead he holds it so he can rub his thumb in circles on the back of yours. He looks up at the moon and doesn’t say a word.
You don’t know how much time passes but you both don’t make a sound, you know this silence means he’s still processing whatever emotions the altercation caused but when he heard your call for him he couldn’t ignore it. You pulled at his dead heart, you caused it to feel the ghost of beating, it was yours, he couldn’t deny you. It felt like dying all over again when they heard your windpipe breaking, when your eyes glossed over as if life escaped them and your body was an empty shell where your soul had left. That moment he’d never forget, it replayed in his mind a thousand times, torturing him with what if it was too late, what if they didn’t save you? He tries to remind himself they did get to you in time, but then he wonders, what if next time he’s not so lucky? Thus the distance hes created between you both, the others following suit. You’re so fragile, maybe if they kept you at arms length it wouldn’t hurt so much but it was too late for that, you were theirs.
“Joon,” his jaw clenches at how weak you sound, looking down at his lap as his thumb stops its soothing on your skin. You think he’s about to cry when he finally looks at you.
“Light of my life,” his low voice rumbles. “That was the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done.”
You flinch at his words, at his tone, at the glistening of his eyes in the moonlight.
“We nearly lost you Y/n,” he sucks in a breath harshly, his body starting to shake from fury and despair. Namjoon doesn’t cry, this is the closest you’ve seen him to it. “Why did you do something so stupid?”
“He was desperate,” you manage to croak out, the strangers words coming back to you like a bad dream.
Namjoon scoffs at you, “you’re too good my love, so good it’ll get you killed one day.”
The look he gives you is one of great weight, you understand it, you do. If the shoe was on the other foot you know you’d react the same, but it wasn’t. This was your blood, your life, and you’d make human naive mistakes through out it, but this wasn’t one of them, not in your mind.
“He was right Joonie,” the stern look he gives you intensifies as you speak. “Your people are suffering, and they’d only need a dr-”
“Y/n stop talking,” he removes his hand from yours and stands, not wanting to hear it.
“But why?” The pain in your throat increases with each word but you don’t relent. “They fought for us Joon, because we fell in love, and we’re repaying them by starving them.”
“No.” Hes adamant, but so are you. For now you let it drop and ask something else that plagued your thoughts.
“Did you kill him?”
He could see the pleading in your eyes, and you prayed they hadn’t even though you know there was no possible way he could be alive. His death was on you, whether directly or not, he was in that state because of you.
“It wasn’t your fault, he knew what he was getting into,” he tried to reassure you, but you kept quiet. There was no point in arguing with him, you already accepted the truth.
“Butterfly please,” Jimin whined exasperated as you turned your face away from him and the spoonful of soup stubbornly. “Just have a little.”
He was on his last tether with your attitude, and you knew you were seconds away from his more stricter side coming through. You could be the biggest brat when you wanted to but Jimin was an excellent brat tamer. Today you’d win, you cemented yourself to your knees, you were not budging no matter what.
“Why aren’t you eating precious?” Yoongi sat on your other side, while Hobi sat on the foot of the bed so one of them would be in your eye line. You couldn’t possibly deny all of them.
You crossed your arms childishly, “tell Namjoon to agree first and then I’ll eat.”
“Sweetheart,” Hobi sighs as he buries his face in his hands, trying to be patient. “We can’t tell him to agree if we don’t either.”
“It’s my blood,” you say stubbornly.
“It’s our kingdom,” Jimin bites back, the glare in his gaze growing. “Eat the damn soup or I’ll feed it to you through a tube.”
His stern expression was serious about his threat, by hook or by crook you were having that soup. He could be stubborn too.
“But it’s safer to use my blood,” you try to reason. “There’ll be less human and vampire deaths due to hunger or desperation, there’ll be no need for the blood banks or at least less demand.”
“No,” Jimin repeats his leaders words in the same tone, there’s no room for argument, it would fall onto deaf ears.
“But why?” He can hear the oncoming storm of tears in your voice as your tried to hold it together through your frustration.
“For us precious, the blood bond is like a wedding ring, we’re in it for life and life is forever,” Yoongi tries to explain.
“I don’t understand,” Jimin shoved the spoonful of soup into your mouth as you finish talking, a victorious smirk on his face as you swallow but give him evil eyes.
“You don’t cheat on your husband because someone else doesn’t have a wife,” Hobi deadpans. “We know it’s not fair but sweetheart you don’t have to worry we’ve got this under control.”
“But he was starving Hobi,” you argued back. “He didn’t have to die because of something so stupid as a blood claim!”
“Precious stop your throats going to get worse,” Yoongi turns your face to his with both hands caressing your cheeks. “Precious do you have any idea how many supernatural beings want to steal you away from us, some are our own kind, we don’t know who to trust and we refuse to trust anyone when it comes to you. What if you form a blood bond with someone else? What if they use that to their advantage?”
“Stop being so naive Y/n,” Jimin cuts in. “He had an agenda, whether he was dying or not, he didn’t innocently follow your scent because he was starving.”
“Sweetheart, we’ve never let the blood banks run dry, there is more than enough supply we’ve made sure of it,” Hobi chimes in.
“But he sai-”
“He was lying butterfly,” Jimin looks at you through dark eyes. “That’s why we killed him.”
“Fine,” you sniffle, blinking fast to stop your eyes watering. Jimin frowns, he couldn’t understand why this made you so upset. Yoongi tuts at how you bottom lip is trembling as you look down at your lap, he kisses your hair, lingering there as close as he can, inhaling your scent that smells like petrichor when you’re sad.
“Sweetheart, you understand why we had to, don’t you?” Hobi says carefully, knowing your tears were on the edge of falling down your cheeks.
“He said he lost his love because of us,” you sobbed, Jimin puts down the bowl of soup to hold you as you cried. “And I just think if I lost any of you how broken I would be, and we caused that pain in him.”
“That doesn’t make his actions right butterfly,” Jimin rests his head on your shoulder, trying to soothe the guilt away. “He tried to get his revenge by wanting to take you from us, if the roles were reversed what would you do?”
You thought about it, imagined any one of them in danger like you were.
“I’d kill them...” you admit. “But how many people lost their lives and loves because of us Minnie?”
Jimin sighs at how vulnerable you sound, how distraught that other people suffered because of love. He raises his head off your shoulder to make sure you could see how sincere he was when he said,
“We don’t care, if it’s a question of you or them, we’ll always choose you.”
You haven’t seen Taehyung and Jungkook for a week, you roamed the estate hoping to run into them but to no avail. They were avoiding you and it broke your heart, the others noticed but asked you to give it time. They were in a dark place in their minds, the shock of what happened sinking in so far that they couldn’t comprehend you were okay. Plus they were still angry, at all of it, you being reckless, the man getting so close to you when they were around, how close they were to losing you.
You found out they were the ones to save you, Taehyung unlocked the ability to slow down time when he tasted your blood, Jungkook could do the opposite with himself, he was the fastest of them all. The others didn’t tell you how distraught they were when they held your dying body in their arms. How they could still hear the echos of Taehyung screaming your name as he cried, the sound would haunt them for a lifetime. Jungkook had gone into a state of catatonic shock, he had barely spoken to any of them or left his room unless to escape when he heard you coming.
A week turns into a month, and you tried to hide the tears that came with missing them from the others, but they could smell it. You felt awful that you were neglecting the rest of them with your state of sadness but without them all it felt incomplete.
The 5 remaining princes decided to test the waters by leaving the three of you alone in the estate, something about checking the blood banks and clan numbers as an excuse. They’d been gone an hour and still nothing, not a pin drop could be heard in the house. You sigh deeply, wondering how long in your short life you were going to have to wait before they spoke to you again. You didn’t let yourself think of the possibility that they may decide never.
A dark cloud starting looming over your head, despite the openness of the mansion you were beginning to feel suffocated. Maybe you should just go for a walk, clear your head, call an old friend see if they wanted to meet for coffee. Anything to get you away from your thoughts.
The sound of the hanger banging against the wall of the walk in wardrobe was harsh against the quiet when you removed your coat from it. You wonder if you should call out into the void of silence and let them know you were going out, but decide against it at how silly it would feel. All that could be heard was the loud click of the bolts as you unlocked the front door. The creak as you opened it. The slam as a hand forced it shut.
You could feel the body behind you, the silence finally being filled by heavy angry breathing. You look at the hand that’s still firmly placed on the door, refusing to budge. Jungkook didn’t want to see you, he spent the last month pretending you didn’t exist and everything was fine, but the fear you awoke in him when he heard the unlocking of the door broke his reverie. There you stood in front of him like nothing happened, he could pretend it was a bad dream but the nightmares he had behind closed eyes in the wake of consciousness never left.
He starts shaking, the despair and anger overtaking him and the sound of his cries shatters your heart. He closes his eyes to tries and control himself, he finally lets go of the door when he feels you wrap your arms around him and smother your head against his chest. He doesn’t allow himself to open his eyes, terrified this is the dream and the reality was you were dead. He’s missed you, the empty cavity of his chest finally filling with you against him. He lets himself feel you, arms coming to hold you tight as he wails, he doesn’t think he can let go, he doesn’t ever want to.
You don’t need him to say anything, you don’t want him to.
“Taehyung you have to speak to her,” Namjoon scolds the second youngest of their coven. “You’re hurting her and yourself.”
The defiant prince sits stoically ignoring his Hyung, he already knows this.
“Tae, she’s okay, if you’re upset or angry with her, it won’t be fixed unless you talk to her,” Namjoon sighs at the end of his lecture.
“I can’t get the bruises on her skin out of my head,” he replies gravely. “Our venom won’t turn her, she’s going to die one day, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Namjoon thinks in all his years undead, Taehyung has never looked more soulless.
“There’s no hope, I’ve spent the last month experimenting on humans with my gift, seeing if I could slow down metabolic time, but they die, each and every one of them. We’ve got seconds of our existence with her left.”
It was like watching a corpse talk, dead behind the eyes, all hope gone, not even misery had a place in Taehyung mind, just cruel reality.
“She feels incomplete without you,” Namjoon tries to reach into his younger brothers soul and ignite it back to life. “Shes got decades left if we’re lucky, do you really want her to spend it without you? Do you want her to die and then realise you can’t spend another moment with her, regretting all the years you could have...”
Namjoon holds your hand the entire walk to Taehyung’s room, the others are lingering with their ears tuned in with anticipation and worry. You couldn’t calm your thumping heart if your tried, it wanted to run towards him despite the anxiety and fear.
You’re met with the shell of the man who’s aura was brighter than the sun. He sits in his bed and doesn’t acknowledge you’ve walked through the door.
“Tae?” You whisper. He shuts his eyes at the sound like it was torture, he wonders if you’ll haunt him like this when you’re dead. He doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t want the consequences of your smell, he knows it’ll hit him like a truck. He’s been so careful to wean himself off you, he doesn’t want to fall back in.
“Tae bear?” You try again and it’s as if someone’s stabbed him in the chest.
You climb onto the bed, onto his lap as you straddle him, the urge to just be close to him and hold him overtaking you. Like a reflex his body has long forgotten he takes a breath, the scent of sweetness and sadness concocting together making his head spin, his arms go around your waist, his palms rest on your back as he finally looks up at you. The bruises are gone, no trace of them is left. He could never forget how beautiful you are, the most beautiful wonder hes ever come across in all his centuries ‘alive’.
His Angel, come to save him from his grey existence. You both hold each other as if you’re not close enough. For now he would forget death, for now he wanted to be happy, and with you in his arms, he knew he could be.
I’ll find a way, he thinks to himself, he’d fight the universe before he let you go. For now, let me be with her.
828 notes · View notes
308 notes · View notes