I rewatched the trailer again (okay, many times) and was able to piece a few things together based on clothing. I’ll be attempting to give a general timeline of sorts, which I’ll break up by “groups” for lack of a better term, but certain events within those groups may happen in a different order than presented since I don’t have enough information to figure everything out. Yes, I actually took the time to do this because somehow this goddamn show has given me straight up anxiety.
First, we have what seems like Dennis introducing the gang to his son. Note that Dennis is wearing a white crossed shirt, Mac the Salty Dog tee, Charlie a grey hoodie over a brown shirt, Frank a blue top, and I’m not too sure with Dee but it looks like a dark green or maybe black shirt. The baby momma is wearing a floral top and the baby a green and grey striped shirt.
Now, I’m not sure if this would be the opening scene or not, but Dennis would have to introduce his new “family” before many of the other events seen in the trailer(s) could occur. It’s also possible the second screenshot is Dennis delivering the news that he has a kid, and the first occurs afterward when the baby momma and son arrive. Based on outfits, these are the following things that must happen within that same day:
Request: barry and seb poly where reader is taking a bath, and seb walks in, and hes all like hot damn you’re sexy and that gets the attention of barr, and he comes into the bathroom, and both staring at readers body. the reader gets out and looks at them all seductively and that leads into steamy bathroom sex?
a/n: seb would lose it if this happened…so would barr
WARNING: Smut (threesome)
“Hot damn!” Sebastian smirks, leaning against the door frame, arms and ankles crossed. He moves his shoulders, tongue flicking over his teeth, eyes taking in every part of your naked body. “Is this a goddess I see before me?” he chuckles, bright blue v-neck scrunching underneath a hand. “Our girlfriend’s a goddess, B.” Sebastian mutters behind him; Barry nods, mouth open.
Biting your lip, you stand up, water droplets racing down the bumps of your breasts, to your stomach, dipping in between your thighs. “I’m going to ignore that you kinda recited MacBeth, because, damn!” Barry whispers, ripping off his tank top. You bush, stepping out of the tub, catching your tongue between your teeth, winking.
A low moan escapes Sebastian and he glances at the speedster, uncrossing his ankles to move forward. He unzips his black skinny jeans, kicking them off in a hurry, frowning when he sees that Barry is already naked. “Are you ready yet?” you tease, grinning seductively. Barry zips behind you, grabbing your boobs in his hands, nipping at your neck. “Seb?” you moan, curling your index finger in the ‘come here’ motion; other hand reaching up to the scientists hair.
Licking his lips, shirt tossed to the floor, chest exposed, the Warbler stalks towards you. His lime green eyes darken a shade significantly, pupils blown wide with lust. Slowly, Sebastian places his long fingers against your stomach, batting his eyelashes at you and Barry. “I’m gonna finger you, princess, and, B, you know what to do.” he winks, hands running over your thighs, to your pussy. “Mmm… only done this a few times.”
You gasp at the feeling of the speedster’s dick slide into your body, panting, trying to adjust. “You okay, baby?” Barry murmurs against your neck, chest propping up your back. Nodding, you tangle your hand in Sebastian’s thick locks. “Bas, your turn.” Barry muses, groping your breasts as he thrusts his hips forward.
At the sound of your blissful moan, the Warbler plunges his digits into you, giving you no time to recoup before pumping. “Jesus christ, girl, I’m not even this tight.” he grumbles, scissoring you; you gasp, grinding your hips against his fingers. Barry pants, dick vibrating inside you, a fair warning that he’s getting close. “Do you like this, princess? Maybe next time we can change positions.” he offers, blowing his milk chocolate hair from his eyes, shifting on his knees, curling his middle finger, thumb pressed to your clit.
“Barr… Seb… I can’t take this… Ugh!” you shout, pulling Barry’s short hair as your orgasm arrives. The speedster grunts a string of profanities when he cums, snapping his hips with yours. Through the steam, you see Sebastian put his fingers in his mouth, humming, getting off the floor to go to the mirror. “Damn, that was hot!” you pant, feeling Barry nod against your skin.
Wiping the fog off the mirror, Sebastian smirks, winking at the two of you. “It was steamy.”
Minjee yanked her pointe shoe off with everyone watching. Her face was bright red, and at breaking point. Almost the whole class was laughing. Even Eungkwan had a covert smile on his face. You nearly felt sympathetic. Because of Jimin and Taehyung, Minjee had had a pretty hard class. But not really, she totally deserved it. Besides you couldn’t be a saint. She hadn’t cared when it had been you.
She spun around to face you, her eyes venomous. “You’re gonna pay for going and crying to the seniors.” She spat. Her eyes roved around your class, who tried to stifle their giggles. “Shut up!” She snapped, and stormed out the door, her gum-covered pointe shoe swinging dangerously from the ribbons. Seohyun hurried after her.
“Those men are legends.” Yuna said, shaking her head in disbelief. She glanced at you. “Were you in on that?” She sounded curious, not accusing.
“Nope, though it seems like the sort of thing Taehyung might do.”
“Oh my god, (Name)!” Hyeun squealed. “You’re so lucky being on first name basis with them!” She grabbed your hands and jumped up and down excitedly. “And they did all this for you!”
Yuna and you exchanged glances. “Minjee’s pissed.” She said with a grin as the two of you sat down. “Though it might not have been the best idea to ruffle her feathers just before the review.”
“Aw, come on Yuna!” Hyeun exclaimed. “Jimin’s already ruffled her to oblivion. God, he was terrifying.”
Yuna nodded. “He had a very good point though, for all of us.”
Hyeun sobered, her eyes turning regretful as she picked at the knot of her pointe shoe.
You glanced at your phone. “I better get going.” You said, pulling the drawstrings of your shoe bag and standing up. “I have to get to that ballet store before it shuts.”
“Wrystone?” Yuna asked. “What fo - oh, right shoes.”
You nodded, not quite able to keep your irritation off your face.
“Wait a sec.” Hyeun mumbled as she began rummaging around in her dance bag. Eventually she pulled out around 25000 Won and held it out to you.
You frowned. “Hyeun I can’t…”
She shook her head. “Jimin was right. We had no authority to do that to you. And now you have to get a whole new pair of pointe shoes which you shouldn’t have to pay for. 25000 Won won’t pay for all of it, but I’ll try getting some of the others to chip in” Hyeun gave you a shy smile. “We’ll pay you back.”
You hesitantly took the money. “Thank you, Hyeun.” You said sincerely. Maybe Hyeun could be mislead, or made judgements without thinking them through, but what person hadn’t gone through a stage like that?
She grinned, once again her normal self.
“See you later!”
The bus stop was about a hundred yards down the road from Amour you found out from Mrs Cope, the receptionist who you’d discovered behind a massive stack of fabric receipts and post-it notes. She’d handed you a bus timetable and a map, before writing that you were ‘out of house’ on a little whiteboard.
You looked at the bus timetable as you headed up the stairs. The buses were infrequent. As far as you knew, Amour was in a pretty secluded area, and most students probably didn’t bother going in that often. If you wanted to see Jiwoo as well as get your pointe shoes, you’d have to catch the bus that left in ten minutes and miss lunch.
The dorm room was empty by the time you got there. You were glad, another confrontation with Minjee was not on your agenda. You opened up your trunk, the stench of horrible wet, stained clothes hit you. Those idiots…
Holding your breath you dove an arm in searching for your wallet. After a while you finally found it, typically it was at the bottom.
The sticky stuff dripped from the wallet. It looked like porridge. Quickly you shut the trunk with your elbow and hurried to the bathrooms. You ran your wallet and arm under the tap, feeling nauseated. Jimin’s words had put them so clearly in the wrong that you found yourself even more repulsed than this morning. How could they have done this when they didn’t even know whether you’d 'ruined the review’ or not? Why hadn’t anyone thought about what they were doing?
You took a deep breath. Maybe Jimin had changed that.
You turned off the tap, only just realizing that running water on your credit card and banknotes might not have been the greatest idea.
Then you changed into the clothes Dawon had given you. Black tights, a short blue and black tartan skirt and a long sleeved dark blue v-neck. She’d even managed to find you a pair of knee high boots and dark blue leg warmers. You smiled. Leg warmers seemed to be essential to Dawon. Last of all, she’d included a black jacket. Quickly you pulled off your hairnet and hair ties, slipped your wallet into your pocket and rushed out, knowing you had wasted way too much time.
By the time you got out the double doors and down the steps, it was raining. You sat of in a sprint seeing as the bus was beginning to take off.
“Hey!” You yelled, waving your arms frantically. The bus suddenly swerved onto the side, just a few metres from the bus stop. You hurried up to it, breathing hard as the doors hissed open.The bus driver looked at you grumpily as you fumbled around for money.
You finally handed him some coins. He raised a displeased eyebrow. What? Oh no, there was a glob of oatmeal stuck to one of the coins. “Sorry.” You said, and replaced it with another, the bus driver grunted, and you quickly moved in. The few other people on the bus gave you irritated looks.
You shuffled into one of the back seats, staring out the window at the lashing rain. A tiny smile came to your lips. It felt so normal. Aside from the dressy clothes and oatmeal, you were used to running after the bus. Before you’d gotten your Honda a few months ago, you’d spent many mornings running after the school bus, then guiltily walking back into the house and asking your mom or dad for a lift, or, if you did manage to stop it, clambering on to the amused looks of other students. It was funny to think that only a few months ago, ballet had just been a cherished hobby.
The jolting stop of the bus pulled you out of your thoughts.
You quickly got out, carefully avoiding the flooded gutter. You hurried under the awning of a shop, avoiding the pouring rain, and walked along. Wrystone, it seemed, was nothing more than a few shops and a tiny park, maybe two blocks on either side of houses, it was kind of cute. The ballet shop Dawon had told you about was pretty easy to spot. It had a hanging sign, like the ones outside old English taverns, with a painting of ballet shoes, and the words:
Sung & Sons
You went in, a bell tinkling with the door. The shop was warm and well lit. Surprisingly, there were a few people milling around, even though Wrystone seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Maybe people made long journeys to get here, it would certainly be worth it. It was like Dawon’s room, just more orderly and much, much bigger. Practise tutus hung from the ceiling, and clothing racks full of black leotards were scattered about, along with great barrels of packeted tights. A mother was trying to pull two little girls away from the mannequin of a sparkling fairy tutu.
But there weren’t just ballet things. On short shelves were rows and rows of tap shoes and tango shoes and jazz shoes and dance sneakers. Glittering ballroom costumes and unitards filled more clothing racks. On another shelf was a collection of dance class CD’s, music sheets and books.
There was another stand with hooks, on which hung every colour of bandeaus and crocheted hairnets and bobby pins known to man. At the very back of the shop was the biggest collection of pointe shoes you’d ever seen. The entire back wall was concealed by floor to ceiling shelves, each one stacked high with pointe shoes.
“Freed of London?” Came a voice from behind. You spun around.
A man with greying red hair and a goatee beaming down at you. He had old, circular glasses, and he wore a grey and red pinstriped waistcoat over his shirt. A badge pinned to it said:
Mister Sung, owner
You frowned, confused for a second, then realised what he meant. “Oh, yes.” You said nodding. “I use, Freed pointe shoes.”
“Mmm.” He nodded, pensive. “I thought as much. I can always tell, you see. You have the calves for it, you and I am guessing your feet are not as wide as some. You’re from Force de la Beauté?”
You smiled, narrowing your eyes. “How did you know?”
“Ah!” He clapped his hands together. “Your eyes, my dear, your eyes!” He chuckled at your bemusement. “You look terribly tired, you know. I am supposing you’re in need of something specific?”
You nodded. “Pointe shoes, actually.”
“Splendid!” He clapped his hands again and began leading you through the store. You marvelled at a beautiful collection of tiaras sitting in a glass case you passed. “Now, I’m sure your past the studio brand, yes?”
“Yes.” You said. You’d only been en pointe for three years, and you knew very little about the different brands of shoes. However you did know that Freed of London had studio shoes, for beginner pointe dancers, and then another range for the more experience dancers.
“Classic Pro.” You told him.
“Aha.” He said. “A nice design, you know. Not for the fainthearted, mind. They don’t have a beginner’s support.” You reached the back shelves. A two metre barre was secured to the ground right by it, and a bench. Mister Sung climbed up one of the shelf ladders with surprising agility. You sat down on the bench and began taking your leg warmers and boots off. “I’m curious Miss?”
“(Surname)” You supplied.
“Miss (Surname), as to why you need another pair of pointe shoes so soon. You see, we have been delivering three pairs of pointe shoes for every Amourian danseuse each month since Jinho signed a contract with us all those years ago. You must be a very fierce dancer to warrant a fourth pair in such a short amount of time?”
“I arrived late.” You told him as he shifted through the many packets of pointe shoes. “My old pointes were a few months old.”
“They died, then?” He spoke as if they were relatives, not just shoes.
“Yes.” You said. If he liked pointe shoes that much, then getting into what actually happened didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Ah, the time we cobblers take to make them.” He grumbled fondly. “Only to have you stamp them out in a single performance. Now, what are your measurements?”
You told him the measurements you had memorized after your first fitting. He eventually came down with a pair, and you slipped them on. Without any ribbons, they were loose, but using the barre you were able to follow Mister Sung’s instructions. “Every pair is slightly different, Miss (Surname).” He said, kneeling down to check the shank length. “And so every shoe must be tested. All these silly people buying pointes on the internet. Now please climb up to pointe.”
One foot at a time, you stood up on your platforms. You gritted your teeth against the added pressure. Until the toe box had moulded to your own toes, it was going to hurt more than usual. The fact that you weren’t wearing gel pads probably made it worse. “A nice arc there, Miss (Surname).” He said approvingly while gently squeezing the toe box.
The image of Taehyung twisting Minjee’s foot this way and that came into your head, and you tried not to giggle. How Minjee possibly thought that Taehyung had any knowledge of pointe shoes you did not know.
“Well, these seem to fit you perfectly well, Miss (Surname).” Mister Sung stood back up, and you went back down to flat. “I take it you’ll be needing ribbons and such?”
“Yes please.” You said, putting your boots back on.
He grabbed the necessary packets and took them to the counter. As he put your new shoes back in their plastic and tallied up the total, you looked at the beautiful jewellery boxes next to the till. Each one had a different ballerina on it. One was wearing a deep blue tutu, her arms in an oval above her head, her leg out behind in an attitude. You ran a gentle fingertip down her figure. That would be you tomorrow.
“Beautiful little pieces, aren’t they?” Mister Sung asked.
You nodded, still staring at the tiny dancer. Tomorrow. You gulped and snapped out of it, reaching into your wallet for your credit card. You handed it to him.
“Thank you.” You said as he gave you the plasticbag.
“It was good to meet you, Miss (Surname)” He gave a little bow.
You smiled and bowed back. “And you too.”
You left the warm store, and began walking again, digging the map out of your pocket. Miss Cope had circled the next bus stop you’d have to go to, to get to the hospital.
You got there with ten minutes to spare, and ducked into a nearby cafe to get a takeaway chocolate. You didn’t trust yourself to do nothing. You couldn’t have a nervous breakdown in the middle of the street.
Having waited for your chocolate you got out just in time for the bus, and managed to pay without any oatmeal. The hot creamy chocolate, managed to calm you the rest of the way.
The hospital, Seoul Hospital, was a fancy modern building, ten storeys high. You hopped out of the bus, with excitement. You were finally going to see Jiwoo! You hurried through the automatic doors and away from the rain.
Immediately you were enveloped in the white cleanliness and quietness. Doctors and nurses walked about purposefully, walking past patients as if they didn’t exist. If any of the few people in the main reception spoke, it was in hushed tones.
The receptionist registered you and told you where to go. The orthopaedics ward was on the fourth floor. You took the elevator up. It was a great relief from Amour’s endless stairs.
The fourth floor was almost identical to the bottom, and you quickly navigated your way through a maze of shiny white corridors. Jiwoo’s was the second to last on the right. You knocked gently, though your excitement was mounting.
You pushed open the door. “Oh my God, (Name)!” Jiwoo sat propped up with pillows on a bed in the centre of the small, generic hospital room. Her hair was in a messy ponytail, and there were bags under her eyes, but she grinned widely.
You quickly shut the door behind you, trying not to squeal. “How are you?” You asked as she pulled you into a one sided hug. You pulled back quickly, not wanting to hurt her. Her left arm was in a cuff and collar, but she was still smiling.
“I’ll do. How are you?” She grabbed your hand. “You have to tell me everything that’s happened since I left!”
“But you’re the patient.” You began, but she shook her head.
“My days have consisted of painkillers, get well cards and hospital food. Not that intersting. Tell me how the review preparations are going! What are the costumes like? How’s your solo? Have you spied on Master Kang’s class yet? Get me up to date!”
You laughed. “Fine, fine…”
And so you began. You described the costumes to her, right down to the smallest detail, and how you’d been absolutely terrible dancing in your tutu, and how Master Kang’s class was apparently doing a pas de deux in the middle of their piece. You told her how Madame Choi had asked Mister Ghim to alter the ending to make the music more dramatic.
That was all you could say without telling her about everything that had happened with Minjee. You didn’t want to worry her. You could see how tired she was. She couldn’t sit right up for long, and sometimes the slightest wrong movement made her gasp. However she knew something was up when you fucked up and accidentally told her about Mister Sung, the extremely enthusiastic pointe shoe seller.
“Wait! You’re planning to break in a new pair of pointe shoes by tomorrow?” She scrunched her face. “Why?”
You sighed, tracing the seam of your tights. “Minjee and I had a bit of a fall out.”
She grinned. “Because you were best buds before.”
“Totally…well, you know how me and Eungkwan were doing the lift as well?” She nodded. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I bashed my head, and so I got a concussion.” You paused, looking at her.
She gave you a pained look. “I asked if you were okay. You should have told me, I’ve been wondering about that.”
You shrugged. “You were looking much words. I didn’t feel it at the time anyway.” She gave you a disapproving look, but nodded for you to go on.
And so you told her everything, from the awful tech class the next day to Jimin taking you to Doctor Hill. She laughed when you told her about the posters, but you’d been vague about Jimin and your’s argument. You just said that Jimin had been patronizing, and that you’d gone and messed around with the choreography to prove him wrong. She scowled when you told her about Minjee and everyone turning against you. You told her all your frustrations, your sadness this morning, and your trunk.
Jiwoo, who always saw the best in people, had scowled. “Minjee and her little group should be thrown out onto the street.”
You also told her what Jimin had said, though you couldn’t say it quite so elegantly, and then what Taehyung had done.
She laughed until the jiggling of her shoulder got too much. “I should send them a thank you card.”
The two of you sat in silence for a minute or two, Jiwoo digesting all that you’d told her.
“How’s Kwangsik?” She asked.
She shook her head sadly. “Doesn’t he know it wasn’t his fault?”
“I tried to tell him.” You said. “He danced with Yuna today, when Jimin put Dongwon with Jongsoo, and I think Jimin talked to him.” You sighed. “He doesn’t think you’ll forgive him and we haven’t been told much about your condition.”
Jiwoo looked down unhappily. “The surgery went fine. I mean, it was scary beforehand, but they’ve managed to get it all back in the right place, it’s just (Name).” She looked at you, her eyes filled with tears. “They’re saying it might never join back together correctly.” She swallowed. “I can’t dance with a messed up shoulder, (Name). I might not be able to dance again.”
“Oh Jiwoo.” You put your arms carefully around her.
Not being able to dance. Never dance again…
She cried into your shoulder. You couldn’t think of any words of comfort, only that it wasn’t for certain, and you knew that wouldn’t help.
The two of you stayed like that for a long time.
“Jimin was here earlier.” She said eventually, wiping her cheek with the back of her good hand.
You pulled back. “Really?”
She nodded. “I didn’t tell him, about the – ” She took a breath. “The possibilities, but he got injured as well when he was in first year. He injured his leg, and had to take three months off.”
“And yet he’s still at the top.” You murmured.
“I know, right? He said that he was really depressed at the beginning, but he said that he realized that just because he couldn’t do ballet didn’t mean he couldn’t still learn it.” Jiwoo seemed to perk up a little.
“He said that I should watch as much ballet as possible, see how the professionals do it and he said that he used to torture himself through hours of theory and choreography. Jimin said it gave him time to think about why he did ballet. ” She gave a small smile. “I know it’s not…smart to – to get my hopes up…but I want to do those things. I should make the most of all this, you know?”
“I understand.” You said.
There was an attentive knock on the door, and a nurse came in. “Visiting times are over, Hun.” She gave you a polite smile, and shut the door again.
“Right, I’ll tell you all about the review as soon as I can.”
She smiled. “Could you tell Kwangsik I said 'hi’? And for him not to worry.”
You pulled your boots back on. “Of course.”
You gave Jiwoo one last hug. “And don’t you worry about anything, 'kay?”
She grinned. “Just so long as you have Taehyung and Jimin to ward off Minjee…(Name)?”
You turned at the door.
“Thanks.” She said.
You smiled and left.
Your mind was full of thoughts as you went back down the way you came. Poor Jiwoo. You could only imagine the idea of never being able to dance. It was horrifying. But Jiwoo was strong and young. That might give her more of a chance?
You went out into the freezing cold. The rain lashed at you, seeping right through your jacket. You pulled the collar up around your neck, running along the pavement to the bus sign.
Arriving at the bus stop you looked at the timetable, trying to read past the rain. Twenty minutes. Great. You pulled your jacket even tighter, trying to shelter as much of your face as possible. Through your thin tights, your legs were absolute frozen.
You were glad Jimin had given Jiwoo had something to think about. Even if she couldn’t dance, there were so many positions in ballet companies and schools…
“(Name)!” You spun around, recognizing the voice in an instant. A sleek black Porsche had pulled into the bus stop. Jimin leaned out of the window, rain already beginning to drip from his brown hair. His eyes were squinted so he could see through the downpour. “Get in, I’ll give you a ride!”
Disclaimer: So this is a Stilinski Triplets smut and I tried so hard to make it good so I hope you love it. Ily!!! And Request!!!
New school, new me, you thought to yourself. Pushing through
the bulky blue rust covered doors of Beacon Hills High School. You thought to
yourself that you would have never thought of moving during your senior of high
school. But low and behold your parents picked the most utterly inconvenient
time to move because that’s who they were, a big giant pain in the ass. Your
life was great in L.A, you had friends, a boyfriend, and you were captain of
the cheer team. So when you got the news that you were moving about 100 miles
from your old home you were not too thrilled. So now you weren’t the popular
one, or the smart one, or the cool one. You were just Y/n, no one knew you, and
you knew no one.
First Period: English
Walking into the class you of course got the stares of many,
which wasn’t a big deal if there wasn’t a pair of honey eyes staring at you as
well. Whoever he was he was gorgeous, moles freckled around his jaw, hair
quiffed in the perfect manner, and his eyes… his eyes were amazing. A blush spread
throughout your cheeks at you trying not to look at him for too long. The loud ringing of the bell startled you,
and a loud voice of a not-so-pleasant sounding man roared from behind you. “Hey
Blondie, what are you doing?” You didn’t understand why he had to yell. “Oh I’m
new, I’m Y/n.” You handed him your schedule, his eye brows raised, “Alright,
you sit behind Stilinski.” Turning forward, having really no clue who this
‘Stilinski’ person was. Turning back to “Coach” you asked who that was. “Stilinski
raise your hand.” He says not even looking back up at you. When you turned
around you were meet with not one, not two, but three hands in the air. They
all looked alike but they all looked completely different at the same time. Your
eyes widened at the sight of three boys in three completely different parts of
the room, completely different outfits, and had completely different ways they
were looking at you. The one on the far right next to the window, had a blue
v-neck on, his hair was quiffed but not like the one you saw before his was
more done up. He looked very nervous. The one in the middle back of the room,
he had a beanie on, and his phone completely glued to his hand at all times. He
tried to look like he couldn’t care less but it didn’t work you could see it in
his eyes that he cared too much. The on the far left on the room, the honey
eyed one, had a flannel on and a smirk on his face as you were looking at the other
“Which one?” You asked seriously, but the whole class
erupted into laughter. Coaches yelling cause the commotion to calm down, “The
one in the blue.” He said. The one in the blue, okay sure lets pick the one who
looks like he’s about to throw up, why not. Strutting over to the desk behind
him, he didn’t even give you a second look then went right back to his
notebook, the page covered in x and o signifying that he was writing football
After a long four
periods that surprisingly went very well. You had met some new girl friends who
welcomed you in very quickly and all your classes were surprisingly really
great. Walking into the lunch room you got a text from ‘Lydia’ who was one of
the 4 girls you met during your third period class. The text read to meet them
at one of the outside lunch table. When walking to them you could make out a
figure that looked very familiar to you. The one guy who met your eyes with
right as you walked into English class. Getting closer you could see that his
arm was draped around Lydia so you obviously couldn’t go for that anymore. But that’s
okay the other two intrigued you more. Lydia introduced you to everybody that
was at the table which included: Lydia, Allison, Kira, Malia, Scott, Stiles,
Liam, and Issac. They were all really nice and made you feel right at home. Your
curiosity got the best of you and you had to ask, “So you and your brothers are
triplets?” It caught him off guard but only for a second, then he laughed out.
“Yeah Stuart and Thomas. There my brothers, obviously.” He laughed again. You
couldn’t help but ask another question, “So which ones which?” He and the
others started to go on and on about the two boys, Thomas was athletic and
popular, while Stuart inherited the brains and wit, so did Stiles but Stuart go
more of it. Also Stiles claimed he got the looks even though they all looked
the same. But he insisted. And Stuart was the one with his phone glued to his
fingers and Thomas was the one who looked like he was about to throw up looking
at you. This otta be interesting. The last 4 classes were great and no triplets
in them, but Gym was my very last period and that had Thomas in it. But all was
normal, or so you thought.
The next day:
Was like any other,
you got to first period English and instantly Stiles insisted to be your
partner for the group project, which you were really happy about because you
could hang out with him and get the deeds on his brothers. Which you have found
an attraction to. After the period you and Stiles discussed that you would be
meeting at his house to finish the project. You were quiet happy about that
because you wanted to check them out and learn little more about all of them. The
bell rang signaling you for your next class, yours and Stiles stuff was strung
out all over the two desks so you both were the last two out of the class room.
“Where are you going?” He questioned. “Chemistry.” You said with an eye role
which made him laugh. Stiles was cool but totally not the type of guy you were
looking for. His attention went from you, too his brother Thomas. “Hey ass-hat bring
back my Lacrosse stick.” His brother just gave him an eye role. “See you later;
I’ll text you if anything comes up.” And
then he was off, this was about to be an interesting night.
Knock, Knock, Knock:
Three steady knocks on the wood door with the mail box
besides it read; “Stilinski”. Your heart was pounding and you were hoping and
praying that Stiles would be the one to open the door. The click of the lock
and the yank of the door almost made you want to pass out. And of course not,
of course it wasn’t Stiles. Stuart stood in front of you with his school outfit
hanging off of him. He was definitely the cockiest Stilinski boy. He always had
the ‘I’m-better-than-you look’ all the time and this time he was looking at you
and it wasn’t any different. “Hi.” You said sheepishly and shy. “Can I help
you?” He spat back, your shy left your
body and your bitch came right out to play. “Yeah actually I’m looking for
Stiles, so if you could go and get him that would be peachy, thanks.” His face softened
and he almost looked hurt. Almost. “Yeah well he’s not here.” He walked away
from the wide opened door. “You’re welcome to wait if you’d like.” He said plopping onto the sofa that looked
like the leather was from the late seventies. The house was nice; but you could
tell only boys lived there because of the mess evrywhere.
After about the most awkward hour of your life, you decided
to go home, Stiles wasn’t answering his phone, and you were just about done
with the small talk with Stuart. “I’m going to go because I’m obviously just an
annoyance to you.” He chuckled deeply. And something tinged in your core. “Where
you going baby? We had so much more to talk about.” Right as you turned around
to say a snarky comment, you were met with pair of two big brown eyes and soft
pink lips. He was close to you, to close, you tried to back up but your back
was suddenly met with the door behind you. His warm breath casketed onto your
face and in that moment you have never felt more safe and secure. “You know,
you should be a little nicer to me, you are in my house after all.” You could
tell he was nervous but excited. And you could also tell this wasn’t his first
time with a girl because he knew all the right moves. “Make me.” You spoke out
into a silent whisper. After that your legs were wrapped around his waist and
dirty make out session was in place. You could tell he was walking up the
stairs, because he had an even tighter hold than he did before on your ass. The
kiss ended when both of you had to catch your breath. You were in his room now,
the slightly messy but organized space fuelled your imagination and you could
help but think, ‘this guy must be really smooth to get me in here so fast’. “Now
we want to play naughty? Or, do we want to play nice?” He spoke. He was hot,
like really hot, there was always this gorgeous smirk plastered on his face, he
made your heart melt even though you have only known him for a few days. “What
ever you want honey, you’re the boss, I mean this is your house isn’t it?” You
spoke low with the sexiest voice you could find yourself doing. A low growl
came from him, and then he lunged at you taking his shirt off in the process.
Tangled limbs left you both in just your underwear. His
mouth started to travel down the valley of your boobs, and make his way to your
stomach. The hickies he left on you were a dark lilac color and were in every
spot noticeable. When he got to your pussy he wasted no time ripping off your
undies and eating you out like it was his last meal. “Fuck Stuart.” You
screamed when your orgasm came crashing down onto you. Your whole body shook
from the enormous amount of pleasure, and you were sure you had never cum that
hard in your life. “Wow baby girl that was hot, but no time for sex cause
Thomas is almost home and when I fuck you, I want to hear you scream.” With
that he helped you get dressed. Apologizing for ripping your underwear and
claiming he will buy you knew ones. As the two of you got dressed and down the
stairs stopping at every second to kiss and touch on another. He walked you too
your car and said your good bye’s. He was sweet and gentle appose to being
rough and dominating just five minute’s earlier. You knew that wouldn’t be the
last time you two did that.
The next day:
All you remember from getting home was: eating some leftover
cold pizza and crashing in your room half naked. So when you woke up in the
morning half late from school you didn’t even bother looking in your mirror.
You threw on the sexiest casual outfit you had and grabbed your makeup bag and
headed out the door. Lydia was honking for a good ten minutes, before you
actually made it out side. And she made sure to lecture you about waking up on
time. You did your makeup on the ride there, and you thought you looked pretty
good. When walking through the halls, you got some strange looks from a few
people. You had no clue why but you continued on your way to your locker to get
your stuff. Opening it and placing your bad inside, you felt a presence to the
left on you and you turned to look that way. Thomas stood there in a simple
white tee and some kaki joggers on looking as ‘fuck boyie’ as ever. “So how was
my Brother?” You were taken aback for a bit. But then cooled down and asked
calmly. “How do you know about that?” You raise your eye brows at him and he
lets out a loud chuckle. “I heard you two, and it’s not hard to tell
considering you have his signature hickie on your neck.” You panicked and
looked into your locker mirror, there was one hickie just to the left of your
neck and now you knew why they were all looking at you. You might as well just
wrote ‘I had sex’ on your forehead with how obvious it was. Thomas walked away
leaving you in shock and confused on how he knew, he wasn’t even home. Or so
Summary: Dean was your ultimate fantasy in school but you felt like he would never notice you. Years later you run into one another again and he is covered in tattoos and a completely gorgeous bar owner.
AN:If this gets a good reception from you all then I plan to make this a mini series where I will write out certain moments in their lives. If this is something you would be interested in, please let me know.
There’s things in life that you never really expect. You never expected to graduate from college with a Bachelor’s Degree in Nursing. You never expected to move back to your old neighborhood to help your father after your mother died. You most certainly didn’t expect for your school girl crush to still be in full force after seeing him years later.
Dean Winchester was every girl’s fantasy when you were growing up. He always came across as that popular badass that seemed so unattainable unless you were dreaming. The fantasy only grew once you had all reached high school. Dean had always been attractive but he really grew into his features the older he got. His lips were full, pouty, and the perfect shade of pink. His eyes were one of his more prominent features; a beautiful mossy green color that almost looked like whiskey if the light hit them just right. His light brown hair could always be found styled into a faux hawk. He was tall and broad, fairly muscular for a teenager. By the time 18 hit, he had started to get tattoos and wore a leather jacket religiously. He was the bad boy that every girl wanted and their parents didn’t want him anywhere near their daughters. You were the quiet girl in school. You had friends, you were involved in school functions, and you always ended up with good grades. Dean may have played in most of your fantasies back then, but you were fairly certain he barely knew who you were. He could have any girl he wanted, he most certainly got plenty of action and you kept to yourself.
You were currently trying to get some grocery shopping done for your Dad, refusing to let him live off of Hungry-Man frozen dinners any longer. Ever since your Mom had passed he hadn’t taken the best care of himself. He still went to work and came home everyday, but he was eating complete junk and drinking more than usual. When you mentioned coming back home to help out, he was reluctant to accept stating he didn’t want to disrupt your life. You ended up getting your way though and now here you were.
Summary: Taehyung was blogger who lived just a train ride away. Upon meeting, you instantly feel a connection, but what’s so wrong with that? Everything.
Pairing:Taehyung (V) x Female!Reader Featuring: Yoongi (Suga), Namjoon (Rap Mon), Jin, and Jimin Genre: Fluff | Angst | Smut Contains: explicit language, mentions of cheating Word Count: 3.7k
Author’s Note: OKAY, so I got caught for breaking some guidelines on fanfic.net so I’m reposting it here just in case it gets taken down. (I’m slightly more confident posting here anyway so it’s fine.)
I can’t believe I’m doing this. You nervously grip onto your train ticket while staring out the window to watch the scenery quickly go by. I should just go back. You swallow hard as you ponder how you found yourself in this situation.
You met Taehyung online through a popular blogging website. You were mutuals for the longest time, but had never interacted until a couple days ago when you made a silly post about the city you live in. He privately messaged you asking about your city and proclaimed he lived a couple cities over. From there the two of you got close in a span of a few days and you, being the impulsive person you are, asked to hang out on a Friday after his class just because he jokingly said you didn’t have the guts to make your way to visit him.
Rules: tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better (or more or less)
Zodiac sign: Virgo
Height: 5 ft 8 ¾ inches…I’m tall.
Last thing you googled: Rwandan genocide history timeline. It was for school I had to watch Hotel Rwanda and give a presentation for it with a group. The English prof would let us pick movies too so of course the group I was in did that…sadly I don’t have much time to read for pleasure.
Favorite musical artist: Kelly Clarkson! 💗
Song currently stuck in your head: Beautiful - Christina Aguilera.
Last movie I watched: The Prince and Me! I highly recommend it! 💘
What are you wearing rn?: jeans, and a v-neck blue shirt with a shell underneath that has lace on it.
Why did you choose your URL?: idk…probably to give it some mystery lol. I can be pretty bad at picking names for things like this and I wanted to keep it general but anonymous at the same time.
Do you have any other blogs?: yes I do! @tgig1995
Is my repost blog. @jesus-isthisgirls-savior
Is my Christian repost blog, and sometimes I’ll also put my writings there also that have Christian themes.
I do have another one but I don’t use it very much and I’m not as active on that one. I might be more active soon but I’m just like “meh” lol.
What did your last relationship teach you?: well…lol it wasn’t really a relationship but it gave me a lot to take away from it. First that there’s nice guys that actually like me and not just horny ones that say “hey wanna Netflix and chill without the Netflix?” 😂 (okay the last part I added…I just can’t lol) Second, I began to realize what specific qualities I need in a guy in order for a relationship to even happen and work out and what kind of a boyfriend I would want. Third, I got a glimpse of what kind of a girlfriend I would be; which is a great one! And finally, what kind of a relationship dynamic I want, and that I should be a little more open with people.
Religious or spiritual: religious.
Favorite color: green, and blue.
Average hours of sleep: 7-8. Sometimes less but absolute latest I’ll stay up for school is 1:30 am. After that whatever I do I know it’s not going to be good and I don’t procrastinate that bad anyways.
Lucky numbers: 5 or 7
Favorite characters: Monica Gellar, Ron Swanson, Leslie Knope, and Lorelei Gilmore.