wow this took so much longer than i thought it would

Tipsy - Request

Requested by anon: I would like to request a Sherlock x reader where he has been drugged and how he’s really cute and a little dirty towards her in front of John. Haha like while “high”. Just super fluffy and cute and maybe a little smutty/implied smut/ a little dirty haha. I get if you’re too busy or don’t feel like writing it, no problem. Love you.
& anon: I have a request for you (if youre still taking..?) so sherlock and john gets drunk and sherlock starts hitting on (and gets kissy and touchy) on reader which has been her girlfriend for months xD ?

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Word count: 2,026

Warnings: Just like in “The sign of three” this things gives a lot of twists.

A/N: Drunk Sherlock and Watson are my fave, I loved this so much!

Enjoy!

Sherlock and John weren’t the kind of men to get drunk every week, however and because of the stress they had been put through in their last case, they decided to go to the bar together.

At first it was just beer and talking and complaining, but then, someone recognized Sherlock and decided to put a little something on his beer which, added up to what he had already drunk, ended up turning him into a dizzy, slurry mess.

John was drunk as well, but for a different reason: he had mixed tequila with beer.

They walked – stumbled – their way back to Baker Street. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when that happened, so both (Y/N) and Mrs. Hudson were up and sharing a cup of tea while the boys came back, doing all kinds of strange noises as they walked in that called both women’s attention.

“What are you two doing here?” Mrs. Hudson asked as she and (Y/N) walked out to the stair case where John and Sherlock were laying. (Y/N) couldn’t help but to laugh at the image and the sound of her laughter caught Sherlock’s attention.

“(Y/N)!” He cheered drunkenly, “AREN’T YOU THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BEING ON EARTH?”

“Wow, someone’s loud tonight.” She joked and Sherlock walked to her and held her tightly against his chest.

“You are sooooo beautiful!” He slurred, “And so hot, would you be my girlfriend?”

“I am already your girlfriend, Sherlock.” (Y/N) spoke clamly, unable to contain the giggle that left her lips.

“I’m such a lucky man I’m jealous of myself …” Sherlock cupped her face and started kissing her passionately, like never before. (Y/N) tried to pull away but Sherlock’s grip was tight and it wasn’t until he needed air that he let go off her.

“You’re so drunk!” She giggled.

“And you’re stunning.” Sherlock mumbled, “Delightful, splendid, a Greek muse right in front of me! DATING ME!”

“Sherlock Holmes is a poet when he’s drunk, what are the chances!” Watson spoke from behind, right before he bursted in a dry laughter. Mrs. Hudson laughed with him and then both women dragged them upstairs.

Keep reading

Imagine Jack spilling to you what Dean thinks, and practically feels, of you when he reads his mind.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Dean raised a hand, stopping Jack from drinking his beer “How old do you think you are?” he asked, mouth half full as you and Sam shared a look.

“Uh 3 days, 17 hours and 42 minutes.” Jack replied precisely to the question and seeing the look on Dean’s face almost made you choke on your own drink. It was priceless to say the least. Barely at four days old and the young man had already outsassed the older Winchester, well this was going to be fun. Dean just shook his head and took a sip of his beer, Jack watching closely and doing the same at the exact almost moment.

“So-” Jack cleared his throat, looking at you “You are my aunt, right?”

“Uh well-” you smiled “Was, actually. I’m no longer an angel, I fell and after building a vessel things happened and… there is no angel mojo in me anymore. So I am practically human.”

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Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 

So…pain. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”

Static.

“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”

Silence.

“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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Bring It On | 01

Park Jimin | Comedy | Fluff | Slight Angst | BIO!au | cheerleader!jimin

❝You had long since gotten over your crush on your co captain slash roommate, Jimin. Other than the occasional wandering hand that maybe wasn’t so appropriate for someone who was supposed to be supporting you while you were in the air, or congratulatory smack on the ass after practice he was uninterested. Very, very, very much uninterested.❞

 

You blink down at your lunch tray, a scathing look marring your face when you note the mushed grool on your plate is probably leftovers from yesterday. You eye the cafeteria lady warily when she plops another serving on your tray, expression deadpan—you take longer to move along in line and she thinks she’s doing you a favor by serving you seconds.

“Greta,” you grin pleasantly, inching the tray back in her direction, “you’re doing amazing. Love the enthusiasm, that apron really suits you. However, I pay eight thousand dollars in college tuition and this looks like the wet food I give my dog. Do you think instead of this I could—”

She interrupts you with a wet slap of brown mush being added onto your already growing pile.

Wonderful,” you sigh, when you note the brown spackle on your uniform top, “can I just get a kale salad instead?”

It was for the best, anyway, you chide yourself. The fact that your school served lunch that was about as edible as aluminum foil made dieting easier. The reminder of your diet, however makes you groan as you reach the condiment station, chancing a smell at the ranch dressing in the clear plastic bowl. When you deem it safe enough to consume, you begin working on the croutons—

“Would you like some salad with your dressing?” Someone snorts from behind you.

You lift a wary gaze to Park Jimin, who’s leaning against the counter, working on organizing his grilled chicken. He cocks a brow at you as though he knows you’re glaring, even without looking.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure so early in the morning?”

Jimin rolls his eyes at you, nudging you out of the way so he can dress his own salad.

“Just think of me as your fairy godmother—I get a tingling sensation whenever you start to double carb.” He snorts, snatching the bread roll off your your tray and shoving you in the direction of your regular lunch table.

“It’s wheat.” You say indignantly, snatching it back and shoving it in your mouth.

“Just because wheat bread induces a slightly lower glycemic response doesn’t mean it’s better for you.” He spouts off automatically and you debate whether or not you can smash your head in before he starts scolding, “There’s no inherently good bread, just one that’s gonna make your ass slightly fatter as opposed to one that’s processed whole wheat.”

Apparently there was no avoiding his scolding this afternoon.

“For the record my mother says I have a wonderful figure,” you inform.

Jimin blinks at you before shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, “Tell your mom to base for you then.”

“You’re in a fine mood this morning,” you scoff, before sending a teasing smile at your co captain, “I take it the freshman pitched their new uniform idea to you?”

Jimins jaw clenches at the thought, rubbing his aching temples, “I’m all for being a whore. I love the concept, I think it’s great. But I hate the bandage skirt idea. And if we’re going to look like hookers, we should at least be Marilyn Monroe and for like presidents and shit. Not Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Julia Roberts slander aside,” you glare, “I agree with you. They’re tacky and besides, regionals in three weeks—changing uniforms now would just be complicated, not to mention we have to worry about finding another base now that Hoseok’s graduating.”

“God, don’t fucking remind me, I already have a headache thinking about auditions. But also, I’m so happy you agree which is why I took the liberty of telling them to go fuck themselves.” Jimin grins cheerfully as you stab a pice of kale.

“What did I say about making decisions on my behalf?” You pin him with an annoyed look before throwing your fork down with a clank, “we’re a team Jimin, we make decisions together.”

“Yes and it’s because we’re a team that I know you hate all the things I do.” He explains.

“This is why they don’t respect me.” You say, “at least not as much as they do you.”

“They don’t respect me, they’re scared of me. It’s good for our image. Like a good cop, bad cop kind of thing.” He argues before slicing a piece of his grilled chicken on putting it on your plate, “And will you eat? You wouldn’t have to starve yourself if you made better choices. For example a vinaigrette instead of what is essentially going to be an extra three pounds on your ass.”

You blink at him rapidly before sighing, rising to your feet. “Whatever, Jimin.”

“Hey,” he calls out behind you but you’re already halfway across the cafeteria, equal parts irritable and unamused by Jimins lax behavior. You stop when a hand grips your wrist, “okay jeez I’m sorry. I’m kidding. Quit being a brat and eat your lunch. I said try to drop three pounds not starve yourself.”

“Wow, what a sincere apology,” you snort and attempt to walk away again but he’s gripping you by the waist, far too close for comfort with his front pressed against your back and plush lips at your ear.

This is new. Very new. 

Your roommate was a lot of things, touchy was not one of them. If anything, he prided himself on his personal space and was constantly shoving you out of his room, out of his bed, out of the fucking bathroom

“I’m sorry alright?” He mutters and you close your eyes because he was confusing. So confusing it hurt. “I didn’t mean it. I had one too many bowls of bitch flakes today—either that or you’re PMSi—fucking ow.”

Jimin rubs his side where you elbowed before glaring at you.

“Apology not accepted.” You sniff when he turns you in his arms and there was a time when you would have been ecstatic to be in this position but those feelings have long since fled.

He only tugs you closer with a grin when you don’t fight off his hold. Jimin raises a brow at something over your shoulder and you frown.

“Don’t look now but your baby boyfriend is on his way over,” Jimin whispers before retracting his arms.

“My baby what?” You frown and it only takes you a full second to realize who he’s talking about because before long Jeon Jungkook is crowding your space.

“Hey,” he calls, an arm winding its way around your waist before you’re rolling your eyes at Jimin’s teasing smirk. “What’s going on here?”

“Jungkook,” you greet, before extracting yourself from his hold, “What’s up?”

“I could say the same,” he mutters before nodding at Jimin, “We have a problem here?”

Jimin cringes at his cheesy line before pinning him with a bored look, “Actually we—”

“Me and Jimin were going over cheer stuff. Did you need something?” You interrupt.

“Going over cheer stuff,” Jungkook says back slowly. He stares at Jimin for a second too long before returning his gaze to you, “I just came to check on my girlfriend. I have a game today, you didn’t wish me good luck.”

You close your eyes with a wince when Jimin snorts. A warm palm on your shoulder has you opening them only to glare at the all too mirthful boy in front of you, “Let him down easy, champ.”

With a wave and wink in Jungkook’s direction, Jimin is bounding back towards the lunch table and leaving you with a migraine.

Jungkook is holding your hand and swinging it. You’re not quite sure when that happened.

“Look, Jungkook,” you begin, clearing your throat.

“Oh no.” He sighs.

“What?”

“Nothing is ever good when a girl starts out with ‘look, Jungkook'—my mom, my sister, the dean of students.” He shrugs.

“So you know what’s coming next then?” You ask hopefully.

“Are you gonna put me on academic probation?” He offers and when you shake your head he stares on, “Not gonna lie, I’m drawing a blank here. I just know whatever you’re saying is not gonna be good.”

All hope dies.

“We’re not dating.” You say gently, tugging your hand out of his. It was too big and overly warm.

Jungkook frowns, confusion wrinkling his brow and for a second you almost feel bad for him, that is until he opens his mouth.

“But you let me…” He chances a look over his shoulder before leaning into whisper harshly, “you let me finger you.”

And therein lies your problem.

You knew better—you truly did—than to let the otherwise inexperienced freshman go further than second base but in your defense you were drunk. You were drunk and he was willing and he was fucking Jeon Jungkook. You were a good person but not that good.

“Yes, Jungkook I did but that doesn’t mean I want to date you.” You explain gently.

“But why would you let me touch you if you didn’t want to date me?” He implores and you blink at him because there was no way in hell someone was this naive.

“Because I was horny and you were there.” You say honestly and to your relief there isn’t a look of pain etched on his features only mild confusion mixed in with annoyance. “Now that we’ve got that settled I have a cheer thing I have to—”

“Wait, wait!” He calls out, gripping your wrist, “but what about me?”

You sigh because no matter how innocent or inexperienced Jeon Jungkook seemed he was still a guy at the end of the day, and they all wanted one thing.

“Fine.” You rolls your eyes, “I’ll suck you off after practice but I got to get goin—”

“No. Not that,” he flushes, “I meant what about… what if I wanted to date you?”

You stare at Jungkook a beat and it’s your turn to be surprised because of all the things you expected to happen today that was the last.

“Do you…” You gulp, eyeing him warily, “have feelings for me?”

“No.” He says honestly and you deflate before glaring at him.

“Oh thank God,” you breathe before smacking his arm, “don’t go around saying shit like that. Jesus. Anyway, why would you want to go on a date with me if you don’t like me either? Does that make sense to you?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you before tugging you off to an empty corner of the cafeteria, he lowers his voice even though no ones close enough to hear. “Okay don’t look right away but do you see those guys sitting at that table next to the doo—I said don’t look!”

“Ow!” You whine, rubbing at your scalp after he gives your ponytail a hard yank. “Okay, jeez what about them?”

“They’re on my basketball team.” He informs unhelpfully and you give him a bored look.

“You don’t say?” You gasp, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth, “I couldn’t tell from their uniforms and the guy on the table, spinning the basketball, staring at us.”

Jungkook goes quiet again and you feel a headache coming on because what he made up for in looks and general athleticism he lacked in brain cells.

“Are you being sarcastic?” He frowns and what was the point if all your jabs went right over his head?

Instead, you opt for exasperation, pressing a hand to your aching temple. “What about your basketball team, Jungkook?”

“They think I’m a virgin.”

“Well are you a virgin?” You retort, thinking back to the almost painfully awful finger fuck he gifted you with last weekend.

“That’s besides the point,” he waves you off before gripping your shoulders, “I’m in college now. And a guy. Being a virgin is weird and if they find out I haven’t gone all the way I’m toast.”

“So tell them you boned me and let me get on with my life. I give you my permission, young padawan.” You give him a reassuring smack on the arm before walking away, only to be tugged back by your uniform shirt. “What now?”

“That would be great, except they’ll keep hounding me to have more sex which I’m not opposed to I just… I’m not ready yet you know?”

You blink at him, “I don’t know. I’m a slut.”

“Well pretend you get it and date me. Just for a couple weeks.” He says, “If I have a girlfriend they’ll just assume I’m getting laid on the regular and leave me alone.”

“Okay, but what about me? I actually enjoy getting laid on the regular and no offense but getting fingered by you is about as enjoyable as going to the gynecologist.” You sigh and he winces.

“Noted.” He adds dryly before cocking a brow at you, “So are you up for it?”

No!” you throw your hands up, “besides dating you could give people the wrong impression. That I’m into things like—”

“Monogamy?”

Virgins.” You correct with a roll of your eyes. “Sorry Kook, you’re just gonna have to figure shit out on yo—”

“Noona please,” he pleads desperately, hand gripping your upper arm and in all honesty you’re not a hard person to sway but Jungkook is still persistent in his pursuit. He clasps both hands under his chin before dropping to his knees desperately. He’s whining and loudly.

Loud enough to garner attention.

“Will you get up?” You hiss, “People are staring!”

“Will you say yes?” He juts his lower lip out.

“No.” You glare, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Then I’m not getting up.” He pouts.

“Because I care,” you snort, “Camp out here if you want. My answers the st—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he whines and you grit your teeth in annoyance, “I’ll owe you big.”

“You’ll owe me?” You cock a brow.

“Yes,” he says desperately, “I’ll do anything.”

Anything?” You ponder and Jungkook’s stomach turns when you openly give him the once over.

“I… shit… yeah, anything.” He sighs.


Jimin doesn’t ask you what’s wrong and you don’t expect him to—you only bang things louder until he’s sighing from his spot on his bed, pausing the game he’s playing to turn to look at you.

“Is something wrong?”

He looks put out, annoyed. You don’t care.

Everything’s wrong.” You mutter, stripping off your uniform and throwing it in the dirty clothes.

You have half a mind to remember that you were still in Jimin’s room but it didn’t matter anyway, you and Jimin had long since passed the initial crush stage of your friendship slash roommate agreement—well at least you had, you were almost entirely positive Jimin felt nothing save for mild irritation for you on a good day. That coupled with the fact that he was very much gay set your worries at ease.

“Be more specific?” He sighs, disinterested.

You pause in rummaging through his clothes long enough to narrow your eyes at him, “I hate boys.”

“Good. More for me.” He retorts instantly, shooting you a warning glare when you pause on one of his good t shirts, “I’m wearing that tomorrow, the sweatshirt you’re looking for is in the back.”

You don’t even shoot him a so much as a thank you as you shimmy out of your sports bra, with your back turned to him and tug his hoodie over head. When you’re settled and warm you shoot a mischievous smile at Jimin who’s still glaring at you before—

“Don’t you—” he cut himself off with a curse when you dive under his covers anyway. Jimin seethes quietly as you nestle yourself beneath his sheets, “You know you have your own room right?”

“Don’t you miss me?” You whine before snuggling closer, much to his annoyance, he opts to pinch your side instead of shoving you off the bed completely. 

“No. Now move over if you want to stay in here.” he scoffs.

“You know I had a really shitty day,” you glare at his side profile and he doesn’t answer, only picks up the controller to un pause whatever he was playing. “it would be nice if you could be even a little bit supportive.”

“I didn’t sign up for emotional support I signed up for half on utilities and you not leaving your pad wrappers on the bathroom floor.” He mutters, still invested in his tv show.

“Jimin.”

“Don’t use that voice, I hate it.” He grunts.

“What voice?” You pout.

“You know, the voice.” He sighs, sending you a glance from the corner of his eye, “The one you use on guys to get what you want. Your baby voice, it’s annoying.”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment and you feign indifference because Jimin never means to be hurtful, he’s only talking to you like he would any other friend… but you didn’t want to be any other friend? You weren’t sure anymore, about how you felt about him. Things were blurred because while you were sure things bordered on platonic and that mostly had to do with the fact that he was so immune to your feminine wiles (snort), you also knew you didn’t want to be treated like one of the guys or like any other fucking girl on the team, that he mostly couldn’t stand.

You wanted to be special. Special in what way, you weren’t entirely sure.

“You’re a dick.” You retort and he tears his gaze away from the screen long enough to cock a brow at you.

“You knew this upon signing the lease.” He snorts and you don’t reply because really, what was there to say. It was well known, Jimin was in fact an asshole—he didn’t like kick puppies or make orphans cry (intentionally) or anything but he was curt and to the point and you didn’t get your feelings hurt easily which is why things worked between the two of you. “Hey, did you get that playlist I sent you?”

You pause in scrolling through your phone to turn to him, “Yeah actually I did. They’re all kind of slow, did you want to use them for routine?”

Jimins hands slow on the controller but he doesn’t divert his attention this time, only hums his disagreement, “Nah, just new songs I stumbled upon I thought you’d dig. They’re good right?”

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “I added them to my library actually.”

“Cool.” Jimin grumbles, clearly done with the conversation and you roll your eyes.

You go on like that for a few moments because Jimins content with silence, prefers it actually over what he calls your ‘incessant chattering’ it’s one of many things he finds annoying about you—from what you can tell. He’s left almost every group chat you’re in.

You talk too much,” he says desperately after one night, a long night of drinking with your team and you’re still sending pictures. He’s in your room and his hairs disheveled and he’s shirtless and he looks delectable and annoyed and seconds away from strangling you.

“Sorry.” You squeak, tugging the blankets up past your chin and he narrows his eyes at you. You can barely make him out in your doorway, but the light from the hallway dances against the planes of chest, making you gulp.

“No you’re not,” he grumbles, throat raspy from liquor and sleep, he sticks a hand out expectantly, “hand it over.”

“W-what?” You push hair back from your face nervously and Jimin adjusts his basketball shorts before sauntering over to your bed.

“Your phone. I’m confiscating it. You’re fucking with my sleep schedule and I have a nine am tomorrow,” Jimin mutters, snatching your iPhone from you. He sends you a menacing glare all while fiddling with the device, “You don’t get to bitch if I drop you on your ass during practice. Now move in.”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at that and Jimin is sending you a bland look, a hand pressed to his aching temple like talking to you is causing him physical pain. But he doesn’t respond only yanks the blanket from under you, making you all too aware of your lack of clothing when the bed dips beneath his weight.

“Move. In.” He enunciates, “I’m drunk as hell, tired as hell, and not up for the walk to my room.”

“It’s across the hall.” You remind him and in the darkness of your bedroom, with the pale moonlight dancing in and reflecting off the single chain Jimin always wears you’re overwhelmed by him. By his scent, his body, his withering stare when he presses a finger to your forehead.

“Sleep now.” He grumbles.

And maybe that was when it truly started, when the both of you settled down after that long night of drinking, him telling you to sleep on your stomach so you don’t choke on your own vomit, and you staring on dumbly, the beginnings of an on again off again infatuation for your roommate, your friend, that never really went away—no matter how unwilling a participant you were.

There’s a brief period of time (that you’ve made a conscious effort to block out) that you openly pined for him. There was no stumbling into the kitchen a mess, with morning breath that threatened to singe his eyebrows off if you struck up a conversation. No. If Jimin had class at nine am, you were up, with your lashes curled and your favorite tinted BB cream by seven forty five—you looked fresh faced, what a boy who hadn’t spent nearly five plus years of his life around girls with bedazzled vaginas would consider natural. But alas—

Jimin is a hairsbreadth from your face and you thank every god you could think of you woke up at the ass crack of dawn to wash your hair. His eyes narrow and he worries his lower lip before pulling back.

“You didn’t blend your neck,” he comments before grabbing his hoodie next to you and bidding you adieu.

For the first month of your crush you spend every morning in the kitchen (after of course closely inspecting your makeup under several different lightings), making him breakfast, green smoothies even. But Jimin is a health nut, on top of being an obsessive perfectionist. He preps his food the night before, likes all of his ducks in a row when he starts his morning at eight fifteen on the dot. His expression the first time you offer him turkey bacon and eggs is a cocktail of mild disgust and disinterest. 

“I’m counting macros this week.” He explains, before transferring his smoothie from the blender into a thermos. 

You tongue at your cheek before taking a bite of the ridiculously chewy meat. 

Your first Valentine’s Day with Jimin is always a memorable one, for sheer comedic relief if nothing else.

The two of you are regularly inseparable at practice, and some of it had to do with you being a fly and him base, your base, but a lot of it was because he didn’t… mesh well with others. He was too blunt, too rough around the edges and he took cheer seriously. The times Jimin spoke about himself were far and in-between, but you distantly remember him telling you that before he started doing cheer he did gymnastics competitively for a good chunk of his life. That explained a lot of things, honestly. Why he was so by the book, strict about everything from uniforms to ponytails, to diets—of all the boys on the squad, he was maybe the only one who gave a shit about stuff like that. It was because of all of that that he made a good co captain, and if it weren’t for his inability to compromise and just generally stomach other peoples presence, you were positive he would have beat you out for the captain position.

It also explained why he was so strong. The guy regularly worked out, yeah but he was like, open the pickle jar strong. And then there was his food intake which was crazy, all things considered, because he ate a lot to build muscle but it was all so healthy you couldn’t imagine anyone enjoying it. You wouldn’t lie, the first time Jimin lifted you during auditions your heart nearly beat out of your chest because he did it all with one arm and caught you effortlessly against his chest.

“Here,” Jimin says, handing you a tumbler filled with purple liquid at the end of practice, he hitches his gym bag up higher on his shoulder and waits for you to accept it. “I brought you a smoothie from home.”

“Thanks, what is it?” You ask, sniffing it and ignoring the glare Jimin shoots your way. It doesn’t smell offensive and you take a hesitant sip, “Actually this is good.”

He nods with a sheepish shrug and you try to tamp down the zoo of butterflies in your chest that are telling you that this is a sign, that Park Jimin making you a smoothie is his weird, male, health nut equivalent of chocolates and a confession. Your heart seems to gain wings at the prospect and then he ruins it like he always does because he’s Jimin and he ruins things. That’s his job title and occupation, Park Jimin, The Ruiner.

“It’s a detox smoothie actually,” he says when you’re already on your second mouthful, cheeks puffed with the berry concoction. Jimin was a lot of things, tactless was one of them, “I thought it would help with… you know. Plus, I do strength training in my free time but this partnership only works if you keep up your end. You should come to the gym with me in the mornings, you’re up anyway with like a full face of makeu—”

You shove the tumbler back at his chest before sucking your teeth at him, “I’m gonna go shower and then head home. See you there.”

Jimin frowns at your retreating figure by glancing down at the smoothie, he takes a sip for curiosity’s sake. “What’s her problem?”

The first time you see Jimin kissing a boy there’s no tell tale signs of arousal that all of mainstream media swore by. Only pure unadulterated jealousy tinged with sadness. You watch the way Jimin cups the boys jaw, the way his own jaw works in time with his lips. It’s not rushed or heated, filled with passion like a lover—it’s slow and a little timid, like the first kiss at the end of a date and your stomach turns.

You watch the two boys pull away, Jimin looking the softest you’ve ever seen. You wondered what it felt like to be the recipient of that gaze, but it wasn’t a side of him you were meant to see, or a moment meant for you, and you reminded yourself that you were intruding. You leave the hallway too quickly that day and maybe sulk for longer than was necessary in the weeks to follow, cry even, because your nineteen year old self is (gag) heartbroken. It won’t be another month of stilted conversation and failed attempts at avoidance until you’ve pushed the feeling to the back of your brain and manage to find a middle ground in your relationship with him.

“If you return my shirt with boob sweat I’m gonna use it to smother you in your sleep.” Jimin reminds and you scoff. “That’s my good shirt.”

“That was one time.” You shoot up indignantly and immediately regret it because with regionals nearing you were doing conditioning instead of regular routines and every muscle in your body was on fire from today’s practice.

Jimin sighs before getting to his knees and giving you a hard look, “Did you—”

“Before you ask whatever you’re gonna ask I came straight here after practice, showered and went to class I haven’t had time to do anything else.” You interrupt and Jimin rolls his eyes at you.

“Lay back,” he orders and you oblige immediately because as strict as Jimin was as far as diet and exercise was concerned, he considered you an extension of himself. His partner. And if you weren’t in good shape you were holding him back which is why he ignores your yells of protest when he pushes back on the leg you have pressed to his chest.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You say, slapping his arm so he would let up, “That’s enough.”

“Shut up.” He says mildly, pushing until your knee was nestled between both your chests. He slaps the back of your calf and you glare, “Straighten this.”

“Fuck off.” You grit out.

He cocks a brow at you and you regret your words when he adds more pressure.

“Jimin, fuuuuck,” you whine earnestly, a hand pressed to his chest because the pain was getting to be too much and he didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon. He doesn’t recline right away, and you peek an eye open in time to see a look cross his face before he guides your leg back slowly with a nod.

“How’s your knee doing?” He murmurs, and you lean your head back against the pillow when he begins feeling up your leg.

As much as you hated to admit it, Jimin’s extensive athletic career as well as his major proved to be useful on more than one occasion in your house. As an athlete you could appreciate a roommate who was studying physical therapy, especially when it came to the massage aspect.

“It’s been fine these last few weeks,” you shrug, “hasn’t been giving me any problems.”

“Start wearing your knee brace again.” He says when he places one hand on your knee and the other on your ankle. You narrow your eyes when he moves it side to side, “Your knees been giving out at practice. I’ll kick your ass if you dislocate it before regionals.”

“Noted.” You scoff, but it’s more of a gasp when Jimin’s hands are on your hips, barely under his hoodie and skimming the skin just above your spandex. His face is passive all the while, nudging you up the bed.

“Move up, I’m gonna check your range of motion.” He explains and Jimin is all work and no fun. Sometimes you wonder how he can remain so disinterested, clinical at times like this when you feel like your whole body is on fire under his touch.

Your leg is back up in the air and Jimin is moving it in hesitant circles, up and down, side to side and you close your eyes, trying not to gasp everytime he presses your legs closed and tiny shockwaves of pleasure shoot straight to your clit. He never presses down long enough to evoke a reaction but you lay back and relax, enjoying what little intimacy you’re allowed with him.

Everything is good, it’s nice, relaxing, his touch is enough to leave you horny, you’ll probably have to rub one out in your room later but not enough to have you cumming right then and there. Your eyes shoot open when you feel him move in, his hand no longer resting on your leg but on the innermost of your thigh, too high up as he presses down.

Too, too high up. Too, too close to the apex of your thighs.

You cock a brow and in typical Jimin fashion he stares on blandly, cool as a cucumber sitting between your legs and forcing them open.

“Buy me a drink first?” You say a little breathlessly, and joking is your way of coping with this, him, your ego, which was sorely bruised because Park Jimin was more than immune to you and that sucked royally.

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says, but he does it with a small smile, “If you did this on your own I wouldn’t have to do it for you.”

“It’s not as fun on my own.” You comment.

“It never is.” He teases back and it’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to flirting with him. You simultaneously revel in it and chide yourself for still being so head over hills for someone who sees you as no more than an object in his everyday life, like a lamp or the refrigerator. You’d notice if it were gone but you could always get a new refrigerator.

“Okay, I think I’m good for the night! Thanks I’ll just go back to my room an—”

A crack sounds in the room, echoing off his walls, so loud it nearly drowns out the strangled noise you make in your throat. You blink up at Jimin, equal parts shocked and turned on when he rubs the sensitive skin of your thigh, the innermost part he just slapped. Welts form under his soft palm but he doesn’t look the tiniest bit sorry, in fact, he doesn’t look anything. His expression is just as calm as collected as it was when you had first walked in. It leaves you confused, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Did you just…” You gesture between your thighs and Jimin patiently waits for you to continue as he closes your legs back up, letting you know you’re done with at home PT. “Did you just spank me?”

“Take better care of yourself and I won’t have to.” He says softly and you’re searching, searching for something, anything in his face that’ll give you even the slightest idea of what the fuck just happened. But you come up empty, even as he presses on, “Stop skipping lunch to talk to that freshman. Make healthier choices so you don’t have to do extreme diets and stop,” He grips your knee softly before staring up at you, “neglecting your health.”

You nod mutely, when he finishes because there’s nothing else to really say. Jimins been acting weird, very weird these past few days and while every fiber of your being, every natural instinct is telling you ‘he likes you! you love him, offer to suck his dick!’ the rational part of your brain quashes any hope and reminds you how well trying to pursue feelings for your roommate turned out the last time.

“I’m going to bed.” You say dumbly, blinking at him and Jimin nods, not moving to say goodbye or watch you walk out.

You press your back against his door when you leave because Park Jimin would be the death of you, but oh what a way to go.


“Look, I’m sorry okay?” Hoseok sighs, trailing after you as you re-shelf the books you were scanning. Stupid midterm paper. Stupid college.

“Hm, I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re sorry for, unless of course you’re apologizing for interrupting my studying then, I forgive you Hoseok because that’s just the kind of loving, nurturing, sweet captain I am.” You return, back still to the older boy when he rolls his eyes at you, “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I’m quitting the squad.” Hoseok says with a finality that makes you snort.

“‘Kay. Don’t be late to practice today or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you won’t be able to walk much less cheer.” You say sweetly.

“I admit, it’s a bit troublesome,” Hoseok sighs.

You whirl around on him at that, eyes narrowed, “Getting your pubes caught in the sticky part of your pad is a bit troublesome—you quitting the fucking team three weeks before a competition is a lot of fucking troublesome you asshole.”

“First of all ew,” He whines something that sounds dangerously close to your name and you don’t have to turn to know he’s pouting, “Second, you know there’s more to life than cheer! I’m graduating soon and I need to focus on my studies, and start looking into a career.”

“Listen here you little bitch,” you hiss, shoving a finger in his face until Hoseok was going cross eyed, “I can smell the entire bag of marijuana you smoked on your way here. Who put you up to this? Namjoon? I’ll kick your ass, I’ll kick his ass and then whichever one of your dumb friends helped coerce you into ‘lightening your load’ before you graduate. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“But I want to party,” he pouts and nearly eats his words when your eye twitches, “God, you and Jimin are really a match made in heaven, huh? How are two people that are so tiny, so terrifying?”

“Hoseok, you can’t quit we have regionals and the freshman are giving me a fucking ulcer. Where am I going to find and be able to train a base in three weeks?” You implore, pressing a hand to your aching temple.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says and he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. You debate on shoving you foot up his ass for old times sake when he pats you on the shoulder, “You’re a good cheerleader. An even better captain, I know you’ll figure it out.”

“Fuck off,” you glare, shoving a finger in his chest, “if anything weird happens to you this week, just know it’s me cursing you.”

You stand there, with your back pressed against the bookshelf for a good minute, just watching Hoseok’s retreating figure. His shoulders are sagged in relief, like he was just let from under a tremendous weight, one he turned around and perched atop your shoulders.

When you get back to your library table you’re pouting, on the verge of losing your shit in the otherwise dead silent room because why, why did bad things happen to good people? As though you weren’t already stressed from midterms, it was like you had a giant fucking sign on your forehead that said ‘hey, screw me over!’

“What is it now?” Someone hums across from you and you barely have time to register that it’s Nayeon before you’re jutting your lower lip.

And for what it’s worth, Nayeon is a good friend because she stops studying, sets her books and binders and pens aside to focus all of her attention on you. Then she listens, and listens, and listens because it’s only been three days since you’ve seen each other but it seems as though a lot has happened. By the time you’re done debriefing her, she’s staring at you, a frown marring her pretty face and her arms crossed over her chest because—

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” she sighs, carding hands through her hair, “Let me just… let me just see if I follow here, Jungkook the freshman, the virgin you let finger you at the party last week, he wants you to deflower him?”

“No, he doesn’t even want sex—can you believe…! He wants me to date him, so worst.” You correct, “Fake date him to get his teammates off his back because he’s fucking twelve apparently and not immune to peer pressure.”

“And your roommate, Jimin, your gay roommate,” she emphasizes the gay part and you glare at her, “you think you’re starting to… feel things for him again?”

“I mean, technically,” you put a hand out to stop her, “the feelings never really went away, but they’ve just been lying dormant like waiting for him or myself to entertain them and Nayeon, the other day, in the cafeteria he hugged me. He back hugged me. Jimin, the same person who made a six year old cry last year, and then kicked his dad’s ass. I want to die.”

“And Hoseok,” she presses a hand to her head, “the drug dealing cheerleader. He quit.”

“He’s not a drug dealer, he just smokes a lot of weed,” you roll your eyes, “his friend, Namjoon, he’s a drug dealer. I’m gonna kick his ass because he convinced Hoseok to quit the fucking team.”

“And… you have regionals in less than a month, correct?”

“Yes. So you see my problem right?” You whine.

“You have multiple problems, most of which I can’t help you with, being in love with your gay roommate ranks at the top of that list,” she sends you a sarcastic look before snapping her fingers at you, “but the Hoseok thing. I know how you can fix that. It’ll be like killing two birds with one stone.”


“This is so… lame.” Jungkook groans and you slap him upside the head before gesturing towards the rest of the squad.

“Team, I’d like you to meet our new base.” You smile tightly before patting a hand on his shoulder, and pulling something from behind your back, “This is Jungkook.”

“What’s that for?” Momo, a second year on the team frowns and you brighten at her question, bringing the glass jar to everyone’s attention.

“This,” you begin, “is negative reinforcement. Anytime he says something rude, stupid, or offensive feel free to let me know and I’ll charge him, all proceeds go towards new uniforms for the team.”

“What happened to Hoseok?”

“Hoseok decided to focus on his studies.” You say and you barely make it through the sentence before someone’s cutting you off with a snort. “Jungkook’s going to be replacing him.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Mina scoffs, “Has he ever even cheered before?”

“No but I have more than two brain cells I’m sure I can figure it out.” Jungkook retorts and you press a hand to your aching temple, resisting the urge to argue his declaration of having even more than one struggling fucking brain cell. 

“Five dollars.” You seethe and Jungkook only challenges your stare for a moment before he’s reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, shoving a bill in. You cock a brow at him. He curses you before putting in another dollar.

“What’s going on over here?”

It’s a natural response, almost second nature by now, the goosebumps, the heat in the pit of your belly, the chill at the base of your spine. You should be a little more put out over the response Jimin evokes, even after all this time but you couldn’t force yourself to care. Instead you sigh.

“Jimin, this is Jungkook. You two have met before. He’s going to be filling in for Hoseok from here on out.” You explain and brace yourself because Jimin is a lot of things. Complacent isn’t one of them. He doesn’t settle for anything short of perfect and one look at Jungkook has him straightening his shoulders and eyeing you like he’s about to throw you out a window.

“Who says?” Jimin challenges and it’s your turn to cock a brow at him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

“Me, the captain.” You shoot back.

“Did he even audition?” Jimin retorts and you roll your eyes at him.

“Audition for what? It isn’t exactly like we have troves of fucking college kids lined up to fill the spot.” You argue.

“You’re cut.” Jimin says, ignoring you and sneering down his nose at Jungkook.

And Jungkook, for all his complaints and the bitch fit he put up the entire way you had dragged him to the field, didn’t take well to being told what to do. Especially by assholes. Correction, especially by assholes in a matching fucking tracksuit.

“Weird. My girlfriend, the captain,” cue audible gasp from over dramatic cheerleaders, “says otherwise.”

You press a hand to your forehead with a visible shudder because where did this guy find his material? So corny.

“Your girlfriend?” Jimin laughs, and turns his head to peer over at the bleachers before raising a brow at you. You squirm under his intense scrutiny, “So you’re dating the kid?”

“I mean… we’re not not dating.” You mutter and yelp when Jungkook pinches your side.

“What does that even mean?” Jimin implores.

“Like, we’re not like boyfriend and girlfriend it’s just like sometimes he waits for me outside my class and we go to see the newest movies and stuff together and maybe he’ll buy me like lunch on the way and like I don’t know kiss me or hold my hand but not like in a boyfriend way, he’s not my boyfriend.” You rush out and when you glance back up the two boys are staring at you incredulously.

“What exactly is your definition of boyfriend—anal? That sounds like maybe the only thing you haven’t done with him.” Jimin rolls his eyes at you when you slap his chest. He could at least act like it hurt.

“So anyway, let’s start practice!” You clear your throat, pushing past both of them and towards the middle of the field, “Pair up and get started on your stretches!”

Jimin and Jungkook glare at each other even after everyone begins stretching, speeding up your already impending headache.

“I don’t like you.” Jimin comments mildly.

Jungkook snorts at that.

“I’m quivering. Your tracksuit really evokes a sense of fear in a guy.” He rolls his eyes before sneering, “You look like Vector from Despicable Me.”

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve had it with you two and your dick measuring contest.” You hiss, getting in between either of them and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Bet I’d win.” Jungkook sniffs, “Everytime.”

“Yeah?” Jimin tongues at the inside of his cheek, the way he sizes Jungkook up makes the younger boy squirm, “Wanna find out after this?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue before closing it again—he does this a few more times before squinting his eyes and cocking his head to the side at the older boy. “That got really gay, really fast.”

Jungkook turns to look at you, pointing a finger at Jimin before, “Is he—”

“Jar, Jungkook.” You exasperate.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to.” You hiss.

“Fine, homoerotic, is that the politically correct term?” He sighs and you clench your hands at your sides in an attempt to not strangle him.

Not in front of witness.

“Stop talking.” You put a finger up to silence him and then turn your attention to Jimin, “Let’s start practice, yeah? We can be mature about this?”

“Matures my middle name.” Jimin seethes.


As it is, mature is not Jimin’s fucking middle name, it wasn’t even his stripper name because between the jabs he had been making at Jungkook’s inability to pick up on the workouts as quickly, or the way he would send the younger boy a pointed look whenever he wasn’t as flexible as the other guys on the team you were about five minutes from strangling him.

“Why can’t I be her partner?” Jungkook argues at one point when Jimin immediately grabs your arm for stretches.

“Because you’ll fuck around and throw her back out and then I’ll kill you.” Jimin says politely before yanking you closer to him. His movement is only slightly halted when Jungkook reaches out to grab your other arm and your glancing between the two of them wildly.

“It’s not fucking rocket science I’m sure she can tell me what to do.” Jungkook scoffs, tugging on your arm.

“I’ve been her partner for three fucking years, if you want to look up someone’s skirt do it on your free time or pair up with one of the other freshman on the team, you’re wasting my time.” Jimin grits out.

“Why can’t you pair up with one of the freshman on the team, if you’re so experienced doesn’t it make sense if noona helps me instead of you? I also need some experienced help.” Jungkook enunciates.

“Fine.” Jimin says, letting go of your arm and making you stumble, he cocks a brow at Jungkook, jaw clenched, “get on your back and spread your legs I’m your new partner.”

You and Jungkook stare at each other for a beat before turning to openly gawk at Jimin, who was sporting an expression that told you he was bored with the entire conversation and had been tired of Jungkook five minutes ago.

“Take your pick,” Jimin shrugs, “it’s either one of the freshman or me. Personally, I can stretch you out real good—”

“Okay stop.” You say finally, pressing a hand to either boys chest, you level Jimin with an exasperated expression, one that he pointedly ignores before turning to Jungkook, “I’m going to partner with him today, Jungkook, the other girls are really helpful and if you have any questions you can ask me but I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and deviate from routine. Me and Jimin have been working together for a lot longer and it’ll take both of us to be able to incorporate you into the flow of things. It’s just easier this way.”

Jimin shoots the younger boy a smug look, one you want to smack off his face because despite the rush of butterflies Jimin’s current possessive nature was giving you, you knew it was only because he didn’t want Jungkook around. He didn’t want you injured because you were just a stepping stone towards his real goal which was essentially regionals. It sucked and was kind of dick-ish but you knew this about Jimin from the get go, he had never pretended otherwise or came to you under false pretenses. Jimin had a very one-tracked mind and it was currently stuck on the aforementioned competition your team faced.

“Stop it.” You sigh and Jimin raises a brow at you, “You know what you’re doing. You’re egging him on an—unf.”

You wither him with a glare when he positions you to get a better seat between your legs. “You were saying?”

You were really beginning to hate stretching. Especially with Jimin.

“You’re little games not cute and it’s making things difficult for m—shit.” You curse when he presses back on your leg until one knee was pressed against your shoulder.

“Should we work on your flexibility next?” Jimin asks and he’s obnoxiously close to you, his cool breath fanning over your face, but your focus was on his lips. Your throat goes dry when he licks them, his voice lowering an octave, “Or should we do that later? When we’re alone?”

His questions hits you like a punch to the gut and you’re suddenly choking because that almost sounded flirtatious but when you glance up to try and get a read on Jimin’s expression, he’s impassive, unfazed by his double entendre.

“W-What?” You stammer, shoving at his chest until the pressure on your leg gives. Jimin blinks at you curiously.

“We might not have enough time, we could do it at the apartment?” He offers innocently, only Jimin was about as innocent as Satan and you didn’t buy his raised eyebrows and saucer eyes.

A sigh leaves your lips as yourself down on the grass. Tired. So tired.


“Since this discussion has long since been put off,” you sigh before plopping yourself down on an available seat of grass, “I’m opening the floor. I hear that you all want new uniforms so Jimin and I have decided that we—”

“Not me,” Jimin corrects, “just her. If it were up to me you’d all be wearing trash bags to better suit your shitty performance.”

Jimin and I,” you begin again, “have decided to take suggestions and if you guys are really dead set on this then we can work on fundraising too.”

“The current uniforms are fine, the only ones who want to change it are the freshman!” Kihyun calls from the back, garnering more than a few glares and making Jimin snicker.

“They are not fine. They’re gray.” Eunha chimes in, “Like prison cells. Gray is why prisoners are unhappy.”

“Really? I always thought it was the loss of freedom and free manual labor,” Jimin snorts, ignoring when you slap his chest.

“I think new uniforms would be a good look.” Jungkook says, leaning back to inspect the back of your thighs, “I say we take the hem up an inch… or five.”

“Ten dollars.” You say without blinking and Jungkook sulks.

“What about black uniforms? It’s a flattering color! And we could go with gray for an accent so we don’t stray too far from school colors.”

“That's…” You begin hesitantly, “not a bad idea, actually.”

“Oh! Long sleeve tops! I’ve been looking them up online and they look so much more… Professional? A lot of the top schools are going for long sleeve instead of sleeveless.” Eunha offers.

“Maybe if you all started practicing like a top school, we’ll consider it.” Jimin scoffs and groans echo through out the huddle.

“Draw up a design. Get it approved by us and coach and while you’re at it, start thinking of fundraising ideas to pitch.” You say, rising to your feet and dusting the grass from your bottom, “If it’s good and everything works out maybe we’ll be able to get new uniforms before regionals.”

“Practice is over. Go home and stretch, hydrate and ice if you need to assholes, I’m tired of you coming to me with injuries that could have been avoided.” Jimin seethes and you roll your eyes because you think, for a moment, beneath all the bravado he actually gives a shit about the kids.

It isn’t until you’re hitching your gym bag up your shoulder and swapping your tennis shoes out for slippers that you feel Jungkook’s weight being pressed onto your shoulders.

“Can I help you?” You sigh, shaking off his grip and making him whine.

“What the hell was that?” He glowers, gesturing towards the field and when you stare at him blankly he elaborates, “That practice was worst than literally any training I’ve done for basketball—off season included.”

“Welcome to cheerleading, bitch.” You say, slapping him on the shoulder. You turn to leave, and press fingers to your closed eyes when your movement is halted by his grip on your wrist. “What?”

“Can you… you know… help with that thing you offered earlier?” He coughs, rubbing the back of his neck and you eye him incredulously.

“The blowjob?”

“What? No! No! I meant… the routines. It’s just… that… you know Jimin doesn’t like me too much and the stuff we were going over earlier was complicated but I can’t ask him and I don’t want to look like an idiot I just,” Jungkook sighs and it takes every bit of self control not to snap at him, even going as far as to remind yourself that he was doing you a favor. Even if it was only out of debt. He was trying to help.

Which is why you throw your bag down with an exasperated sigh and slip your shoes back on, “Let’s practice a bit then.”


Somewhere down the line you had just assumed, no, hoped that either of the boys would get used to each other. At least enough to be civil. You didn’t need them to be glued at the foreskin but you did need them to not give you a migraine whenever you were forced to be in the same room as them.

“This is shared space. That means no boyfriends after eleven o’clock,” Jimin hissed after one entire evening of Jungkook lounging on your couch, eating a bag of Cheetohs and getting crumbs everywhere. “So get whatever breed of cockroach this is, out of my living room.”

“He’s not my—”

Jungkook cuts you off with a withering glare, pausing the newest episode of Bones to speak around a mouthful of chips, “Noona, can we go over the routine again this weekend? I think I’m starting to forget. I wouldn’t want to choke on competition day. That would suck.”

His threat was so apparent that Jimin’s lips thin, making a move towards the younger boy, if it weren’t for your grip on his upper arm. “Jeon Jungkook, do you wan—”

“Let’s go to my room.” You interrupt, tugging the younger boy up by the wrist and dragging him the rest of the way.

“What was that for?” Jungkook grumbles, rubbing at his wrist as though it hurt, as if he wasn’t a whole foot taller and a person heavier than you.

“Stop pissing off my roommate.” You demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh come on! I’m not even doing anything.” Jungkook glares, “It’s not my fault he has a hard on for you!”

“Trust me when I say he doesn’t,” you snort and glare when Jungkook leans back against your headboard, completely ignoring you, “Besides, all of this was not apart of our deal. Get out of my house.”

“He totally does,” Jungkook argues, disregarding your earlier statement and making himself comfortable under your throw, “I mean, I know girls have a hard time admitting they’re wrong but trust me, you’re wrong about this one. A guy doesn’t get pissed like that unless you’re fucking with a girl he’s into.”

“A normal guy doesn’t,” you correct, “Jimin likes his space. You are intruding on that, in more than one sense.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I’m telling you I’m 100% right.” Jungkook shrugs, reaching over


“He’s wrong.” Nayeon sighs, head rested on her palm as you occupy the seat across from her. Cutting into important study time, again. “Well, not entirely wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crinkle your nose at her and she rolls her eyes.

“He has a hard on for someone, it’s just not you.” Nayeon whispers and your eyes widen.

“No!” You gasp.

“Yes.”

“No!”

Yes.”

“No!”

Yes!” she says, slamming her hands down on the table, and wincing when people several tables over turn to gawk. “I mean think about it. You said Jimins gay right? And that he shows no emotion save for mild disinterest where you’re concerned but suddenly Jeon Jungkook comes along and he’s irritable, territorial, emotional? Jimin is one of those guys, you know?”

“I don’t.” You shake your head, but all your attention is focused on her, you’re hanging on her every word.

“He doesn’t know how to properly express his emotions so he’s lashing out.” she explains slowly.

And it’s like everything suddenly makes sense in the universe, all the pieces click together and your heart feels as though a fat man has just situated himself on your chest. Because, did Jimin really like Jungkook? Were you really going to be forced to sit back and watch him pine for another man, again? Then there was the more jealous part of you, the ugly emotions that lurked beneath the surface that you weren’t ready to address. Thoughts like, do you lie to him? You hadn’t intended on keeping the entire Jungkook thing a secret because if you were being honest with yourself you thought Jimin might try to throw him off the nearest balcony if he knew you weren’t actually dating him. But the more you thought about it the more you wanted to keep it to yourself and it wasn’t exactly lying, was it?

“You’re making the face.” Nayeon sighs.

“What face?” You frown.

“The one you make when you’re having a heated, internal monologue over your skewed moral compass.” She explains.

“I was not…” you lie before plopping your head down in defeat.

You totally were, but Nayeon is polite enough not to call you out on it.


If you had to rank your to do list for the day, telling Jimin that you weren’t actually dating Jungkook so that your roommate who you had been openly pining for for the last three years could swoop in was ranked at the bottom. Right above dying and going to another party with Hoseok’s weird friends. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you’d take death happily at this point, it sounded a whole hell of a lot less painful. Especially when just trying to squeeze yourself into Jimin’s schedule was a pain in the ass.

If he wasn’t on campus, juggling seven classes to complete school on time he was at cheer practice, which wasn’t a prime place to tell him because Jungkook—and if he wasn’t at cheer practice he was at the gym, or asleep and you’d try waking Jimin up exactly once in your entire time knowing him and it was one too many. The guy wasn’t exactly a morning person.

So the gym it was.

“I’m surprised you actually wanted to come.” Jimin muses, fixing your posture before switching out your kettlebell for a heavier one. You try not to glare.

“I figure,” you grunt when he lets go, leaving you to manage the ten pound weight on your own, a small feat when you’ve already been there for thirty minutes and your arms felt like jelly, “you were right. I wouldn’t be a good captain if I started neglecting myself.”

“Hmm..” He hums, and pressed a hand to your exposed belly, “suck this in.”

“So I was thinking,” you pant and Jimin quirks a brow at you.

“A scary prospect.” He murmurs.

“I was thinking,” you begin again, before dropping the weight completely and turning to face him, “about me and Jungkook…. and me and you.”

“Did I say you could stop?” He implores and you roll your eyes at him before switching arms, “What do you and Jungkook have to do with you and me?”

“You’re my roommate.” You grunt, heaving up with all your might. “And you hate him.”

“You’re not wrong about either of those things,” he agrees, “but I’d like to reiterate my first question of what do either of those things have to do with each other?”

“I just…” You try to get the words out but your muscles are on fire and your chest is tight, so instead you throw the weight down with a grunt before turning to him, “Do you like Jungkook?”

“What?” He blinks at you. “You just said yourself I hated him.”

“Yes, okay I know but you know sometimes you say one thing and you mean another.” You shrug.

Jimins expression remains bland, emotionless.

“You’re asking me if I have… feelings for your boyfriend, correct? That’s what we’re getting at here?” Jimin asks bluntly and you shrink under his intense scrutiny.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say quietly.

A long silence follows your statement, in which Jimin stares at you, just stares and you cow under his gaze because well, it’s Jimin and he’s pretty fucking intimidating. You look anywhere but at him, the airconditioner, the weights, the treadmill, all while still able to feel him boring holes into the side of your head and you wonder maybe, if you had over stepped. If you had spoken too soon because granted you and Jimin were pretty close but clearly not close enough because to this day he still never really talked about the whole liking boys things or even relationships in general. It made you wonder just how many people Jimin had dated, if he had asked them out, if he was softer, sweeter or—

“You’re really dense you know that?” Jimin shakes his head at you before walking over to the weights, leaving you there slack jawed and a little bit annoyed.

“Hey! Wait up!” You call after him, but he doesn’t, unsurprisingly. “I didn’t mean it like that I was only asking because I wanted to tell you that—”

“Did you watch that new clown movie?” Jimin asks suddenly and he nearly gives you whiplash with how quick he’s jumping topics. You open your mouth to argue, to tell him you were only asking so you could tell him you and Jungkook weren’t really dating but the glint in his eye tells you not to tread there. He’s done talking about it, and by effect so are you.

“No I haven’t.” You sigh, your body slumping in defeat.

“Good,” he grunts, pulling down on the weights before turning his attention to you. And you applaud yourself because you don’t keel over at the sight of a sweaty, sleeveless Park Jimin doing reps on the pull down machine, veins bulging and muscles flexed. He sends you a look that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking and makes your back straighten indignantly. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“The clown movie.” You repeat proudly, only for Jimin to roll over and flick your forehead.

“Yes genius, but after that,” he sends you a grin, one you’re not used to seeing. He’s teasing you, but it doesn’t annoy you quite as much as usual, “I said let’s go see it. I figure you owe me after that insult you pulled.”

“Wh—” Your mouth opens and the closes before pointing a finger in his direction, “I didn’t mean it like that, if you would just let me explain—”

“Well I took it that way, you’re the only one stupid enough to date that overgrown toddler. And besides, it’s a simple question. Yes or no?” He frowns and you sigh.

“I mean… I don’t really have anything else to do this weekend so..”

“Good to know I’m a last resort.” He snorts and you hide a flush because if only he knew.

And really, if you looked at the entire thing, your situation with Jimin in retrospect it was truly all your fault. Because no matter how much you claim to have both your feelings and heart in check there is no such thing as control when it comes to love. And so you get your hopes, let yourself hope for a moment, with Jungkook’s earlier words replaying like a soft lull. When really you should’ve taken the idiots advice with a grain of salt. Or just not at all.

Family Trip

20m, last year my Father had to visit Spain where another company wanted to merge with his. Having been on the rocks with my Mother at the time he thought it would be best to bring her and myself with him. Thinking this would bring the spark back into their lives he booked a five-star hotel for the month. My Mother and I were more than excited having never been there or Europe in general. We did not know what to expect at all. The moment I found out about this I began looking up things to do while there. Making a list at the very top was to hit some beaches since it was the middle of summer there. My Mother had the same idea packing a carry on bag of just bikinis and towels. When we got there it was everything you seen in movies plus so much more. The first two weeks my Father would be meeting his potential partners during the days working with their company to see how they function and stuff. So it was just my Mother and I, which was much better than their bickering all the time when he was around. Our first day we decided to find a beach so she had me look up the closest one. Telling me she can’t wait any longer to get in the water she didn’t care how nice the beach was only that it was the closest. I found a highly rated one on google and we called a taxi and went straight there. It was mid day on a Monday so there won’t be a lot of people there the driver told us. She was even more excited about this since crowded beaches aren’t relaxing. When the driver dropped us off my Mom had me pay him as she ran off to the beach. When I caught up to her standing at the edge I soon realized what she had moments before. Unlike the U.S. this was Spain and it was very very normal that this was a Nudist beach. My Mom’s face was red and not from the sun and I too started to blush as mature men and women walked around with their privates freely flopping in the wind. She smiled awkwardly at me and I shrugged telling her I had no idea this was even a real thing. She said we should just go out there in our bathing suits and act as if its a normal beach ignoring the other people since there really wasn’t anyone there. I accepted and we found a nice spot pretty much secluded to ourselves. My Mom didn’t waist any time running to the water and diving in as I laid out looking at all of the old women in the distance. I had never seen mature women completely nude in person so seeing their unfit bodies was new to me and surprisingly a turn on. I think that was because it was so new and raw that my body couldn’t say no. Once my Mom got back from the water she laid down beside me to get some sun telling me how nice the water is. I could care less about the water at this point trying to make my half hard dick unnoticeable to her. A few minutes passed and I saw two older men walking our direction. The one was fat with his stomach completely overshadowing his dick and the other very average. They came straight over to us and began talking to us. Unable to understand Spanish my Mom told them and they repeated themselves in English for us. The average guy said, “this is a nudist beach and you must know it is very disrespectful to the rest of us that you wear your bathing suits.” Standing there with very aggressive looks they made it a point that we must either strip or leave. My Mom looked at me with a disappointed look as she tried to reason with me on why we could stay. Telling me she didn’t mind if I didn’t I then agreed. She said to the men that was fine we will strip so they can go back to enjoying themselves. They then shot me some mean looks before going away. Mom then smiled at me and said, “I guess it is no big deal seeing your mother naked”, as she untied her top straps. Watching her ample tits bounce out of the top was more than amazing having always wondered what they looked like. Stunned I never imagined they would be so amazing though. She has a thin waist from working out a lot and around 5'7" with 32DD. She then continued to take off her bottom and looked to see if I was doing them same. I froze since my dick was now hard as fuck and I feared what she would say. She seemed to notice my embarrassment and told me she will go to the water now so I could undress in private at least. Watching her walk away as her ass switched from side to side did nothing to help my problem. So I just pulled them off so those two guys wouldn’t come back. I tried to find a comfortable way to hide my dick, but nothing worked as it struck a flag pole pose. I bet if my Mom looked at it from the water she could have (not saying I am huge) it was just that obvious. A palm in the desert. Soon after she  started to come back and I decided to roll over on my stomach. I could feel her walking up from behind me and her voice call to me, “cute bald ass hun”. I couldn’t help but laugh since she was probably used to the site of my father’s hairy body. We hung out for a while like this and no matter how much time passed my dick wouldn’t go down. Buried in the sand beneath me I could feel it twitch at the sight of every naked woman passing. My mom must have figured something was up as she watched my back change from pale to crab red. Telling me she was going to take a nap she also turned over onto her stomach looking the other direction. I took advantage of this moment and rolled over feeling the sand stuck to my chest and stomach. I decided to head to the water thinking it might be best to cool down my manhood. As I walked up to the water it was super cold on my feet so I took my time getting in. This was long enough for a couple of mature women to approach me asking if I was alone. Watching as their eyes flashed from my dick to my face I knew they were after a young eager guy like me. Feeling flattered they were so flirtatious I played along to see what would happen. They were both easily in their 50’s with bodies to match. Tear drop breasts and average aged bodies I never thought I would find them attractive until now. Must be a mixture of curiosity and hormones. This did nothing to help with my manhood problem as they continued to flirt and one even gestured her hands while talking, which slightly grazed the tip. They continued to do this while asking me all about men in the States. The one even went as far as grabbing the shaft one good time giving it a slow stroke while asking if we like experienced women. I allowed this since it needed some attention anyways. We talked for a couple more minutes as they now tried to get me to come lay with them. Very tempted we were interrupted by another as my Mom come walking right up next to me. Surprise by her presence I nearly forgot I was with her. She shot dirty looks to the women who were much older than her as she took me by the hand asking me what they were talking about. I just told her they were wondering where I was from as she looked back at me knowing full well I was full of shit. She then asked if I would come back and put lotion on her back as the older women got the hint walking back to their spot. I followed my Mom to our spot where she handed me the bottle of cream. She smiled and said, “wow I never imagined my own Son would be a target for such mature women.” I told her it was nothing to worry about as I caught her eyes locked on my hard dick. Looking up she blushed and told me she could see why they were so interested. This was like gas to the fire as my dick twitched having never heard something so provocative. Hearing my own Mother say that drove me so wild I felt my dick swelling more as she glanced at it several more times. I almost busted at the thought of this all. She then laughed and said, “maybe you don’t need the cream, seems like you have enough of your own.” I then glanced down at what she was looking at to see a stream of precum pouring from my dick. Looking up at her my eyes drifted up her thick legs to her stubbly pussy then around her round tits and juicy lips. By the time I got to her eyes I could feel my dick throbbing again and more precum was surely leaking out. She saw my lust growing and then asked, “can we act as if we are not Mother and Son for just today?” I nodded my head slowly unable to speak as she crawled closer reaching out for my dick while keeping eye contact. Feeling her hand grab it drove me insane as she bent down putting it straight into her mouth. I collapsed as she took my length. Swallowing my dick like I have never had it sucked before she was so passionate. I couldn’t believe what was happening as she cupped my balls with her hand and swirled her tongue around my tip. She told me that it has been nearly a year since she has done this with my father and much longer since she had sex. The sound of that word was like lightning through my body. She crawled on top of me and lined my dick up with her pussy. I could feel it dripping wet as she slipped my tip past her lips. My heart slammed as I zoned out on her. She slowly slid it in sitting down on it as I could feel inside of her. It was amazing how tight she was and no surprise since she works out so much and hasn’t been taken by a man in such a long time. I am not going to lie all of the energy passing through me was so overwhelming that I couldn’t last more than a minute before I had to come. She pulled me out and stroked me as I came all over my stomach and her hand. I never came so much and she never seen so much come as she told me this laughing with excitement. Squeezing the last few drops out she complimented me on how hard it still was. I then asked her is she still wanted to continue and oh did she! Climbing on top of me without another word she started riding me again this time much harder. The cum was now spilling off of my sides as she bounced around. She even laid down on top of me rubbing her huge tits all over my chest covering herself in my cum. When she rose back up I could see strings of my sticky cum band from our bodies as she rubbed it into her tits. She was wild and going crazy as she then slid her fingers into her mouth tasting me. I could feel her pussy tighten when she did this as she began to come on my dick. Grinding harder now she moaned with her finders in her mouth while her other hand slid across my stomach only to scoop up more cum to taste. Feeling her pussy surging she came and I couldn’t help but cum with her. Trying to warn her it was far too late I unloaded inside of her. I am not sure if she knew so I kept my mouth shut scared she might flip. When she finished she looked down at me with a bright eyed smile and said, “come let go get clean in the water”. I followed her down to the water where she and I washed the cum from out bodies. I was so happy to see how cool she was about what just happened. We left the beach soon after and spent the rest of the night with my Father. Every day after while my Father was working we went back to the beach and continued our fun as a couple. In the end my Mom convinced my Dad this trip saved their marriage so he made the deal and we now spend half the year in Spain. 


Lance headcanon

Ok so we know that Pidge is a computer mastermind: she hacked into the garrison(probably multiple times), was able to create a complete fake identity, and still created more advanced scanners than what the garrison had.

We know that hunk is possibly a engineering genius: Even if he puts it more to cuisine, he could easily build a rocket engine out of scrap parts. We’ve seen him fix alien power thrusters that he has never seen before, or at least had very little knowledge of.

So why would they place the two smartest people the garrison has seen in probably years, with Lance? Someone that everyone thinks is just an average pilot? Someone who only got into the fighter pilot classes because Keith dropped out? But what if he wasn’t just an average cargo pilot that got lucky like everyone thought?


I headcanon that Lance is a tactical prodigy! A strategic mastermind! That he can come up with some of the most brilliant war tactics and battle plans that would trump any generals ideas for years to come!

Think about him using his gift to help organize some sort of Cuban resistance against its corrupted government( I don’t know the real situation in Cuba, or if anything is going on in Cuba, but just follow this for the head canon…au-ish thing I got going on.) and his plans help the people win against their government, and Lance is just happy now that his family will be safe and happy in their home.

The American government hears about this Cuban boy who pretty much lead the way to freedom for his country, about his prodigy status. And then they find out that the kid wants to be a pilot. And they take advantage of this.

They give this Cuban boy a free pass to America to go to the Garrison to become a pilot, and all he has to do is make battle plans for them every now and then. And of course Lance takes the opportunity, his whole family standing behind his decision to be the best pilot to come out of the Garrison.

Now they put Lance into the cargo pilot class at first, to keep him sated, and for awhile it works out. Lance is doing great in his classes, he’s even #1 in the cargo pilot class, and he sends the government any tactics, battle plans, etc. that he creates. Lance even made friends with his roommate, who is an incredible engineer and friend. But Lance wants more, he doesn’t want to stay a cargo pilot, he wants to be a fighter pilot, so he works harder in school to be able to move up. only problem? Keith took the last placement in the fighter pilot class, and now Lance’s government work is kind of lacking its usual brilliance.(can you blame him? His dream has been thwarted by some guy with a mullet! Of course he isn’t really doing his best.)

But then Keith gets kicked out because of some anger problems. So the higher ups make Iverson move up Lance and Hunk to fighter pilot and engineer, hoping that this will get Lance back into his usual groove. Iverson doesn’t like this, but orders are orders. So Lance and Hunk move up, and Pidge joins the group. But that doesn’t mean Iverson has to be nice to Lance, so he does all that he can to remind him that he’s only there because of Keith.

And then they all find Shiro, then join Voltron, and Lance can’t wait to help the team with his thing! He can’t wait to show them that he isn’t just a good shot, but an even better strategic mastermind! But the only one who really knows about Lance’s gift is Hunk, after long nights of listening to Lance talk in English and Cuban about tactical advantages and every battle plan he’s thought of. The others just think that Lance is just a flirt, who doesn’t really take anything seriously. So whenever he tries to put in his own ideas, he get shut down before he can really tell hem his ideas. It makes him start questioning his talent, and his place on the team.

Then during a mission, things go south. Fast. And Lance tries to offer up his plan on how to get out of there, but again he gets shut down again, something like “ shut up Lance! We’re trying to figure out how to get out of here, we don’t need your stupid jokes!” From who, that’s kinda up in the air at the moment. Then, uh oh! Lance gets captured while their escaping!

And Hunk is pissed. Beyond pissed! As soon as the team meets up to try and talk, Hunk goes OFF ON THEM!!! He tells everyone how Lance is a prodigy tactician and strategic genius, and that if they only listened to Lance than everyone might have made it out safe and Lance wouldn’t have been captured. And of course everyone is now feeling bad that they’ve always ignored Lance or shut him down before he could say his ideas. And Slav is now freaking out, because they have technology that can take information from people’s minds, and if the Galra find out about Lance’s talent, that could be really bad for them.

At first, the Galra do the usual thing; torture, regular beatings, rarely feeding him. But he isn’t spilling anything, so they use that machine on Lance, hoping to get information on Voltron. But when they find out that his brain is filled with incredible battle plans, you can bet your ass that they continue to use this machine to use his tactics against voltron. And all the while Lance is in constant pain, for the machine, from his injuries, and he can’t stop it. He can’t protect his friends, instead the thing everyone has called ‘a gift’ is going to hurt his friends. And he can’t do anything to stop it.

Wow, that was a lot longer than I was planning. but yeah, lance being crazy brilliant. I totally headcanon it. So I hoped you like, and if you got any questions, don’t be afraid to ask them!

Imagine demon!Dean beating a guy up to death because he touched you and he got jealous.

“She’s pretty.” you said softly, trying to hold back the hint of bitterness and pain in your voice. Or jealousy for that matter. You couldn’t blame her, who knew with how many women Dean had been with ever since he became a demon.

“And probably his type. But it shouldn’t bother you now, should it chipmunk?” Crowley raised an eyebrow as the both of you didn’t take your eyes off of the demon playing darts as the blonde waitress gave him another drink with a rather flirtysmile might you say.

“Not now, not ever.” Crowley finally turned to look at you “You are not his girlfriend, (Y/n). Never been, yet you are bothered so much by this. I wonder why.”

You scoffed, turning to glare at him “As if you don’t know. Dean is probably the most oblivious man in the world but you never were Crowley. Why would you use this stupid nickname on me if you didn’t?”

“Guilty.” he flashed you a smile, downing his drink “But he’s no longer the man that you remember, love.”

“Right, so that’s why you wanted me here?” you scoffed “And don’t you dare deny it to me Crowley. You didn’t even blink in surprise when you saw me. You’re letting yourself get caught and sooner or later Sam will come walking in as well.”

“I must admit- the only thing that did surprise me was the fact that moose didn’t come in right after you.” he shrugged “But probably- it’s time to finally put him on track-” he looked at Dean “And make him realize how little he is leaving for just how much.”

“Hell? Oh wow, yes Crowley that really is everyone’s dream kingdom.”

“It is one, nonetheless.” he winked at you and before you could say a thing he had vanished right in front of your eyes. You scoffed at him but didn’t have the chance to question him when you turned your head and your eyes locked with his green ones. And just like always they made your heart skip a beat. Because maybe you were always friends but your love for him was undying.

You held your breath as he set his glass down and raised an eyebrow at you. He said nothing to the rest of them men he was playing with and casually strode towards you “(Y/n)” his voice was as rough but a lot more cold “Fancy seeing you here.” and the smirk on his face made it all worse.

“Is it?” you asked in a low voice and his smile dropped.

“What do you want here?” he asked serious.

“Oh so Crowley didn’t tell you?” you scoffed a laugh “He knew I was on your tracks with Sam, he should be here very soon. I managed to get a lead and thought if I could convince you to come back without him having to hurt himself but… I don’t think there is a point in trying.”

“I told you to stay away.” he shrugged casually, stuffing his hands in his pockets “Not my fault you don’t listen.

“You told Sam to let you go, not me. And I thought there was a chance here but- I was wrong obviously. I’m curious how you didn’t see this coming, or even more that Crowley didn’t speak to you about his plans. Whatever those may be. What happened? Don’t you guys tell everything? Oh no, don’t Dean, secrets are bad, they ruin relationships. We know it better than anyone.” you went from sarcastic to completely serious.

He scoffed, putting on a smirk on his face and rolling his eyes “Don’t care what his game is, I am not his toy. I have my own plans and I’m glad that… he made it easier for me.” he looked

“What do you mean?” you frowned when you noticed the predatory smile on his face “Made it easier by letting me find you?”

“I’ll let you know soon, now follow me and let’s out of here. You’re drawing too much fucking attention with those shorts.” he took hold of your arm, dragging you up as he glared at a few men behind you that had been sneaking looks at you.

“Like hell.” you hissed, snatching your arm from his “Why does it even matter to you? Especially now, I am nothing to you. So what if they look? I am free, Dean, hell they can even touch as much as they want to.” you said angrily.

His eyes darkened as he looked “Let’s go. Now.” he said in a low almost growl but you weren’t having any of it.

“Why?” you scoffed a laugh “So that you can kill me now? Or so that she doesn’t see us talking?” you motioned with your head to the blonde that already had her eyes on you. You tried so hard not to show how much this was hurting you.

“She has nothing to do with this. Come on.” he tugged, holding your hand again.

“Right, of course she doesn’t.” you scoffed “With how many have you been exactly all these months?”

“You’d want to know, wouldn’t you?” a satisfied smirk was on his face.

You didn’t have the chance to speak though because another voice spoke up “Is everything alright?” it was a guy you had seen checking you out ever since you came in.

“Yes, everything’s fine actually. My friend here was just leaving.” you gave Dean a look “How about you buy me a drink and we can talk?” you gave him a smile that made his grin widen.

“Yes, of course sweet cheeks.” he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You’re gonna lose that hand buddy.” Dean growled, and you both stopped before you could leave.

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow “Did you just threaten me?”

“No, I was giving you a friendly warning.” Dean shrugged with a casual smile.

“Yeah, right.” he scoffed, arm tightening on your waist just to mock the demon and for a second you got scared when Dean’s smile completely fell.

“But you obviously don’t listen very well.” he scoffed and before you could realize it he had grabbed the man by the collarof his shirt and pinned him against a pillar.

“And now- you get to see what I mean when I say that you shouldn’t have done that.” and even if you expected it you jumped when he threw a powerful punch at the man. And the another, and another and another without letting him do a single move. You were almost scared for his life when you saw the mark on Dean’s arm burn that angry red as he kept hitting the guy, blood covering his fist and groans and moans of pain filling the bar along with hushed whispers from other customers.

“Fucking asshole, think you could ever have a piece of that?” he scoffed a laugh, punching more “In your dreams!” another punch “She’s too pure and perfect for a bloody jackass like you. You would never stand a fucking chance.” he growled, punching him more.

You could barely make out any of the things he said after that as the sounds were too much to handle. People shouting, some cheering and encouraging him to keep going. And then you heard her.

“Dean, stop!” she screamed but he didn’t listen to her, as he kept punching with groans himself “Stop! You’re gonna kill him!” she screamed but it didn’t seem to have a single effect on him at the moment.

“Would serve him fucking right.” Dean growled, grabbing his bloody face and making the guy look at you “Do you see that? Do you see her?” he said through gritted teeth “She’s great isn’t she? And you’d really want a piece of her tonight but that would be it. You had some gruesome thoughts for her after that though, didn’t you?” he turned his head to look at Dean “Didn’t you?” he roared and he gave him a weak nod.

“Just like I thought.” Dean smirked “For the first, I’d really just break your hand and maybe face. But for this-” he looked at him darkly and your breath got caught in your throat. If he killed him right there in front of so many people he’d draw all the wrong attention.

“Dean!” you screamed “No, no don’t!” you exclaimed and as surprising as it was for everyone, it caught his attention and he glanced at you over your shoulder. You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head in fear.

“Seems like your lucky day, bastard.” he growled “You’re very damn lucky that she can have this effect on me because trust me your death… it would have not been easy. And she would never give you a single glance because you know why?” he smirked in an almost sinister way “Oh you know why.” he laughed, pushing him to the side and he fell on the floor. He looked down at him for a second, smirking before with a roll of his eyes he turned around and looked at the rest of the customers.

He didn’t say a think, he only scoffed at them and walked towards you.

“D” you found yourself whispering as you stared at him with wide eyes “You would have-”

“I should have.” he growled “Hope you fucking understand I am not playing games here, (Y/n).” he grabbed your jaw with one hand and your heart leapt to your throat when he brought his face closer to yours, your lips only an inch away. You knew what he wanted to do but he stopped himself, looking from your lips up to your eyes. He smiled slightly, running his thumb over your lower lip.

“You are mine, and I’ll make sure everybody knows it from now on.” he said in a low rough voice and you frowned. You knew in what way he meant it, you were no fool with what he had almost done but it still confused you. You were always friends and on top of that even if he didn’t care at the moment as a demon… what really held him back from forcing a kiss out of you? IT felt as if for a moment you saw your own Dean flash through his eyes.

“Only. Mine.” he said in a husky voice in your ear and you felt shivers run down your spine when his teeth grazed over it “I’ll wait in the car.” he added and let go of you, almost leaving you to try to recover from the shock.

But you only had another one coming once he’d left and the waitress spoke to you “You are (Y/n)?”

“Why-” your voice was hoarse as you looked at her “You know me?” and the look on her face only said yes, making you realize there was only person that could have spoken about you to her.

Dean. But the real question was why?

Two Months

Request: friend zoning shawn to the point where he is begging to get out #request but rly u were too scared to let shawn in

a/n: HI!! i’ve been working on this one for quite a while and it’s finally done!! yay!!! thanks for being so patient with me everytime i pushed the upload date back lol but anyway, i hope you enjoy!! random side note - my family and i ate 5 pounds of potatoes at dinner tonight lol 

okay now enjoy reading and tell me what you think when you’re done!!

Your name: submit What is this?

- 8 months ago –

          Most people would think that sitting in a back room would be the most unentertaining thing in the world.  But when this back room happens to be filled with three of your closest, and backstage at the LA Staples center, a back room sounds more entertaining than any other room.

           “How long did he say the meet and greet lasted?”  Brian piped up as he threw a red skittle up into the air.  The skittle bounced off his nose and landed on the ground.

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My Puppy | 1

Originally posted by rapnamu

CHAPTER ONE

Chapters: [1][2]

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader-First Person View

Genre & Warnings: SMUT, fluff, pet play. 

Word Count: 4,406

NOTE: Pure Filth. Turn back now if you don’t want to see. Turning Tae Tae into my Fuck Puppy (Thanks, Anon). Soft femdom. Let me tell you, it was an EXPERIENCE writing this, and I am still not perfectly pleased with it. Mostly because I’m never happy with my own smut writing. I had to do so much research, so google probably thinks I’m freaky naughty af. Which I suppose I am considering I wrote this lol. So, for those that are hardcore into this and think I didn’t portray it well enough, I’m sorry, I tried. And I learned quite a bit about myself, like the fact that if I ever get my hands on someone like Tae, I am so going to try this. Now enjoy, and excuse me as I go drench myself in holy water to cleanse myself of sin. 


“You know, I hate the winter. It reminds me of your cold heart.”

My now ex-boyfriend mutters this line, looking into the snowy sky. He sighs loudly and saunters off, without looking back. What a fucking drama queen. I can’t help but snort as I watch him disappear into the light snowfall, and wonder what movie he got that line from.

Cold heart.

I don’t have a cold heart. He was just a damn bore. He never wanted to do anything but watch movies and freaked out if I suggested anything besides missionary. I’ve been thinking about breaking up with him for weeks now but was putting it off because I knew he’d cry. This saved me all the hassle.

Note to self: Don’t date actors.

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Midnight Talks Pt. Three || Peter Parker Imagine

Originally posted by juliechavira

Word Count: 1,322

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Part One     Part Two

He turned and smiled at you, “Hey Y/N.” As the two of you walked across the tile floor together, you started contemplating about inviting Peter to your house tonight. Reaching his locker,you built up the confidence to ask, “Do you want to, maybe, come over to my place tonight to study or something?”

The students in the hallway were quite noisy but all you could hear was Peter’s lovely voice. Not in a good way though. He froze. The girl of his dreams was asking him to hang out. Together. His hopes at spending time with you were quickly shut down as he remembered his new ‘night job’.

“I, I would love to but,“he said while scratching his neck,“I have that internship with Mr. Stark tonight-” He stopped when he saw you blush and look at your shoes. You took his pause as a chance to retaliate, “No, I,um, I get it. Priorities right?” You nervously chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as he just held the door of his locker. You were slowly backing away, wanting to leave the embarrassing situation.“I’ll see you around, Peter.” You turned around, fleeing to your own locker. Peter stood there at his locker, taking out his books. On the soon closed door, he leaned his head against the cool metal, regretting the mistake he just made.


You threw your backpack on the floor and jumped onto your bed face first. Laying flat on your face, you thought about the terrible day you had. You just cried. Rolling over onto your back you realized that nothing ever went your way. The tears kept streaming down your face before you sighed, not feeling motivated to do anything. You decided to wrap yourself in your blanket and sleep.

It was dark outside when you finally woke up. You went and ate your dinner before deciding to call it quits for the day. You practically crawled back to your room. When you got inside the room, you turned around to quietly shut the door. All of a sudden, a clothed hand covered your mouth which muffled your screams of terror and a hand wrapped around your waist. The person removed their hand from your waist to make you turn around. You then came face-to-face with your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He slowly removed his hand from your mouth, as he saw you no longer struggling against him.

You steadied your breath before speaking sarcastically,“Seriously, man? I thought we were friends.”

Spider-Man looked at the ground ashamed, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just, I didn’t want you to scream but, you screamed anyway so it was kind of pointless.” He was fiddling with his fingers. You sighed, “It’s alright, I was just shocked.” The two of you stood there for a minute before he broke the silence.

“I brought you flowers,” he said, pointing to the bundle of flowers that he placed on your bed. You smiled and walked over to get them. “Do you like them?” He asked as he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. You smiled wider as you started messing with one of the flowers, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

He walked over to you and sat on the floor, leaning on your bed like the first time you met. You put the flowers back on the bed, bent down and sat next to him as he put his head in his hands sighing. “You don’t look so happy. What’s wrong?” You asked him sympathetically.    

“I have a crush on this girl, and she is just so amazing. But, I think I’ve ruined any chance I had with her.” He said with a low, sad voice, “I just don’t know what to do.”

You put your hand on his back to be supportive. “I know the feeling.”

Spider-Man quickly dusted of his sad emotions, “How was school?” He quickly composed himself. “Um,” you scoffed out of pity for yourself, “horrible. I think I ruined my friendship with Peter, had a surprise quiz in my least favorite class,and I didn’t have time to eat lunch because I was too busy avoiding my friends.” You were on the verge of tears again. You looked up, trying to keep the tears from falling. Spider-Man looked slightly shocked. The strong girl that he knew was about to break down.

He moved his body to a comfortable position where he could hug the sad girl. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, for the second time that night, and placed his other hand to cradle your head. Small tears leaked from your eyes, which slowly started to soak his suit. You both sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, just in each others company.

You  started to pull away, making Spider-Man pull away too but he stayed in front of you sitting on his shins.“I want you to know, that you’re the highlight of my day, Y/N.  You motivate me to go out and keep helping people, everyday. Without you, I’d be lost.” He spoke with such passion and adoration , placing his hands on both of your cheeks.

You were confused. “But, w-we just met. How can I motivate you if-” before you could finish your sentence, he pulled back. The man looked deeply into your eyes before placing his hands under his chin, on the edge of his mask. He took a deep breath before peeling the mask off of his face.He kept his face down, but only for a second.

He looked up into your eyes. Your mouth was opened slightly, from shock. “Oh God,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. You glanced down at the mask in his hands before looking back up at him. “Peter, what- why- I, how the hell are you Spider-Man?” You asked still in shock.

“It’s a long story. But, everything I just said, I meant every word. You mean so much to me and, things would suck if you weren’t in my life.” Peter said, dropping the mask to put his hands back onto your cheeks. He looked deep into your eyes, and you could see that he meant it all.

“That’s why you said you couldn’t come over.”You chuckled. “I told Spider-Man, that, that I have a crush on you. I literally told you, oh wow. That’s kind of embarrassing.” Saying this made Peter laugh lightly. You enclosed your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. You felt his breath fan out over your skin. He leaned in closer, closing his eyes and tilting his head before crashing his lips down on to yours. His lips were soft, and the kiss was passionate.

The two of you pulled away to take a breath of air. “Wow,” he said, eyes slightly wide which made you laugh.

“Do you want to go out with me, maybe?” He asked with a wide grin. “I would love to Spider-Man.” You replied with a smile mirroring his.


The next day at school, you found Peter, standing alone at your locker on his phone. You smiled with a blush, remembering last night. “Hey.” You said approaching him.

He looked up from his phone to see you, putting the device in his pocket, “Hello gorgeous.” He greeted you as he pulled your hips towards him so he can place his lips on yours once again. He didn’t care that there were people everywhere, he just really wanted to kiss you.

Down the hall, Michelle and Ned stood dumbstruck. “I knew it,” the two teens exclaimed in unison as they saw their friends passionately kissing. Ned pulled out his phone and opened his camera. “What are you doing?” Michelle asked. Ned smirked, “Taking a picture to show their kids.”

tagged dudes

@wiccanjr @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @miraisnotavailable

Sniper Lance!

I really love these types of headcanons! Just…anything involving any type of badass Lance. Thank you @plouffe-dans-leau for suggesting this, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to actually get to it.

•Lance pretty much grew up in a gun range.

•his father and uncle were snipers and took Lance to the gun range as a way of bonding.

•turns out Lance is a natural, and his father and uncle teach him everything they know. They can’t help but be proud of their little son/nephew.

•and as the years go by, Lance just keeps getting better. But he also wanted to fight, like his father and uncle.

•so he signs up for the garrison, hoping to learn to be a trained fighter pilot and make his family proud.

•of course than he gets whisked away by a giant robot lion to fight in a galactic war.

•when the bayard turned into a type of rifle, Lance was so happy, but it was very different from what he was used to ( which is a lot! His father made sure to train him in practically every gun he could.) so when no one was using it, which was a lot harder than originally thought, Lance practices with it relentlessly to get a better handle on it.

•and Lance realizes how much he misses his family. On Earth, he knew that he could always call or Skype, even when he would be able to deploy, he still would have some contact.

•but out in space, he can’t even send a letter to them letting him know he’s ok. (Doesn’t stop him from writing them though.)

•when Pidge makes the comment about him not being the sharpshooter, it definitely shakes his confidence. All his life his father and uncle have told him what a sharpshooter he is, how he’s better than some of the men they’ve worked with. But what if thy were just saying that because he was family (they weren’t. They literally think he’s one of the best.) and it slips in with every other insecurity about his position on the team.

•hearing Shiro call him their sharpshooter does lift his spirits, and helps him regain some confidence in his skill.

•the only people who know about Lance’s crazy skills are Hunk and Coran.
•Hunk has known Lance since they were kids so Hunk heard all about Lance’s skills from Lance’s family.
•Coran accidentally walked in on Lance when he was doing a casual long range training, (in other words, Lance was on a very high level on the training deck and kicking ass.)

•but of course, none of the others really believe that Lance is this trained shooter who could probably pin a fly to the wall with a butter knife with precise accuracy. (He’s like crazy good)

•great, now all I can think about is how his uncle wouldn’t just stick with just guns, he would practice with bow and arrows as well, and Lance just knocking them dead with his crazy accuracy. He’s pretty good with throwing daggers as well, but he’s better with bows and guns.

•Lance joined the archery team. Took them all the way to nationals ( is that something archery does? Not exactly sure.)

Wow, this took a completely different turn than I thought. But now just think about how, during a diplomatic mission, they’re challenged by some nobleman of that planet, either to try and discredit them or to distract them and the other nobles from some nefarious plot. And pretty much only one of them can compete in the nobleman’s choice of contest. Archery. Of course Hunk, the pure ray of sunshine that he is, immediately tells Shiro to choice Lance to do this. Shiro is a bit apprehensive about it at first, not sure how well Lance is with a bow like he is with a gun, but he agrees and lets Lance compete, even though there are some nay-sayers(cough cough-Keith and Pidge-cough). Anyways, the contest is that both contestants must start at a certain distance from the target and with each hit, they have to move farther back, first person to miss the target loses. So they get underway, and Lance is just slaying the nobleman, who is starting to struggle. But Lance sees something is off, and immediately puts two and two together, so instead of the next arrow hitting the target, Lance takes out the Assassin trying to take out one of the royal family.(which Is even farther away from the target, Lance got like eagle eyes, nothing gets past him) of course, there is some panic when this happens but once everyone pieces it together, the nobleman is arrested and Lance didn’t just save a planet’s monarchy, he proved to his entire team that he really is their sharpshooter.


Wow, this got way longer than I thought. I just love these au/headcanons so much! So, if you guys have any questions pertaining to this ^ or to any other au’s I have made, or if you want to give me an idea for an au, please feel free to send an ask! I’m always looking for new ideas for au’s! Again, thank you @plouffe-dans-leau for sending the idea!

watch me (m)

genre ― smut + a bit of fluff at the end, fuckboy!au

pairing ― jungkook | reader | taehyung

synopsis ― Dodging Jungkook’s annoying horny texts was easy but what happens when another boy accidentally joins in on the fun?

words ― 7,633

note : I meshed Play & Play 2.0 together and added a few things. Before I get asked, yes there will another part to this.

extra note : part two


Your ringtone kept blasting in your ear as you tried to sleep before a big presentation. You groaned, cursing yourself for not turning off the volume as you reached for the glowing device knowing exactly who it was. You denied the call thinking,”Why is he so fucking desperate?” You began closing your eyes again until a loud ding woke you up again.

JK (1:57 AM): Why didn’t you answer babe? I want to talk to you :(

You rolled your eyes and turned off your phone, getting back to your much needed sleep.

It was almost a routine with Jungkook, calling you at 2 in the morning expecting you to be down for some sexting. That boy didn’t know when to quit and you should have already blocked his number considering he’s been like this for 4 months straight. But you’ll be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like the attention he was giving you.

Not that you were the only girl, of course, because being the all-star soccer player he had half the school population begging for him. Hell not just him but the rest of the soccer team and you weren’t one to judge because your eyes would wander over to their table every once in awhile just like the rest of them.

Keep reading

Three Is Good Company [m]

Genre : Smut / Threesome 

Summary : In a series of perfectly placed moments you witnessed something you probably weren’t supposed to see.

First of all, you didn’t mean to see it. It just happened. Literally. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time…maybe right place but still, you weren’t supposed to see it. But then why was his door open!?

Keep reading

Don’t Stop Us Now

@softkent ‘s 14 Days of Love fic-a-thon, day 6: ruined surprises!

It all started because Katya decided to have mercy on Eric and let him take morning classes this semester. WGSS120 was an amazing class, Professor Atley had the coolest stories about how postwar industrialization led to compulsive female domesticity, and his seatmate wasn’t the worst thing to see at 9:30 AM every Tuesday and Thursday. He would have almost been dreamy if he had the slightest knack for small talk. As it was, Eric didn’t even have a name to go on, just intent blue eyes and an ass that even the baggiest of shorts couldn’t mask.

One day, Eric decided to drop a hospitality bomb on the guy and see if he could coax a response out of him. They were both consistently early to class, so Eric budgeted ten minutes for a brief chat before class started and turned to Cute Guy with a winning smile on his face.

“So how about that reading, huh? I thought it was fascinating how cake mix became a prestige thing- everyone in my family bakes, and I don’t think we’ve used a box mix in forty years.”

“Yeah,” the guy said, “I think it had something to do with the scientific advancements they made in food preservation for the troops. Shelf stabilization wouldn’t have been nearly as achievable in earlier years.”

Miraculously, once you got onto a clear subject, Cute Guy was actually a decent conversationalist. Eric found himself losing track of time as they dissected last night’s chapters of Marling.

“And the American National Exhibition anecdote!” he giggled. “Who can even tell the difference between Russian and American Coke?”

“I bet it’s easier with all of the Soviet Union breathing down your back. ‘Da, cola of Mother Russia is vkusno!’”

“Nice accent,” Eric told Cute Guy.

“Really? Thanks, I’ll have to tell Geno. He’s always knocking my Russian. He’s, uh, a friend of my dad’s, and we both play hockey.”

“So that’s what your weird doodles are? Hockey plays?”

“Yeah, I’m captain of the hockey team here. We’re not half bad, if I say so myself.”

“Wow,” Eric enthused, “you must be a pretty good skater, then.”

“Yeah, I guess. I could teach you sometime, if you want. I’m Jack, by the way,’ Cute Guy said.

Keep reading

cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

The Mistake (Prologue) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The One With The Pact”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent & Reader

Author’s Note: A few weeks ago, @fillthevoid-stilinski and I were talking about her series, Between Us, which is an excellent Scott/fake relationship mini, and she was like, you know what I want to read? A Stiles/fake relationship fic, and I want you to write it. Seeing as her big TWO-OH is coming up on October 18th, and I also worship the ground she walks on, I obliged her. This is my birthday gift to my Posey, the other half of Eat, and one third of the Puppy Pack, and just my all-around across the pond soulmate. I hope you all enjoy this fake relationship, Stiles mini series. 

Thanks: huge thanks to @ellie-bee242 for helping me finally come up with the idea of how this fic was going to go. I literally would never have come up with this without her.

Series Summary: When Stiles Stilinski and Y/n Y/L/N were sixteen years old, they made a pact: if in twenty years, they were both still single and their friends had all gotten married, they would marry each other. At twenty-six, a turn of events and a wedding, change their entire lives.

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Epilogue

Originally posted by dylanobrienaddicted26

“I still feel bad for Isaac and Kira though.” You said, sitting on the counter in Stiles’ kitchen, eating an apple, while he stared at his open fridge. 

Stiles closed the door halfway so that he could look at you on the other side of it. “Are you telling me you were rooting for anyone but Scott and Allison ending up together?” He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for something to munch on.

“Of course not, they’re our best friends, and they’re sickeningly cute together, and she loves him so much, I wanted them to get back together. I just feel bad for, well, Isaac mostly. Kira and Scott were never that serious, but Isaac seemed pretty into Al.”

Stiles closed the door, not having found anything, and stared up at you, crunching your way through the granny smith apple in your hand. “Yea, well, maybe if he stopped wearing those fucking scarves when it’s the middle of May, he would get the girl.” You smirked and rolled your eyes at your best friend, not indulging his irrational hatred of Isaac’s scarves with a reply. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Your smirk grew into a smug grin, which you broke when you took another bite from the piece of fruit, and then shrugged. “Oh, well then, I hate you, and you don’t get to eat my fruit.”

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The show made me do it....

Hi @tinkdw , @ibelieveinthelittletreetopper , @elizabethrobertajones I wanted to post this to a couple of meta writers / bloggers I follow here re my thoughts about Destiel. 

Firstly, just so you know where I’m coming from, I’m a writer of fantasy/crime/thriller/romance fiction. World building a subtle development of characters is part of what I do.

I watch crime dramas – I’m horrible to watch them with because I ALWAYS work them out – because I PAY ATTENTION to what is on screen, both textually and sub-textually. I also believe that TV is an expensive media and what screen time there is is short. So if something has made it to screen, no matter how small, it is of significance. Writers, directors, actors, editors all felt this was MEANT to be seen. I also believe that just because two characters have great chemistry doesn’t mean they have to be a canon couple. (Morgan and Garica from Criminal Minds is one of the best one screen platonic friendships on screen, I’m glad the writers were brave enough to keep them that way and not push them into a relationship.)

I’m a whoivan so I am no stranger to fandom and there is no way you can be in ANY fandom and not know of Destiel.

Now, until last year I had not seen Supernatural. It was one on my watch list but never got around to it. So I decided to start with series one DVD and see how I got on. And ok, some of series one was a bit shakey, some of the stories not great… but the premise, the backbone of Sam and Dean, their relationship – THAT was great from the start and kept me watching. It still keeps me watching.

As I got to season 4, I wondered if everything I’d heard about Destiel was real. It wasn’t why I was watching, it was the brother’s journey that kept me going. Shippers are passionate, GIFS can be created to emphasize a point, but when those GIFS are out of context of the episode – did they still stand up as “Destiel”? So I went into season 4 open minded. (PS I’ve also had no issue accepting that Dean is a repressed bisexual – hints have been made all along, character building)

Oh.Dear. Lord. It’s real.

But let me take a step back. When watching S4 most of the time I was watching Cas on screen, his intensity with Dean appears to be him trying to work out the man he saved. His orders were to pull him out of hell, put him back together again. He did that, and in doing so he knew EVERYTHING about Dean until that point. He returned him to Earth the same bright souled, flawed human that he was, along with all his loves, fears, hopes and dreams. Everything he was, and everything he hid. His self loathing. Castiel KNEW everything about Dean.

But knowing someone and understanding them are different things. What I see in most of S4 is Cas trying to understand Dean. Because the man he put back together is not the man he sees and knows is really there. (He sees performing Dean before the other important people in his life do.)

Dean for his part mostly looks like his every hidden fantasy walked into the barn that day. And because it’s not a door he’s even prepared to peek through, it’s all unsubtle looks at Cas, his body language screams attraction when his actions say otherwise. (And “The Rapture” was fantastic as showing that he is drawn to CAS not JIMMY.)

S5 was seemed to build more on above, but if their plan was to end at S5 then you could say that they are brothers-in-arms. Castiel the angel that can’t quite figure out the human he saved and Dean the human who never felt worthy of this new friendship/crush, which also left him bemused.

S6, Dean with Lisa. Well this was where I was wondering if Destiel would be ticked to the curb. But no. Dean needed to experience what he thought he had wanted. What he believed his parents had before that November night.  He tells Lisa in S5 that when he pictured himself happy, if was with her – but the reality wasn’t what he wanted. He cared about them, loved them. But when he walked away from them after Cas took their memories, he wasn’t broken.

Cas in this season is clearly falling for Dean. He goes from intrigue and mild jealousy (Anna) in S4/5 to full on heart eyes by the end (The Man Who Would Be King) is just epic.

S7 – despite the reduced role of Cas, it was great for setting up grieving Dean for later seasons. When Cas is lost to the Leviathans, Dean is equal parts upset and angry for Cas’ actions. But in the end he still carried that trenchcoat around for months, in various cars. But he did the same with Bobby and the flask, and there is no ambiguity as to his feelings towards Bobby. For me he grieved the loss of family in both cases and in similar ways – that was until they both return. Dean’s reactions are different to the return of Bobby and Cas. Subtly different, but different never-the-less. (Then you compare the loss of Cas and Bobby in this series to S13? There is NO comparison. He hasn’t lost a friend/crush or father figure, he’s lost the absolute love of his life).

And Cas/Meg? Well there is a great relationship. Two great actors and chemistry, with an obvious set up for a possible “impossible romance” (which could have been enthralling in its own right if Destiel wasn’t pushed in my face 😉 ) but their chemistry worked so much better in the platonic sense.

I’m only half way through S8, Cas is out of purgatory and this is for me when Destiel the ‘romance’ is going canon. Benny’s reaction alone when Dean and Cas reunite is telling. You can see his brain going ‘friend my ass!’.

For the most part, what I’ve seen is subtle acting by all parties, a slow progression from strangers to comrades, to friends and now friends who are clearly falling for each other - it could have stayed platonic with some odd but explainable behavior between Cas and Dean. It is all there, on screen if you look. Now, I may be a few seasons behind but I know what is happening currently and I’m highly encouraged they are showing a deeply complex, touching and enduring love story where the characters have gone on an epic journey to find that love. The genders of those characters means fuck all.

I know for many of you what I’m saying is old news. But I wanted you to know that someone who has only recently started watching Supernatural and went in with an open mind, I can clearly see what is in front of me.The show made me do it. I ship Destiel. They are one of the greatest OTP’s of all time. It isn’t imagined. It isn’t exaggerated by GIFS.

For those of you who have studied this series into the minutest of details (and not just for Destiel) and those of us who are observant and see these small things as we have watched – we are being rewarded. For those who choose not to see, or have their own petty reasons for not wanting see such a powerful love story, well they are the ones losing out on something spectacular.

Wow, this ended up being longer than expected (a theme in my writing, haha!) and it didn’t go into any real detail!

Keep on meta writing and being awesome in this fandom - your blogs make me smile.

Imagine running into Bill when you go for a swim in the lake at night.

You took a deep breath in as you took a look at the lake, smiling softly at how beautiful the moon looked shining over the calm water. You reminded yourself to thank your friend once more for suggesting you take a break from work and stay for some time in her cottage, which you still didn’t know why she didn’t visit that often. Sure, the house was a little secluded, not close to the town and rather closer to the woods but there were still a few houses nearby that people lived in and this gorgeous lake in addition. What more could anyone need to relax?

You took a deep breath in, all the plants around you filtering the oxygen better than anything and making you feel fresh all over again with just a deep breath. You smiled, setting your towel aside on a rock and slowly taking off your shoes and socks, you took hold of your jeans later and took them off as well. Soon followed your jacket and shirt. It was a little cold but you knew the water would be warm enough to make up for all of it.

You were only in your underwear, maybe not the most attractive ones you had or classy. Something to make you feel comfortable anyway. You had not bothered to bring a swimsuit because your friend had not informed you about the lake, but not really caring when you were all alone in the middle of the night and nobody could-

Water splashing and movement caught your attention, and you knew it wasn’t from you because your feet were barely under the water. Your head snapped in that direction and your heart leapt to your throat when you spotted a man standing a few feet away from you, shirtless the very least. You didn’t want to try and look below the waist.

“I’m- I’m sorry!” he said immediately once noticing how stiff you were “I- I didn’t mean to scare you.” he raised his hands, shaking his head.

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Badly

Jungkook x reader

theme:Jungkook and you always had tension between and one time he comes out of the shower and you are in the room…so things get a little steamy

requested by: taetaesbooty

genre: smut

word count: 5.5K


“I’m so excited!“Jimin said suddenly.

Everyone else agreed but you.
“I would be equally excited if I wasn’t fucking suffocating between these two.“you grunted trying to make yourself more room.

“Y/N no swearing!“Hoseok scolded you at what you just rolled your eyes.

Currently you were sitting in a car, struggling between Hoseok and Taehyung, while Yoongi was driving, Jimin sitting in the seat next to him.

“I just don’t understand why I couldn’t go in the other car? There would be room for everyone!“you said, still fighting elbows with Taehyung.

“Because I want my sister to be with me in the car!“Hoseok exclaimed.

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