Short: Law student and intern Kim Jongin uses his charms for a dangerous pastime behind the screens, but he falls for the most normal girl. Words: 3080 Type: Angst/Fluff Pairing: Kai x Miyong (oc) Warnings: mentioning of an accident A/N: This will run chronologically with Engraved, but it’s not needed to read this to understand Engraved, but the parts posted for Engraved after this will contain spoilers. It is also not necessary to read Engraved to understand what is happening here. But it will make things more clear.
The office was in it’s usual bustling state of busy. Sounds of rustling paper, the copy machines, nails on keyboard filling his ears while he was going over his merger case. The two companies had a lot in common but their client was trying to get more out of the deal. He was searching through databases and e-mailing people to try and get the information he needed to let everything go as smoothly as possible. His booth was at the far corner of the room, and he had the wall on his left and the rest of the room on his right. He liked it, this way he could see everything. It wasn’t too big of a room, there were about 10 paralegals and interns in here. Everyone knew each other by now, much to his tries of keeping to himself. The people were nice and it was nice to be around them, sometimes they went out for a drink after work, or all got lunch together. The girl beside him leant over the booth, her head on her hands on the small wall. “What are you working on?” she asked, warm caramel curls falling over the edge and framing her face.
A/N: So this is the first episode rewrite that I tried to do on my own. THERE WILL BE A PART 2 (I did this episode bc.. well… dean was really pretty… shush)
You still couldn’t believe where you were.
One minute, you were chasing a weird looking guy in a fedora
down the street, the next minute, you and Dean ended
up in 1944. Dean at first saw it more of an “inconvenience” than anything else,
but you were in awe. The 1940’s had to be one of your favorite eras, and you
were beaming as you walked into the old – new tailor’s shop with Dean by your
Eliot Ness guided you into the store, his hand on your
shoulder as he snuck you and Dean into the store. You had met Eliot when you
and Dean were arrested – not that you
were proud of that or anything – Dean was thrilled to meet him, but that surely
changed when Eliot began speaking to you.
“What’s the rumpus, Eliot?” A woman asked. She sat at a
table, pinning together a pair of trousers.
“Ezra Moore. Dean Winchester. (Y/F/N)”
“Hey.” Dean greeted as you waved from behind, muttering a
“Who’re they, some farming clowns?” Ezra looked up from the trousers, eyes scanning over Dean and
then you. You pulled at the end of your cardigan sleeves, hoping that your
jeans and low ankle boots wouldn’t cause too much of a worry.
“They’re – uh – from the future…”
“Yeah. Gas costs four bucks. You can get cheese out of a
spray can. And… The President, he’s a black guy. I could go on…”
One minute, Dean was too busy grumbling about being stuck.
An hour and a half later he’s smiling away as he blabs the future to complete
You couldn’t help but join in.
“That’s not all! I mean, in a few decades, you guys’ll have telephones in your pocket! In
1969, a guy’s gonna be on the moon! And –” You stopped when Dean tugged your arm,
quietly telling you to shut up.
Ezra rolled her eyes at the pair of you, though she seemed
oddly impressed by what you said, “Paint
me impressed. I assume you both need some clothes. Come on…”
Your fingers traced along the cotton and rayon material
patterns, your smile growing whenever you came across an outfit that caught
your eye. Ezra was helping Dean find something to wear, while you were told to
explore the rest of the store. Everything was so perfect that your brain had a
hard time processing it all. Each material pattern was different, ranging from
polka dots to stripes, floral prints to plain, even the shoes were different.
“(Y/N),” You jumped at the sudden appearance of Elliot
behind you, you turned to face the middle-aged man, eyebrows raised and arms
crossed, “Your boyfriend is ready if you want to come see.”
“Oh no, Deans not my boyfrie-”
you frowned for a moment, before shrugging, “okay.”
When you turned the corner into the open dressing area, you
couldn’t help but squeal a little.
Dean wore a dark suit with a silk blue tie; his hair was
parted neatly to the side – which was overly unusual for him.
You bit your lip as you cocked your head to the side,
looking over his outfit again. “You pull that suit off better than I thought.”
Dean winked, and you raised your eyebrows, hoping that no
one noticed the blood that rushed to your cheeks.
“Awesome…” Dean mumbled, looking at himself in the mirror as
Ezra flattened his suit jacket and straightened his tie. She waddled around
Dean, brushing his hair down with her fingers
and brushing away the lint and fluff that stuck to his suit.
“Awesome?” She raised an eyebrow, “You some religious
“No.” You chuckled, waving away her thought, “He just loves to say that…”
Ezra turned to you, fiddling with the ends of your hair and
shirt collar. You could almost see the cogs in her mind turning, her brain
ticking with ideas, and you almost felt guilty when she stopped.
“Alright darlin,’ I’ve got the perfect thing for you.”
You almost didn’t recognize
yourself in the mirror. Especially when Ezra fitted you into the pure white
dress. It was strange, wearing a dress when you were preparing to go on a hunt.
The waist was tight but not uncomfortable, and the hidden shoulder pads made
your shoulders look strangely larger, but the dress made you look beautiful
nevertheless, and you found yourself filling up with a truckload of confidence.
Ezra pinned your hair back out of your face and popped a small white hat on top of
your head. She also wrapped you up in a red-brown coat, tying the belt around
“Alright. You see your coat here? Well…” She pulled your
coat open, showing you a small pocket on the lining of your coat, “You can hide
all your gadgets in there. Like that moveable telephone, and your gun… There’s also a nice clean place to tuck away
your gun behind your back. Don’t worry. It
won’t ruin the linin’ of your dress.”
“Thank you, Ezra,” You
hugged Ezra tight, smiling as she kissed your cheek in a friendly way.
“Now you get out there, and make that boy’s jaw hit the floor
harder than a bag tonne of bricks.”
“I’ll try…” You scoffed, stepping into a pair of small white
“Nah sweet pea. You will.”
Dean didn’t expect you to look as beautiful as you did.
Sure, he always noticed how you looked, he always noticed your smile, or how
your eyes were an exact picture of how you were feeling. Normally, the great Dean Winchester was able to woo almost
anyone. Sure with you there was the friendly bantering and all the flirting, but when it came to telling you the truth, well… he was speechless,
to say the least.
“You… Uh, look –”
“So spill already” Ezra spoke, and you were forced to tear
your eyes away from Dean’s, “What bucket of syrup did you two idjits step into?”
You pursed your lips as Dean chuckled. Ezra and Eliot both
raised an eyebrow.
“Something funny sweethearts?”
“No,” You and Dean spoke in unison, which only made you
laugh a little more.
“No, you uh…”
“Remind us of someone…” Dean confirmed, nodding his head
once as you played with the waist belt of your coat.
Eliot stepped forward, clearing his throat to get everyone’s
attention, “Okay, Ezra… We need your help. It seems we’re hunting a time
Ezra sighed, and you refrained from sighing along with her,
“Delightful.” She muttered.
“So…” Dean whispered as your lips pulled into a smile, “You
reckon I could kiss the most beautiful woman in the room when all this crap is
“Hmm,” You stood on your tiptoes, kissing Dean on the cheek
with a wink, “If you’re lucky.”
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Model Taylor Marie Hill at Paris Fashion Week SS15
“When I was 17 I worked at the Store of Knowledge, which is now out of business, but was a neat store that sold everything from PBS videos, to cool games and toys, to telescopes. My particular store was in the local mall. Our uniform was a white button down shirt, black pants, black shoes, and a black apron with the store logo. Nothing particularly flattering, especially on my 5’3” 98lb self. To make things even more unflattering, I typically wore one of my dad’s old dress shirts—a men’s size large—over baggier-fit boot-cut dress pants, with low-heeled black platform ankle boots (this was the late 90’s, so I’m pretty sure the shoes resembled a cross between clown shoes and lace-less combat boots).
I typically worked weekdays after school and occasional weekends. This particular event happened on a weekday evening, which was typically slow for the mall (and even slower for our store). I was working “zone one” which was at the front of the store. My job was to demonstrate a product while I greeted customers, asking if they needed help finding anything, and to keep the front of the store tidy (having a “greeter” was also a loss prevention tactic for the store). A man walked in and I greeted him as I typically did, “welcome to the Store of Knowledge” with a smile on my face and something like “can I help you find anything?” or “what are you looking for tonight?”. Our interaction at that point was brief—he was “just browsing” or somesuch—and rather unmemorable.
On his way out, however, was a different story. As he left, he came up to me, and moved closer and closer. I backed up until I couldn’t any more—I was up against a bookshelf-type display. He raised his arms up in a T, and then brought his arms in more like a V shape, cornering me completely and making it impossible for me to raise my arms or duck out of the way without touching him. He smelled like cigarettes and leather, and he said, “ok, frisk me, baby”. I was shaking and stuttering out “I don’t have to do that” as the store manager came running up from the registers. I don’t even remember what the manager was saying, just that he was running to get the guy away from me. One of the other employees was on the phone with mall security, and I recall seeing them talking to the guy.
I was shaking, and given an extra break to go calm down in the back. I think I was moved to the registers then, with one of the other employees taking the front of the store under the guise of a “zone change” (which was pretty typical).
What stands out the most about this incident, other than the fact that I’m 32 and I still remember it like it was yesterday, was the quick action of the store manager. He was a good guy, and I’m very thankful for both how observant he was, and the fact that he didn’t just brush the incident off like it was nothing. I’ve no idea what’s come of him, but he holds a special place in my heart for really seeming to care.”
Submission from Rachel J
“But What Was She Wearing?” is a project documenting what street and sexual harassment actually looks like. Submit your own!