#like its only 3 syllables i should be able to pick up on 3 syllables. at my skill level. but not with COMPRESSED GHOUL VOICE

[lesbiangiratina]

Trying. Fighting. To put together a missing link testament quote list. Its super fun because all 3 lists i know of have something wrong with them. But 1 of the lists says that 1 of their damage lines is 馬鹿な. Baka na. Thats also 1 of their damage lines in ggx. They reuse a lot of their ml lines in ggx so im willing to believe it but oh my god how did you get that from this fucking audio.

I assume they only got it since its a ggx voice line too. Because this sucks. Their missing link voice is so cute but like this sucks.

#i can hear it now that im listening for it… kinda… #like its only 3 syllables i should be able to pick up on 3 syllables. at my skill level. but not with COMPRESSED GHOUL VOICE #it doesnt help that theres like no inflection on it like its just Noise to my brain. but its fine mystery solved. #btw the lists are. 1 from the 1998 gg message boards. a list on some rando fansite the wiki server found 1 day? and a translation txt file #that gets so much wrong for ml testament its useless to me but ill count it anyway. #the kat goes meow #gg

[startanewdream]

For @hinnyfest prompt #3: Sirius' birthday (or we will just pretend he didn't die at OotP so I can explain this sort of HBP missing moment)

***

The Owlery was at the other side of the castle, something for which Harry had never felt more grateful. It provided him a very valid reason to escape for a few minutes—or rather a few hours if he could spare. That wasn't very noble of him, but between Hermione's cold heartbreaking and Ron's passionate snogs with Lavender, he needed a moment alone.

Only the moment he arrived at the Owlery — appreciating all the thirty minutes he extended for it — he realised his plans wouldn’t work for a very nice reason.

His heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with the stairs he had just climbed. Ginny's vivid red hair was shining under the morning sunlight, wisps of her hair floating with the wind, and Harry would be lying if he'd say she didn't look like a vision coming out of his dreams—in fact, just two nights ago, he'd dreamed they had flown together to the Astronomy Tower, a thousand stars above them, and when they landed, he'd kissed her longly, desperately—

Harry had woken up feeling strangely grateful that he did not take Astronomy classes anymore because he would never be able to explain why that class would turn him on so quickly.

All in all, his creative mind was just adapting the scenario easily enough to the Owlery when Hedwig flew directly to him to land on his shoulder. Somehow, Harry's mind had ignored the owls in his fantasies involving the Owlery.

"Hey, hey, I missed you too," he told Hedwig, very conscious that Ginny had turned to him. 

“Hello,” she said, coming closer. Harry’s heart doubled its efforts in taking him to an early grave.

“Hi.” Two letters, one syllable, how did he manage to croak it in an unreasonable voice? “I didn’t expect to see you here.” There, a whole sentence, and a truthful one.

Ginny smiled; it seemed to light the whole room. Harry’s face burned as if he were too close to the sun.

“I was late to send Mum a letter—I’m a terrible person.”

“No, you are not,” he said at once.

She just shook her head. “I forgot my own mother’s birthday,” she whispered as if confessing a crime. “Between Quidditch this week and all the stress for the OWL’s, it just slipped my mind—but I’m only mentioning the stress for the exams, of course.”

He laughed, some tension easing from his shoulders, rejoicing in how at ease he felt around Ginny. Hedwig hooted with the movement, leaving his shoulder for the top of the nearest cage.

“You could blame me—the awful captain that’s making you work so much that you don’t have time for anything else.”

“Oh, I should have!” She threw him a mischievous grin that made Harry bite his tongue to keep from sighing. “Mum could never stay mad at you. Rather, Mum would have told me I need to practice more so I could be up to your standards.”

“That would be unfair—you are amazing.” Ginny blinked. Harry rushed to add: “I mean, last game—amazing Quidditch player, and the way you just made Smith eat his words—”

“Mum definitely would not appreciate this,” said Ginny, and Harry was strangely disappointed to see she still looked at ease, not picking his hidden feelings. “And what made you run here this morning?”

“Run?”

“Yeah, your face is all red.” Her gaze swept over his face, which did not help with the colour. “Have you run here all the way from the Common Room?”

He swallowed slowly. “Something like that.”

“That’s how you stay so fit?” She winked playfully, moving closer to Hedwig now to pet the owl. Hedwig hooted happily, a sound that Harry almost copied.

“You think I’m fit?”

Ginny gave him a funny look. “Are you that oblivious to the looks you are getting this year?”

“I am not—Looks?”

“You need a new prescription for your glasses,” she suggested. 

“I’m seeing just fine,” mumbled Harry. 

Ginny opened her mouth, but she gave up whatever she was going to say when Hedwig bit her finger gently. “Hey, she’s waiting.”

“Oh, right.” Harry waited for a moment but Ginny didn’t move away. He approached Hedwig, very conscious that his arms were brushing against Ginny’s shoulder as she resumed her caress on Hedwig, her fingers soft over the wings; for a brief, crazy moment, Harry suddenly wished that he were an owl—was it too late to become an Animagus…? “I’m sending a gift for Sirius,” he said, hoping for some coherence. Ginny’s perfume was far nicer than any smell in the Owlery. “It’s his birthday.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I will send him a letter later!” Ginny was beaming, he knew, but Harry focused on attaching the package on Hedwig; his heart was beating so loudly that he didn’t know how she couldn’t be hearing it.

“You are a better godson than I am a daughter," she joked. "What did you get him?”

“What?”

“For his birthday.”

“Oh.” His mind was having a hard time figuring out anything but the fact that they were very close. For all Ginny had said his face was red, he felt that her body was burning. “A gift.”

“That’s what usually one gets on their birthday.” Her voice was teasing still; Harry smiled back without controlling it. Hedwig was ready to depart, only Harry felt that the only way for him to remain coherent was to keep busy with the owl—she is Ron’s sister, she has a boyfriend, we are just friends, almost like brother and sister, only none of his feelings were brotherly at all or cared to whoever she was related to—”Oh, I get it.”

“You do?” He asked urgently, turning to her at last. Ginny’s brown eyes were warm and bright; Hedwig hooted and flew away, but Harry barely noticed it. 

“It’s a secret.”

He inhaled; her perfume was wonderful. “Maybe I can share it."

“Then it wouldn’t be a secret.”

“We can keep it between us, just us.” His gaze fell to her lips for a tiny moment; they looked so soft. “Ginny, I—”

The door of the Owlery opened. Harry leapt back, for a moment imagining Ron showing up with a beater’s bat on his hands, but it wasn’t him; it was Cho Chang, which Harry thought was slightly better, but not by much.

“Oh,” he said, at the same time that Cho said it. She looked flustered; there was a package on her hand but she looked back as if considering just fleeing the scene. “Er—hi.”

Ginny glanced between Harry and Cho, then took a step ahead. “Hi, Cho,” she said calmly. “I’m just leaving, don’t mind me.”

“I’m coming too,” Harry said hurriedly. He followed Ginny, trying to avoid looking in Cho’s direction. A relieved sigh escaped his lips when the door of the Owlery closed behind them.

Ginny didn’t look back until they reached the end of the stairs; they were alone in the hall, but this time Harry’s mind didn’t create any scenario. Ginny’s smile was gone, replaced by an annoyed frown.

“You didn’t need to come with me,” she said.

Harry blinked. “What?”

“If you wanted to talk to Cho—”

“I didn’t.” He fidgeted with his hands. “Things are awkward between us—if anything, I’m glad to have an excuse to just go away.”

“Oh, I thought—you seemed glad to see her, that’s all.”

“No, not really, I just—I just figured it could be someone worse.”

“Like my brother,” Ginny said, making Harry’s heart skip a beat. He opened his mouth, unsure, but Ginny added, oblivious to him: “Imagine him and Lavender coming to snog in the Owlery.”

Harry breathed again. “I would rather not.”

“Me neither, who wants to snog in the Owlery? Not very romantic.”

“No,” agreed Harry even as a part of his mind conjured the image of him pressing Ginny against the rounded wall of the Owlery, owls flying around them like angels giving them a blessing. He shook his head; Ginny was glancing at him, eyes slightly narrowed, thoughtful. 

After a moment, during which she seemed to debate something with herself, she said: “You are really over your feelings for Cho.” There was a smile at the corner of her lips. “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, yeah. You should be with someone who makes you flush for a good reason, not because you are too nervous around them. Well, keep your eyes open.”

“For what?”

“All those who think you are fit, remember?” She patted him lightly on the shoulder, walking ahead.

Harry watched her figure for a moment, sighing quietly. Then he ran to join her. “I’m seeing very well,” he whispered, but he didn’t know if Ginny had heard him.

#hinnyfest #hinny fanfic #hinny #prompt 3: Sirius' birthday #I may have cheated a bit but the date just added so perfectly

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x Oc) Chapter 5

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3    Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

“Well, this is confusing.” 

Namjoon was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head and Jungkook grunted from where he was trying to deadlift the 250lbs barbell, dropping it back down to stare at his friend. He’d never been able to deadlift this much. But then, today everything about him felt different. His senses heightened, vision sharper and just a lot  more energy than usual. 

“What?” He snapped, slightly annoyed because .... well, he had no idea why he was so annoyed. And that only added to his already foul mood.

“You look like you had a good night. A  really  good night but you’re also acting like you really need to get laid. So I’m trying to figure out which it is?” Namjoon frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 

Jungkook groaned , grabbing the small towel from the chair and soaking up the sweat dotting the back of his neck. He walked over to the water dispenser in the corner of the gym, pouring himself a glass, tipping it over his head and shaking out of his hair as the water dripped down his face and neck, drenching his sweat soaked tank top even more. . 

Somewhere to his right, one of the ladies on the treadmill, tripped, crashing in a heap on the machine and he couldn’t help but smirk. She had been staring at him the entire time. 

Jungkook was used to attention. He was used to the stares and the lust and the heightened heart rates he induced . It had been bad, even in his days as a human and now, five centuries later as a powerful vampire , it had only grown. 

He was handsome. He was fit and he was a good guy. It was only natural that women wanted him. And he was okay with that. It gave him the luxury of being able to pick and choose, who he wanted in his bed. And he did. 

Not that he did it often. With Joowon to care for, Jungkook often went months on end without sex and that was okay. Because the kind of sex he usually had, it was just ...a release. There was nothing intimate or personal about it. 

Even with Helena it had been the friendship that had appealed to him.

Helena was ...fun. She liked to sail through the world, doing as she pleased and taking lovers everywhere. No one could keep her in a place for long and no one could ground her. There had been a time when he had thought that he was in love with her but that was just Helena. She made you feel like you couldn’t live without her. Because of how much happiness she imbibed in the moments. Because of how non judgemental and kind she was. 

And he loved her. But now , centuries later it was the love of a dear friend. 

But with Sera..... it had been something else. 

He had a way he did things. 

A little kissing , a little foreplay and just a whole lot of fucking with multiple orgasms for everyone involved. He had a quick refractive period and supernatural stamina so of course he was going to take advantage of that. 

But none of that had happened last night. 

The actual sex had lasted a scant few minutes. He hadn’t even been inside her more than five minutes and yet the memory was seared into his head. The phantom warmth of her still around him and the scent of her still tugging on his senses. 

And the taste of her. 

Fucking hell. 

Jungkook had never fed from someone during sex. He just didn’t because drinking from someone , taking their life essence...it just...it was something incredibly intimate. It was important to him. Jungkook hardly ever fed from humans , opting to visit a blood cafe for a drink or a dispensary for a few blood bags when he needed to feed. 

But last night. 

“Earth to Jeon Jungkook.” Namjoon’s voice pulled him to the present. 

He stared at his oldest, dearest friend. 

“I slept with Sera.” His voice cracked on the syllables of her name, his tone dripping with regret and Namjoon stiffened. 

“You... what? “ He stared at him in disbelief. 

Jungkook groaned. 

“Fuck... I drank from her too. “ He buried his face into his hands. 

“Jungkook, that’s... “

“It was her first time. “ Jungkook looked up at him, eyes wide and helpless and Namjoon’s jaw came unhinged. 

“Are you going to tell me you’re the pope next? Because my heart can’t take it...” 

Jungkook groaned.

“I’m such a fucking idiot. It was supposed to be a no strings attached thing. “

Namjoon’s gaze softened. 

“Dude, a girl’s first time? Of course she’s going to get attached. Did she like confess?” 

Jungkook hesitated.

“No. Actually, she just got dressed and left.” He shrugged. 

Namjoon frowned. 

“Oh, then that’s good right?” 

Jungkook felt a little sick. He remembered how empty his bed had felt, after she’d kissed him and slipped back into her clothes and rushed back to sleep in her own bed. He hadn’t even helped clean her up because his limbs had felt a bit like jelly. He’d been punch drunk with the taste of her, his head swimming and his body thrumming and she had practically skipped out of his room, not a care in the world. 

Hadn’t even kissed him good bye. 

“Yeah. Good. “ He said hoarsely , head pounding . 

Namjoon was staring at him .

“What ?!” Jungkook snapped, foul mood returning with a vengeance. 

“Oh my God. “ Namjoon began laughing. 

Jungkook stared at him...What the fuck was wrong with Namjoon.

“You’re the one who got attached.” Namjoon’s eyes were wide as saucers, his fingers pointed right in Jungkook’s face. 

The younger yelped, stepping back. 

“No.. I.. what?!”

“You look so upset that she left you after sex... I’ve seen that kicked puppy look before. You wore that same face when Joowon didn’t cry on his first day at school!! ‘ Isn’t he gonna miss me hyung?” You whined... i remember that fucking face Jeon jungkook!!!” 

 Namjoon was on the floor now, guffawing and clutching his sides. 

Jungkook glared at his friend. 

“What the fuck...no i did not!!” He swore. 

Namjoon merely continued laughing.

“Oh, the sweet sweet taste of karma. Serves you right Jeon Jungkook, considering the hearts you’ve broken over  the years.” 

Jungkook glared at his friend. 

Namjoon had no fucking idea what he was on about. Him? Catch feelings ? 

Like hell. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t find her . 

And when he realized why he couldn’t find her, he couldn’t believe it. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone on a date?” He snapped at Jimin who gave him an unamused look.

“I’m your hyung, you bastard!” The shorter male yelled and next to him his wife rubbed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“What Jimin means is that, Yugyeom came by earlier when she was getting changed for dinner...” 

“He came into the room when she was getting changed?” Jungkook stared in disbelief, “ What the actual fuck...”

Jimin choked and Somi let out a giggle.

“That’s not what I meant. Sera came back to the room after closing up the daycare and Yugyeom texted her.... that he wanted to pick her up for dinner. She agreed and told me to tell you that she’ll be back at around eleven...” 

“Where the hell did they go? I need an address.” Jungkook snapped. 

Jimin stared at him like he’d spouted latin. 

“what?” He gaped. 

Somi held a hand up.

“Yugyeom’s an old friend of ours. He took her out for dinner, that’s all. She’s been out with him before ...Don’t worry Jungkook ssi... She’s perfectly safe with him.” Somi said quickly.

Jungkook merely shook his head, glaring at the pair.

“You should know better than to do this. You know how fucking good she smells to vampires. How could you send her out of the estate without security....in the company of a Kim , no less?  I am right here... It’s literally my job to be with her at al times.. Its what I’m paid to do.... ..why didn’t you tell me...” He shook his head. 

Jimin and Somi exchanged looks. 

“You’re certainly very dedicated to ....your job.” Jimin frowned. Somi meanwhile was holding a hand up and giggling behind it. 

God, he couldn’t carry on a conversation with two people who acted like literal children. 

He had to go find the Chief. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook blinked.

Once . Twice. 

“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?” He said sharply. 

Chief Hwang gave him a confused look. 

“I said , you can stay back today evening and help me with the accounts Jungkook-ah.I do know that Sera’s going for dinner with Yugyeom and well, I really need help with the balancing . I think the gardener has been playing fast and loose with buying germanium seeds and charging them as Lilies . Is he pocketing the difference or is there something else going on...” 

Jungkook, who really couldn’t give two fucks about germaniums or Lilies , merely stared at the patriarch of the clan, trying to decide if the older man was joking because how on earth was he supposed to just....

“Let her go on the date alone? Without me?” He asked, his tone screaming that he wasn’t okay with that.

 At all. 

Chief Hwang hummed.

“Yes of course... I’ve known the boy for two centuries. He’s a good man. “ 

“You’ve known me for five centuries.” Jungkook reminded him , instinctively.

 And then he blinked because why on earth had he said that? 

Chief Hwang had an amused look on his face. 

“Yes of course. And you’re a very fine young man as well, Jungkook. Too bad you think Sera is like a daughter to you....” 

Wait. 

What? 

Was the older man teasing him? Jungkook could’ve sworn he saw a hint of mischief in the vampire’s eyes. 

“Don’t you?” Chief Hwang asked. 

“Sir?” 

“Don’t you think of her as a daughter, Jungkook-ah.? Isn’t that what you told her?” 

Jungkook had the sudden terrible feeling that Sera told her father  everything. 

 “Uh..it was just an expression sir. She’s a good ... friend.” He finished. 

Chief Hwang hummed thoughtfully. 

“I see. Well, Yugyeom thinks she would make a wonderful mate. “ He shrugged.

Jungkook felt his fists clench. 

“I still think I should be there sir... Just to... make sure she’s safe. It’s kind of my job.” He said gruffly. 

“Are you sure? Germaniums and Lilies are vastly different and for the gardener to-”

“Sir to be very honest I don’t really care about the damn flowers. Sera needs to be safe and I’m not letting anyone hurt her on my watch. So I’d really appreciate if you tell me where she is....” Jungkook said sharply. His heart was pounding. 

Chief Hwang gave him a thoughtful glance, his lips quirking up in a smile. 

“ Looks like I’ll be planning a wedding after all.” He chuckled thoughtfully and Jungkook frowned, confused.

“Sir?” 

“Let me put you out of your misery, Jungkook ah... She’s having dinner at the Hyatt Resort.... The private conference room on the seventh floor. Yugyeom reserved it for her.” The older man glanced at his watch and smiled, “  There’s a fire work show in exactly half an hour. Sera loves those.... If you leave right now, you can interrupt them right on time. “ 

Jungkook blushed , blood rushing to his face. 

“Sir.. I’m not.. I don’t...want to interrupt.” God, he sounded fake to his own ears. 

Chief Hwang waved him off with a laugh. . 

“Go on go on..And maybe buy me some patbingsu on your way back..!! “

Jungkook stared. 

“Uh yes sir. “ 

“Good. Close the door on your way out, son.”  

Jungkook closed the door, trying to ignore the way warmth flooded his heart at the way the man had addressed him. 

 Son. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S nOTE : a short chapter because I wanted to write something from Jungkook’s point of you...also Chief Hwang playing cupid is my favorite thing ever...

@ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo  @sumzysworld   @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon

@preciouschimine

Please come scream with me... 

#jungkook #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #bts fics #bts smut #bts fanfics

[maliby]

Taste of Little | pjm (M)

↬ Pairing: Jimin x Fem Reader ↬ Story Genre: fluff with a spread of smut ↬ Warnings: explicit language, explicit sex scene, mentions of cheating, body insecurities ↬ Word count: 4.2K ↬ Summary: It was yours and your boyfriend Jimin’s first anniversary, aka the night you were finally going to have sex. Every thing was going fine until he simply leaves you high and dry; turns out Jimin is hiding a little secret that he’s too scared to tell you. Will your love for him be bigger than that?

                               For: The Intimacy Anthology Project

“Excuse me, are you Y/N?” A handsome stranger asked as he approached your table that was conveniently close to the exit so you could bolt if anything went wrong.

“Yes, I am, and you must be Jimin right?” You stated as you looked at the black hoody Jimin said he’d be wearing.

“Yes,” he smiled. His smile was so sweet and warm that you swore he could make a rockfall in love with him just with that smile alone.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

It’s been exactly one year today since you first met Jimin at the same cafe you were in right now - the ‘Aroma Mocha’. 

At first, when your friend and roommate Jenna had set you up to go on a blind date with him you didn’t really want to go. The reason was that you had sworn off guys ever since your last relationship ended with your ex choking on another man’s dick on your couch wearing your lingerie. So, when your friend came up with the suggestion of getting back out there you had shut her down immediately. It wasn’t until you lost some stupid bet over Jenna banging an idol that you were “obliged” to go on a date with her coworker Jimin (something that now made you thank your lucky stars every day).

“You’re late mister,” you pointed to your watch as your handsome boyfriend walked in in a rush.

“I’m so sorry baby,” he said before tenderly kissing your lips. “Happy anniversary,” the smile on his lips reminded you of the very first time he smiled at you, in this very cafe, and, the very first time he ever made your heart race.

“Happy anniversary.”

“Namjoon was attempting to cook dinner for Jin and he almost sliced his finger off so I had to take him to the hospital,” he took off his denim jacket as he sat opposite you. He then picked up the menu and looked through it, searching for something to order.

“I swear Namjoon needs a babysitter, doesn’t he know he’s not allowed near sharp objects without supervision?”

“He wanted to surprise his boyfriend but, if you want my opinion, Jin’s lucky he wasn’t able to finish that monstrosity of a meal.”

You chuckled. “Well, Namjoon isn’t the only person who prepared a surprise for their boyfriend,” you smirked, amused with his curious expression.

“Oh yeah? What did my beautiful girlfriend prepare for me?”

“Well, if I told you now it wouldn’t really be a surprise now would it?” You reached over the table and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

Jimin and you hadn’t had sex yet. At first, it didn’t really bother you much because you were not one to rush things and, since Jimin was a little bit shy, you wanted to respect him but now you were starting to second guess yourself. Your inner voice kept whispering you thoughts like: “he doesn’t find you physically attractive” or “he’s cheating on you with other people”, something you admit may come from the trauma of your past relationship. So, with your 1st anniversary coming up you thought that it was now or never. You decided to shoot for the stars and bought an expensive lingerie set in your favourite colour, that you were wearing at that moment.

After your cafe date, you had arranged a little picnic-style dinner at the beach, where you watched the summer sunset together. After that, you went back to your place - since Jenna was out of town and Jimin lived with Namjoon - excused yourself to the bathroom (where you were currently at) and got ready to put your ultimate plane of seduction in action.

You took off your dress so you were just in lingerie, brushed your teeth twice, put some deodorant (just in case) and exited the bathroom, ready to put on a show.

“Hey baby, I poured you a glass of-” the pair of glasses he was holding shattered on your wooden floor, its content spilling all over to the nearest carpet, “-wine.”

You smiled. This was exactly the reaction you wanted, a reaction so good that immediately made you forget about all your doubts and fears - he wanted you.

“You like it? It’s just for you,” you teased as you gave a little twirl so he could fully observe you.

“You look...fuck.”

His jaw was locked, and his eyes scanned you up and down as you slowly started to shorten the distance between the two of you. As soon as you reached him though, he did something completely unexpected.

“Jimin, what are you doing?” You followed him to the kitchen where he had run to pick up napkins.

“We need to clean this up before it ruins your floor, or you hurt yourself,” he rambled on as he went back to the place of the accident. It was almost like he was trying to avoid you.

“Jimin,” you slouched down and grabbed the hand that was picking up the broken pieces of glass, making him stand up again, “I don’t give a fuck about the glass. I just want to have you.”

You placed your hands on his chubby cheeks and softly kissed him. 

At first, it took him a while to relax and give in, but as soon as he started to kiss you back the intensity of the kiss immediately changed.

You guided him to your bedroom without ever breaking the kiss. While your hands were busy tugging at his brown locks his own were hoisting up your skirt so they could grab your ass.

“Take your shirt off,” you said after he threw you on the bed.

Your loins were on fire, they were burning for him, aching even. You had seen him shirtless before but this time you felt like you almost couldn’t control yourself. Your eyes examined his delicious chocolate abs and wondered what it would be like to kiss and lick them and to keep on going until you reached his cock.

You wanted to please him so badly, you wanted to hear him moan your name, you wanted to watch him come undone, you wanted to watch his facial features contort in pleasure because of you, you wanted it all. 

He got on top of you and you both started making out once again. 

“I want you so badly Jimin,” you said as you flipped your positions and got on top of him. He didn’t answer, but you could tell by the tiny moan that escaped his mouth and the way that he squeezed your thigh that he was excited.

First, you started to kiss his neck and then you made your way to his abs, running your tongue through the defined muscles. Your hands started working on the button of his jeans and you could feel him tense up. You thought it was probably just from the excitement or something, but as soon as your mouth started to descend towards his nether region he suddenly pushed you off and got up.

“Is everything alright?” You asked out of worry, being scared that you had crossed some sort of line for him.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I- I need to go,” he buttoned up his pants and put his shirt back on. 

“Jimin, did I do something wrong?” Suddenly, your whole world dropped and all your insecurities came flushing back in at once, tears starting to build up in your eyes.

“No, it’s just...fuck, I need to leave,” he turned away from you, put his shoes back on and left, leaving you a heartbroken mess on your bed.

“Honey I’m hoooome!” Your roommate Jenna yelled as she returned home from her week-long vacation in her hometown. 

Her loud voice woke you up, but it wasn’t like you were having a nice sound sleep; nightmares, as well as crippling thoughts of the man you loved cheating on you, had plagued you for the past week. 

“What are you still doing sleeping at noon and why aren’t you coming out to great your roomy?” You heard her enter your room but remained immobile under the cocoon your sheet provided.

“Get out of bed you lazy ass!” Jenna dragged the sheet that was hiding you all the way back and exposed you to the sunlight coming from your previously shut blinds.

“Jennaaaaaa,” you whined while trying to reach for the sheet, but she had pulled it way too far.

“Y/N, it stinks and you look like shit! What the fuck happened while I was away?”

“Nothing,” you lied.

“What did Jimin do?”

“How did you know?”

Sometimes you were amazed at how well Jenna knew you but that’s what 3 years of living together can do for you.

“Because I left you alone in the house on your anniversary with Jimin and instead of smelling like sex it smells like death,” she pointed out, matter-of-factly with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sighed, burying your face back on your pillow.

“Y/N, what happened?” Jenna sat on the bed right next to you and pet your unwashed hair in a comforting gesture.

“I think Jimin is cheating on me.”

“Jimin?” You hummed. “The Park Jimin?” You hummed once more. “Y/N, I don’t believe Jimin would ever do that to you. First, because he’s not the cheating type, and second, because he loves you, like a lot. Like, I get diabetes just by the sweet way in which he looks at you-”

“We’ve never had sex,” you interrupted her train of thought as you finally lifted up your head from your pillow to look at her.

“What? Never?”

“Nope,” you popped your last syllable to give emphasis.

“Okay but, that doesn’t really mean anything. You know Jimin can be a little shy at times. Maybe-”

“I thought that too,” you interrupted her once more, “and because of that, I decided that, on the night of our anniversary, I would be the one to initiate it. So, after a lovely time on our date I brought him back here, excused myself to the bathroom and came back out wearing a lingerie set so hot he dropped the fucking wine glass on the floor. You should have seen the way he was looking at me, he totally wanted it. Then, after a heated make-out session, he suddenly stops everything and leaves.”

“What? Oh no...and you guys haven’t spoken since?”

“No. He tried calling, but I ignored him.”

“Y/N…”

“I know what you’re going to say, that I need to be a grown-up and talk it through, but what if he’s going to tell me that he doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What if he tells me that he’s gonna leave me for another one? Or that maybe he’s into dudes now.”

“Jimin is not your stinking ex,” Jenna pointed out. She had never really liked your ex-boyfriend.

“I know, but still…”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough! You are gonna get up, take a shower, because you fucking stink, and then, after we have lunch, we’re going to Jimin’s soccer game with the guys and you’re gonna talk to him there, am I clear?!”

“Yes, mom…”

“Aish these kids…” you heard her say as you made your way to the bathroom.

When both you and Jenna arrived at the game, the second half had already started. There weren’t many people there - since it was purely an amateur game between friends - and since you didn’t want him to see you just yet, you and Jenna just stood behind a tree, enjoying the shade it provided.

Usually, your boyfriend was the best player, scoring numerous goals that led his team to victory, but today it looked like he wasn’t even there; he’d missed almost all of his passes, accidentally scored an own goal and almost got himself kicked out of the game. 

“I’ll be in the car waiting,” your friend told you as soon as the referee whistled to end the game, “take your time.”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

You gave her a small hug of gratitude and waited till everyone was in the locker room so you could wait outside for Jimin. What you weren’t expecting though, was to be able to listen to every little thing the boys were saying inside.

“What’s up with you today Jimin? If it wasn’t for Jungkook we could’ve had a way more embarrassing result than losing 3-2!” You recognized the voice of his roommate Namjoon - he clearly wasn’t happy.

“It’s nothing,” Jimin’s voice was so low that if he wasn’t right next to the window that was also next to you, you wouldn’t be able to hear his response.

“Did you finally have sex with Y/N?” A voice you recognized as his friend Hoseok asked, putting you in a state of hyperawareness. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, you could feel your blood pumping at a rapid pace and you could feel your hands shaking from the nerves. Whatever happened next, you would know the whole truth about you and Jimin. His answer would reveal everything. For sure if he was banging another girl his friends would know. Aren’t guys known for spilling out everything in the locker room?

His answer never came though.

“So that’s why you’re such a mess today. Did she react badly to the size of your dick and ran away?” Hoseok’s voice sounded again.

You were beyond shocked. Wherever you thought their conversation was going, you were clearly wrong. Never in a million years would you imagine that the reason Jimin acted the way he did was because of his insecurities.

“No...fuck. I-I was the one who ran away.”

“Shit man,” Hoseok answered, his voice getting closer to where you were standing, probably coming closer to comfort Jimin.

“Now she’s not answering my texts or calls, I’m scared I screwed it up forever,” he sighed.

“Jimin, just talk to her. Y/N loves you, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Namjoon reasoned.

“And what if she doesn’t want to be with me because I can’t please her like a normal guy?”

You turned around and left for the car, not being able to hear more.

Of all the times you had imagined the reasons why you hadn’t had sex yet, never once had crossed your mind that that reason was the size of his penis. Of all the times you felt insecure about yourself, never once had crossed your mind that the man you loved was the one feeling insecure. For all of that, you felt like a piece of shit; for pressuring him, for doubting him, for everything.

You wanted to tell him then and there that you loved him more than anything and that you didn’t care about the size of his penis, but most of all, you wanted to tell him that you were sorry for pressuring him.

That same night you wanted to surprise Jimin and apologize to him. So, after texting his roommate explaining everything that had happened that afternoon and asking if you could come by, he promptly told you that he’d gladly go on a date with his boyfriend to leave you two alone. Thus, when dinner time came and Namjoon left, you picked up a couple of pizzas, a bottle of wine, and went to Jimin’s place. 

You knocked on his door and at first, he didn’t answer, but after insisting once more he finally opened the door.

“Namjoon I swear I’m gonna nail the keys to your hands- Y/N.” The way in which Jimin was looking at you right now reminded you so much of a lost puppy that you just wanted to drop everything and hug him tight.

“I thought we should talk. I brought pizza and wine.” Jimin stood in front of you with his mouth agape, not saying anything. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside to let you through and you walked to the kitchen to place the pizzas and the wine on the table.

“Namjoon just left-”

“I know, he offered to once I told him I was coming,” you put the food on the table and turned to him.

“Y/N... I’m so sorry I left the other day. It’s nothing to do with you, I love you. It’s just…”

“Jimin, I know.” You grabbed his hand to comfort him.

“Y-you know?”

He looked so adorable when he was confused. You looked at the way he wide opened his eyes and you just melted inside.

“I went to see you play today and, at the end of the game, I waited for you outside the locker room so we could talk and I heard everything you guys said.”

“You heard? So, you know? Fuck, I’m so sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you it was just-” You kissed him.

“Jimin, I don’t care that you have a small penis. You could have a wind chime for a penis and I wouldn’t mind, you know why? Because I love you with all my heart.” You placed your hands on his chubby cheeks in a tender gesture and ran your thumbs over his skin.

“I’m so sorry I put that kind of pressure on you. I should’ve known that you weren’t feeling it and-”

“Wasn’t feeling it? Fuck Y/N, do you know how much I wanted you at that moment? Do you know that you almost ended me when you came out of the bathroom looking like that? Trust me when I say that leaving you that night was hard as fuck and also, something I’ve regretted ever since.”

After soulfully looking into each other's eyes you embraced one another. You nuzzled your head in his neck and just stood there smelling his Hugo Boss perfume. The hug was a healing one, like all that you’ve been through for the past week had just been erased by his strong arms.

Jimin pulled back from the hug so his lips could meet yours, passion flowing right through you. The kiss quickly got more heated as his hands started wandering all over your body, making the temperature rise.

“Baby,” you pulled away and looked right at his glazed eyes, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-”

“I want to.” He placed a soft kiss on your lips and led you to his bedroom where he started to remove his t-shirt, showing you his glorious abs.

Not wanting him to feel left out, and to give him some type of security, you also started to remove your shirt, following it up with the rest of your outfit until you were completely naked on his bed.

“I am so lucky,” he stated as he observed your naked body on his bed.

His half-naked body soon was on top of yours, his mouth worshipping your skin with sweet and tender kisses. He started at the neck, moved through your chest (teasing your nipple a little bit with his tongue), down your stomach and straight to your dripping centre.

“You’re so beautiful,” his eyes were fixated on yours as he licked your pussy, paying special attention to your small nub.

This was the first time Jimin was eating you out, the two of you only having gone to second base. From all the times you envisioned his head between your legs you had to admit you only imagined the best; Jimin was by far the best kisser you’ve had, not only because of those luscious lips of his but also because he had a very skilful tongue that he knew how to use in just the right amount. So, to say that he exceeded your expectations was putting it lightly. He was fucking knocking your metaphorical socks off.

“Fuck Jimin, just like that.” The way his wet tongue was circling your clit made you grab a handful of his dark brown locks so he could get even closer to you.

You were getting in such a euphoric state that you almost felt like something was taking over you; especially when he inserted a finger inside you. One minute you were biting your lip as hard as you could, the other you were almost pulling out his bedspread and in the next you were massaging your breasts to enhance your pleasure; an act that, in tandem, made you cum on your boyfriend’s mouth as you screamed his name.

“You were so good at that baby,” he climbed back up on top of you and you pulled him in for a quick kiss, the taste of your juices being all over his lips, “that was the best oral sex I’ve ever had.”

“Well, you know. I needed to get good at that since, you know…”

Your heart completely dropped, not thinking about the possible implications of your words. You felt so bad for him, you wish you could make all of this go away for him.

“Baby, don’t say that,” you placed your hand on his cheek, “size doesn’t really matter. What matters is the love we feel for each other and I love you so much.” You two kissed once more demonstrating your love for one another.

“Do you trust me?” You gently asked him.

“I do, with all my heart.”

You switched places with him, this time you being the one on top, and gently pulled his sweatpants down. Then, you looked at him once more, waiting for his approval, and once he gave you a nod you pulled down his black underwear revealing his hard dick.

It wasn’t that bad. You honestly were picturing something way smaller than what was in front of you - something more like a finger - but as you looked at it and saw that it still had a good girth you were kind of relieved.

You looked at him, saw his concerned look, gave him a smile, grabbed his penis and gave it a gentle kiss. Jimin whimpered at the contact and you teased him further by giving it a series of licks.

“Please baby, don’t tease me, it’s...been a while.”

“I’m sorry,” you weren’t also in the mood for games, but you just couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Do you have a condom?”

“Here,” he moved to reach the top drawer of his bedside table and removed a pack of condoms. He opened the box, ripped out one of the foils and handed it to you.

You put his cock in your mouth, giving it a couple of sucks, for a last bit of teasing and rolled the condom on his dick. You then moved so your core would be right on top of his length and rubbed his tip back and forth through your folds before sliding it right inside of you.

“Hmm,” you both moaned in unison.

His dick felt different than the others you had experienced. It didn’t fill you to the brim, but it still felt good. Maybe to other girls, it wouldn’t be ideal, but to you, it was more than enough.

The way you two were making love to each other, the sweet kisses, the intense stares, the moaning of each other’s names, everything was more than perfect and you could honestly say you never felt more connected to a person in your entire life. It didn’t even matter to you the number of times he slipped off of you during sex, it just mattered that you were with him.

Jimin was near his climax and you could tell he was trying to hold it in as much as possible because you were still a bit far from it. But, out of nowhere, Jimin started rubbing your clit, giving you the edge you needed to finally come undone and make him release inside of you.

You remained in each other’s arms for a while, just panting and enjoying each other’s embrace, until Jimin pulled himself out of you and went to the bathroom to discard his condom. When he returned and lay right next to you, you couldn’t help but notice the nervous look on his face.

“Baby, it was fine,” you assured him.

“Yeah, but it kept falling out and I had to help you get there.”

“So?” You popped yourself on your elbow to get a better look of his face. “It matters way more to me that you did everything in your power to make me cum than if I could cum by your dick alone. Trust me, most women can’t even cum with sex alone.”

“So...it was good?” His puppy dog eyes were seriously killing you inside.

“Yes,” you kissed his lips as he started smiling, relief washing over his face, “it was good.”

“I love you so much,” he professed his love to you and you could say that it was making your heart explode.

“I love you too,” now he was the one kissing you and you wished for nothing more than to get lost in his lips for the whole day but the sound of your stomach growling made you come back to reality.

“Somebody’s hungry,” he booped your nose in an adorable gesture, “how about we leave this bed and go devour those pizzas?”

“Way ahead of you.”

a/n: I was inspired to do this fic due to the amounts of “huge dick” fics out there. Don’t get me wrong, I love huge dicks lmao, but I feel like it’s healthy to, once in a while, bring a small peen to the equation (or maybe even a freaking normal size). Girls and boys, don’t expect everyone to have huge dicks, it’s ok if they don’t <3

© maliby, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#jimin #bts #the intimacy anthology #jimin smut #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop #jimin fluff #bts fluff #kpop fluff #park jimin #park jimin smut #park jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin scenario #bts scenario #jimin fic #bts fic #jimin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #park jimin scenario #park jimin fic #park jimin fanfiction

[songbirdstyles]

call me.

summary: being quarantined away from harry is absolute torture - until it isn’t.

warnings: smut, some fluff and angst if you squint! phone sex <3

word count: 3.4k

song inspo.: call me - blondie

You haven’t been sleeping too well since the beginning of quarantine - whether it’s the stress of what feels like the world ending or the noticeable absence of your boyfriend, lying beside you, you can’t be sure. All you know for sure is that it takes you nearly three hours of lying in bed, staring up at your ceiling in the dark and being entirely too aware of the empty space beside you in bed, to finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. And you’d even resorted to shifting to Harry’s side of the bed, where his pillow faintly smelled of his cologne, but it did little to put you out of your insomnia-induced misery.

It was a cruel twist of fate to end up quarantined on nearly opposite ends of the world from Harry. He was merely supposed to be in LA for a week or two, and you were supposed to go with him until you’d gotten sick at the last minute - and it hadn’t been a big deal, until the global pandemic locked you in London and him in California. And now, you’re wishing more than anything that you’d ignored the cold niggling the back of your throat and utilized your ticket to the states - it would’ve made the entire situation decidedly less miserable than it is.

The light of your phone screen illuminated from your nightstand tells you, in its glaring bright intensity, that it’s 3:21 in the morning. If you squint out of the window, curtains pulled open, you swear you can already see the sun, poking insistently above the horizon - but, no, surely not yet. You pray you have a little bit of time left to try and get some sleep before your biological clock forces you up.

(It’s not looking too good, though, as another minute ticks past on your phone and your eyelids still aren’t feeling the heaviness you’re craving.)

Perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to curling up beside Harry’s body, feeling his breath against your neck when you occasionally wake up at this time for an early morning shag. And maybe you’ve been a bit spoiled, traveling with him more as your relationship progresses over the past three years - but you hadn’t suspected it would be so horrible for your sleep schedule to not have him around. Bad for your sanity, perhaps, but do you really need his body wrapped around yours to get even a wink of shut-eye during the night?

The answer was, apparently, yes, as more minutes tick on your phone and you’re still wide awake. LA is 8 hours behind London, approximately, so if it’s 3:27 in the morning here -

You’re grabbing your phone off of your nightstand without bothering to finish the math problem you’ve conjured up. Harry’s the most recent person you’ve texted and you swipe open your conversation, finger hovering briefly above the call button before tapping it gently.

There’s a chance - a small, miniscule one - that he won’t be awake. You’ve been texting him nearly every minute of every day, constantly calling him and FaceTiming and you know his sleep schedule is worsening like yours. He goes to sleep later and wakes earlier and takes naps scattered all throughout the day, so you’re prepared, emotionally, for him to not answer your call. You’ll be disappointed, perhaps, but there’s a bottle of melatonin in your bathroom you’ve been trying not to abuse during the nighttime. It makes you drowsy for working online and continues to afflict you during the day, so you’ve been trying to stay away from them.

Doesn’t mean you won’t use them, though. You simply don’t want to - if Harry doesn’t answer so you can chat until you’ve tired yourself out, then you’ll make the trek into the bathroom and succumb to the stupid pills -

“‘Lo?”

Your heartbeat picks up as you push yourself to sit up further in bed, pressing your phone close to your ear. You should’ve expected that your boyfriend would be awake now, considering it’s only 7:30 in LA, but it still brings a smile to your face to hear his voice.

“Hey, babe,” you murmur, voice quiet in the darkness of your room. There’s no one around for the loudness of your voice to disturb, but it still feels right to keep it low. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Harry chuckles on the other end, and you try to picture what he’s doing. When he’s home you’re usually eating dinner at this time, or curled up on the TV watching a movie, or fucking in the bedroom - “‘Course not. Jus’ got off the phone wit’ m’mum an’ had t’shower. She misses us.”

“I miss her too,” you tell him, smile widening at the thought of Anne. Yes, you miss her quite a bit - she’s always been kind to you, and more of a second mother than merely the mum of your boyfriend - but you have some sort of ulterior motive for calling him, so you figure you should get right to it. “I miss you a lot, Har. The apartment’s awfully empty without you here.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, for just a second, before Harry’s responding, “I miss you too - ‘course I do. Wish I’d canceled this stupid fuckin’ LA trip - I’d do anything t’be home wit’ you now.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the headboard of a bed that’s feeling entirely too big for you right now. You’d always complained that Harry slept like a starfish and took up entirely too much space, but you’d swim across the ocean to curl up in bed with him for just one single night. “I haven’t been sleeping much, either. Guess I’m too used to having you here with me. You know, waking up with you on top of me and middle-of-the-night sex.”

“Middle-of-the-night sex,” Harry sighs dreamily, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth with the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto your face. “God, I miss that. M’hand just can’t do the things you can. Doesn’t even come close, really.”

“I hope so.” And you give him a moment to bark out a laugh before continuing, clammy palm pressed to your bare thigh beneath your comforter, “My fingers aren’t doing too much, either. They’re not as big as you - can’t get me off an inch.”

His breathing is growing heavier, loud even through the phone, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him - you’re horny and he’s surely getting hard and you’d like nothing more than for him to help you get off. Just his voice, slightly raspy and deepening with every syllable, is enough to make wetness pool in your panties. “Jesus, doll - gonna make m’hard.” And then there’s a pause, where you’re surely meant to respond but all you can do is grin and try to control your breathing, before Harry murmurs, “S’what what you wanted? Wanted t’make my dick hard?”

You nod, and then breathe, “Yeah.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a minx, y’know that?” And you did, in fact, know that, so you confess your affirmations. “Guess that’s why y’woke me, then. Need me t’tire you out, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question - Harry can read you like a book, even 5,000 miles away, and he knows exactly what your intentions are. “I just miss you.” His soft, cocky laugh on the other end has you sliding your hand up your thigh, pushing your digits into your lace panties and feeling the wetness present in the apex. “Really - I miss you, and your dick - just please help me get off, Har. Won’t bother you with it ever again.”

“Don’t have t’take it that far,” but you’re hardly listening to him. The first circle of your fingers on your clit has you moaning quietly into the receiver, and you can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Startin’ without me, are you? S’awfully rude.”

“You’re taking too long,” you exhale, running your fingers through your soaked folds - but you pause, anyway, listening intently to the shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Got me so wet, just hearing you talk.”

When another second goes by with no response you pull your phone from your ear, pressing the speaker button and resting it on your tummy. You grab your comforter and pull it off the bottom half off your body, letting the cold air hit your bare legs, just as Harry groans, “Okay - m’ready. Had t’go back t’my room - but m’here now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking just a moment to listen to his quiet grunts and imagine exactly what he looks like right now - sitting on the edge of his bed, pumping his cock, slow and steady at first, just to get started. “Wish you were here with me,” and as eager as you’d been to have your first phone sex experience, you hadn’t counted on the slight awkwardness that makes it harder for the words to come out. “Been - been dreaming about it, about you fucking me so good, and I wake up drenched, Har, just thinking about you.”

Just as you’d expected, Harry takes over almost immediately - he’s much better at dirty talk than you are and it’s only proven when he moans, “M’always thinking of it, fucking your pretty little cunt ‘till you’re crying. And you love it, don’t you? Moanin’ so good for me, so loud - the way you cry when I pinch your clit - can y’do that f’me, doll? Pinch your clit, just the way I do it.”

Shaking fingers dip out of your folds and trail the wetness up to where you need it most - the sensitive nub that’s throbbing for your touch. Just as he’d asked, you use two fingers to softly pinch your clit, the small action sending waves of euphoria flowing through your body as you drop your head back with a cry. It reverberates through the room, louder than any of your moans and whines, exactly as Harry had wanted.

“Wish you could do it -” you do it again and give him the same resounding cry, circling your clit one more time before dragging your fingers back down to slide between your folds. “Your fingers, they’re so much bigger than mine - feel so much better.”

“Fingering y’self?” His voice is nearly whiny with excitement and you know exactly how he looks now, his bottom lip between his teeth and sweat beading up on his cupid’s bow. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can’t quite describe it, even if you’re desperate too. Fingers curl in your cunt, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you that has your back arching off the bed, nipples pebbled and hard against the material of your soft tank top. One isn’t enough, and it doesn’t fill you nearly as much as Harry’s so you add another, taking just a second to run it through your dripping folds before pushing it in. “Oh, god - feels so good, thinking of you - two of mine s’hardly one of yours.”

To that, you get a loud groan, mingled with a low cry that sends chills crawling up your spine. For a second he doesn’t respond and you wonder if he’s cumming already - but then he’s grunting, “Miss you, on all fours f’me - s’how I’ll take you first when we see each other. G’na let me pull your hair, know you love when I do that -”

You do love it, and merely remembering the feeling of him, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up when it starts to droop onto the mattress, has your walls clenching around your digits, and you impulsively add a third.

“ - or maybe I’ll jus’ bury my head in tha’ cunt of yours. Miss the taste of it so much,” and Harry’s voice picks up, in speed and pure excitement, and you can hear the faint sound of him, pumping his cock. It’s hard to think of anything you’d love more than to watch him eat you out for bloody hours, fisting his hair and tugging on his curls just to hear his sobs. The way he flicks his tongue against your folds and slaps your clit when you squeeze your eyes shut in pure euphoria. “Taste so sweet f’me, don’t you - taste y’self for me, doll. Know you taste so good.”

Harry’s got such a hold on you, sometimes - perhaps you’d even say all the time but especially during moments like these. So you don’t hesitate to pull your fingers out of your cunt, walls fluttering around the sudden emptiness, and you bring the digits up to your mouth. Slowly your tongue swirls around your fingertips before wrapping your lips around them, and the soft moan as you taste yourself has Harry whining on the other end, the noise long and low.

Normally, when Harry asks you to do something like this you would put on an absolute show for him. Pumping your lips up and down his shaking digits, eyes never leaving his as his lips slowly part in a needy pant. And - of course - you’d always know that, when you pulled your mouth off of his fingers, you’d be absolutely in for it, and that was the thrill of it. He can’t see you (FaceTime sex is something you’ll need to bring up another day) but you still perform, adding more volume and less eye contact with the darkness around you.

His breathing is rattly when you drop your fingers down to your thighs, fingernails curling into the soft skin as you would do his back or his scalp. You give him briefly a second to take everything in, the images he must be producing, before you breathe, “Tell me what you’re doing, Har.”

“M’gonna cum soon - gonna cum on m’fist, imaginin’ s’your pussy -”

“Yeah? Imagining me sitting on your cock, right?”

By Harry’s resounding moan - the exact noise he makes when you ride him and he tosses his head back in ecstasy - you can assume that he hadn’t been imagining that, but he surely is now, and so are you. God, the way you lean back, hands to his thighs, feelings his palms run up your stomach. And they’ll circle your tits, tweaking your nipples with a lazy smirk at how fast they pebble in his fingertips, before dragging down to your clit, on display for him - and he moves them so slow, but he knows you’re aching for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing two fingers to circle your clit and sensually dragging your free hand up to your boobs as Harry moans, “Your pussy s’so tight around me - g’na fuck you so hard when I see you - you’re not gonna walk for weeks.”

It sounds absolutely dreamy as two of your fingers pinch at your nipple, closing your eyes tighter. If Harry were here he’d grab the back of your head, force your body down to his so he could lap at your nipples and relish in your sobs - and you can’t do that, necessarily, but you bring your thumb up to your tongue, licking the shaking digit before lowering it back to your nipple. It doesn’t give nearly the same effect but it’s close enough, and you can feel your cunt fluttering with desperation to cum. 

“Playin’ with my tits, Harry - pinching them just how you do.” You swallow back the urge to sob out, if only because the noise will trigger just the sort of choked up moan from your boyfriend that’ll send you over the edge and you want to last longer, dammit. “Oh, god -”

“Y’cummin’, baby?”

“No,” you exhale, “not yet -”

“Good,” and you can tell merely from the teasing lilt in his voice that you won’t last past the end of his sentence (and his staccato pants are already enough to have your clit throbbing beneath your touch), “‘cause I keep thinkin’ about that time - fuck - that time we shagged in y’mum’s house, remember? An’ I had to put y’knickers in your mouth, ‘cause you were -” and his rant is cut off by the telltale whine that’s almost always accompanied by him cumming near violently - “bein’ too loud, an’ we didn’t want your mum to hear? Be loud f’me, babe, please, need t’hear you -”

You remember that - how he was fucking you so goddamn hard your bed was hitting the wall and he had to drag you to the floor, pressed to your carpet with your drenched lace panties in your mouth. And Harry tossed your legs over his shoulder like it was nothing, pounded you into the carpet while your mum was asleep just a few doors down the hall, hand firm around your throat. He’d never done that before and God, you love it. Love it almost as much as you love him, but you figure you shouldn’t dwell on it now.

His words have the exact impact he’d hoped for and your head slams into your headboard with a choked up cry, loud through your room and into your phone, still resting on your sweaty stomach. Wetness coats your fingers as your assault on your clit continues, arm shaking with the pressure of riding yourself through the orgasm while still trying to listen to Harry - he’s sobbing out, sound of skin against skin growing louder until you hear the euphoric groan that tells you he’s reached the same high you have.

It’s a gorgeous harmony of your moans mixing together - his crackling through the speaker that’s been used and abused during your little session - and you know you’ll never get tired of it. No matter how many times you do this - for as long as you’re apart - you’ll never, ever get tired of it.

Your body is still trembling when the shockwaves of your orgasm start to wither down. There’s a thin sheet of sweat, coating your body and beading in your hairline and your fingers are covered with your cum, the bed sheets beneath you damp, too. You’ve only ever squirted a few times before - in Harry’s mouth, for the most part, with that bloody talented tongue he’s got - and you wipe the slick onto your thighs before sitting further upwards, grabbing your phone.

Harry’s silent on the other end and you squint at the screen to check the time. Your vision is clouded - perhaps your brain is simply clouded - but you reckon it says 4:00.

“Jesus,” he breathes on the other end, hardly audible through the phone. In your mind’s eye you can picture him, passed out on the bed with his legs still dangling off, running a hand through his hair to try and alleviate the sweat sticking to the curls. “Gonna have t’shower again.”

You smile, shifting back down so you’re fully lying in bed. There’s still a wet spot beneath your arse and your back but you’ll worry about it when you wake up (whenever that may be.) The idea of even moving back over to your usual side of the bed sounds like pure torture, because if you bury your nose in Harry’s pillow, it smells like his cologne with just a hint of the strawberry shampoo he sometimes steals from you. “Tired me out there, Mr. Styles.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone before Harry’s murmuring back, “M’glad - y’need to get some sleep, y’know. S’not good for you to be up so late.”

“I know.” Your eyes are already beginning to feel heavy as minutes continue to click down on your phone, and hearing his soft breathing is fucking therapeutic. If you close your eyes (which feels oh so good) you can almost feel him, body tight around you as he pulls your back to his chest, nestling his nose in your locks with a deep inhale that never fails to make you giggle. “I love you, Har.”

God, you can almost hear him smiling on the other end. You miss it so much - his smile - but just him, and feeling his arms around you, heartbeat against your spine lulling you to sleep. Whenever quarantine is over and you’re free to go to him, you won’t wait a second. You’ll hop on the first plane - you’ll fucking tape yourself to the side of it, if you have to.

For now, though, hearing him sleepily mumble, “I love you more, babe,” is enough. And you keep your phone planted on your chest, Harry’s steadying breathing like music to your ears as you settle in for what’s gearing up to be the best goddamn sleep of your life.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #my tenth fic! #ik it isnt that big of a deal but i remember writing early risers and thinking nobody was ever gonna read it #let alone enjoy it #and now look at me #i wrote this sucker in like three days and i actually like it a lot which is crazy for me #im very inspired by blondie recently #harry styles writing

[woogyu]

A World Tinted Gold | Mingyu; Chapter Two

Kalon; beauty that is more than skin-deep

streamer!y/n x werewolf!mingyu

notes; werewolf au

word count; 1749

previous | next | masterlist

summary; The only werewolves you encountered were the ones living inside your video games. They were nothing more to you than mythical creatures you often had to kill in order to complete objectives. You had a good thing going with your online gaming setup. Your supporters were kind and usually tipped well during streams. Sure it meant you had to deal with the occasional creep sliding into your DMs, but it was worth it. Playing games online was putting you through college. Little did you know your quiet life was about to be turned upside down at the hands of someone you didn’t think existed outside of the virtual world.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Are you seriously watching that steamer again? Why don’t you just play the games yourself?” Seungcheol questioned as he stepped into Mingyu’s room, chuckling as the younger wolf quickly turned around and blushed.

“It’s not the same… I’m not really interested in the games, I’m interested in her” Mingyu admitted sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so transfixed, but he had a hard time tearing his eyes from the screen. Hell, just the other day when you read his comment aloud, he was over the moon.

“It’s rare for you to show interest in a girl at all” Seungcheol remarked, eyebrow pulled up in question. Until a wolf found its mate there was little reason to get involved with or show interest in others romantically. There were of course some wolves that preferred being unmated; it allowed them to be explorative with their romantic partners. Not all wolves longed to find their mate, and not all wolves would end up finding their mates. He knew destiny had a hand to play in it all, but the thought of never finding who he was supposed to be with made the wolf in him whine. Mingyu wasn’t an unmated wolf that enjoyed exploring his options, he was desperately waiting for the day he met his mate. Right now, Mingyu wasn’t sure if he was simply lonely or if there was something more going on.

“There is just something about her…” Mingyu started, pausing for a second to find the right words, “I just have a hard time tearing my eyes away from the screen. There is something about her that just draws me in” Mingyu explained. He wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining the feelings that bubbled up inside him when he saw you on screen. When he tried to explain it he could never quite describe the feeling that settled over his chest and body, it was a warmth almost like a subtle glow within him.

Seungcheol didn’t comment on it any further as he moved into the room and crossed his arms over his chest. Mingyu knew better than to ignore the alpha, closing his laptop he turned to face Seungcheol fully. Their pack had a different dynamic than most. Normally a thirteen-member pack would be impossible because of the strain it put on the head alpha. It worked for them because while Seungcheol was their main alpha, they had two secondary alphas, Jihoon and Soonyoung. The three of them shared the work of looking after the group and it worked perfectly for them. He liked that the alphas didn’t abuse their power, there was a lot of lenience in the pack and it made for less confrontations.

“Joshua has to head into town tonight and won’t be able to run the perimeter. Would you be alright with doing it?” Seungcheol asked, pursing his lips as he looked down at the younger wolf. Mingyu normally enjoyed running the perimeter, it meant he got to shift and stretch his body, but this time he was a little bit more hesitant with his answer. Mingyu knew that later on tonight you would have a new video posted and he would have to wait even longer to watch it. It seemed like a silly reason, but his heart ached at the thought of not being able to ‘see’ you on screen until early tomorrow morning.

“Sure! I don’t mind” Mingyu answered with a half-smile, Seungcheol never asked him for much so he figured he could help him out with this. Seungcheol breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against the wall.

“Thank you, I didn’t really want to be the one stuck doing it again” Seungcheol admitted, the alpha had been on perimeter duty for the past 3 nights and must have been eager for a good night’s sleep. Mingyu smiled and nodded his head a few times, his own wants would just have to be paused for a little while.

Before leaving the room Seungcheol patted him on the shoulder, yawning a little bit as he headed toward what Mingyu assumed was his own room. Mingyu was thankful that Seungcheol’s parents had left him their families pack house. Coming from a family of alpha’s certainly had its perks, and it meant they all got their own rooms.

Once Seungcheol was gone he checked the time, he had roughly 4 hours before he would have to head out.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I just don’t understand what this trend is supposed to be” you complained to Ciri for probably the 20th time over your video call. Apparently, there was a trend going around among streamers to recreate video games in real life. You hadn’t thought much of it when it first gained popularity, but now Ciri thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to join in on it. Her big plan was a two-part video where the two of you recreated iconic aspects of the Witcher 3 video game. You should have known she would want to do it, she already owned a Cirilla cosplay.

“It’s going to be fun” Ciri reminded you, drawing out the last syllable as she drew a fake scar along her face, effectively transforming herself into the iconic video game character.

“Come on, I even sent you the Yennefer cosplay and everything!” she exclaimed, using her make up brush to point at the camera accusingly. You rolled your eyes as you reached up to adjust the dark black wig that you now wore. To her credit, Ciri had sent you everything you would need to transform yourself into Yennefer of Vengerberg. How she somehow guessed your sizing right you would have no idea. Probably the Witcher powers.

“I wish we lived in the same city” you sighed, leaning your head back and looking up at the ceiling. Things would be so much easier if you and Ciri, and the other girls, didn’t live so far away from one another. But that was the price you paid for finding your friends online.

“Me too” Ciri said with a gentle sigh, setting her make up tools down and picking up her phone, her face coming into full view.

“I sent you the script, I won’t be able to stay on the call with you while we are filming because data rates are crazy, but I know you’ll do amazing” Ciri said with a reassuring smile. You would have to film all of this on your own, which was just a little bit intimidating. Ciri’s script mostly just directed you to do a lot of handwaving and she would add in the ‘magic’ elements later.

“Just find a good spot in the woods and it’ll be perfect” Ciri finished with a nod of her head. You sighed, straightening yourself up and looking down at your phone.

“I’ll call you later on when I’m finished to send you the video” you mumbled, pouting a little bit as you stood and picked up your phone.

“Good luck!” Ciri told you, waving a little bit before ending the call. Great, now you actually had to go do it…

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were lucky there was quite a bit of woods around where you lived, the problem was going to be trying to get to the woods without anyone seeing the ridiculous clothes you were wearing. You threw on a huge coat, effectively covering up most of the costume. After grabbing the bag with your equipment, you ventured outside, keeping your head down as you walked to avoid drawing attention.

Twenty minutes later you were standing in the middle of a beautiful calm forest. Now that you were here you questioned why you didn’t come out here more often. You couldn’t hear the loud noises that came with living in a bustling city and the air felt fresh on your face. Once you reached a small clearing by a river you laid your things down and took a deep breath, basking in the coolness of the air. Maybe this trend wouldn’t be so bad.

After setting up your camera in a place you were at least half sure wouldn’t result in it falling over, you walked into frame and took a deep breath. You briefly checked your phone to see what Ciri’s notes asked of you, before you began doing your best to follow directions. Your portion of the video wouldn’t be long, but you did re-film it 4 times to try and get your motions to be less stiff.

After forty-five minutes of waving your arms around, you walked back to your camera, picking it up before taking a seat on a nearby log. Reviewing the footage, you winced at how awkward it looked, you seriously hoped that Ciri could work some magic on this because you didn’t have it in you to film it again.

The forest around you was darkening as the day began to draw to a close, but you couldn’t bring yourself to head back right away. The forest was too peaceful and serene. Reaching up you pulled your wig off, stuffing it in your bag as you sighed with relief. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing in on the sounds of nature around you. Maybe coming to the woods would become a weekly thing for you, like therapy.

A low deep growl broke you out of your trance, your eyes flying open and flickering around to find the source. Your heart hammered against your chest, and your whole body stiffened in fear. A few moments later a dark black wolf emerged from the trees, larger than any wolf you had seen on tv. You could vaguely see blood dripping from its muzzle, and its dark red eyes were focused right on you.

It paused at the edge of the clearing, its lips pulling back to reveal sharp blood-stained teeth. Your breath came quick as you leaned back, unsure if you should run or try and hide behind the log. Both seemed unhelpful in this current situation, but you were really low on options.

The wolf’s body tensed before springing toward you. Your hands instinctively grabbed whatever was nearest to you, which happened to be your very expensive camera, and threw it toward the wolf. This did nothing to deter the predator from its prey, and within seconds the beast was on you.

#seventeen werewolf #werewolf!seventeen #werewolf!mingyu #seventeen x reader #ultkpop #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #kim mingyu #Werewolf!AU #werewolf!svt #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu

[yeojaa]

called a thousand times.

prompt:  “did you miss me enough to drink or did you drink enough to miss me?”   (orig.)

this drabble is more an exercise in catharsis and serves as my first (!!!) jin piece.  i dedicate this to my loves @jinsearthh​ and @seokjinssi​ lmao.  enjoy!

pairing.  ksj x reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  angst.  but like, not really terrible angst.  just semi-bad angst.  wc.  1.8k.

The call comes in the dead of night while you’re curled up in linen sheets and comfortably drooling into an unbelievably worn white plush.  It buzzes loudly in your ears, vibrating obnoxiously against your pillow.  Sleeping with your phone in bed is a bad habit you’ve never really been able to break.  

You’re barely awake - caught in that strange in-between land of lucidity - when you hazard a glance at the time and number.  2:47 AM.  Far too late for you to be receiving calls - especially from contact you don’t have saved. 

“Hello?”

“Hi.”  It’s a voice you’d never expected to hear.  A voice you haven’t heard in forever, clear as bells through the phone line.  “It’s Jin.”

You’re wide awake now. 

“Hello?”  It’s terribly jarring.  It jolts you straight up in the bed that hasn’t felt his warmth in close to three years, every notch of your spine electrified by the simple sound.  It rings, bouncing around in your ears.  

You should reply.  You don’t know how.  

“Are you there?”  Uncertainty and something else - something heavy and medicinal - coats syllables and turns them into molasses.  It drips off each vowel, rounding each consonant.  Your entire world feels like it’s spinning, tilted on its axis by this strange happening. 

“Jin?”  It doesn’t sound how it should - wishful and more than a little surprised.  It trips heavy off your tongue, splitting the darkness with the radiance of your hope.  

He laughs on the other end.  You realise now why he sounds different, the familiar squeak of his amusement dulled by liquor.  He’s drunk or at least, on his way to it.  The telltale signs are there:  the faintest hiccough after every second inhale, the vaguely nasally first syllable, the dulling of his rain-streaked laughter. 

“It’s me,”  he confirms, far more comfortable than he should be.  The relief practically radiates through the phone, further severing the strings that bid you back to bed.  “I didn’t know if you’d pick up or if you even had the same number still.”

At least he’s honest, you think. 

The conversation is carried on like there’s nothing at all strange, as if he - Kim Seokjin - hasn’t just called up his ex-girlfriend at quarter to three in the morning. 

“How are you?  Did I wake you up?”

You know your silence is rude.  It’s stifling in a way that even he can’t combat, sitting stony between you two as you try to wrap your mind around the current situation.  

“Hello?”  He repeats, vaguely uncertain but not otherwise bothered.  That bothers you. 

“Why did you call?”  You can’t help the question.  It pierces the quiet before you can catch it, disappearing into the night like a thief.  It takes with it all of your turmoil, tucking years of hurt in its pockets to wear on its sleeves. 

That seems to catch him off guard.  He inhales once - a sharp thing, right through his front teeth.  

“Ah, yeah.  I—“  You wonder whether he’s even given this any thought or if he’s just been driven to it by the beguiling hand of liquor.  You wouldn’t put it past him, though he’s never been one to drink himself into bad ideas.  He was smarter than that. 

He pauses.  It’s long, drawn out, punctuated by city sounds you assume come from 27 floors below his apartment.  They’re muffled and unrecognisable, the din of Yongsan-gu too faraway.  

“I… was thinking of you.” 

There’s a strange confidence to his response, a self-assured calm that feels like moments before a storm.  It eases uncertainty over your limbs, still wrought with sleep and sluggish.  He shouldn’t sound this way after so long, as if he’d never left.  A part of it feels nice, warm and welcomed into the cavity behind your ribs, tucked neatly alongside the organ that stutters because of him;  the other feels like a knife to the heart, slotted right between the vulnerable spaces you’d shown him.

You echo him in uncertainty.  “Thinking of me?”  

“I wanted to apologise.”

Now that’s the last thing you’d expected.  

“Apologise for what?”  Not that there aren’t so many things Jin owes you - so many I’m sorrys that would never make up for the rivers you’d wept, the nights you hadn’t slept.  

“How I left things.  How we left things.”  Something not quite a laugh comes, dresses his words up prettily like a sinner in his Sunday best, eager to learn and repent and do better.  “I know I can’t undo the past but I’m sorry for the ways I hurt you.”

It’s so vague even you aren’t sure what he’s referring to.  The brief but blinding relationship you’d had with him?  The heartbreaking, determined way in which he’d broken up with you?  The months thereafter when he’d still warmed your bed, where the strange in-between was no longer between awake and dreams, but love and not-love?  The pieces he’d left you to pick up yourself when he’d disappeared, seemingly out of the blue? 

“I still think about you a lot.  I miss you.  I wanted to make it right.”  When he backtracks, you realise he’s far smarter than you give him credit for.  “—Try to make it right, that is.”

“Why?”  You should demand more.  You know you should.  Yet this is the only thing that comes, dripping like the tears that line your lashes, glittering jewels that you’d trade for even an ounce of understanding. 

He hesitates.  There’s a clinking glass, ice, and then a thick swallow you can hear quite clearly.  “Why?  Why what?”

“Why did you leave?”  You’re really trying - holding onto composure with a white-knuckled grip that leaves your hands bleeding - but it’s futile.  The grief is too much - a thousand pound weight that splits the frayed edge of your composure in a clean line.  “Things were…”  Weird, strange, undoubtedly a bad idea, as messing with your ex tended to be.  “Things were okay, I thought.  And then out of nowhere, you were gone.  You stopped calling.”

For three long weeks, you’d jolted awake at 3 AM, waiting for the dedicated ringtone to alert you of his call.  It never came.  You’d waited even longer after that, though you’d learnt to turn your phone to silent.

Months turned to years and then one day, nearly four months later - there he was, displayed as a missed call at just after midnight.

You’d blocked him then, for your own sanity.  And then another six months after that, you’d unblocked him.  A moment of weakness you’d all but forgotten about until now.  You’d figured it wouldn’t matter - that there was no way he’d contact you again.  So much time had passed and he was Kim Seokjin;  you were nothing but a small blip on his radar - a tiny ink splatter on the story of his life.

“You blocked me.”  Or not.  

You tuck this knowledge - his knowledge - away into the manila folder you keep stored away in a dusty cabinet, covered in yellow tape that reads Do Not Open.

“Before that.  Three years ago.”  

“I honestly… don’t remember.”  The answer stings, candour a struck match to your already miserable nerves.  “It was bad timing, I think.  We were on the phone one night.  I was heading back from filming and I just remember being so mad.”  That doesn’t surprise you.  Jin’s temper rages like a wildfire before burning out like a match.  Intense but short-lived.  “You were having a bad day, too.  You’d started your new job and you were stressed out about something not working.”

You recall it clearly - can call to mind exactly what brief you’d been working and how that night had felt awful.  You’d hardly slept, almost pushed to tears by the frustration you’d felt.  For the life of you, though, you can’t recall an argument.  You’d been happy to hear from him - found solace in the sound of his voice, even as you’d worked through pages that made you want to tear your hair out. 

“I remember you were dismissive and it just…”  You imagine he shrugs, those impossibly wide shoulders of his rolling beneath something soft and sleep-appropriate.  His brow’s probably knit, little dent forming between them as always happens when he’s faced with discomfort.  “I didn’t want to deal with it.”

It’s an honest answer, which you’re grateful for.  It sheds light where there was one.

But it also hurts far more than you’d expected, stirring to life an ugly aching sob in your chest.  One night.  One night was all it’d taken.  The realisation is sobering in its pain.

“And… now you want to apologise for that?”  It doesn’t make sense.  Not to you, at least, who holds three long years of unrequited love for a man who’d thrown you away over nothing.

“I want to apologise for a lot of stuff.”  Things he doesn’t seem ready to articulate just yet, either due to his inebriation or contrition.  “I didn’t think you’d pick up, so I’m kind of still working through it in my head.”  You can hear his smile, turned playful by alcohol.

It’s like waging war when you speak - your heart against your head.  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“But… I miss you.” 

I miss you too, you almost say.  

“Did you miss me enough to drink or did you drink enough to miss me?”  Comes hushed instead.

Jin isn’t ready for the conversation.  You know he isn’t - can tell by how he inhales shakily, knocks back another drink that rattles ice noisily.  “That’s not fair.”

“You’re not fair,”  you return in a voice that’s meant to be scathing but seems to have found itself at the bottom of his glass, wet and diluted.  “You’re calling me because you feel bad and for whatever reason, you think I’m going to make that go away.”  

He’s not wrong - you would, in a heartbeat.  But there’s a very big difference between would and should and you’re doing your best to learn what that is, even if it hurts.  

“What do you think’s going to happen after I forgive you?  Are we just going to go back to our lives like nothing happened?”

“If you want.”

You laugh, a sound that’s brutalised by your own sadness and barely sounds like anything at all.  “And what if I don’t want that?  What if I want you in my life?”  

Another pause, another drink.  There’s a part of you that worries for him.  

“You know that’s not an option.  Not right now.  We’ve got so much happening right with our comeback and then enlistment and…”  It’s a cop out.  You can see it from a mile away, a red flag raised to mock you as Jin speaks.  “I can’t give you what you want.”

“Then neither can I.”

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​

#thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #cypherwritersnet #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts fic #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts jin #bts drabble #bts seokjin #kim seokjin #seokjin au #seokjin imagine #seokjin fic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin drabble #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x oc #seokjin imagines #work.zip #drabble.zip #jin.doc

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Knot In Love - Alpha!Dean x Omega! Reader

A/N: Part twenty is back. Again, where it’s a daily thing? I am not tagging anyone new. 3pm is the magical time, usually. Today, there’ll be a few extra. One at 7pm and one at midnight. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy one of my favorites <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Series Warnings: Forced mating. Knotting. Alpha/Omega dynamics. Witchcraft (more based on real craft than Hollywood). Angst. Etc. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: Roughly 5,600

“It's almost eight thirty,” You chewed your lip, glancing towards the clock for the tenth time in an hour. “You sure he's alive?”

“I'll check on him,” Dean answered, less than thrilled with it. “You just keep sittin' there and looking pretty.” A scowl was returned but he didn't care. You were well and truly recovered. The effects of the Bad Place fading away. As far as he was concerned, you were to stay on the bench to keep you in that state. “Yo,” He slammed his fist into Sam's door, “Makin' pancakes. How many do you want?” No answer came through. Dean's brows slammed together.

“Anything?” You were pouring the batter on the griddle, when he came back out. Earning a glare. “What? I'm allowed to cook. Geesh.”

“You should be resting,” He bit out, taking the spatula from your hand. “Take a number from Sam's book.”

“I'm fine,” With a wave, you moved over to make more coffee and slice up some fruit to go with the rest of the meal. Earning another round of bitching.

By ten o'clock, all hope had been given up. You and Dean worked at picking up the mess.  Putting away the left overs just as Sam ambled in. On the phone, still in his pajamas.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Dean perked up, sounding like ole Saint Nick in the process, “There he is.” He glanced at his watch dramatically.

“Leave him alone,” You scolded, tossing a strawberry at Dean's chest. He dodged it just in time, sparing the red flannel that covered him. “Saved you some.” Your fingers pointed down to the meal with a cheesy little grin that got you nowhere.

Sam nodded a bit in acknowledgment before addressing the person he was speaking to, “Hey, Donna... I'm here with Dean and Y/N. I'm gonna put you on speaker.” Your shoulders straightened a bit at that one. You'd barely met the woman. But she'd helped get you back. That was all you'd needed to know. The phone beeped as Sam moved closer to you and his brother, letting you listen. “Why don't you tell them what you told me?”

“Oh,” She started seriously, “It's my niece. She's gone missing. And...the local cops don't...” The bubbly blonde went quiet as she fought for control. You could hear the tears she was attempting to hold at bay. “I know its not your normal thing...but...”

“Text us the address. We're on the way.” Dean didn't hesitate. Barely let her finish.

“Thank you.” The call ended as the man in red kicked himself into motion.

Sam let out a sigh and turned your way, “You should pack up.”

“It's okay to not be okay, Sam.” A confused head tilt was his response. “Just...remember that.” With that, you moved to go to your room to throw together the essentials. Leaving him to mull on your words.

When the Impala pulled into the impound lot, Donna was leaning against a large black truck. Hands in her tan coat pockets as officers moved around the scene. She stared blankly into the distance as you all climbed out of the car. Dressed in the 'fancy' FBI garb.

“Hey, Donna,” Sam called out as he approached. Drawing her back to reality.

“Hey,” She didn't hesitate once she realized who was there. Stepping forward to catch him into a hug.

“How you holding up?” Dean asked, bending for his own piece of affection.

“Oh, you know...not great.” You were surprised to find yourself in her grasp after she'd pulled away from him. Sam let out a muttered 'yeah' as a way of showing he understood. “I'm sorry for calling you guys,” She stepped back a bit, “but Jody's got her hands full with the girls.”

“Hey, never apologize for calling us.” The older brother's warm demand tugged the edge of your lips.  His loyalty shined bright, then. Not in the toxic way it had just a few short weeks before, Donna smiled in thanks. A weak, tired grin. Knowing he meant every syllable.

“So, what do we know?” Sam's voice was soft as he pressed for details.

“Uh, staties found her car side of the road,” Her hand pointed in the general direction. “Signs of a struggle.” Worry edged back into the newer hunter, then.

“And what was she doing out here?” He continued, hoping to piece together the situation.

“She was taking a gap year. It's, like, this thing where-”

“Take a year, run wild before you go to college?” Dean finished for her. He'd craved one of those. A time without hunting, where he could just be a normal kid. In the end, he hadn't even finished high school.

“Mhm,” Donna nodded, looking pleased that the men were able to comprehend the teenage psych, still. “Yeah.” Her face slowly fell, “I used to tell her about how much fun I had when I did it. Well, she thought that sounded like an adventure.” The crack in her voice became more evident as she spoke. “She thought...”

“Donna, hey,” Again, the gruffer voice spoke up. “Whatever happened, it's not your fault.”

“That's what Doug keeps telling me, but...” She let out a sigh as her eyes watered. Emotion winning out over logic. “I can't help but to think-”

“Just focus on the case,” Sam told her. She sent a solid nod, taking the advice.

“Doug here?” The concerned question came from Dean, again.

“Yeah, he's in there. Talking to the locals,” The gesture towards the impound's garage had heads turning that way.

“I'll go check in,” He stuck his hands in his trench coat pockets before heading towards the building.

“I'm coming with you,” You spoke up as you shimmied after him. Placing a comforting squeeze on Donna's arm before you'd taken off after the bow legged gait. “I could try a location spell-”

“You're going to take it easy,” Was the firm order, cutting off the suggestion you'd offered the moment you were out of ear shot. When your footsteps ended, he sighed. Realizing his mistake. Slowly, he turned back around. Face coated in shame. “You're still weak, Y/N. I don't want you overdoin' it... that's all.”

“While I get what you're saying? I can't help but to think it's a fast way to getting answers,” You moved forward, taking in the room around you. A dark haired, vested man was talking to two brown clad officers to the side of the vehicle.

“Fast answers do us no good if you end up defenseless.” You hated that he had a point. Frowning, you brushed it off. Only zeroing back in when Dean spoke up a second time. “You see something on that tire?” Nodding, you both leaned in to inspect the cross that was embedded in the thick rubber.

“Hey! What are you doin'?” A loud voice called out, approaching with heavy footsteps.

“Oh,” Dean stood upright, motioning towards the car, “I- we, um...” All eyes zeroed in on the pair of you.

“I asked you a question, son. You and the little gal.” The condescending voice made your back stiffen. You weren't the only one.

“First off, I'm not your son.” Dean was on the prowl, turning dangerous instantly. Testosterone and anger a deadly combination. For once, you found yourself admiring the dark tilt of the head as he slunk forward. “Second-”

“Whoa,” The man in the vest approached, quickly, to divert the situation at hand. You were almost disappointed. Wanted Dean to finish what he'd started. Bloodlust wasn't your usual. It should have been startling, but you hadn't exactly been yourself those past few weeks. “Whoa, easy.” A nervous chuckle followed as he stepped between the small war at hand. “Agent Clegg, this is Agent Savage, FBI...And...I don't know who she is.”

“She's with me, Doug.” All that was needed to be said. Or rather, all he was offering.

“Oh? Company man.” The man who had been introduced had a pinched up face and grey hair. Somehow, even then, he managed to sound insincere. You decided that you didn't like him on principal. “Wow, you should've told me.”

“Well, I didn't get the chance,” The alpha tone in Dean's voice couldn't be denied. Letting the shorter man know exactly who was in charge. A sarcastic smile drawing across his face.

“Uh huh,” Came the brisk response. Agent Clegg didn't like that. He was a Beta with a desire for the power an Alpha could wield. Knocking one down a peg seemed like the best way to go about that goal. “And what field office are you out of?” Your eyes narrowed on the villain of the moment. “I'm just curious who I should call about you walking through my crime scene.”

“Prick,” You coughed into your hand, before batting your eyes up at the narrowed gaze. You were just calling it how you saw it. Dean bit back his snort and focus at the task at hand.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” He smoothed over, ignoring the way you huffed in the background. “Uh, I'm not here on official business. The victim, she's family.” Doug turned towards Dean in disbelief as the lie unfolded. “She's my cousin, so I'm just here to get some answers.”

“Oh,” That seemed to deflate the ego momentarily. He turned to Doug, waiting for a comment. Nothing came forward. “I can respect that.”

“Doubtful.” Only Dean seemed to hear you, stepping back just far enough to step on your toes in warning.

“All right,” The ego-maniac gave in. “Come on, I'll fill you in.”

“Yeah,” He moved to follow the Agent, until a hand blocked his chest.

“Sorry,” The other beta in the room looked nervous when the hard green eyes turned to him. “You and Donna are related?”

“Yeah,” Came Dean's choked response paired with a forced smile. As if asking how he'd never known that.

“So, you were in Sioux Falls a couple of weeks ago At the family reunion?” The question sounded more like an interrogation than you cared for.

“I was there,” He managed after a moment of pause. Realizing the story the woman had come up with to appease her lover. A rough chuckle left him, then, “Yeah.”

“Donna said it was a pretty wild time,” Doug laughed with Dean. Searching for details in the only way he knew how.

“It was wild,” Was the Alpha's response, sounding as pained as he felt. “Absolutely.”

“The understatement of the year,” You spoke up, wrapping around Dean's arm. Leading him away from the conversation. “Unfortunately, we have more pressing matters at hand.” A motion towards the agent was all that was needed to get everyone in gear.

“Now, this is where we found it,” Clegg pointed at a dot on the map once everyone gathered. Just beside the small orange car that rested on the lined paper. “This is an older stretch of highway, mostly used by long-haul truckers.” His hands tucked into his dress pants pockets. “There's no patrols to stop the speeders.”

“So, who found the car?” Sam asked while you took in the spread in the background. Enthralled that the crime maps were a real thing. Sticky notes, images, and red yarn covered the board in the back.

“Troopers got an anonymous tip,” The man bounced on his toes, looking none too happy about that.

“Well, that's convenient.” Dean frowned deep.

“Yeah, fits with the pattern, though.” The older gentleman pointed out, making you look back to the board behind him.

“Pattern?” Sam needed more clarification on that.

“They think its part of something bigger,” Doug answered, making himself the focal point for a moment. “And Wendy's not the only one.”

“Hence that,” Your finger pointed out where you'd been staring.

“We found evidence that suggests she was targeted by a serial abductor,” Clegg continued, nodding with your assessment.  Doug's hand patted Donna's back in comfort as the evidence unraveled. “Now that spike we found on the tire? That's classic Butterfly.”

“Sorry? Butterfly?” Dean beat you to it. It was arguably one of the worst names for a villain you'd ever heard.

“That's what we- what I call him,” Was the correction. Good cop appeared to be working alone on this one. He turned around to point out each point on the map that had been behind his back. “He's got kind of a migrating pattern.” His hand followed the red, yarn lines downwards, “Now, in the winter? He makes his way southward. Targeting people that are traveling alone; people who won't be missed.” The trail went back up the map, “Then, in the summer? He turns around and he heads back north.”

“Now, what about the victims?” You spoke up, looking at each and every face that was planted on the board.

The man's eyes turned to Donna, who was still standing strong, “Go on.”

“They disappear,” The answer wasn't helpful in the slightest. The blonde's lips twisted a bit at that. “We've never even found a body.”

“So...maybe they aren't, you know, gone gone.” Doug tried to improve the mood around the room. A breathy chuckle at the end. The less than positive looks coming his way made him back down.

“Maybe,” Clegg conceded, but no one truly bought it. “Look, having you all here is not standard operating procedure,” Donna's arms crossed stubbornly as the man talked, “but if you wanna help...” He trailed off, leaving the option open. “Now, I've been chasing this psycho for the last twelve years. I could use all the help I can get.”

Dean turned to Sam, reading his brother's shake of the head before he responded, “Okay, we're in.” The warning had been ignored, earning a frown from the younger of the two.

“Maybe a fresh perspective is what you need to catch this freak,” You gave in. More so for Donna's sake than anything. You were still sore from the earlier treatment. But, perhaps there was some room for redemption.

Back at the motel, you sat across from Dean at the table, toweling your hair as he fiddled with an old radio. You'd been given permission to take the first shower while the brothers grabbed dinner and set up for the night. Sam walked by, glancing at the scene before moving over to the closet, “No one uses CB radios anymore.”

“All that smoky saw was my rubbers,” The phrase came through the static, making your brow quirk a bit.

“No one except truckers,” Dean pointed out proudly. You glanced up as Sam started tugging off his trench coat. “Breaker, breaker one-nine,” The deep voice drawled into the microphone. “This is sixty-seven, the Midnight Rider. Looking for the four-one-one on my Alice in Wonderland.”

“Wo-ho,” The voice from before spoke up through the radio, “Midnight Rider. Sounds like that piece ran out on you.” The green eyes glanced up your way made you freeze for a moment. He was surely thinking of the 'piece' that had run out on him. Before you could get too tangled up in that one, they were gone. You turned back to Sam, watching the meticulous way the coat was pressed to the hanger.

“She's redhead, brown sedan,” The button was pressed in as Dean talked. “She's family.” The static hissed again as the suit jacket left the strong back in front of you, revealing the wrinkled white dress shirt. The material stretched out and the softened as Sam's muscles bunched. “Breaker, breaker, anyone?”

“Hot diggity,” The words turned you away from your own little strip show in disgust. “I'll find your Alice. She'll be my family, too.”

Another laugh came through, making Dean's head shake, “Not if I get to her first.”

“Pigs,” You snorted out, rolling your eyes. Not that you were much better, peeping back to the show on the side. Your heat may have passed. But, being alone with the Winchsters in such close proximity was starting to get under your skin. You missed the barrier that Jack had safely provided. Hell, you just missed him in general.

“You see?” Sam couldn't help but to gloat a bit as the hanger clanked against the rod. “Told you.” The door shut with more force than necessary as the younger brother moved to the bed he'd claimed, “This is stupid.”

“It'll work,” Dean held out faith, ignoring his cranky sibling. “Dad used it all the time.”

“This isn't even our kind of case!” The tall man bit out; everything that had been stewing inside of him breaking free. “And you know, with the real Feds here? We should back down.”

“You're joking, right?” You frowned with Dean as you took in the antsy movements of the man in front of you.

“We're still fugitives,” That was a fair enough point. There was more risk than usual involved. However, Donna had helped bail all of you out of the Bad Place. Your bones would have been Godzilla and King Kong's love child's tooth picks if it wasn't for her and the other women.

“They think we're dead.” Not that it was the first time that had come out as false. Something that Sam had no problem pouncing on.

“Do you really wanna get on the FBI's radar, again?” You sure as hell didn't want to make it there in the first place.

Dean glanced your way before tossing down the mic as the conversation in the back continued, “Okay, so what do you want to do?” He leaned up more in his seat to get better eye contact. “Hm? You wanna call up Donna and say: ' Hey, sorry about your niece. These kinda things happen. Later.' And head back to the bunker so you can mope some more?”

“I'm not moping.” The appalled tone made you reach over for the tea you'd brought along. You were going to need all of the chamomile the world had stocked to remain calm if it kept up. “Y/N, tell him that I'm not moping!”

“Oh, no. We're not throwing a witch into the middle of a hunter throw down. Alpha hunters at that,” Your hand cut the air, symbolizing the end of that one. “I don't have a death wish. You two duke out whatever is goin' on between yourselves.”

The older brother had no problem following that order, “You got up at ten am this morning.” Sam's face pinched a bit at that. “Ten am.” Dean's hand brushed against the table as he talked, watching how his brother mentally rolled that off. “You. Mr. Rise and Freaking Shine.” With that, he was moving to his feet, heading towards his case of beer. “And then you turned down pancakes.”

“I wasn't hungry,” He said the words easily, almost proud in his dismissiveness. But his body was stiffening by the second. Sam tugged up his pant legs a bit before plopping down on his bed. An action that better fit a petulant child than a man topping six feet by four inches.

“They're pancakes,” The deadpanned look Dean gave as the top twisted said plenty. The carbon fizzled from the bottle. Filling the silence.. “You-”

He cut himself off as he took a step towards Sam. The younger brother's lips pulled back until his dimples showed through. One shoe was removed as he looked up to his mentor, looking almost gleeful that Dean was jumping his ass. You watched the exchange with interest.

“Look, I know you're in a dark place right now. Okay?” The irony of who was saying those words clicked in your mind, then. Suddenly, you understood the humor the younger brother carried on his face. “I mean, we just lost Jack. Mom is...” They didn't know. He moved on, avoiding that topic for the night. “I think about 'em, too. All the time.” Sam didn't seem to buy it as the shoe clattered onto the linoleum floor. “But, you can't let it eat you up.” In some level of your mind, you acknowledged that you had no part in the conversation. That you were better off taking a walk, and giving them space. But, hearing this side of Dean? You couldn't turn away if you wanted to. “Now, look. When I was...when I was broken up,” He continued the monologue while his brother began working on the other shoe. “You were there for me. Well, I'm here for you, now. And I'm telling you, the only way out of this is through.” Nothing. So, he kept going. “Now, when everything goes to hell... what do we do? We put our heads down and do the work.” Not the healthiest coping method, you acknowledged internally. “We'll find Jack. We'll save mom. We will.” His final point came home, then. “But right now, Donna needs our help.” Your eyes turned back to the radio as a woman's voice came across, calling for Dean's radio name. “Okay?” A slow nod was his answer before Sam turned away. With that, he moved back to his mic as the self proclaimed Felix the Cat called to him, again.“Ten- four, Felix. What do you got?” He set down his beer as he talked into the mic.

“Better we talk live, and in color. You mind meeting up?” Instantly, your mind went to the worst. Assuming that the information was a hoax. Dean's voice rumbled just right. You wouldn't have blamed the woman. “There's uh...there's a place off Gold Rush Byway. Just past mile marker nine-eighty.” You jotted down the words on the note pad beside you. “I'll roll through around noon.”

“It's a date. Over.” His eyes met yours, making sure you got it. You slid the paper his way. “All right.” The mic was dropped, and he turned back to Sam, Looking proud while stuffing his hand into his pocket. Silently gloating that he'd gotten a lead. “I'll go check that out tomorrow. Why don't you two hang back in case something else breaks?”

“Okay...look,” Sam started, blinking fast as he talked. A sigh leaving him. “Obviously, I'm here for Donna. Alright? I wanna help. And, I'm sure Y/N feels the same way.” You let out a noise that said it should never have been in question.

“I know you do,” Dean didn't hesitate in responding. As if he'd known what was coming. “So...let's find this son of a bitch.”

–

“You could have sent me with Sam,” You turned towards Dean in the Impala before it could stop. Taking in the plaid flannel and brown vest he was wearing. He looked like a damn lumber jack. Not that you minded. That was the problem. “Why didn't you?”

“Just thought that you'd want to take more car rides now that you aren't arfing your guts out,” He answered as if it were that simple; steering into the parking space.

It wasn't. Not even close. He didn't trust the state Sam was in. Dean didn't want you over exerting yourself. And to make sure it didn't happen, he kept you with him. That's all.  

It had nothing to do with how your eyes had wandered the night before. Nothing to do with the form fitting, long sleeved, ivory colored, sweater dress you'd donned that veed down into your bust line. Stopping about mid-thigh. No, none of that mattered. Or, so he told himself.

Intricate lines traveled across the body of it, making one think of a corseted garb from the middle ages. The black tights peeked out from the rounded hem, just above the thigh high boots you wore. Your favorite crystal bobbed down into the material. A black pea-coat coat rested over your legs. The look reminded him of a modern white witch while keeping you comfortable in the cooler air.

“I don't believe you,” Your eyes squinted as you talked. His fingers were holding the steering wheel too tightly. “Why don't ya try again?”

“You're too damned nosy for your own good,” He muttered, slamming the car into park. “Look, Sam's in a bad place right, now. I don't want him to have to worry about you, too. That's it.”

“That's closer to it,” You made a point to search his eyes. Waiting for a tell. “Fine, I'll take that cheap ass answer. For now.”

“For now,” He mocked, getting out of his door roughly. All the while, muttering about how women could never just take what was offered.

“So, this girl of yours...” The voice that had emitted from the box the night before finally had a face moments later.

“Mhm, you saw her that night?” Dean rested with his arms on the table, while you leaned as far back in your seat as you could. Arms and legs both crossed as you listened. Inspecting the woman with wary eyes.

She was far better looking than the stereotype surrounding female truckers alluded to. Full red lips, mocha skin, curled hair that was pulled on top of her head with the edges shaved, and covered in denim. Edgy in all of the right ways.

“Yeah, twice.” She answered, easily. Playing with the edge of her cup. “Usually, I...I try to stay out of this sort of stuff. I just run my route and keep out of trouble. But...that night, that girl...” She sucked in her breath before letting out a sigh. “Like I said, I saw her twice.” Your head tilted at that one. Trying to piece together where the story was going. “Uh, once at a station off Highway twenty-six. And then later, I was driving off road eighty eighty and...” A sigh of regret left her. “I shouldn't have left her there.” The shame was palpable. “But, um...I was running behind schedule, and I just...Well, it's the only reason I even gassed up there. That place gives me the creeps.”

“And what's this place called?” You asked, tugging the small notebook out of your coat's pocket.

“Manny's Truck Stop Cafe.”

That night, you found yourself at the location with Dean, and Doug- who was forced to the back with once he appeared. One of the N's flickered on the sign above the small building. Weeds surrounded the edges. The place was a dump.

“Got that report you asked for,” Doug breathed out once he was out of the rain. His hood still resting over his head. He passed up the file he'd brought along. “Everything that's gone down at Manny's Truck Stop Cafe, lately.”

“And?” Dean demanded the brief as you both skimmed over the file.

A deep sigh left the man, “Couple of D and D's, four counts of public urination, but...”

“Nothing that screams secret hunting ground for a kidnapper,” The hunter huffed out, looking up at the building in frustration.

“Not exactly.” Dean's lips pursed at that, and he turned back to the reports. Searching for something. Anything.

“Can I ask you a question? About Donna?” You bit back the laugh at the wide eyed look Dean gave the man before agreeing warily. “Is she gonna be okay? I mean, I love Donna...” You could hear the but coming before it ever got there. “But, I've only known her for a couple of years, and this...I've never seen her like this.”

“I'm not sure what you mean,” The reports were closed as Dean turned away.

“I mean, she's barely talkin' to me. And we always talk.” Your lip was bleeding as you watched the Winchester's incredulous face turn back to the babbling fool in the back. If there was ever a man that shouldn't have answered questions about relationship struggles, it was Dean Winchester. The gaze of confusion when Doug claimed to discuss everything, yet only listed off superficial items had you using your knuckles to hold back the laugh. Even the hunter saw the problem, there. “This is a tough time, I know...but...I think she's hiding something from me.” Suddenly, you weren't laughing anymore. Before Dean got a chance to respond, Doug was shaking his head. Backtracking away from the conversation. “Any-hoo, forget it. It's probably nothing. I'm probably just spinning. It's nothing.”

A nervous chuckle left the man, making you feel almost sorry for him. He truly had no idea about Donna's other life. You'd be amazed if he'd ever taken the time to talk about something deep the way he rattled on.

“Doug, you're a good guy.” Hearing something like that from a man like Dean always boosted the confidence in a beta. “And you're gonna be there for Donna.” That sounded vaguely threatening. His protectiveness towards the people in his life shining through.

“You betcha.” The lesser man quickly agreed.

“So, you know...just...trust her.” A small, encouraging smile pulled at his full lips. “Okay?” The man nodded, and prepared to leave.

“Doug...when there's a crisis.” You spoke up, refusing to meet the green gaze that turned to look at you in the low light as you drew attention to yourself. “It's easy to forget that emotions can change people. Brings out different pieces of what's inside of them.” The man you were talking to drew his thick brows together. “Relationships...they aren't just talking about TV shows. And the people themselves? They're complex. She's different because she's scared. Hell, terrified for Wendy. Alright? This isn't about you. This isn't something for you to take personally.” He hardly looked like he was taking in what you were saying, but that didn't stop you. “This is something that could break her...be gentle.”

“That sounded like you were talking from personal experience,” Dean didn't start the car once you two were alone. Simply kept his eyes glued to your face. “You wanna talk about it?”

“A few weeks ago...I was a little...a little unfair,” You acknowledged, but your eyes never quite made their way to his. Instead, you focused just past his jaw line. “You were scared. Desperate, even. I knew that. It probably came off as me dismissing it...And...I'm...I'm sorry if it did.”

“Are you really apologizing to me?” His knuckles tapped your chin, forcing you to turn to him. “You were right, you know. The tongue lashing was more than justified. I was a dick to her, and I can't take that back.”

“Jack will help your mom over there,” You had no doubts about that. “So, at least it wasn't all in vain.” Kaia had done more good than she'd ever anticipated. Saving four lives in one world, and two in the other. “I don't want you carrying it all on yourself.”

“You want to carry a piece of that guilt?” He questioned, his eyes tightening. Hating that you would even dream of it.  “You're the one who was on her side.”

“And there's a million things that I could have done differently to change that day, too.” A shaky breath left your lips as you turned your face away. “I try not to focus on that bit.”

“So...what do you focus on?”

“Trying to be as strong as she was,” Your head rocked side to side a bit at that. Wondering if it would ever come naturally to you. “When I left...I was terrified, Dean. I had no idea where I fit into anything. Then, out of nowhere comes this little girl... who literally died to help save all of us- to save me. Despite the fact I was trapped in the place that she feared the most...” Humbling was an understatement. “Something bad is going to hit, and I have no idea when. Or, where. Or, even who is involved. I can just feel it.” Your hand rubbed through your hair. “Now, we're trying to save another teenager...and I feel completely useless-”

“You're not useless,” He promised. Not letting you get another word of self doubt in. “You might've just saved Donna's relationship.” You laughed at that one. Making his own lip lift just a hair as he took in the sound. And then, all at once, he was back to serious. “You...you bring me back down to earth, too.” His hand slid along your cheek to cup it in his calloused hands. Making you face him. See the truth in his eyes. “You helped Jack when I was too wrapped up in my own head to give the kid a chance...You just need a little time-”

“I've had weeks, Dean...I don't need more time. I need to do something.” You were going to end up being completely reckless if you didn't expend the energy, somehow. Your eyes drifted down to his mouth. Speaking of reckless...

“You really want to do that locating spell?” His question caught you by surprise.

“No, I've got something a little different in mind.” His brow rose at that. “It's not something I've tried. But...what if I can get a hold of her?” Dean looked at you worriedly, afraid of the ramifications if he agreed.  

“How?” Your lips pressed together. There were two possible reactions to what you were about to suggest. You only hoped that it would be positive...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @michaelneedssomemilk @lemondropirwin @fanfictionismydeath @neii3n @surmya1907

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff  @woodworthti666 @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn angst #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #dean #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #alpha dean x omega reader #dean fanfiction #dean reader insert #dean angst #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester reader insert #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #alpha dean winchester #a/b/o

[harmony88]

As Dreamers Do

The Doctor and Rose, a couple of months after they are back to the stars, take a trip for baby food with their 8 month old daughter to a new planet, where they unexpectedly meet a man who thinks the TARDIS is the key to unlocking the one dream he's always wanted, but has never had.

First Story in my series Forever With You: Part 3 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 

(Chapter 1 posted below)

He told her once not to make this place domestic.

To be fair, it had less to do with her and more to do with her mother, whom, at the time, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of and whom, he had to remember, came on board without permission. He rolled his eyes at that thought now, because he should have known Jackie Tyler wasn’t the ‘ask for permission’ type, but he’d been rather grumpy back then and mothers were a bit of a touchy subject. He also knew he hadn’t meant it, not really, but still, he’d said it, and he was thinking about it as he glanced around the galley.

A messy finger painting was hanging on the refrigerator. A gift from his daughter, crafted when Rose let her do some art the other day, and he’d been so excited about it he hung it up before it was completely dry. There were stuffed animals thrown about the hallway that led to the console room, his wife’s breast pump was sitting on the counter next to a photograph of all three of them he’d framed, and there was an empty carton of milk sitting in the bin, designed to serve a visual reminder that they needed to pick up some more.

The TARDIS was a domestic playground at this point, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had never been happier, and he thought about all the baby books in the nursery, the closet that was half his clothes and half Rose’s, the ensuite that had two toothbrushes in a gold holder, and the library that always had two coasters on the coffee table for both of their cuppas at night.

They’d built a life together, circling the vortex and traveling in between, and somehow, someway, the one adventure he never thought he’d have was exactly the one he was living.

What a privilege it was.

“Here,” Rose said, giving him a look when he just smiled like an idiot at her, and he took a jar of baby food from her hand, followed by a small spoon. She had one, too, and they both looked down at Alice, whose smile was reminding him so much of her mother it was making it hard to breathe, and he bent down to kiss her cheek.

They put all the stars to shame, the two of them, they really did.

She giggled when he kissed her a second time, and Rose laughed too, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him back. “If we don’t start soon she’s gonna cry.”

“One more,” he urged, kissing her other cheek with a pop, and Alice giggled so hard the sound imprinted on his hearts, he was sure of it. Rose bit her lip and held up her spoon, and like a sword pulled from its sheath he did the same, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Please, this is child’s play,” she said, and the corners of his mouth twitched as they twisted the lids off of their jars, and each took a small spoonful. “Alright, Alice. You pick. Which one do you want? Daddy’s stupid bananas? Or Mummy’s yummy pears?”

“No, no, no, don’t do that, don’t use adjectives to try and persuade her opinion,” he scoffed. “Use science. Bananas, Alice, are much higher in potassium which you need. They also have about 44% more iron, 3 times the amount of magnesium, are higher in protein and will give you more energy and are the all around smarter choice.”

“But Daddy loooooves pears,” Rose said, and he lowered his spoon and turned to stare at her. “Eats them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Why would you say that?” he asked, and she smiled, her tongue playing with the corner of her mouth as they looked back at Alice.

“Goo-ba-da,” she said, smiling at them, and he sniffed.

“Go ahead, darling. Which one?” he asked her, and they held their spoons up to her face, waiting in anticipation as she looked between them, and she reached for the bananas. “YES! ALICE! BRILLIANT!”

Rose groaned and handed him 10 quid, and he did a happy bounce as he set the jar to the side and kissed his daughter’s head, only to pick it back up and hold the spoon out to her. Rose couldn’t even pretend to be upset, not when her child was about to eat some semblance of actual food for the first time in her life, and she found herself quickly mesmerized by the look on her face as the Doctor got her to open her mouth and slurp up the mashed bananas. Half of it fell onto her bib, then onto the high chair, and he tried again, and again, until she finally swallowed a bite and clapped.

She giggled.

“Oh my God, she likes it,” Rose said, biting her lip, and suddenly her eyes were watering. The Doctor, too proud of his daughter to notice anything else at the moment, merely smiled and got her to eat another bite.

“Of course she does, it’s a banana. It’s impossible to not like them. And now! Rose Tyler! HA! Now, we should always take a banana with us to -”

“Don’t start,” she teased, nudging his side a little, and he just laughed, until he noticed she was trying not to cry. His smile fell and the jar of baby food was forgotten about as he stood and cupped her cheeks, using his thumb to wipe away her tears.

“Oh, Rose…” he said, pulling her into a hug.

“When did she get so big?” she said against his chest, and he smiled. “She was in my belly, the size of a banana yesterday. Do you remember that?”

“Course I do,” he whispered, and the softness of his voice made her tears spill over. “Rose, it’s okay.”

“S-s-she won’t want my milk soon, will she? She’s going to be so grown and- and- and what am I supposed to do with all of it?” she sobbed. He smiled at her.

“You’ll stop producing -”

“And then she’s going to be talking and walking and then she’s gonna run faster than we can and then the next thing we know she’s going to be piloting the ship and we’re going to be -”

“Okay, shhhhhh,” he said, rubbing her back. “It’s just a couple of bananas.”

She fluttered her lips, and he smiled at her, trying not to laugh. She wiped the last of her tears away and collapsed onto a chair and just sulked for a moment, but when she scooped up a sample of the pears so she could eat her feelings like it was ice cream, and had the audacity to do it right in front of him, the face he made was nothing short of horrified. “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!”

“Oh, God, it tastes like plastic,” she said, spitting it out into a napkin, and his skin felt like it was crawling with bugs. He began to stick his tongue in and out of his mouth, not hiding his disgust, and she started laughing. “Sorry! It was just there!”

“I can’t believe you just did that!” he shouted. “WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU...WHY!? I just gave that speech! Choose the bananas!”

His reaction was delighting Alice, who thought he was just being silly and she began to giggle and bounce in the high chair.

“Oh, not you, too. Don’t you dare, it’s not funny.”

She laughed harder, as did Rose. A happy high pitched sound coupled with a few syllables rang in the air as Rose got up to grab a glass of water, letting her own amusement subside as she gargled and washed the horrible aftertaste of that particular brand of baby food out of her mouth. He just stared at her. “I could have told you that was going to happen. Been saying it for years.”

“Mum told me that was the best one!” she said.

“And you believed her?” he asked, still unable to stop making a face. “I need you to go brush your teeth before I kiss you.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, please. It was one small bite and it’s washed out. Come here.”

She reached for him, having every intention of going to brush her teeth but she just wanted to watch him freak out a little bit more, and he jumped back and went to hide behind Alice, placing his hands on the edge of her highchair.

“Nope,” he said. “Superior taste buds. Palette has to be cleansed. I made an exception when you were all pickles and ice cream during pregnancy but this? Can’t do it.”

“You’re a bigger baby than she is,” she said.

“More adorable, too,” he said, smiling, and she just rolled her eyes. He looked down at Alice, and he winked. “Kidding.”

Rose smirked, but she knew how serious he was and she wanted him to be able to kiss him more than she wanted to win this battle of banter, so with an effort to rock her hips just to rile him up a little, she sauntered off to their ensuite to brush her teeth.

“Aaaaaaand we’re just going to throw this away, yes we are,” he said to his daughter as he picked up his wife’s jar of poison, making sure to use a tissue so he didn’t directly touch it, and it was in the bin faster than he could say Raxacorcicofallapatorius. Alice began to cry when he walked away, and he was at her side again instantly. “What’s wrong? You still hungry?"

He helped her eat more bananas, though she only consumed about a quarter of the jar. The rest was on the floor or her face, which was honestly better than he expected for her first time. He smiled at her and wiped her chin clean, and he let the TARDIS take care of the floor as he grabbed a bottle of breastmilk, too, figuring she was probably still hungry.

For a few minutes, it was just him and his daughter, and he smiled at her while she suckled the bottle, slowly rocking her in the chair as he did. “I love you so much, you perfect little thing.”

She started to fuss a little, and he shifted how he was holding her and the bottle, and he started to sing to offer a distraction. Her eyes widened at the sound, and she smiled, and he remembered how much she loved music, so he just kept going.

“Okay, so I -” Rose started to say as she walked back in, but she shut up the moment she saw what he was doing. She bit her lip, letting the cadence of his voice wrap itself around her, and she had to lean against the wall to steady herself, falling impossibly more in love with him, and thinking he really was the most wonderful man.

She waited. When the song was over he turned around to set the bottle down, smiling at her when he realized she was there. “Hello.”

“The Beatles?” she asked softly, pushing away from the wall so she could wrap her arms around his neck as he kissed their daughter.

“Well….she likes to hold my hand,” he whispered. Rose smiled.

“Not just her,” she said, proving her point as her fingers molded to his without either of them having to look, and a spark of arousal flew between them. “That was really sweet.”

He winked. “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Maybe. Kiss me and find out,” she flirted, but he could smell the toothpaste, and he kept Alice on his hip as he brought their lips together. She moaned a little, and he smiled.

“So much better,” he said, but she ignored him and just kept kissing him, until they both had to pull away when Alice tugged on her father’s hair. Hard. “Ow!”

“Come here, sweet girl,” Rose said, pulling her daughter into a hug. “Mummy loves you. I’m so proud of you. Yes! Good job.”

She smiled wider with every word Rose spoke, and he watched them hug. “We should go somewhere. Celebrate her milestone.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Where’s the best baby food in the galaxy? We can get her to try it all.”

“Brilliant,” he murmured, kissing her again. “We’ll go in the morning. I promised her I would read her a bedtime story. Charlotte’s Web? What do you think?”

“No, that’s so sad, read When You Give A Mouse A Cookie,” Rose said, and he raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“She’s a Time Lord, I’m not reading that to her,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. “And, Rose Tyler, I'll have you know I happen to have the first draft of Charlotte's Web. Long story - how I got it, not the draft - grammatical errors left and right, but the plot is much better.”

“Oh, well now I have to hear it,” she teased. He laughed, and together they walked to the nursery, where Rose curled up on the rug and watched him hold Alice in the rocking chair, and as he read the story, she found herself falling asleep, too.

He stopped the chapter before he was even halfway through when he noticed they were both out like a light, and he chuckled a little, carefully bringing Alice over to her crib. Gently, he laid her on the blankets and tucked her in, and he aimed his sonic screwdriver at the lights, flipping them off.

The projection of the cosmos in the paint illuminated around him, spilling over every inch of the room. He clenched his jaw a little and looked down at Rose, making sure she was still asleep before he walked toward the bookcase, and he shifted the view, revealing the spot in the sky Gallifrey once sat.

He stared at it.

“Hey,” Rose whispered after a few minutes, slowly stirring on the floor. “Hum in my head.”

“Sorry, I’m fine,” he said, pulling his focus to her and helping her stand up. “She’s asleep.”

“You want her to stay here?” she asked, and he nodded. “What if she needs us?”

“Nah, she’ll be okay. She’s been sleeping through the night for weeks,” he said softly. “And we both share a bond with her. We’ll know if she wakes up, and she’s getting too big for the bassinet anyway. I think it’s a good day to do it.”

Rose bit her lip and looked at her, watching the rise and fall of her stomach. It was slow and steady, and she just nodded, but there was a lump in her throat that was hard to swallow. She wanted her to grow up, she did, she couldn’t wait for so many things, but two milestones in one day just felt like a lot, and this one she hadn’t been prepared for at all. “I just…”

“Come here,” he whispered as he pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly, and he kissed the top of her head. “I promise she’s okay.”

“No, I know,” she muttered. “I’m just... sad, I guess. I know it’s stupid. And I’m not...It’s a good thing, I know it is, but…”

“What?” he murmured.

“Can she sleep in our room tomorrow night? Maybe?” she asked, and he smiled at her.

“We can switch off, hm? Every other night for a bit? Until you feel ready?” he offered.

“Really?” she asked, and he smiled at the tenderness of her tone.

“It’s not stupid, Rose. I understand. I really do. I’m sad, too,” he said. “Even if we find a way to get her regenerations, which we will, she’ll never be this little again. I know that. But like you said. It’s a good thing.”

Rose felt tears well up but she held them back, and he hugged her again. She looked up at the projection over his shoulder, and when she saw the hourglass nebula he once showed her after they defeated the Master and Rassilon so very long ago, she froze. “Is that…”

“Hm?” he asked, and then realized what she was looking at. “Oh. Yeah.”

“You okay?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Just...looking,” he said. “Making sure nothing changed. Making sure it’s still...well…”

“Hidden?” she whispered. He just took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

“Something like that,” he admitted. “It’s safe, it’s fine. I’m fine. I promise.”

“Good,” she said, and he kissed her, letting his tongue swipe across her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “Let’s let her sleep.”

He took her hand and walked directly across the hall to their own room, keeping both doors open in case Alice did end up needing them, but as soon as they were both washed up and laying down, he realized they were essentially alone, and he decided to take advantage of it.

“Can we…” he started to say, and she straddled him, apparently thinking the same thing. His hands roamed her back as they kissed, and she pulled her t-shirt over her head, suddenly bare chested and hovering on top of him. He began to explore her skin with his tongue like it was new territory, despite the fact he knew the map of her moles just as well as the stars. He was careful and almost tentative, and she let out a long moan when he flicked his fingers over the soft mounds of flesh that were right at his eyeline, giving them a gentle squeeze.

He rolled them over so he was on top of her, peeling his own shirt off as he found her neck, then her jaw, licking and sucking, and she panted his name. “I want…”

“What?” he asked, stopping and looking at her. “Tell me.”

She connected their minds, and he shuddered. She took over the kisses for a moment, bringing her lips to his chest, and as they shimmied out of the rest of their clothing he slithered down so he could explore more of her with his tongue, and he made her scream, which she somehow had the brain power to remember to cover with her hand so they didn’t wake Alice up with the open doors.

��Have I ever told you…” he began as he trailed kisses up her stomach, then her chest, until he reached her lips. “How much I love how you taste?”

“Mmm, no,” she said, smirking at him.

“Wait, really?” he asked, his tone suddenly more alarmed than sexy, and she laughed.

“Every single time,” she whispered, gripping his hair on the back of his head. “Even if you don’t say it out loud, I hear you. We share a mind, remember?”

“Good,” he said, his voice returning to its husky tone, and he kissed her again. “Because I do...It’s...there’s this sweetness to you I can’t get enough of. And also this tanginess that’s just...I just want it. All the time. It’s intoxicating ....Drives me absolutely insane....”

She whimpered, and he winked, then let her massage his scalp as they kissed. He couldn’t resist joining their bodies together, and they slowly started to move, exploring every inch of what the other had to offer. Every tightening of every muscle, every gentle stroke.

It lasted for a while, full of soft pants and quiet moans, and they both marveled a little at how incredibly addicting it was to be able to do this without stressing about timelines or diamonds or vengeful Time Lords; without worrying in the back of their minds about whether or not it would be the last time they got to make love at all.

It was just them, dancing and writhing and groaning between their sheets, letting time stand as still as it possibly could.

His forehead buried itself onto the crook of her neck as he began to make strangled noises, so close to bursting it was starting to feel like a fire inside of him, and when she thought the word ‘forever’ he came so hard he nearly broke the bed frame.

She was carried away with him, and they smiled as they caught their breath, glistening a little with sweat. He kissed her, and she pulled her hair out of her face as they settled next to each other on the mattress. “Think it’ll still be like that in seven hundred years?” she panted.

He chuckled.

“No,” he said. “I think it’ll be better.”

She smiled at him, and he gave her the most adoring look as he wrapped his arms around her, and this time fell asleep together, ready for whatever the following day would bring.

#fanfic #doctrorose #alternate timeline #AU #tenth doctor #rose tyler #series #also on ao3 #continuation of past series

[jiamour]

piano, practice & peptalks

pairing: chenle x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 5.9k

summary: chenle is the pianist for your senior year production of high school musical and he always stays late to help you practice

alternatively: chenle make heart go woosh

a/n: i wrote this a year ago so it may not be great,, he’s a shy boy in this im sorry,, but if people can write jeno as a bad boy all the time i can have my shy boy chenle so,,,, also i tried to edit it but i got tired of reading it over and over so its still a mess

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“start on four okay, i’ll count you in,” chenle instructed, nodding his head like he was confirming your next actions to himself. he hadn’t even glanced in your direction, his eyes fixated on his hands that laid on top of piano keys. 

you were sat on the floor, a pointless rolled up and crumpled script in your hands, and just like chenle your eyes were glued to the movement of his hands against the piano. “one,” his fingers mechanically moving, nodding along to the beginning melody you both had heard at least a thousand times in the last hour. “two,” you were starting to get nervous again, maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea to ask the most musically gifted human to probably ever exist to help you practice for a school play. it was just another under budgeted, high school musical rendition of “high school musical” after all, because your school lacked any ounce of originality.  “three,” you took a breathe in, flopping out the lines in your hand so you could easily see, cringing at the noise. “four,” his eyes moved to you, still playing the basic tune, checking to see if you were going to start on time. which, sadly, was a rare occurrence. you tried your best to listen to his cue breathily beginning, “it’s funny-“ “nope, again,” he stopped you immediately, almost ruthlessly. you kicked your feet lightly against the stage, humming in disappointment. “but chenle, whyyy?” it came out in an unintentional whine. he laughed humorlessly, shifting his body so it was facing you, a hand running through his hair. he still had a smile on your face but you were sure it was more from annoyance than happiness. his hand dropped from his hair so he could look you in the eyes, though you could swear he was looking right passed you instead “you were off key, if you kept going, the whole song would have been wrong and we’d be wasting time.” “it seems like we’re wasting time anyways,” you mumbled under your breathe, frustrated, breaking the “eye contact”. you let your head droop towards the ground as you played with the half empty water bottle beside you. “hey,” his loud voice was so much softer now clearly noticing your frustration. he leaned forward on his bench his elbows resting on his knees, hair swooped slightly over his eyelashes, “look at me yn.” you listened to him and were met with his soft droopy eyes gazing right into yours, this time making your heart skip a beat. when he got your attention he started speaking again, awkwardly moving his hands along with his words not knowing what to do with them when he wasn’t playing the piano, “i’m sorry if i’m being too tough on you, i just know you can be great and i want to see that.” you huffed not appreciating his half assed pep talk, falling back on your hands, resting them flat on the floor behind you. “sure, whatever i’ll try harder.” “no yn, that's not what i’m saying. i um- you want to be like gabriella don’t you? work hard and it’ll pay off okay?” he tried, his tone a little stressed but slightly humorous. “gabriella was late to all the rehearsals and try outs, and almost didn’t go to the performance,” your tone was empty and tired, also a little raspy from all the times it had to stop and start. chenle was taken aback for a second, or at least you thought he was, his expression morphed back into the usual small smile almost instantly. “okay then, um, don’t be like her then, be like sharpay.” “but she doesn’t get the role after working hard for years,” you fought back sternly, like this was the subject you were most passionate about in life and not like you were just happy you got to take a break from chenle telling you that you were wrong.  he laughed a little, pushing himself up so now one hand was on his knee and the other was pushing the hair back out of his face. his navy blue sweater flopped open a little as he moved. “just let me have this yn, i’m trying to motivate you!” you were sure he was just as tired as you were having to play the same notes over and over, and the dim lighting of the stage didn’t make it any better. “never,” you fought back a little bite in your voice and he lazily rolled his eyes at you deciding it was best to turn away, back towards the comfort of his piano now. “we’re going again you know the count,” again without any confirmation he began playing, patronizingly calling out the number to you, and this time, just to push his buttons, you started at 3. “stop,” he muttered, before you could even get the second syllable out. “yn, you have to listen to me for the millionth time, it’s 1-2-3-4 and THEN you start singing, please stop missing the beat before i-“ he was keeping his tone low and calm but his hands waved through the air violently as he spoke, until his tangent was broken off by you laughing to the side. with the tiniest admirable smirk on his face he turned to see you giggling on the ground getting amusement from his annoyance.  “you should have seen your face,” you happily expressed through your giggles making him shake his head in disbelief “my face didn’t even move,” if you didn't know better you’d say his voice was almost whining back at you. “yeah but you wanted it too. i saw twitches zhong chenle don’t lie to me!” you cut him off when he tried to interject a finger held in the air just for emphasis “there was no-“ he took a breathe knowing you were just trying to get a reaction out of him, wanting to give into your game, but wanting more to practice at the same time, “let’s just start again and no forgetting how to count this time.” “one.” ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« “that’s not the note,” he stopped playing and instead took to guiding you through the song with his finger moving up and down in the air as if you could understand that perfectly. “listen chenle, we can’t all be literal prodigies like you,” like always you began your usual squabble with him that had started to occur almost every time you messed up. or in other words, a lot. “hate to break it to you yn,” he started, tracing his hand over a key while playfully looking into your eyes, “but it doesn’t take a musical genius to be able to sing along to high school musical, zac efron could do it for god sake” “actually zac efron didn’t sing his parts in high school musical,” chenle appeared stunned, like he did every time you said something that he didn’t know, this might not even have been true but it was nice to have rendered him speechless if only for a second. his mouth hung open cutely until he swallowed and spoke again his lips in a small pout “i should just stop using characters as an argument you thwart me every time.” “did you just say ‘thwart’?” you laughed falling forward slightly holding your stomach. he nudged you with his shoulder, looking away embarrassed but still smiling along with you ALSO speaking of him nudging you, after many many practices together chenle finally let you sit beside him on his bench. you took this as a large accomplishment. you’d only seen one person sit on his bench before during normal play rehearsal and he definitely wasn’t welcoming their presence. chenle’s best friend, jisung’s, girlfriend, craving to be liked by everyone, pushed in beside him a few days ago taking up room with not only her form but also her overwhelmingly, extroverted personality. chenle, though clearly uncomfortable, just smiled shyly and opted to show her how to play a few simple chords per her request. it took jisung constant tapping on her shoulders for about five minutes straight to finally get her away with new piano knowledge she’d surely forget seconds after. bUT besides all that, chenle had finally allowed you to sit with him, and that’s all that mattered, even if it did leave room for more nit picking and teasing. “let’s just get back to practicing,” he said through his laugh, straightening his posture. you followed his lead almost comically straightening your back to mock him which just making him laugh more. he playfully pushed your forearm to get your shoulders to fall again, “stop ittt!” you punched your arm out just enough so it missed the piano in front of you and turned your head towards chenle, “stop what chenle, this is my battle position.”

he shook his head and positioned his eyes on the piano, “i’m starting whether you like it for not, so stop fooling around.” “fine,” swiftly your arms were crossed across your chest, an over dramatic pout morphing all your other features, “you’re no fun.” “oh, so that’s how we’re going to be,” he sounded like he was challenging you and not like he had been offended by your comment. chenle cleared his throat, positioned himself and his hands like he was about to play an epic concerto, and then in one quick movement he hit a single key around the center right of the piano, “you need to be here, but you are-“ he then proceeded to smash his hands down on the keyboard to create a loud unpleasant mash of noise, “here.” “heyyy,” you kicked his foot with your own lightly “you’re a bully zhong chenle.” ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈« your eyes were locked with chenle’s as you ran through one of the musical numbers. he was sat off to the side on his piano bench which he seemed to never move from while you were up on main stage, the stage lights blinding the corner of your eyes. it was almost the end of practice and you were tired, the cast was tired, the theatre teacher was tired, but chenle, somehow he had all the energy in the world to dance mockingly off to the side moving cutely around to try to copy your actions. you probably should have been watching your step or at least watching your “co star” because it wasn’t exactly safe with all the basketballs haphazardly thrown around. but instead you couldn’t take your eyes off probably the dorkiest little piano man. “okay, okay CUT!” your teacher called from one of the seats at the back of the room, pushing herself up slightly so she appeared more in charge. the dancing and singing stopped abruptly with her words and you stumbled a little having to be caught by jaemin who happened to be beside you, you could already imagine chenle laughing at you later, “yn dear, for the love of god please pay attention to what’s going on instead of staring at chenle.” you. were. embarrassed. your eyes sunk from the teacher to the ground to chenle who was indeed laughing and back to the ground before nodding and muttering an “um i- okay, sorry.” the teacher nodded back and turned her attention to the smiling boy,  “and chenle,” his expression immediately dropped and you saw him noticeably get shy and swallow “keep up the enthusiasm.” the rest of practice went smoothly, sadly with a lot less chenle dancing and a lot more actually practicing. like always you stayed later with chenle. he would always be waiting for you by his piano as you said goodbye to your friends and cast mates, sometimes he’d play to speed by time and you’d wait a little longer to go to him just to listen. but today zhong chenle wasn’t at his piano, today he was dribbling one of the basketballs that used to be a tripping hazard, across the stage. you leaned your left side on the wall beside you, your arms crossed and a teasing smile prepared on your expression. just as he was about to shoot on the flimsy basketball net some kid had taken off his driveway to help with the set, you snuck up behind him. with a light tap on his arms, you yelled a loud “boo!” causing him to drop the ball out of his hands and spin around towards you with a pout. “what was that for?” he continued to frown even as you smirked and ducked under his gaze to grab the basketball that had stopped rolling on the floor beside him. “i just wanted to show you how a real pro does it,” you said confidently a quick nod to your head and the basketball tucked under your arm. “uh huh sure,” chenle spoke sarcastically lunging forward to grab the ball out of your hands but you dodged his arms and ran a little to the side away from him “is that why it took you so many tries to get the ball in during practice yesterday?” “i just didn’t want to intimidate them with my talents, god chenle,” you moved your hand up to your head as you spoke and the ball rolled away from your grasp. quickly you scampered after it not wanting chenle to get it before you. “right, right sorry i doubted you.” he began walking to his piano again and you knew what that meant, more practicing. “let’s go over the song we stopped on yesterday, yeah?” he expected you to follow, instead you tossed the basketball weakly and it flew about 5 feet in front of you to the left side of the net. you turned on your feet hoping chenle hadn’t noticed and pretending that you had meant for that to happen: of course chenle noticed, he had his hand covering his smile as he laughed. as soon as you saw him as happy as he was, you knew you didn’t want to practice. “no,” you held your ground your feet cemented to the floor. “no?” his laughing haulted and, like the cutie he was, his head tilted in confusion. “i’m hungry” it was the first thing to pop into your head and plus, you really were hungry. somehow though you still sounded confident.  “you’re hungry?” he repeated your words back slower his eyes squinting against the bright stage lights which you hadn’t turned off yet. your eyes rolled the slightest bit and your hand rested on your hip, though you weren’t actually annoyed “what are you a parrot now?” “no,” he said. “i just don’t know how to respond, you don’t have food do you?” “no,” your face scrunched “that’s why i’m hungry.” he opened his mouth to speak but you continued talking “but there are vending machines and you seem like the kind of guy to always have your wallet on you.” “i’m not buying you food.” “but chenleee,” you tried a whine and puppy dog eyes that he never fell for. “no.” “look, i’ve been rehearsing for three hours, THREE HOURS CHENLE, please give me money so i can get us something from the vending machines,” you had your hands together, ready to beg him. originally this was just an excuse but now that you thought about it you were starving and you could already hear your stomach grumbling in the near future. he stood up from his bench dusting off his knees as just a habitat, because really where would he have acquired dust?  “if you can beat me in a basketball game to three, i’ll buy you food.” “you’re on,” and with that chenle lazed across the stage towards the basketball that laid just off stage and his nonchalant movements led you to believe this win would be easy even if you sucked. boy were you wrong. chenle tossed the ball to you which you caught with an oomf not expecting the strength behind it. you let him walk to center stage again before you bowed “what the fuck yn-“ “it’s for honor,” you hissed gesturing for him to do what you did “that’s not how it-“ you looked up in a glare “fine, whatever.” as soon as he awkwardly bowed you ran forward messily dribbling the ball. you heard his initial shock and then a laugh behind you and then seconds later in front of you as he swooped the ball out of your possession. “that’s illegal,” you cried chasing after him as he dribbled to the other side and easily sent it into the basket. he retrieved the ball and turned back to your slumped form smiling “no, that’s one for me.” “you’re not supposed to be good at this,” you sighed as he tossed the ball back in your direction. “come on yn” he said. “if zac efron can do it then you can too” you went to speak your finger up in the air like you were going to correct him again so he spoke faster than you, “what are you going to tell me zac efron didn’t do any of the basketball playing as well?” “no,” you bounced the ball in front of you “i was going to ask you if you only have one pep talk?” “yes i do,” he rubbed his hands together getting ready to play again, “now start dribbling so i can get 2 more points and we can go back to practicing.” “um i think you mean, i get 3 more points and we eat snacks.” “not a chance.” and with your newfound will to beat chenle you ran forward only to get the ball taken from you a second time. this time you reacted faster deciding to latch onto him in true koala form instead of going for the ball. “this-“ he tried to shake you off his back are the ball rolled out of his hands and across the stage again “is not how you play basketball.” “that’s because you’ve never seen my strategy.” “i don’t know what you hope to achieve from this strategy,” he laughed finally shrugging you off.  “snacks.” you answered, “i hope to achieve snacks.” chenle won the game 3-1 sadly, after his second basket he noticed your enthusiasm withering so he “accidentally” fumbled the ball in your direction 3 or 4 times until you finally got it in. his third point was achieved about 3.5 seconds later from the opposite side of the “court” to stop you from getting too cocky. “let’s go practice now,” you groaned and stopped chenle by pulling his arm before he could go back to the dreaded piano. “please chenle, buy me snacks,” you whined trying again with the puppy dog eyes “i’ll name my first born child after you.” “well i don’t think that’s necessary-“ “i’ll mention you in my award acceptance speeches when i’m famous, you’ll be known as zhong chenle the guy who got me snacks and saved my life,” you tugged on his arm more and you could feel him relenting “fine,” he said as he took out his wallet with the hand that wasn’t being pulled by you. “thank you-“ you yelled out happily jumping away from him “but-“ he held $10 in front of you and when you went to grab it he moved it away, “you have to promise me you’ll get famous, cause if you don’t i’m marching straight up to your house and getting my money back.” “of course,” you nodded barely listening to what he said your eyes fixed on the money in his hand which you snatched as soon as he brought it near. you sprinted off down the halls to the nearest vending machine leaving chenle on stage shaking his head with a fond smile. “why did you get apple slices,” chenle asked picking up the cold green plastic they were in and plopping them back on the ground in front of him. “i didn’t know if you were a vegetarian so i didn’t want to offend you,” you responded plopping a chip in your mouth, the bag of which chenle grabbed from your hand the second he noticed. you were both sitting cross legged on the stage floor across from each other the food laying in between you.

chenle waited until he finished his chip to speak, “chips are vegetarian yn, they’re just potatoes.”

“you’re a potato.” 

“that was uncalled for.”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“we’re soaring. flying. there's not a star-” chenle mumbled through the words robotically as he played leaning forward to squint at the lyrics. 

you hit him with your slightly rolled up script, “sing! when i asked you to help with the duet i meant singing.”

“i’m not singing,” chenle leaned back his hands in his lap and no longer on the piano as he shook his head. 

“come on chenle if zac efron can do it you can too,” you laughed taking his stupid pep talk from him. 

he turned his head in your direction amused, “from what i heard zac efron didn’t sing either.”

“not in high school musical maybe,” you said smirking, “but he did in the greatest showman, at least i think he did.”

“you’re a loser.” 

“says you.”

he sighed and straightened out the sheet music on his piano, “let's start again.”

“are you going to sing?” you perked up hoping he would give in like he had for the snacks a few days ago.

“no,” he shook his head again, harder this time, like if he shook his head enough the idea would leave yours.

“please?” you were pouting and he knew it so he decided not to look at you, knowing that over the past few weeks he had been getting softer for your every action. 

“no,” his tone was uncertain and you latched onto that like he knew you would. 

“chenle,” you said this to get his attention hoping he would turn towards you like he usually did but again he refused his leg bouncing beside him. 

your socked feet hit against his piano bench in frustration which you sat on cross legged facing him. “chenle look at me.”

this time he did but he wouldn’t meet your eyes shyly he looked down at the ground beside you. you delicately grabbed his hands from off the piano and into your own.

when you squeezed his hands a little he finally looked into your eyes and you smiled at him, “chenle will you please sing with me?” you asked softly, softer than he’d ever heard your voice before. 

“fine” chenle relented, he knew if he looked into your hopeful eyes for too long he would agree but there was really no helping it. 

“really?” your eyes sparkled not expecting his response and he nodded.

“really.” he cleared his throat, “but don't laugh at how much i suck alright?”

“chenle i’ll only laugh if you're really bad, don’t worry” you watched as his shy expression changed into a pout on his soft lips. then you realized you were looking at his lips. You looked back into his eyes to see him staring back at you with a look of soft wonder.

with a small cough to break the silence and to break your hands apart, you forced a laugh “i’m kidding, i bet you’re great anyways your good at everything else.”

“i can literally do two things,” he laughed. Good, you were back to your usual interactions. 

“well that's two more things than me,” you fought back.

his mouth fell open like you had offended him but his eyes were still friendly, “um shut up, you can sing, you can dance, you can steal my heart,” he made a heart shape with his hands after he spoke.

“you can’t sweet talk me out of making you sing.” 

“darn.”

“and who the fuck still says darn?”

“your mom?”

you hit his shoulder a little harder than usual, “zhong chenle!”

“i’m sorry it just slipped out, i didn’t mean to bring back a joke from the 2000’s,” he looked ashamed but you saw the smile twitching on his lips. jEsus stop looking at his lips.

“i just-” you placed a hand over your heart, your head turned away dramatically, “i just don’t know if we can be friends anymore after that.”

“yn-”

“no i'm leaving,” you said getting up from the bench and grabbed your bag that laid on the ground beside you.

before you could step away he lightly grabbed your wrist in his hand and gently tugged you back in his direction, “don’t leave.”

he was too soft to decline so you huffed, you shrugged your bag off again, and sat back down on the stool.

“good,” he said letting your wrist go and turning to his piano “let’s practice.”

“fine,” you agreed taking in a breath of air “but no piano this time.”

“you want me to sing acapella with you?” he asked in disbelief, doubting you would stick to this seemingly outrageous request.

“yes,” you confirmed quickly.

“okay,” chenle didn’t know why he agreed or why he agreed so easily but he knew he couldn’t back out now without another fight, “so um- how do we start?”

“not so tough without your piano huh?” you teased reaching to his sheet music and handing it to him, “first you probably need the lyrics.”

“good call,” he nodded rocking back, one hand on the bench the other holding the lyrics, and swallowing nervously.

you could see how tense he was and placed a hand over his too try to calm him down a bit, he relaxed slightly under your touch and you began to count him in “one, two, three, four.”

“we’re soaring; flying, there's not a star in heaven that we can’t reach,” his voice was so fucking pretty and he didn’t tell you this before? and for why was he being modest?? his voice was beautiful and it made your heart swell that he had agreed to share it with you and no one else.

“hey,” chenle waved the paper in your face, you blinked and broke yourself out of the thoughts you hadn’t even realized you were trapped in, “you missed your part.”

“you’re so pretty,” it came out in an over dramatic pout then you realized what you said “um- i um meant your voice is pretty.” 

in typical shy boy fashion he looked away, “i um- thank you? but it would be nice if you sang next time too.”

“right, lets go again.”

“whats this?” chenle smirked tilting his head in fake confusion, “yn actually wanting to practice? was my voice that moving?”

“shut up,” you huffed and raised your fingers in a count to start again.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“wheres yn?” jaemin asked leaning over chenle's shoulder as he did the soundcheck for the night.

“what do you mean, ‘where's yn’” he did finger quotes and his face scrunched up slightly annoyed and confused.

“i mean, wheres yn,” jaemin repeated again in the same curious tone “she’s not with the cast so i thought she’d do with you”

“what do you mean she’s not with the cast?” chenle’s voice was louder now trying to hide that he was worried about you when nothing was probably happening.

“I mean shes not with the cast-” jaemin frowned “why do you want me to keep repeating things? are you okay chenle?”

chenle ignored him and quickly finished his soundcheck going off to find you. awkwardly he went up to one of your friends spending the whole time fiddling with his fingers until they told him you had gotten nervous and went to splash some water on your face. 

he spoke quick thank you and wandered down the hall to see if you were okay, hesitantly he knocked on the door “in a minute!” you called from behind it your voice shakier than normal. 

“hey yn, you're on in um-” he looked down at his watch and his heart rate picked up, “literally two minutes, you good?”

“um yeah,” he heard a loud sniff as you walked over to the door and opened it. 

your face was red and you brought a hand up to rub your eyes leaning on the door frame giving chenle a fake smile.

“have you been crying?”

“no,” you sniffed.

he gave you a disbelieving look and you frowned tears spilling from your eyes again, he held his arms open and you immediately fell into them, holding onto him tightly. one arm wrapped around you while his other texted jaemin to tell the teacher they may have to delay the musical a few minutes. 

placing his phone back into his back pocket he brought a hand up to move down your hair calmingly as you cried into his chest.

“yn,” you hummed against him in response until he moved you back his hands on your shoulders, holding you about a foot away. he cautiously brushed a tear away with his thumb, “you’re going to do great and i’m the harshest critic in the world, you of all people know that.”

“yeah,” you sniffed again “but you like me now, so it’s not the same.”

you smiled sadly at your own comment and he smiled with you “i’ve always liked you.”

“liar.” 

“okay, maybe i didn’t like you when we first met because you cut in line and took the last of the pizza,” chenle agreed, you humphed at him, a little glare in your eyes “but i liked you the second time i saw you, you know when you accidentally threw a pencil at my head, i really needed a pencil that day.”

you giggled and chenle was happy he was making progress. 

“this isn’t like your usual pep talks,” you teased, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“well after a while i learned every single character in high school musical is actually corrupt and maybe not the best people for motivation.” 

“good call,” you nodded, “but you’re not even going try? i like shutting your pep talks down.”

“fine um-“ he said thinking “you can do this yn be like kelsi and sing your heart out.”

“she played piano she didn’t-“

“you get my point,” he smiled his pretty smile and you couldn’t help but smile back, “and you’re going to do great, so get on out there before they kill you and i for keeping them waiting.”

“okay.” you nodded and he let your shoulders go so you could run together to the stage where everyone was panicking, and before you parted ways you gave him a quiet thank you.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

you felt the adrenaline and pride rush through you as you finished the final number in the musical. you couldn’t stop a smile that took over your entire face from forming. 

you took your bow, immediately after looked to the side hoping chenle was paying attention and there he was standing at his piano at the side of the stage giving you a standing ovation, your eyes met and he smiled so proudly. 

you felt yourself lose control of your body as you ran towards him and jumped into his unsuspecting arms, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs around his hips. it took him a second to regain his balance from the unexpected hug but once he had, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 

“you did so good,” you leaned back so you could see his face and he could see yours. he was smiling. you were smiling. god was probably smiling but you couldn’t be sure. he spun you once as you both laughed and stopped looking you in the eyes “i’m so proud of you.” 

then you noticed how close his face was to yours, your eyes dropped to his lips and you could tell his did the same, your breathe was heavy from the performance as well as the close contact, chenle began to lean in and you both start laughing again. your head fell to his shoulder while you laughed together.

after a few seconds, and realizing that everyone could still see you both he put you down and shyly stepped away. his head ducking and flushed.

“i’ll um- see you later yn?” he said and you felt a little disappointed as he disappeared backstage without even waiting for your response. 

you turned back around to see your friends all huddled together laughing and talking so you quickly ran back to join in. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

“what are you doing man?” jisung asked having walked backstage to see chenle with his face leaned up against the brick wall. 

“kicking myself,” chenle mumbled back.

“why aren’t you with yn?” jisung asked and chenle groaned flipping around just to frown at jisung.

“because i’m stupid.” 

“that you are my friend,” jisung agreed.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

you hadn’t seen chenle for the rest of that night but day 2 of performing was today and you were determined to not let him just walk away on you again. 

as soon as you entered the room your eyes snapped to the piano which luckily chenle was still sat at. he wasn’t playing just shuffling through his endless sheet music so you knew you wouldn’t be interrupting anything.

quickly you moved over to him, fixing your posture so your walk was full of false confidence and authority.

“chenle-“ you tapped his shoulder and slid into the spot beside him on his bench. 

“yn,” he mumbled his eyes keep flashing to your lips making it hard to think about anything but kissing him.

“what are you up to?” your voice was as soft as his and was hard to raise above a whisper just as much trapped in a daze as he was. 

“oh you know just um- piano” he smiled leaning to the side and accidentally resting his arm on the keys only to bounce off when they made a loud sound. you giggled at his actions and he cursed himself for ruining the moment but it had only made you want him more. 

“that’s-“ you started not sure of what to say “fun.” 

“yeah its um- can i kiss you?” chenle didn’t know where the confidence had come from or even where the words had come from but they were definitely there, they had been said, holy shit.

chenle was in panic, you were going to reject him, he was going to lose you, he was going to die alone and have 50 cats, wait maybe that’s actually not too bad-

“yes,” you hummed. oh. that wasn’t what he expected. 

chenle cupped your cheeks and your eyes drooped close. his heart practically fluttered out of his chest when his lips met yours and he could already feel his palms getting sweaty. he dropped his hands from his cheeks and you moved yours to wrap loosely around his neck pulling him closer but that just caused your foreheads to crash together. with a giggle from you and a groan chenle you pulled apart awkwardly placing a hand on your forehead where his had hit.

“sorry,” you laughed, your smile huge on your face and so was his, as carefree as you’d ever seen it despite the pain echoing in his head. 

“no, it’s fine,” his words were slow and breathy and sounded just as smiley as he looked. “but i don’t think gabriella would have messed up like that, or zac efron.” 

your mouth fell open and your hands flew to your hips “SHUT UP!!” 

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[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 3/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Read on AO3.

January 15th –

He opened his eyes!

He opened his eyes and looked at me!

After hours of waiting in the dark and in the cold, despairing every second and wishing I was dead myself, he opened his eyes.

But it came close to being all for naught because I almost died myself right then and there.

It was good to see him with his eyes wide open, but the golden eyes I loved so much are gone. 

These new eyes are white on white, the pupils infinitely dark, the irises torn. They stare without blinking. They look into me, into my soul, it seems. They connect to the love that runs deep within me, to every touch he has ever left on my skin, to every promise we both made. 

But they do not recognize me. 

Am I, at all, familiar to him?

I don’t want to reject him, whether he knows me or not. But those eyes unnerve me.

There’s so much about them that’s innocent and frightened.

So much about them that’s desolate and dead.

We literally spent the morning just looking at one another.

I would give anything to know what’s going on in his mind. 

What does he see when he looks at me? 

I want to reach out and touch him, but I’m afraid. I know it won’t be the same. He won’t be warm, won't be comforting. What could be worse than a dead copy of a once alive and loving creature? I don’t know. 

But whatever this is, it might be. 

He won’t smell like Crowley. He won’t have his cheek, won't have his soothing voice. It’s almost as if I adopted some wild animal and decided to make it my husband.

What have I done?

***

January 16th –

All day long, he tried to move, grunting with the effort of struggling to stand up and get out of bed. He didn’t speak words; he just groaned. I wanted to help him. I wanted to pretend that he was simply convalescing after a horrible illness. I wanted to bathe him and dress him. I wanted to sit him down in front of the television, prop up his feet, and feed him brandy and ice-cream. I wanted to put this chapter behind us and get on with our lives.

I wanted to make believe him dying had never happened.

But I’m not that good an actor.

He behaves exactly the way the old woman warned me he would. He reminds me of a child.

I never wanted children.

This is the ‘in sickness and in health’ part of the marriage package, which I agreed to without hesitation.

Never mind the ‘till death do us part’ portion.

This comes with my vows, and I will honor them.

My love will help him. I know it will.

…

Can I really do this, or am I fooling myself?

***

January 17th –

I’m trying my best to take the bad with the good.

I managed to get him to the living room sofa. His legs were stiff, and he couldn’t seem to bend his knees.

He had been declared dead-on-arrival because of the injury to his neck. But I wonder if anything else is broken. I wasn’t really paying attention to the doctor when he went over the extent of Crowley’s injuries. After I heard the word dead, I tuned out.

I should get a copy of Crowley’s hospital records.

But if his legs are broken, how will I deal with that? Will the potion magically fix everything? It brought him back to life. Could fixing broken legs be more difficult than reanimating a corpse? What is the extent of the potion's effects? Do I need a secondary potion of some kind to repair internal injuries?

Maybe I should call the shopkeeper back and ask.

We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

He stumbled numerous times and fell on me. I did my best not to cringe at his touch or accidentally drop him. But those eyes, so close to mine, were like looking into a nightmare. I could see through them to the veins and arteries behind, the blood inside them black and unhealthy.

The fourth time he stumbled, though, I got the feeling that maybe he was falling on purpose so that I would be forced to catch him.

I even thought I saw the shadow of a smile cross his lips.

I watched him as he sat in front of the TV and renewed his passion for The Golden Girls. That show had been one of his favorites since he was a small boy.

He sat so still. 

He didn’t swallow. 

He didn’t appear to breathe.

The only time he moved was when he looked over to where I sat, I think, to make sure I was still there.

He sat for hours and watched TV. 

There was nothing else for him to do.

I fed him salad for dinner, let him stay in front of the television instead of making him go to the dining room table. I didn’t see any reason to move him. He leaned down and sniffed the cold lettuce leaves, but he did not eat.

Neither did I.

***

January 19th –

After a full day of limping him around the house, Crowley is surprisingly steady on his feet. He can make it from the bedroom to the living room sofa by himself. It takes him a while, but he can do it.

His body is still in rigor, but he seems to be getting more comfortable with it.

I should be jumping for joy at his progress. The more mobile he becomes, the less dependent he will be on me. Every day that he improves, even a little, he is closer to becoming the man he was.

But I don’t know how comfortable I am with that anymore.

***

January 21st -

He doesn’t sleep. And now that he doesn’t rely on me to get around the house, neither do I. I know he sees me as a parent-figure, so he won’t hurt me. But he’s such an alien creature. Not like the old Crowley at all.

It’s strange having this version of him around the house.

When Crowley was

Before the accident, Crowley was so independent. He didn’t need me, didn’t need my help with anything.

But now, he needs to be near me all the time.

I understood there would be a change in our dynamic, but it’s such a striking change that it’s difficult to get used to.

I took a shower for the first time in days. I left him in the living room watching TV, but when I finished and opened the curtain, there he was, standing there … staring.

I fell asleep for about an hour afterward, and when I woke up, he was kneeling beside me, again staring at me.

He’s always staring.

What does he think about doing when he stares at me?

***

January 22nd –

I finally broke down and gave Crowley a shower. He didn’t stink, but there was something about him, something that smelled … well, I can't seem to find the words to describe it. 

I just wanted it gone.

I’ve seen the injuries to his chest numerous times, but I haven't paid much attention to his back.

When I saw them, I almost threw up.

And he noticed. 

He heard me gag. 

I gasped, held in my urge to be sick.

He turned to face me, and for the first time, he had an expression on his face different from his blank one … but also different from that smile I thought I saw when I was helping him walk around the house.

He looked hurt.

***

January 27th -

Each day that he improves, I debate telling our friends that he's here. I know they miss us terribly. But in the end, it would be too cruel. He’s not himself anymore. He never will be. Most days, I curse myself for doing this to him. My motives were selfish. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself when I made the decision to bring him back. 

I wasn’t even thinking of him.

Our lives are unrecognizable. We’ll never travel the world like we'd planned. Who knows if I’ll make it back to my bookshop? Should probably shut it down and have my books transported here. The way things look, the rest of our days will be spent in this cottage. 

I have to be okay with that.

But what about Crowley?

If you asked rational me if I think he wants to live this half-life, with no potential to be anything other than a human puppet, who only barely resembles the man that was Anthony J Crowley, I would have to say no. Absolutely not.

But I can’t turn back now.

What am I expected to do? Poison his tea? Smother him in his sleep?

Would attempting to kill him even work?

And what about his soul? 

If there is a Heaven, I surely pulled him out of it with my cock-eyed plan. What if there is no going back for him? 

I can only hope that my love for him is enough to keep him from hating me when he’s able to comprehend what I’ve done to him.

***

February 1st –

I’ve finally gotten him to eat – bits and pieces mostly, bites of vegetables and corners of bread. It doesn’t seem like he likes it, but he eats it, and that’s good. He eats because I tell him to. It shows that he trusts me.

He’s more self-sufficient now. 

He showers and brushes his teeth on his own. He picks out his pajamas and dresses himself. Sometimes he tries his hand at making the bed. He is attempting to be more vocal, but he has yet to say a single thing that isn’t a grunt or a moan.

I’ve been looking up the subject of speech delay on the Internet, trying to find ways to help him learn. I came across one website in particular with fun, creative ideas. I started making flashcards of consonant blends and one-syllable words. I felt so accomplished, so hopeful, like I was actually doing something positive toward the goal of moving us forward. I felt confident that after a little work with them, everything would be all right. I was so excited to show them to him, but then I realized …

… I have no idea if he can read.

***

February 3rd –

I tried calling the old woman at the antique shop in Soho to ask about the effects of the potion, but the phone has been disconnected.

I guess they went out of business after all.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing appears to be broken. Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t feel pain.

I was teaching him how to cook, hoping it would bring a bit of the old Crowley back. We used to cook together all the time. Honestly, we weren't all that good at it, but that didn't stop us from trying. We had just gotten the hang of a decent souffle before ...

Anyway ...

I started him small. 

I had him grating cheese. 

Seemed simple enough. The grater stands on its own, so not much to juggle. But he pressed too hard, ran the grater over the backs of his fingers, scraped off skin. He didn’t so much as flinch. I think it bothered me more than it bothered him. I bandaged it up and, without thinking, I kissed the wound. I looked at him in utter shock …

… and he smiled.

My heart leapt.

It’s so nice to see him smile again. 

I never thought I would.

***

February 4th –

I took off Crowley’s bandage, and his wound from the cheese grater is gone! There’s not a trace of it left!

I guess that answers that question.

I should be relieved, but it bothers me, and I don’t know why.

***

February 21st –

Today was the most unexpectedly intense, depressing, and wonderful day all at once.

It started when Crowley woke this morning. He got up before me and tried to make me crepes. I had no idea why. He hadn't tried to cook by himself before, didn't even show an interest in cooking without me. He burned them, himself, and the stove all in one go. The fire alarm woke me, blaring in my ears. I managed to get to the extinguisher in time, but poor Crowley looked heartbroken over his ruined pan of blackened food.

Then, before lunch, he wanted to go outside. I think he was trying to sneak out, but I caught him jiggling the front doorknob (he has yet to master the bolt - thank God). When I caught him, he slammed his hand on the door in frustration and sprinted for the back one. I followed him, knowing it was locked and that he wouldn’t be able to open it. When I reached him, he was trying to wedge his way out of the old cat flap. (Note to self - board up the cat flaps! I don’t know why we kept them. We’ve never owned a cat.) 

I patted him gently on the shoulder and asked him what he needed. He stood up and groaned, moving his mouth and wiggling his tongue, making nonsensical sounds. When he couldn’t say what he needed to, he pointed out the window to the garden. I assumed he wanted to check on his dahlias. I’m a disaster with flowers, and, unfortunately, I haven’t been able to keep them up the way he could. 

Of course, it's one degree outside. The poor things are frozen solid. They're not even flowers any longer, I don't think, but the frigid remains of what they once were.

But he’d had yet to show any interest in them, either, before today. 

I shrugged, repeated that I didn’t understand. He pointed more forcefully, jabbing at the window with his index finger.

“I don’t know what you're trying to tell me, my dear,” I said. “Do you want to go for a walk?” 

I've taken him walking around Soho a few times. I've been trying to tie up loose ends, decide if selling the bookshop is the road to take. I wrapped him up in a full-length coat and scarf with just his eyes peeking out. I guess he enjoyed it, but he’d never asked to go outside. He shook his head and pointed again, this time at the dying rose bushes that I hadn’t had time to deadhead. I didn’t get it. I shook my head, and he stormed off to the bedroom.

I followed him there, but he blocked the door.

I could hear him inside, moaning. It was horrible. It sounded like pain and embarrassment and frustration, all rolled together. And I couldn’t help him.

He wouldn’t let me.

I tried to lure him out several times, but he didn’t come out till dinner time.

And when he did, he was dressed in a black Bergdorf suit.

Crowley has dozens of expensive black suits, and he looks stunning in all of them.

But this suit.

This suit in particular.

This suit had been hanging front and center in his closet.

Because it was the suit I had planned on burying him in.

It threw me for a loop, dragging me kicking and screaming back to that day I found out he had died, before I’d decided to try bringing him back, before I knew that I could. I took out the suit to air it. I guess I hadn’t put it back with the others because there it was, standing before me with the living corpse of my husband inside.

The sight took all the air out of my lungs.

“Take it off,” I said quietly, trying not to alarm him, but how was I supposed to explain to my somewhat dead husband that I didn’t want to see him dressed in the suit I had planned on putting him in the ground in?

He looked confused and shook his head, opening his mouth and groaning.

“Please, Crowley,” I begged, hoping he would hear my anguish and understand, “take it off.”

He stomped his foot and shook his head, the way a petulant child would. It should have been cute, but I couldn’t handle it. I've had issues getting used to his looks lo these many weeks, but for the first time since he came back to me, he looked dead.

“Take it off!” I screamed. I ran at him, grabbed the lapels, trying to tear it off his body. He held me, pinned my arms, and I could feel his renewed strength. I hadn’t really let him touch me before, but now I knew that if he wanted to, he could probably hurt me.

I stared up at him, realizing that he was hovering above me, and I was lying on my back on the floor. My heart stopped. He had never looked menacing before. Even in death, he seemed so innocent. But now, he looked like a monster. He had a piece of paper balled in his grasp, and he tried to make me look at it, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from his face – pale and cold and lifeless, regardless of the fact that he was my Crowley.

He stared at me, trying to speak.

It hit me like a pile of bricks.

Speak.

That’s exactly what he was doing. 

His lips were moving in exaggerated, grotesque ways that shouldn’t be able to turn sound into words, but they were.

“A … Az … Azi …”

Crowley blinked and shook his head.

“Azir …”

“Aziraphale?” I asked in awe that he was trying to say my name.

Crowley laughed. It was a glorious, hollow, frankly frightening sound, but I couldn’t help smiling when I heard it. He put his fingers to my lips. 

I guess he didn’t want me to steal his thunder.

“Azzzir-uh-phale,” he said, smacking his lips. “I … lo … I lov …” Crowley swallowed again, closing his eyes, trying to make the words in his head match the movement of his lips. “I … love … you … Azzzir-uh-phale.”

Crowley tapped again at the paper on the floor. This time I did what he wanted and looked. He had torn off the current page from the calendar and was poking at a box circled shakily in red. I peered down at it.

I could have cried.

“Our ... our anniversary?” I asked, looking into his broken eyes. He sighed, nodding.

It was our anniversary.

He’d wanted to make me breakfast in bed … for our anniversary.

He’d wanted to get me roses … for our anniversary.

My husband had wanted to do something nice for me … for our anniversary.

My husband had spent all day teaching himself how to say, “I love you, Aziraphale,” because there was nothing else he could do for me.

My husband remembered our anniversary ...

... even when I had not.

***

June 4th -

Five months-ish later…

I can’t believe it! 

I cannot believe it!

Five months later and we’ve made it! Despite the odds. Despite the difficulties and the heartaches. Despite every time I thought about giving up, here we are.

Happy.

Together.

We spend our days wrapped in each other’s arms. We watch TV. I read books out loud - he sits and listens. Crowley is re-learning how to drive, and I’m on the hunt for a new Bentley. Our lives might not be what they were before, but they’re perfect for us.

We’ve managed to go to the city more, spent a few glorious nights at our flat in Mayfair. We've even interacted with one or two of our old friends. It's a wonder what some foundation and blusher can accomplish! I told them it was a medical miracle, and they believed me.

Because that's what Crowley is.

A miracle!

Okay, maybe I am tempting fate. But maybe fate needs to be tempted from time to time! 

His vocabulary has expanded immensely, and a hint of his old suave confidence has come back, along with the muddy accent I so often teased him about.

I am finally at a point where I am optimistic about the future.

Because I’m beginning to think that there might actually be one for us.

***

August 13th –

I woke this morning to a strange squealing noise. At first, I thought it might be the smoke alarm again - odd since we got the cooking situation sorted, I thought. The longer I listened to it, the more I realized it wasn’t the smoke alarm. It didn’t sound familiar at all, so I didn’t worry too much about it. As long as an errant sheep didn’t get hit by a car, there was really no reason to jump out of bed and investigate. After a few minutes of listening to the goings-on outside, I determined that wasn’t the case, so I considered going back to sleep.

But then I noticed that Crowley wasn’t laying beside me in bed.

That isn’t too unusual. He’s normally the first one up on any given day. I just curl back into a ball holding his pillow to my chest until he returns.

He always returns.

The squealing wasn’t really that weird. I’ve thought for the last few months that we might have rats. Or squirrels. Or possums. I’ve heard that same squealing a few times before. But seeing as I can’t find any evidence of rodent-caused destruction anywhere in the house, I haven’t been too aggressive about hunting it down.

My stomach began to growl. I guessed I had been asleep for longer than I thought. Instead of returning to bed, I decided to make some waffles for breakfast. So I got up and went out into the kitchen.

That’s where I found Crowley.

He was crouching on the floor …

… covered in blood …

… biting into the spine of what used to be a raggedy old Maine coon …

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

He grinned his old, sly grin, licked his bloody lips, and said, "Hello, Aziraphale. Can I get you a cuppa tea? I know just how you like it."

He winked at me, and my heart stuttered.

…

I may have a problem.

***

Those are the last words on the page.

A page where the ink is smeared from tears, and the edges crusted in blood.

I haven’t seen Aziraphale or Crowley in decades. They used to send the occasional letter, but those stopped a while ago, and they never call. But something tells me neither of them ever left this house alive.

I’m afraid my time, too, has run out. I came to this house alone. But huddled in the darkest corner of the attic, I hear footsteps coming closer, a sour voice on the wind calling my name …

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

Ka-thunk …

“Warlock …”

…

KA-THUNK!!

***

“Warlock Dowling!” Crowley calls, barging into the attic, footsteps heavy on the worn floorboards. “Are you recording another one of those Clip-Clop thingies again?”

“It’s TikTok, Nanny,” Warlock replies, rolling his eyes, “and no. I’m reading a story for my YouTube channel.”

“Well … you done getting a costume together or wot?” Crowley asks, changing the subject, saving face that he actually understands anything Warlock just said. “Adam and his hooligans are gonna be here in a minute. Aziraphale is gonna have kittens if you’re not ready to go Tricks or Treats!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Warlock says, gathering up his camera. He loves Halloween with a passion, but he’d been eyeing this one journal in Aziraphale’s bookshop for some time now. This video he’s been putting together promises to be epic - the crowning achievement of his burgeoning story channel. Most horror story channels get their material from the Creepypasta Reddit, but he has a unique source of original material … when he can get out to Soho, that is. “I’m coming.” He pulls the lapels of the leather jacket he’s borrowing for the evening together in front to tighten it up. 

It’s slim fit as it used to be Crowley’s from back in the day, but thirteen-year-old Warlock still swims in it. 

Warlock marches to the door under Crowley’s watchful eye. Before he can make his way through, Crowley stops him, slipping a hand underneath the jacket and rescuing an extraneous prop - an antique journal.

“Have you been snoopin’ through Angel’s old manuscripts again?” Crowley asks, wiping the cover clean. “You know how he feels bout that.”

“I know,” Warlock admits sheepishly, “but my audience loves them! I get thousands of hits off his stories! Besides, I put my own twist on them, freshen them up a bit.”

“Do you now?” Crowley asks with an unamused eyebrow notched.

“Why didn't he get them published?” Warlock shifts gears before the lecturing can start. “He’s an amazing writer!”

“He had his reasons,” Crowley mumbles, flipping through the pages. After skimming a passage or two, he puts it down on a pile of similar journals, a shiver sliding down his snakey spine. “Oof! Those things’ll give you nightmares.”

“They should terrify you. He’s murdered you in every single one!”

“Ah, but he does it with love.” Crowley grins wide enough to swallow his whole face. “It’s an honor.” 

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #tricketyboo2020 #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

[kyber-kisses]

Southern Nights (4/4)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: it’s a little angsty, very slight canon divergence and spoilers for s12. its a bittersweet ending.

Summary: After a situation with the BMoL, Dean finds himself running towards the person he fears for the most besides his brother. But even when he finds her safe and alive, he can see that something isnt right.

A/n: final part is finally here, folks! I hope you all enjoy and pretty please tell me what you thought!

Part 1       Part 2        Part 3

You were a difficult person to keep at arms length to say the least. Because no matter how hard Dean tried, he gravitated back to you, just as you did him. You had fallen asleep hours ago, but the older Winchester drifted in and out of consciousness like the tide. At some point in the night you had found your way back to Dean, cuddling up close to him despite the still warm temperature. He should have rolled away, not given in to the temptation of you being so close, but he couldn't help it. In the darkness your cuddles were like a little touch of heaven. He wished he could extend the night just so he could stay close to you longer, safe in your embrace. Your arms wrapped around him brought a peace he had never known before. Sometimes Dean thinks its you that gives him hope for the future. That there is nothing to fear, and monsters no longer exist.

He eventually drifted off to sleep like so many times before. . .it doesn't last long though.

The neon numbers on your bedside clock read 4:23 AM when Dean suddenly felt a firm hand shake him awake, the hunter letting out a groan as he attempted to snuggle closer to you.

“Dean?”

Another groan.

“Dean.”

“What, Sam? It’s four thirty in the morning.” Dean grumbled, trying desperately to fall back asleep.

“I know we planned on leaving after breakfast but we gotta go now.”

That got Dean to pick his head off the pillow and wriggle his arm out from underneath you. “What?”

“Jody just called. She found Mom-“

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dean slowly sat up, checking to make sure you were still asleep. “So what? Can’t that wait a few hours?”

Sam let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She attacked Jody. Tried to kill her.”

“WHat?!”

“Shh! And yes. It might be some kind of mind control- I don’t know. But we gotta hit the road.”

“Shit. Shit okay, yeah.” Throwing back the covers, Dean was out of bed in   seconds, moving out of the room to throw his belongings back into his bag.

The two worked as silently as possible, trying not to wake you from your sleep. That type of early morning sneakiness where the sounds of everything else somehow felt amplified, like the floorboards creaking or the kitchen appliances whirring. They kept as little lights on as they could, even when beginning to load up the car.

It was only when he was grabbing the last bag and flicking off the lights,  did  Dean stop in front of the doorway to your bedroom. The moonlight slipping through the open window to illuminate your sleeping figure.

There was a whispered shout from Sam at the front door, urging him to keep moving.

“Dean-“

“Just-   just give me one second.” Dropping his bag back onto the couch, Dean  made his way back into the room. He knew you would be pissed beyond belief if he left without saying goodbye. It didn't help that he didn't even want to leave in the first place, but there were people that needed saving and monsters that needed killing. Leaving you was never easy.

Sinking down softly onto the edge of the bed, Dean gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Y/N, Y/N I need you to wake up for a second.”

It took a moment but eventually you let out a soft hum.

“Sammy and I got to go. Something happened at Jody's with mom and we can’t stick around.”

Groggy with sleep, you slowly blinked awake, propping yourself up on one elbow. “What?”

“I don’t know the specifics, but I’ll call you as soon as I know.”

“Do you need me to come with?”

“No. No you stay here. You deserve a break. Rest.”

“But Dean-“

Dean only shook his head, pushing away the loose hairs around your face. “I’m gonna call you as often as I can. I don’t know when Sam and I will be able to come back down here again-“

“That’s okay. Go save your mom.” You nodded, sitting up further. “I’ll be fine here.”

“That’s another thing. If those British bastards show up-“

“Dean, if they haven’t found me now- they ain’t finding me ever.”

The moonlight cast sharp shadows across the Winchesters face as he nodded, contemplating whether or not to say one last thing.

“I should- I should probably go.”

“Here-“ already throwing back the covers you began to get up. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No,no that’s okay.” He assured you, rising from the bed. “You go back to sleep.”

“Dean-“

“I’ll call you when we cross the border. I’ll talk to you soon.” Giving you one last kiss on the cheek, Dean rose left the room, leaving you with a bundle of emotions in your chest.

Before this you hadn’t talked or seen Dean and weeks. . . And now his sudden trip here had been cut short and you didn’t know how to feel. It sort of felt like you were being taunted with a piece of meat. Now he was leaving and you had no idea when the two of you would see each other again.

You sat in silence up until your heard the front door close shut lightly and then like a switch being flicked you threw off your covers and quickly bolted through the house. No. You weren’t gonna let him leave that easily. Not without a proper goodbye. Not when he had just helped you so much with your guilt about quitting hunting. He deserved better.

“Dean!” Throwing open the screen door you skidded to a stop on the front steps, both hunters turning in surprise as the door banged shut behind you. Dean had only begun opening the drivers door when he saw you and stopped.

“Y/N?“

screw the whole hunters shouldn't get close to people rule. This was your life and you were seizing control. Ignoring the fact that the sprinklers were currently running, you took quick steps down the stairs before rushing across the wet grass, your t-shirt and sleep shorts getting soaked almost instantly.

Deans eyes widened in sudden sunrise at what you were doing. Taking his hand off the car door he quickly moved forward to catch you as your feet slipped on the grass- at least he thought you were slipping. In reality you had launched yourself into his arms, legs winding around his torso as you hugged him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he wheezed, still slightly stumbling at the sheer force of your collision before letting his arms wrap around you.

“You don't get to get off the hook that easy.” you mumbled, a silence falling over the two of you momentarily as Dean shared a confused look with his brother from over the roof of the car. Sam only shrugged. the only sound being the soft putter and hiss of the sprinklers. Somewhere nearby a dog barked.

“what?”

“that was a lame ass goodbye you gave me.” You explained, pulling back just slightly to look down at him, wet hair sticking to your face. “Plus, I needed to say thank you.”

“For what?” Deans brow furrowed as he adjusted his secure grip on you.

“For understanding why I need to take a break. For not being upset.”

“I could never be upset at you. Plus, now I don't need to constantly worry about you getting yourself killed.” He sighed, setting you back down on your bare feet. Neither of you paid attention to the slam of the car door as Sam slid into his seat, clearly trying to give the two of you a moment alone.

“fair point.”

Dean smiled as he walked you back  towards the steps of the porch. His hand clutching yours. He only paused when your feet were securely on the steps, your faces level. Giving a look back to the car and the soft rumble of the engine filling the early morning air he took a deep breath, the streetlight at the end of the dirt driveway was already pointing him in the direction he was about to travel. He hated it whenever the two of you had to go separate ways, but that was how this life worked. “I gotta get going.”

“I know.”

Dean gave you one last look before nodding, his hand slipping from yours as he made his way back across the grass. The feeling of your eyes on him giving him slight shivers.

Just get in the car and drive, Dean.

Apparently his heart had another idea, because halfway to the running vehicle he shook his head, spun on his heel and marched back towards the porch, your own retreating figure halting to look back.

“alright, now what are you doi-”

Before you can even reach the last syllable, you find his lips interlocking with yours, calloused hands moving to your cheeks as he pulled you in closer to deepen it once he felt you kiss back with wet lips, clearly having yet to wipe the water from the sprinklers from your face. You drew your tongue over his teeth and swallowed his groan as you pressed closer together, no visible gap between you, even as your hands went to his face as well.

So long. You had wanted this for so long.

Somehow for the both of you it was both a goodbye and a reason to hold on. You felt yourself tremble. You suddenly felt like a coward in that moment. You didn't want him to leave. The sun would rise in a few hours and he would be long gone by then.

Dean pulled back slightly breathless, both sets of hands refusing to move the other persons face. Why did he have to go? Why couldn't his life be simple?

“I am so in love with you.” he breathed, taking in every inch of your face and committing it to memory. “So, so in love.”

You were stunned silent for a moment, a wave of fear rippling through the Winchester as he watched you. God. He should have kept his damn mouth shut and just walked away.

But then you smiled. It crept across your face slowly in a similar fashion as a rising sun- and then you were pulling his face in again and pressing another deep kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, you bastard.”

When you pulled back you were met with the purest set of puppy dog eyes you had ever seen, the hunter looking at you like he almost couldn't believe you existed. You raised an eyebrow.

“I don't know why you look so surprised, I thought the two of us were pretty obvious.” You joked, watching as a light laugh left his lips, the same look still glued to his face. Behind him the car honked, snapping him out of his daze.

“Right- I uh- I should get going.” he swallowed, taking a step back. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

You gave him one  last soft smile, hand going up to cradle his cheek like the   night  before. “I always am Mo Graigdh. Don’t worry about me.”

“You ever gonna tell me what that actually means or you gonna leave me   hanging in suspense until I’m on my death bed?” Dean smiled, looking at you with big jade irises.

“Would it kill you to learn a language or two?”

“Probably.”

A light laugh left your lips as his blunt response. The kind that made Dean feel like he had been wrapped in sunlight.

“Well, if it matters that much to you- there’s this fun thing called the internet. It might help.”

“Haha   funny.” Letting go of your hand, Dean pressed one final kiss to your   knuckles. “Anyways, go back to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Walking back across the grass towards the car Dean gave you a salute and a wink. “Always am.”

Leaving was never easy but the older Winchester kept his composure until he   was behind the wheel. As he put the vehicle in drive and headed off down the dirt driveway he gave one last look to the rear view mirror, seeing you still standing on the porch, illuminated by the porch light as you watched them go. Dean didn't know when he would see you again, but he hoped it was sooner rather than later.

The older Winchester maybe got five minutes of silence before Sam spoke up from his spot in the passengers seat.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember that conversation we had about a year back?”

Dean paused before peeling his eyes off the road to glance at his brother. “Sammy, you're gonna have to be a little more specific than that.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at the road map in his lap. “You know, about ever wanting something more? With a hunter? Someone who understands the life?”

There was another pause as Dean focused his eyes back on the road before humming a soft response. To the east the clouds were beginning to ligthen, telling them the sun was beginning to rise and a new day was slowly rolling into motion.

“. . .is that Y/N?”

another pause.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda​​ @jordangdelacruz​​ @orphiceseum​​ @andthatsmyworld​​ @marvelfangirllll​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​ @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​​  @totallyluciferr​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​ @greenarrowhead​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​ @brebolin​​ @biahblue​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​ @hhiggs​​ @mila-dans​​ @mrsmaybankhere​​ @malindacath​​  @littleagxs​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @idksupernatural​​​ @i-make-questionable-choices​

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #spn x reader #SPN #bi-danvers writing

[joggerfive]

Fic: Christmas Mischief

This is my Discord Secret Santa gift for @notebooksnshoelaces <3 Hope you like it, my lovely! Happy holidays!!

Simon and Five become christmassy Township Troublemakers™ and bring some festive cheer to Abel with a few pranks and surprises! Set in S1/S2.

(Link to fic on AO3 if that’s where you prefer to do your reading)

---

“Hello there, my dearest Five.”

Runner Five looked up from their notebook towards the doorway of the rec room. Simon swaggered in then slammed himself down on the couch next to Five with a grin.

“Where did you even get a Santa hat?” Five wondered aloud, reaching over to Simon’s head to touch the white pom-pom that was dangling from the top.

Simon playfully swatted their hand away before it could reach the hat. “I shall answer your question with another question. Are you up for some festive mischief?”

With a glint in their eye, Five immediately shut their notebook as their reply.

-----

“Jesus, it’s cold out here,” Simon complained, “even on the move, I’m bloody freezing.”

Five shook their head as they picked up a dirty shirt from the side of the road. It would be good as new after a wash. They shoved it in their bag and quickly caught up with Simon once more.

“You’re just grumpy because Sam made you take off your Santa hat.” Five replied.

At the mention of his name, the radio operator’s voice started coming through the runners’ headsets.

“It made your headset sit all weird! I’m not having you lose vital equipment in the name of Christmas spirit.” Sam rebutted indignantly.

Simon gave a fake cough, then mumbled the word “grinch”. Five smirked.

“Hey! I am not a grinch! I love Christmas!” Sam replied, sounding offended. “In fact, when I was a kid-”

Five startled as Simon gave their arm a couple of taps to grab their attention. Sam continued his story into their ears as Three pointed towards a street. Five nodded silently in response. Time for part one of the plan.

“Sam,” Simon started with a smirk, “What was that about geese? You’re breaking up.”

“What? No, I said trees.” Sam replied, coming through perfectly clearly.

“Bees? What have bees got to do with Christmas?” Three acted as confused as he could, furrowing his eyebrows together even though Sam couldn’t see him.

“Trees! I was saying how my family would choose a Christmas tree together!”

“Choose a what? And it was free?”

“A tree! And I didn’t say it was free!”

Simon tried to keep the grin off his face as he looked over at Five, “Sorry Sammy boy, you’re breaking up. I guess we’ll just have to hear your story about the free geese and bees later on, hey?”

“There are no geese or bees!” Sam exclaimed, before properly taking in what Simon said, “Wait, you can’t hear me? You should be able to, we haven’t had any problems in this area before-”

“-am. I –an’t hea- you.” Simon spoke in fragments, pretending to get cut off. Five gave a quiet scoff at the ridiculous attempt.

“What? Three? Five? Can you still hear me?”

Five looked over at Simon with an incredulous look on their face. They couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Ca- -ear –ou.” Simon continued.

“Guys? Oh God, why can’t you hear me? Has a wire come loose? I knew I shouldn’t have cleaned in here!” A slight amount of panic started to become present in Sam’s voice, causing a small pang of guilt in Five’s chest.

Runner Three let out a last few incoherent syllables before turning off his headset and motioning for Five to do the same. When he saw Five’s expression, he sighed and turned off theirs for them.

“Oh, stop your worrying, Five. He’ll be fine.” Simon shrugged, “Come on, it’s this way.” He turned down the street on the left, instead of the route straight ahead that Sam had originally planned for them.

“We could’ve told him, you know.” Five mumbled, but followed Simon regardless.

“He would’ve ratted us out and you know it.” He rolled his eyes when Five looked at him with an expression like they’d just hurt a harmless little puppy. Which was kind of how they felt. “Come on, this is for the Christmas spirit! Just a quick stop at this shop and then we can tell Sam we’re okay. Only a few stragglers in our way and we’ve dealt with much worse, right?”

Five gave a reluctant nod, “Fine.”

Simon gave a loud whoop and a fist pump, which put a smile back on Five’s face, as they ran towards their destination.

-----

“Why do these places even exist?” Five asked once they were inside the shop, poking a bobblehead of Santa to make it nod. “Surely they didn’t get any business for ten months out of the year.”

Simon called out his answer from the other side of the store, “Yeah, but I bet the two months they did get business were booming.” On the last word, a couple of bells made a loud noise as a toy fell to the ground, Simon yelling out a quick ‘sorry!’ as he picked the elf back up and put it on its rightful place on the shelf.

The two runners were currently grabbing supplies from a Christmas shop aptly titled ‘Christmas Galore’, which although it appeared to be barren in a few areas (the clothes and candle sections mostly) it still had most of its contents covered in dust. Seemed like kitsch holiday items were not the most necessary thing to scavenge at the end of the world.

“Hey, look!” 

Five whipped their head up from the Nativity display they were looking at just in time to catch the flying scrap of red fabric that was thrown their way. 

“Now we can match!” Simon said happily. Five looked in their hands and saw a Santa hat. Slightly smaller than Simon’s, but it would do. They went to try it on.

“Can’t put it on now, you dolt.” Simon remarked as he shoved something into his bag, “Don’t think we would’ve found festive clothing in the pharmacy Sam thought we were going to.”

Five shrugged, “Maybe someone at the pharmacy was really into Christmas.”

“Alright smartie pants, if you wanna wear it then fine, but you’re doing the explaining.”

They gave Simon a glare before relenting and shoving the hat into their pack instead. The pair continued to grab whatever festive items they could as Simon whistled some Christmas songs to himself.

-----

Runner Five left their bunk on Christmas day with a spring in their step and a poorly concealed smirk on their face. Late last night, the secret santas had been putting festive touches all around Abel whilst trying not to wake anyone up. Five thought back to the moment they’d both tried to sneak into the kitchen through the window and Simon’s foot had gotten caught on the wood, causing him to land on his back with a loud thump, and bit their lip to contain their laughter.

Speak of the devil, as soon as Five entered the kitchen, their companion was already sitting at a table (Santa hat and all) with a mug in his hands.

“Good morning and a very merry Christmas, dear Five!” He greeted with a huge grin.

Five simply nodded as they sat down next to him. They were less of a morning person, but they’d make an exception for one day out of the year.

Simon took this as a reply and continued, “Where’s your hat then? Thought we were gonna be matching.”

Five looked confused for a moment, “My hat?”

“Yeah,” He replied, “I got you a hat. Did you lose it?”

Their face stayed the same for a few seconds, but they cracked when they saw Simon’s crestfallen expression. Reaching into their back pocket, they retrieved their Santa hat and put it on with a cheeky smile.

Simon gave a chuckle, “Had me there for a second. Thought my partner in crime had given up on me.”

They were about to respond when Simon looked over at another table, brimming with excitement. Five followed their gaze, only to be chastised.

“Don’t make it too obvious!” Simon hissed, “Act natural.”

The two mischief makers gave as many casual glances as they could to the other side of the room as Sam walked in, still looking half asleep.

Sam’s eyes widened as he saw the huge box on the table and slowly approached it. Three and Five watched as Sam read the label that was on top, which addressed the present to him. The box was big enough that it covered up Sam’s entire body from view as he sat behind it, making the troublemakers slightly upset that they couldn’t see their victim’s face. However, they knew it wouldn’t be a problem for long.

They watched as Sam (or just Sam’s arms, from their perspective) quickly opened the first box, then halted before pulling out a slightly smaller - but still quite large – box. Next, when that box was opened, another one was inside.

Over the next few minutes, Five had resorted to covering their mouth with their hand to ensure no giggles escaped and Three was pretending to take frequent sips from his now empty mug to hide his grin. There was a small group gathering around Sam as he continued to open the boxes and more boxes would reveal themselves. He was now on his seventh box, and his expression had changed from glee, to confusion, to annoyance.

The final box was about the size of the palm of Sam’s hand and the fervour with which he opened it showed just how done he was with the whole farce. After all the fuss, he held up a tiny SD card between his thumb and forefinger, looking over it with distrust as if he expected it to also have something even smaller inside. There was a note attached, which had been folded as many times as it could to be as compact as possible. The note read:

“Thought this would be a useful gift. Merry Christmas! From, Santa.”

Three and Five watched with delight as Sam read and reread the note multiple times, seemingly only getting more confused. Eventually, the crease between his eyebrows left and he let out a chuckle as he looked to his right and saw the ridiculous amount of empty boxes and wrapping paper on the floor, then pocketed the SD card. He looked around the room with narrowed eyes, seemingly looking for a culprit, making Three and Five tear their gazes away from him.

“How about we go see our next lucky contestant, eh, Five?” Simon said quickly as he saw Sam rise from his seat, probably to go interrogate people about his gift.

With that, the two scurried out of the kitchen, finally letting out all their laughter once they were alone.

-—-

On their way to their next destination, they caught sight of Janine shouting up orders to one of the guards, who was up on a ladder desperately trying to grab something that was seemingly tied above the gates that allowed people in and out of Abel.

Simon instantly changed direction to head towards Janine, his smirk flawlessly changing to a concerned expression as he approached. Five tried their best to copy him.

“Jenny, what’s up?” Three asked as they got close, “Something wrong with the gates?”

Janine turned around, her red cheeks almost rivalling the red plaid shirt she was wearing. She looked aggravated and tired at the same time.

“It seems someone thought it would be funny to tie some… mistletoe above the gates.” She said snippily, staring upwards at the object in question with a grimace.

Simon let out a chuckle, “And that’s why you’re making poor Jacob here stand at the top of a ladder in the freezing cold on Christmas morning? Come on, it’s obviously just a bit of fun.”

Janine folded her arms as she scowled, “‘A bit of fun’, is it? It may be Christmas but we still have runners scheduled to go out today, and this…” she pointed up at the mistletoe, “thing will cause nothing but chaos.”

Five bit their lip to try and hide their smile as Simon replied, “Chaos? It’s just a bit of fake plant that lets people give kisses scot-free. That’s it.”

“When someone comes back through the gates, their first port of call is to go straight to the hospital for bite checks, not to…” Her nose scrunched up, “kiss someone. What if the person coming in is bitten? And the mistletoe malarkey gives them a few extra minutes to hide their bite? What if the person that’s bitten kisses another person?”

Simon hummed in thought, “I don’t think that someone that’s bitten kissing someone else that isn’t bitten would cause the other person to become a zom too. I don’t know though. Haven’t exactly been doing any kissing research.” His eyes lit up as he saw an opportunity, “Maybe we could do some research, ey, Jenny? Strictly for scientific purposes, of course. For the greater good of the township.”

Janine’s eyes widened, her cheeks once pink from the cold and exasperation now blushing for a completely different reason. “Would you like to take over from Mr. Quinn?” She asked Simon, gesturing to the man that was still trying to grab the mistletoe but couldn’t reach due to the fact that the ladder was too small. (Luckily, Five had the forethought to hide the taller ladder that Simon had used to hang the mistletoe up, and it was currently in one of the barns.)

Simon paused for a few seconds as he feigned thinking, “No, I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Then I’d suggest you leave swiftly. Before I make you do so.” Janine concluded.

“Righty-o!” Three replied, giving her a wink before turning away, “Good luck up there, mate!” He shouted up to the guard, who didn’t give a reply. (At least one loud enough that Simon could hear.) Three and Five began to walk away.

“Si?”

They both turned around as they heard Janine speak once more.

“Yeah?” He replied non-chalantly.

“How do you know the plant is fake?” She asked.

Simon paused, “What’s that, Jenny?”

“You said ‘a bit of fake plant’ when referring to the mistletoe.” She said calmly, “How do you know it’s fake? I can’t tell from down here. How can you?”

He quickly scoffed, “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Where’s someone going to find real mistletoe anywhere these days?”

Janine seemed to ponder his answer for a while, staring him down for multiple moments. Five was glad that steel gaze wasn’t on them, they weren’t sure they could handle the pressure as well as their partner.

“I suppose that’s true.” Janine conceded, though she still seemed suspicious. “Very well.”

Three took the answer happily, grabbing Five’s arm as he began to walk away from the scene of the crime once more. “See ya later, love!” He shouted as him and Five scurried away as quickly as possible.

--—

Throughout the day, people started reporting more instances of Christmas mischief.

In the hospital, there was tinsel of all different colours lining each cot. Maxine removed it from beds that were currently being used, just in case a patient tried to stand up and got their leg caught, but happily left the empty beds decorated, enjoying the little bit of brightness it brought to the room.

Jody had been gifted a single knitting needle, with a vague clue to tell her where the next one was hidden which caused her to go on a wild goose chase around the township.

Multiple people saw animals in the farmyard wearing festive hats and headbands, though most of them had wrestled them off by afternoon.

Sara had been gifted a bottle of whiskey, but a padlock on the top prevented her from opening it. There was a riddle attached saying what the combination was, but instead Simon and Five saw her asking around for a hammer or a crowbar.

All the individual jars and tins in the kitchen cupboards had been wrapped in patterned Christmas paper, forcing all the people working there to unwrap each and every one. (If they were to count the amount of ingredients, they would’ve realised that they were a few more than there were the previous day.)

Then, somehow, a rumour had started that Santa himself was going to be visiting Abel. The children whispered happily about it, the parents all gave each other broad smiles, and everyone was trying to suss out who this Santa could be.

-—-

That afternoon, hidden away in a barn as far away from the other residents of Abel as they could be, Three and Five were getting changed into their costumes.

“I still think I should be Santa.” Simon huffed from behind a stack of hay bales, his voice straining with exertion as he tried to get into his outfit.

Five replied, already dressed as Santa Clause, complete with a bushy white beard and big black boots (Evan wouldn’t miss his boots for one day, surely), “The Santa trousers were so short on you that most of your calves were showing. And the jacket showed your midriff. This is for the best.”

“What’s wrong with people seeing my wonderfully toned calves and midriff?”

Five rolled their eyes while fiddling with the fake beard.

Simon’s head popped out from behind a hay bale to glare at his companion, “You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Five replied coolly, “Now hurry up, the kids will be waiting already!”

“Alright!” Simon huffed, “I’m coming out.” He let out a heaving sigh as he wondered out from behind his hiding spot.

Five let out a full belly laugh that would’ve rivalled Santa’s.

“Oi!” Simon shouted defensively over the sound of laughter.

“Sorry!” Five choked out, “It’s just… Wow. And I thought the Santa outfit was short on you.”

He was wearing a green and red elf dress that cut off at his mid-thigh, accompanied with an elf hat that had a golden bell on the end.

Simon folded his arms, then realised it made the skirt ride up even more, and brought his arms back down to his sides. Even in the low afternoon light, the redness on his cheeks was obvious.

“Oh, come on,” Five said, walking up to their elf, “For someone who’s streaked multiple times-”

“This is going to be in front of children!” Simon said indignantly.

“Yeah you’re right,” Five agreed solemnly, before breaking out into a grin, “They’re going to be scarred by your pasty legs.”

“Pasty?!” Simon cried out, “Hey, I-”

“Speaking of the children, we don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?” Five continued with a smile.

Simon let out a large exhale, “Fine. You’re right. Best get this over with.”

Five chuckled, “Aw, come on little elf. Cheer up. It’s Christmas!”

At that, Simon perked up. “Yeah, I guess it is. Alright. Let’s put on the best show Abel’s ever seen.” He held out his arm for his partner in crime, who happily linked their arm with his.

They walked back towards the centre of Abel together, Simon’s hat jingling the whole way.

#zombies run #zombies run! #simon lauchlan #runner five #sam yao #janine de luca #zr secret santa 2020 #fic #my fic #text

[dokidokivisual]

Gochiusa BLOOM episode 9 impressions

Previously: 8 - 7 - 6 - 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1

That’s right, the long-awaited review of episode 9 is finally here! I haven’t managed to finish it last week and kind of lost motivation since almost nobody reads these anyway, but there we go. Not sure what I’m going to do with the remaining episodes at this point, maybe I’ll combine 10 and 11 together? 

The episode starts with a flashback from Chiya and Sharo’s childhood which shows the origin of Anko’s crown. The scene is “shot” in widescreen aspect ratio, a technique that I don’t remember being used before in Gochiusa anime, such as during the previous Chiya/Sharo flashback in Season 2 Episode 9.

I’d like to bring the attention to the opening shot of flowers, which are periwinkles (Vinca major). As you might know, Japanese media often uses the flower language, or hanakotoba which assigns specific meanings to various flowers. The meanings of greater periwinkle are “pleasant memories” and “childhood friends”, which seems to apply rather well here. In fact, if you see a shot of flowers in an anime, there’s a very high chance they have a relevant meaning in hanakotoba.

Of course I couldn’t help but look up chamomile as well, and its meaning seems to be “patience in the face of adversity”...

It seems that Chiya has now lost the crown, but it’s honestly surprising how it stayed on Anko all this time considering he has been carried away by crows and dropped from the sky more than once. Also, I feel like revealing the crown is lost so early in the episode deprives the viewers from being able to spot it on their own, just by seeing crownless Anko in various scenes (as has been done in the manga chapter).

In Chiya’s class there’s an election for picking the candidate from the class for the student council president position. The only two people competing are Chiya and the class president (who doesn’t have a name and referred to only as Iincho). In a surprising turn of events, Chiya gets 16 votes versus 14 votes for the prez (refer to the tally mark chart in episode 3 review), which means there are at least 30 people in the class.

Imagine losing a popularity poll to Chiya. The prez is a tragic character...

Cocoa volunteers to be Chiya’s “producer”, but Chiya calls her “First Lady” which totally means she wants to marry her. By the way, it was Cocoa who nominated Chiya for the election, which I don’t think is mentioned in the anime. In general, this particular chapter has been rearranged rather heavily for the adaptation with things happening in a completely different order, so it’s quite interesting to compare the two versions.

For example, when we see Chiya coming up with the names of various student committees, it seems like a completely natural and Chiya thing to do. It’s hard to believe that in the manga, it is Sharo who comes up with the idea of renaming all the committees. In fact this particular Chiya/Sharo tête-à-tête is not in the manga at all. However it’s an important scene to establish Sharo’s feelings towards Chiya’s presidential ambitions and she doesn’t seem too happy about them, in fact she doesn’t even congratulate Chiya.

Next we have another anime-original scene where Chiya goes to accessories store (from episode 6) to find a replacement for Anko’s crown. It should be pointed out that the design of the crown itself is not completely arbitrary. It features a moon crescent, which symbolizes night (the last character 夜 of Chiya’s name) but is also associated with Arabic world. The closest thing to Anko’s crown I could find is this heraldic crown of the King of Egypt. Anyway, this is also a reference to Chiya’s name, namely it being derived from Japanese name for 1001/Arabian Nights 千夜一夜物語 (Sen’ya Ichiya Monogatari).

Meanwhile Rize is trying to change image to be more like a college student, notices Chiya and asks to make her an adult (phrasing?). As a result, we get an appearance from Rize’s alter-ego Rose for the first time since season 1 episode 9.

The interesting thing about Rose is that despite being featured in only a small number of chapters, she gets a mention in Rize’s character blurb in Manga Time Kirara MAX until this day. It literally takes like a third of her character description!

Anyway, this scene is just a prelude for the adaptation of chapter 2 of volume 7 which is named after a Rize character song  鏡合わせのアンビバレット. In the song, Rize tries on outfits in front of a mirror and tries to convince herself that it’s still her. The illustration for this chapter also shows Rose as a mirror image of Rize.

We see Sharo looking through a bookstore window, which I think also appears in the following episode, and this is a foreshadowing that she works here too. The bookstore is named “Dreamy Books” which is seen later in the scene.

Chiya and “Rose” appear and at first Sharo doesn’t recognize Rize, and only does after Rize points a finger gun at her. Well, it’s not like there is anyone else in this town having purple hair or anything.

By the way you might notice that compared to the last episode the characters are dressed much more warmly, which reflects the fact that it’s already December. Looking back at the scene in episode 8 where Rize and Chimame cross the bridge at night, it’s quite shocking how lightly they’ve been dressed there.

Chino and Cocoa come by, and recognize Rize as Rose. It’s lampshaded that the last time they’ve seen Rose was more than a year ago, so it’s quite impressive that they still remember her, as well as her promise to visit Rabbit House (in s1e9 she only visits Ama Usa An). Rize thinks it’s a good chance to “infiltrate” Rabbit House to see what the others think of her when she’s gone.

Rize’s infiltration goes relatively smoothly until Maya and Megu barge in and immediately recognize her. Chiya manages to get them to play along in time, however Megu makes up a ridiculous backstory painting Rose as a ballet kempo practitioner who fights an evil organization.

Aoyama Blue Mountain also backs up Rose’s existence, by mentioning that she is in her literature club and also does food reviews. She gives Rize a cheat sheet which seems to parody the tendency of food reviews to describe food as “melting in your mouth” (for example wagyu beef).

Later Rize ends up having a conversation with Chino where she reveals that Rize’s been taking more days off than usual and it gets lonely without her. She has also started lazing about in the sun, just like Cocoa does, which wouldn’t have happened if Rize has been around upholding the discipline. In the anime Rize doesn’t really react to this, but in the manga she seems a bit disappointed in Chino.

This scene is a callback to the very first episode of the show, where Rize pretends she can’t easily carry these bags of coffee beans, because they’re too heavy for a “normal girl” according to Cocoa. Soon after, Rize’s cover is blown after she reacts to an intruder who is just Takahiro.

It turns out that Cocoa has already recognized it’s Rize. One thing that Cocoa and Rize have in common is that they change hairstyles a lot compared to the other characters, so it makes sense that Cocoa would not be fooled by a simple hairstyle change... or would she? Shortly after Cocoa has a realization that Rose has always been Rize, which makes her feel really stupid... until she finds that Chino is still completely in the dark about everything. Maybe Chino has propagnosia, or inability to recognize faces? Anyway, Rize is quite supportive about it and asks Chino if she’s ok if she does image change in the future.

But there’s still one more twist in this chapter, since Cocoa’s sister Mocha makes an appearance! Considering she appears in the opening, this season hasn’t really done anything with her yet. But it turns out it’s just Cocoa in a wig (why does she even have a Mocha wig???), nevertheless she successfully fools Rize and Chino for a second. Maybe the last episode of the season will have real Mocha (I’m assuming she won’t be in the Christmas arc).

And we’re back to the student council election storyline. The “sandwich” composition where one story “wraps” another seems to be used a lot this season. In this case the stories have almost zero relation to each other so I don’t know why the episode had to be structured like this.

Chiya’s election poster (aside from Cocoa’s scribbles) follows a traditional Japanese election poster design, featuring a closeup photo of a politician, her name and a slogan (which implores you to vote like a shiratama dumpling for some reason). I feel like a poster like this prioritizes the looks of a politician over their policies or whatever, but maybe there’s some sort of election law that these posters have to follow.

Cocoa and Chino also wrote letters of endorsement for Chiya, although Cocoa’s was mostly written by Aoyama and was basically a food review. Chino not only made Chiya almost explode from praise, but also presented a verbal takedown of Cocoa on the fly. Later, Chiya makes a passionate speech trying to emulate Rize, but maybe Chino should’ve written that too.

Next I’d like to point your attention to the name of the dish that Chiya made to celebrate the occasion:

Aki no sora (in the autumn sky) Todoroku oto wa (a thundering sound is) Omedetai (auspicious)

If you count the syllables, you’ll find that it is actually a haiku. and it even includes a kigo (season word, “autumn in this case”). The final line is a pun, as tai indicates the presence of taiyaki (a bean paste filled cake shaped like a bream fish) in the dish.

Another anime-original scene appears to flesh out the episode’s “moral” and show how Ama Usa is where Chiya really shines. A bunch of old ladies (who seem like they starred in a Kirara manga a long time ago) enter the teahouse to celebrate the birth of a 5th grandchild for one of them. Cocoa also helps Chiya, donning the Ama Usa uniform once again. 

Chiya sprinkles gold dust on her dish, doing her best “salt bae” expression. Pure gold is inert and as such can be safely eaten. In Japan, gold leaf is even added to tea, which might explain why Chiya has it.

As everyone is about to go home, Chiya’s grandma appears through a rarely-opened sliding window and offers some manju as a treat. In the anime this is how Sharo eventually discovers the lost Chiya’s crown, which her grandma uses as a hairpin (the hairpin functionality explains how this crown doesn’t fall off Anko). Surprisingly she doesn’t appear at all in the manga chapter, and Sharo just randomly finds the crown “outside”.

By the way, the text on the manju box says “congratulations on winning the election”, which might’ve been a bit premature.

Sharo goes to return the crown back to Chiya, and Chiya repeats Cocoa’s reaction from part A, which sounds like breakup song lyrics. This dialogue wasn’t in the manga in either scene and I think it was included to somehow tie the two parts together, and make the inability to notice something obvious that was around you the whole time the unifying concept of the episode.

For Chiya the crown was the symbol of ambition, and her dream to become the director of Ama Usa An and conquer the world. Sharo has a lot of drive to work multiple jobs, but doesn’t seem to have a goal she aspires to. When she finally gets an opportunity to move up the ranks, by becoming a student council president, she declines it. Living side by side with Chiya forever (zutto issho) seems to be the extent of her ambitions. Sharo feels betrayed by Chiya being ready to “leave” her and spend more time with student council than at her own restaurant.

After the ED we see the conclusion of this conflict. Sharo sees the preparations for celebrating the winner of the election, and begrudgingly congratulates Chiya. We see Cocoa, Rize and Chino helping out, but Sharo wasn’t even invited...

But it turns out class prez was the winner, after Chiya has declined the nomination. She probably had all the posters and speeches at the ready just in case, and didn’t have to prepare at all. In the manga, this is also where she returns Sharo’s uniform that she borrowed back in episode 4.

Meanwhile Chiya and Sharo have a talk and agree that it was the best for them to decline their nominations and they should stick with what they have. Not sure if that applies to Sharo though, she wasn’t really shown to be “shining” but more like “barely getting by”. There was also another reason in the manga for Chiya to agree it was the right choice: Chiya’s classmates totally trashed her menu names, which means they probably wouldn’t like her committee names either. Most of the classmates dialogue was cut out in the anime though.

So that was episode 9 and all that’s left for this season is a 2-episode Christmas arc and the season finale. Hope you enjoyed this review and until next time!

#gochiusa #gochuumon wa usagi desu ka? #is the order a rabbit? #review

[animeniacss]

Stuck at the Door - Yoonmin One-shot

Synopsis:  Yoongi works at night, Jimin works during the day. Yoongi's first contact too Jimin is an angry post-it note telling him not to slam his door, however, now they have begun using this as some form of communication. However, will either one of them find themselves able to meet the other in person, or will they remain stuck at the door unable to find the courage?

*This fic was a gift done for a Frosty fic fest on ao3. The prompt was given by user @/kisslater and this story came of it! Enjoy and show her love too!

Genre: Romance, One-shot, Mutual Pining

Length: approx. 7k words

Stuck at the Door - Yoonmin One-Shot

Close your god damn door a little quieter next time, will you? – M. YG, Apt # 13

            That was the first sticky note that Park Jimin had ever gotten on his front door. At first, he didn’t notice it, staggering towards his door just as the sun was starting to set over his apartment complex. However, after setting down his bag and scrambling to get his keys, a yawn escaping from his tired mouth, the note finally catches his attention as it slipped from its place on the door, floating delicately towards his feet. When he bent down to pick it up, scanning the message, he pouted.

            “Was I that loud?” He mumbled to himself. He glanced in the direction of Apartment 13, which was right next to his. He had never once seen the guy, Min Yoongi, who lived in Apartment 13 because they were alive and functioning at different times of the day. By the time Jimin got home in the evenings, Yoongi seemingly was long gone, off to work at whatever job he had. Jimin sighed, sticking the note into his pocket before slipping himself into the apartment and closing the door behind him. He made his way deeper into his apartment, towards his desk where all of his university supplies and other stationery needs waited for him every day. “Well, guess I should apologize.” Quickly, Jimin grabbed hold of a yellow sticky note, scribbling down the words I’m sorry! I’ll try to be quieter in the future. “There.” Jimin got up, heading back outside and opening the door. He looked around, trying to see if he could hear any noises that could be Yoongi still in the area. When he heard nothing, he walked to Apartment 13’s door, pressing the sticky note onto the door. He grinned. “Perfect.” With that out of the way, Jimin headed back inside, locking himself in his apartment so that he could get his work done.

            After that note, Jimin was sure that the issue had resolved itself. He was making sure that he would close his door quietly both when he left and when he returned home, just in case Yoongi was ever in his apartment resting before his night shifts. That seemed to be the end of it for a while, and Jimin was already moving on.

            Yoongi, however, felt the exact opposite. Yoongi worked the night shift at a local convenience store that ran for 24 hours a day. By the time the sun was rising in the morning, Yoongi wanted to crawl into a hole and die every single time. He wasn’t a fan of his job, but he did it because with just barely scraping through high school and having no intention of going to college, Yoongi needed some way to pay the bills. So, this was his ticket to do so while he pursued his real passion: rapping. Yoongi was a phenomenal rapper, and his home was the underground rap scene. That’s where he spent his weeknights, and his days where he wasn’t at home passed out on the couch, he was there preparing for his next performance.

            So, when Yoongi was home, the last thing he needed was to be woken up by Jimin slamming the door as he exited his apartment. The first time was fine, and the apology note was cute. However, the next time it happened, Yoongi flung himself out of bed and frowned. His eyes flew to the alarm clock, where he saw the time flashing. It was 7 a.m., meaning Yoongi had only been home and asleep for 3 hours after a long night at the rap club.

            “The little punk.” He scoffed, before heading out of his room and towards the door of his apartment. When he flung the door open, he poked his head out. “Oi! Park Jimin!” He shouted. However, there was nobody in the hallway of the apartment level, and Jimin was gone as if he were the kiss of an angel. “Damn…” Yoongi stepped outside, crossing his arms. As he turned his head, a note caught his attention. Another yellow sticky note was resting on his door, and he quickly pulled it off.

            I slammed the door on accident I’m so sorry!:(((((( - P. JM Apt. 12

            “…What the hell? Does he carry sticky notes outside with him now?” Yoongi asked. He looked over at Jimin’s door again, before storming inside and grabbing his blue sticky note. Lifting a pen out of the cup it sat in on his desk, Yoongi scribbled that exact question down onto the paper. He walked back out and pressed it against Yoongi’s door. “Idiot.” The man huffed before heading back into his apartment and closing the door.

            The sun began to set later in the day, and Yoongi was preparing for a night at the underground rapping scene. He had good connections, knowing the man who ran the scene pretty well, and he had been preparing for another night like this for the past few days. Nights like these were the best, dawning casual black clothes rather than a convenient store polo and slacks. Yoongi looked himself over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair as he nodded. He looked good and felt ready. Grabbing his overnight bag, phone, wallet, and keys, Yoongi headed out the door. As he made his way to the end of the hallway, descending the steps to the bottom floor of the apartment complex, he heard a voice coming closer and closer.

            “No, I barely even opened up that assignment yet…Yeah, I read the directions like fifteen times, but I have no clue what Professor Choi wants!” Yoongi rolled his eyes, quickly slipping his hands into his pockets as he quickened his pace down the steps. The other man he passed did not once look in his direction, so immersed in his conversation with whoever was on the phone. Yoongi didn’t even bother offering a nonverbal greeting, as he made it to the bottom of the steps and headed straight out the door and in the direction of the train station.   

            Jimin heard the front door of the apartment building slam shut, but didn’t turn back to look at it. “Yeah, if you want to come over, we should work on it together, Tae.”

            “Sure. I’ll take Yeontan for a walk and then I’ll-.”

            Jimin’s eyes finally fell onto his front door as he went to unlock it, and he blinked. “Oh my goodness.”

            “Hm? What is it?” Taehyung asked from the other side of the phone.

            “My neighbor being a bit of a hardass because I slam my door when I leave the house and I guess it wakes him up. I have never once seen the guy, so I can’t even go and have a real conversation with him.”

            “Ew. Guess you should slam the door on purpose and see if he busts your door down.” Jimin chuckled a bit as he stepped into his house.

            “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He hummed. “I’ll get dinner ready, so just lemme know when you’re here.” As the duo said their goodbyes, Jimin hung up and set his phone down onto his coffee table. His eyes wandered down to the sticky note in his hand again.

            Do you keep sticky notes on you at all times now just to talk to me? – M. YG, Apt. 13

            Hmm…Jimin’s eyebrow raised a bit, his eyes scanning the sentence over and over as he stood in his living room in silence. I might be able to have some fun with this. Jimin walked towards his desk, grabbing a colored pencil and his set of sticky notes. Quickly, Jimin scribbled down a reply and hurried out the door to stick it on the neighbor’s door. He took a moment to stare at his handy work, laughing a bit to himself. “This is fun.” He said to himself, heading inside.

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            Despite the lights and the blaring music that were erupting the underground rap scene in a sea of constant energy, Yoongi was currently sitting backstage, arms crossed as his head rested against the wall. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. The only reason was that he heard a familiar voice coming his way that alerted his attention, making him lookup. He saw fellow underground rapper, Kim Namjoon, better known as his stage name RM. RM was drinking some water, and as he got closer, Yoongi could see the sweat dripping down his forehead and covering the collar of his shirt. Being under the blaring lights amongst a sea of screaming fans, belting out raps so fast it can make your head spin was enough to send someone backstage with a little drip or two on their forehead and frantically searching for a glass of water.

            “I rarely see you sitting and resting before a performance. Everything okay, Hyung?” RM asked curiously. Yoongi nodded.

            “Yeah. My neighbor just loves to slam his door, so I end up waking up in a panic almost every other day and I find it hard to go back to sleep afterward.” RM offered an amused chuckle. “So, I thought I could rest here before I go on, but-.”

            As if scripted, the current performer provided a loud and aggressive yell as he finished his final verse, sending the crowd into a fit of hysterical cheering and howling over him. “Well, yeah. That…” Once again, RM chuckled, and this time Yoongi followed.

            “I’m sure you’ll wake up once you get on stage, Hyung,” RM assured. The duo offered one another a wave, and RM headed deeper backstage to find something to eat. Yoongi slowly rose from his spot on the floor, and headed towards the back of the stage, waiting for his performance. As he watched the current performer finish up, he took a deep breath. He had no time to worry about his obnoxious neighbor, he had more important things to worry about.

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            He had finished yet another phenomenal performance, the crowd cheering and shouting for him as he belted out every word, every syllable slipping through his lips at the fast and intense pace that Yoongi had become known for. After his performance, RM and he, like they always did, went out to a local 24-hour restaurant to eat, celebrating their hard work by stuffing their faces. Namjoon would mostly do the talking, about school life or his love life. Love life? Yoongi thought to himself. Do people have those? Despite his sarcastic comment to himself, Yoongi continued to listen as Namjoon gushed over the date he had taken her on just recently.

            “Anyway, we went for a walk in a local park and got some lunch. It was something special, Hyung.”

            “I’m glad.” Yoongi smiled a bit. Anyone who met this version of Namjoon, someone who is wise beyond his years and talks as if everything he says is being graded by a college philosophy professor but god damn it if you don’t want to take in every last work anyway, would never imagine that he’s also the same guy that shouts swears and throws his head back as he spits straight fire with a deep voice almost every night for the underground rap scene. They were two different people, almost, and Yoongi knew them both well.

            “You should find yourself, someone, too.” Namjoon pointed out. “I think it would do you some good.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, popping a fry into his mouth as Namjoon continued. “I mean, when the time comes, of course. You can’t rush this kind of stuff.”

            “I guess not.” Yoongi hummed. Namjoon, sensing Yoongi was already bored by the subject, moved on by asking him if he wanted dessert. Yoongi scoffed playfully. Of course, he did.

            Yoongi was entering his apartment building just as the rays of the sun were rising over the buildings of Seoul. He was full, and being full made him dirt tired. The idea of sprawling out in bed, Holly snuggling up beside him, just filled him with such content that he could barely contain it. The sight of his door at the end of the hallway made his hand slipped into his back pocket, and pull out his house key. When he approached his door, however, the bright, yellow square pressed right on top of his little peephole. He pulled it off and skimmed it.  

Do you like that I always have you on my mind? – P.JM

A crudely scribbled wink was placed beside it and Yoongi felt the back of his ears heat up just slightly. What on earth was this punk trying to pull? He looked at Jimin’s door, assuming the boy was still asleep, preparing to wake up any moment to get ready for work. Yoongi walked into his house, closing the door behind him. Grabbing his sticky note, he scribbled down a response and walked back outside.

I hate you. But I think it is kind of funny how seriously you’re taking this. – M.YG

Upon walking back outside, Yoongi walked to Jimin’s door. As he pressed the sticky note to the door, he heard a bit of commotion coming from inside the apartment. After further examination, Yoongi could hear the faint sound of an alarm clock, until it was interrupted by someone seemingly putting it on snooze. Yoongi blinked, stepping back from the door. Jimin was awake this early? Could he finally have an opportunity to meet this little brat once and for all, and put this dumb game of cat and mouse to rest?

            When the time comes, of course. Namjoon’s deep voice played through his mind. Yoongi once again looked at the sticky note that was resting on his door, and he crossed his arms. He could very easily wait for Jimin, or even initiate and knock on the door. But for some reason, his body wouldn’t let him go any closer to the door. It didn’t make any sense to him. However, before he could try to rationalize with himself, he walked back into his room.

            “…I’ll wait and see if he replies to the note,” Yoongi said softly, locking his door and heading into his bedroom to get some much-needed shut-eye.

-----------------------------------------

            Jimin did reply to that note. This unique method of communication made them excited to come home, even more so than before. Every second that passed ascending the steps of their apartment made their heart beat a little faster, until before they knew it, they were practically sprinting past other tenants and up the steps to get to their apartments faster. Reaching the door was like some sort of euphoria each time, their minds racing with what the response of the other could possibly be. It became a daily dose of serotonin, something they looked forward to. With every day that passed, every note that found itself on one of their doors made them feel a little closer with one another. They studied each other’s handwriting, their phrasing, Yoongi smiled at every silly face Jimin drew, and Jimin giggled at each sarcastic remark Yoongi provided him with. They felt close to each other without actually having to see each other.

The duo found themselves constantly sharing messages for the next week and a half. They had long since dropped the inclusion of their apartment number but instead began to include a lot of variated conversation starters. The messages were ranging from so many different comments, no longer were they only focused on the loud slams of Jimin’s door. Instead, they were question-based. What’s your favorite color? Were you born and raised in Seoul? What job do you have that keeps you from ever actually meeting me?

That last and most recent one stunned Jimin when he saw it pressed against his door one evening. He had just gotten home from work, ready to prepare for his friend Taehyung’s arrival for their planned study session when he saw this question. He walked back inside, grinning a bit. So far, Jimin had been the one to insinuate the flirtatious messages, but to see Yoongi ask one this time, just made him feel something in his stomach. Stomach nostalgic and exciting.

Taehyung did not seem as invested in this.

“So, you still haven’t talked to the guy?” He asked curiously.

“Well, no,” Jimin said, not even bothering to look up from his homework. “I work when he sleeps, and he works when I sleep, so we don’t get the chance.”

“It can’t always be perfectly lined up that way.”

“…Has been so far.”

“Okay then, have you sent him a reply to his message?” Jimin nodded.

“I told him I go to school and work at a restaurant during my off days.” Taehyung nodded as he listened to his friend continue to talk about the story, he thought he had only heard in dramas and television shows. As he looked up at Jimin from his notes, he could see Jimin’s eyes sparkling a bit.

“It’s charming, and I think he’s just too nervous to talk to me in person right now. Which is fine, I don’t know if I’d want to talk to him yet either. I like things the way they-.” Before Jimin could finish, Taehyung stood up, catching his friend’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“You might not be ready to talk yet, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.” Jimin felt his heart sink as he watched Taehyung head to the door.

“What? Tae, no please!” Jimin quickly followed after him. “He’s probably already at work. Or at least getting ready to go.”

            “So? He can spare a minute to say hi to his neighbor.” Taehyung said simply. Jimin followed his friend outside, continuing to try and turn him back around. No luck. Taehyung saw the note Jimin said he posted on Yoongi’s door but wasted on time knocking.

“Tae-.” Jimin covered his face. His heart was racing, and he felt like he wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure why. His eyes were burning and the idea that this could be the moment Yoongi steps out of his apartment and into his view…well, he just wasn’t ready.

“…Okay, guess he did go to work,” Tae said, turning back to Jimin. When Jimin looked up, Taehyung could see his red eyes and slightly trembling lips. “Are you that nervous to meet this guy?”

“Of course, I am! We never started talking until I slammed the door and woke him up. Sure, he seems to be over it now but what if he doesn’t like me when we meet? I didn’t think this would last so long…I can be flirty and fun on the notes, I think I’ll get too nervous if I were to meet him right now.” Taehyung said, tossing his arm around Jimin and leading him back inside.

“Then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought…” Taehyung said simply.

-------------------------------

“So, he works at a restaurant hm?” Yoongi muttered to himself, setting his note in his pocket. He, much like Jimin had been doing for a while, pulled out his little sticky notes from his pocket and scribbled down a comment, pressing it to Jimin’s door. He had just arrived home from a night soft at the store.

Once I find out which restaurant, just know I’ll make it my regular spot. -M.YG

Jimin almost collapsed on the floor when he read that comment after his shift that afternoon. He was tempted to share the restaurant he worked at, but still, he didn’t feel ready yet. The idea that he could run into Yoongi at any moment when he wasn’t ready, freaked him out something fierce. However, Yoongi didn’t have to know that. His next note read the following:

You must be into the kinky serving fetishes, aren’t you? Well, don’t expect me to give in that easily! – P.JM

“Oh my God…” Yoongi snickered, scratching his cheek a bit. That next morning, Yoongi made sure to only give an adequate reply to Jimin’s comment:

Listen here, punk. I just want to see you working and now I’m being needlessly kink shamed. I’ll never forgive you. -M.YG

As Jimin rested on his couch, a smile formed, and he couldn’t stop staring at the note that was clutched so tightly in his hands that he almost crumpled it up. He glanced over at his little pile of post-it notes on his dresser. He didn’t know what Yoongi looked like, but he couldn’t help imagine what his face looked like, all scrunched up in embarrassment at the idea of sexual kinks. Jimin couldn’t wait for the idea of seeing him in person, and he sat up, hurrying over and grabbing hold of his pen and paper, scribbling down his response.                    

That evening, as Yoongi’s performance high, was wearing off, he stood just under the awning of the venue, watching as the rain fell in buckets around him. He had watched the weather and had even brought his jacket to the short shift he had to cover at the convenience store. However, after rushing out of there, his mind elsewhere, he realized his jacket was still hanging on the rack in the back of the staff room. He kicked himself just thinking about it. Running a hand through his hair, he watched as Namjoon stepped beside him, crossing his arms.         

“My girlfriend is gonna be here in a few minutes.” He stated. “I’m sure she’ll drive you home.” Yoongi smiled.

“Tell her to thank you, but I’m not far from here. If I run then take a hot shower, I’ll be okay.” Namjoon sighed, crossing his arms.

“Hyung, you’ll get sick.” He pointed out. Yoongi nodded.

“Remember the time I told you I got into that nasty motorcycle accident as a teen and messed up my shoulder?” he asked. Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, no cold I’ve had since has compared to that. I’ll be okay. Night.” Just like that, with a wave of his hand, Yoongi rushed out of Namjoon’s sight, in the direction of his apartment. When he arrived, he was soaked to the bone, not truly underestimating the power of the rain at the moment. He honestly just wanted to get home. As he headed to his door, he saw a sticky note on his door and grinned as he took it.

You probably look so cute right now, when you’re embarrassed! – P.JM

“Cute, hm?” A curious tongue pressed on the inside of Yoongi’s mouth, a grin forming on his lips as he saw a droplet of a waterfall off the tip of his lips and onto the floor. Heading inside, he set the note down on the table and went to shower.

Jimin did not think too much of it when Yoongi did not respond the next morning. It rained, and that must have blown it away, no big deal. Jimin was in a rush anyway and hurried to his morning classes without thinking too much of it. He’ll probably notice before he goes to work, and he’ll put a new one up. The hopeful student thought to himself. His stomach bubbled with a childlike giddiness of how he would mock the older man for it in future messages, and he practically skipped to school. However, upon returning that afternoon, Jimin came home in the evening to see…well…he didn’t see anything on his door. No sticky note, no remnant of a sticky note, no nothing. It made Jimin’s little lips turn into a sour pout as he entered his apartment. Maybe it blew away. It’s still windy after the rainstorm…Jimin thought to himself, locking the door. Despite having this thought run through his mind, Jimin still felt a sense of uneasiness course throughout his body. Jimin walked to his desk, setting his bag down and slipping into his chair. Maybe he’s running late so I got home before he could do it…Jimin lowered his head down on the table. “I shouldn’t let something so silly get to me. I’ll just write one to him and see what happens tomorrow…” Jimin quickly got up. After scribbling something down, Jimin headed out the door and pressed the new sticky note to his door. Letting out a soft sigh, Jimin headed inside, planning to distract himself with homework until he figured out the true meaning of what was going on with his next-door neighbor.

            Much to Jimin’s utter disappointment, no message was left for him the next morning when he got up. When he looked towards Yoongi’s door, he saw that the original post-it he had left the evening prior was still there. Walking over, Jimin pulled it from the door and frowned as he stared at the hours-old message. He pouted. Well, this changed things completely. Jimin took one step closer to the door, temporarily courageous enough to knock. Did he not go to work today? There had to be a reason for Yoongi to just…stop, right? Jimin pressed the note back onto the door and quickly headed back inside. Grabbing a sticky note, Jimin scribbled down: Oh, so now we’re ignoring me? >3< - P.JM, placing that onto the door beside the previous note. Jimin knew he could always…you know…knock. But he just didn’t want to…so he headed inside his apartment to see what tomorrow would bring.

-----------------------

“It’s been almost five days, Taehyung.” Jimin whimpered over the phone. “And he still hasn’t replied. My post-it notes are piling up. I think he’s over it…” Legs pulled to his chest, Jimin rested a puffed-out cheek onto his knees, while his hand cradled his phone against his ear.

“Well…” Taehyung began. “You can always go talk to him for once. Maybe this is his way of telling you that he wants to meet you in person.” Jimin huffed.

“But I…Taehyung I told you already, I’m too nervous to meet him in person. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“But what if it does and you’re just stalling?” Taehyung asked simply. He could hear his best friend whine over the phone, and it made him smile. Although he found the whole ordeal a bit dramatic on Jimin’s end, Taehyung didn’t want his friend to be upset. “How about this.” He began. “Jungkook invited me to see his friend perform at some underground rap thing this Friday. Do you want to come? Get your mind off of everything?” Jimin hummed in response. “If you don’t hear from your mysterious ink prince by then, consider it a sign and go talk to him in person.” Jimin was silent for a moment, and Taehyung rested his head against the back of his spinning office chair. “Well?”

“…Fine. I’ll go.” He said simply. “But the last part of your deal is a maybe, at best.” Taehyung cheered on the other end of the line before Jimin said his goodbyes and hung up. He sighed, resting back on his bed. “I should probably finally talk to him…” Jimin mumbled to himself, holding up the most recent sticky note he had yet to put on the door. “But if I put too many more then he might start thinking I’m annoying. I’ll just have to wait….”

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            A deep cough ripped through Apartment 13 the next morning, and Yoongi groaned. He was bundled in several blankets, too cold to be uncovered, yet also sweating from the absolute fiery inferno raging within him. “I really should have taken that ride the other day, damn it…” Yoongi grumbled to himself, feeling another cough shake his body. As he was resting, the sound of jingling keys alerted his attention, and his head lolled in the direction of his door. His name was called, and the sound of Holly padding the floor towards the door made him sit up. He had to drag himself out of bed, wrapping one of his many blankets around himself as he did so. Upon entering the kitchen, his coworker Hoseok was standing there. When he caught sight of his friend, he grinned.

“Hyung! You’re finally up and out of bed! Is my soup working just like I said it would?” Yoongi only groaned as he shuffled to the couch, plopping down onto it and allowing for the coolness of the new location to envelop him. He heard footsteps approach him, and when he looked over, Hoseok leaned down and felt his forward. “Your fever seems to be breaking too. If you keep this up, you’ll be ready to perform again Friday night.” Yoongi nodded.

“I hate to be a burden on you, Hoseok…” Yoongi sighed. “But thank you.” Hoseok smiled.

“It’s the least I could do. If you didn’t have to cover my shift last minute, you could have brought your jacket straight to the venue and avoided this whole event.” He said simply. As Hoseok continued to stock Yoongi’s fridge, he hummed. “Oh yeah. I saw that there were a bunch of sticky notes taped to your door when I walked in. All of them said ‘P.JM’ on them, too.” Yoongi sat up once again as Hoseok continued. “Is it…a secret lover? Hmmm, let’s see…P.JM…Park Jimyul…Park Jung-.” As Hoseok began rattling off different names, Yoongi stood fully up off the couch. He had to steady himself for a moment, and the immediate action stopped Hoseok’s daydreaming and alerting him back to his friend. “W-what are you doing?” he asked as he watched Yoongi walk towards him. He stuck out his hand, and Hoseok pouted, handing his friend the sticky notes. Yoongi looked down at them.

You probably look so cute right now when you’re embarrassed! – P.JM

Oh, so you’re going to ignore me now? >3< -P.JM

Okay, maybe you are…. -P.JM

The last one had Yoongi’s heart tighten. He sighed, heading over to the door despite Hoseok’s pleas to sit back down. After forcing down another cough, Yoongi stepped outside. The bright lights made him flinch, but he still stepped right outside and looked at Jimin’s house. He was too sick to get out of bed, much less reply to the messages he was receiving from Jimin. Based on how many days he’s been sick, and the number of replies he had taped to his door, Yoongi realized Jimin had stopped replying for at least two days. Running a hand through his hair, Yoongi sniffled and walked closer to the door. He could hear a faint noise coming from behind Jimin’s door and assumed that he had yet to leave for work or class. Yoongi was tempted to knock, however, he was currently not feeling well enough to maintain a long conversation with this kid. Also, he was in no way looking his best for a first meeting. He simply headed back into his apartment, earning himself a scolding from Hoseok about going outside barefoot when he was sick. Yoongi drowned it out as he crawled back onto the couch.

It had seemingly been two days since he had gotten any other messages. Jimin was probably over it.

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            “Guys, this is going to be so fun.” Jungkook beamed, turning to his friends. Taehyung smiled, throwing a supportive arm around Jimin. The trio stood inside of the venue late that Friday night, the music already blasting and people nearby already being sure to try their hand at the bar. A few people had already performed, and they were currently taking a small break while they prepared for the next group. That was when the trio had arrived, mid-shift. Jungkook looked at Jimin, who was simply watching the stage despite nothing of interest currently happening. “You recognize any names, Jimin-Hyung?” he asked, and Jimin looked over at the other boy.

            “Hm? Oh, uh no…this music isn’t my thing.” Taehyung offered Jimin a tight hug around the shoulders, grinning.

            “No need to pout, Jiminie~. Tonight’s the night you may confront your sticky-note admirer. You should be happy.” This had been the topic of conversation for the trio, mainly Jungkook and Taehyung, since they met up, so Jungkook was already well aware of the whole event. Jimin sighed, pouting even more despite his friend’s high energy.

            “I told you, I’m already not looking forward to it.”

            “He needs a drink.” Jungkook nodded. “I’ll grab us all something.” He said, hurrying over to the nearby bar as he excused himself past some people. Jimin crossed his arms, shuffling in his spot as Taehyung tried to talk his ear off. He had still gotten no replies from Yoongi, and the thought only brought him down more. All he wanted was for Jungkook’s friend to perform so he could go home and sleep.

            When Jungkook was grabbing a few drinks, his attention was alerted by a deep voice calling his name. When he looked over, he saw Namjoon approaching him with his usual kind smile gracing his lips. “Glad you made it in time. Are your friends here?”

            “They’re somewhere in the crowd.” Jungkook beamed, smiling. “Are you going on soon? I’m excited to see you perform again.” Namjoon grinned, nodding.

            “They’ll probably be ready in a couple of minutes. My friend is performing before me, so I should go get ready, I just wanted to come to say hi before I did.” He said happily. “But I’ll come to find you after the show, okay?”

            “Okay, see you later, Hyung.” Jungkook chimed. He watched as Namjoon waved him off, before disappearing into the crowds of bustling teenagers and young adults, all of whom were continuing to chat and converse long after Namjoon squeezed through their groups of people. Jungkook, pleased to have seen his friend, grabbed the drinks and headed back into the crowd as well.

            Jimin rested idly beside Taehyung, who was happily sipping his drink and chatting with those around him. Normally, Jimin would be right in there as well, eagerly chatting up individuals and learning their backstories over a drink while simultaneously sharing his own. However, he didn’t feel like it tonight. He couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi, he couldn’t stop thinking about the entire ordeal. He wanted to at least know the reason for Yoongi’s sudden pause in responses. Though his mind told him to be sensible, his heart was doing anything but.

            “Hyung, don’t look so down.” Jungkook smiled at him. “Everything with that neighbor of yours will work out. I think you should take a deep breath and have fun for now. Standing around like a sad sack won’t do any good for anyone.” Jimin smiled a bit, taking another sip of his drink.

            “I guess you’re right.” He said simply.

            “Besides, if it turns out he really did get bored and just stopped writing altogether, then it’s his loss and he deserves to be alone.” Both men chuckled at Jungkook’s statement. “My friend goes on soon so please just let loose and have some fun.” He grinned. Jimin nodded. As if on cue, the lights dimmed again and an announcer, a man in his mid-20s with glasses on and lots of excessive jewelry, got on stage with a microphone in hand. He grinned.

            “I hope everyone’s ready to introduce the next performer of the night.” He said, and a sea of eager shouts filled the room. Taehyung and Jungkook cheered happily beside Jimin, who raised his half-filled glass with a grin. “Let’s give a big welcome to the next performer, SUGA!” Almost immediately, the crowd began shouting and the group watched as a male hurried on the stage. Jimin watched the man grab his microphone, brushing the hair out of his cat-like eyes and offering a grin to the crowd. He quickly turned his head, coughing into his hands silently, before turning back around. Jimin blinked, watching as the music began to beat through the room. Almost immediately, this man known as SUGA began belting out intense rap verses, so quickly that it took an untrained ear a lot more time to process the words being shouted. Despite that, Jimin was in awe, entranced by the flow and the beat of the man giving his everything on stage. He could hear hints of a raspy voice on certain notes, and it made Jimin tilt his head as he listened, wanting to know if he could hear anymore. Watching this man perform, it was almost as if any of Jimin’s problems were blown away simply by the power of this man’s verses. He couldn’t turn away as he watched. Jungkook must have noticed Jimin’s heavily focused gaze because he held his arm tightly.

            “Isn’t he amazing? Everyone that performs here is crazy good. My friend is probably up next, so get ready!” Jimin now offered the younger boy an even wider, more genuine smile, as the duo turned back to the man performing on the stage. He watched a SUGA’s attention scanned the crowd, eventually landing on the area where Jimin stood. Jimin stared up at him, arms crossed with an amused smile on his face. From his spot, he could see an amused grin form on the performer’s face as he continued to go up and down the stage, the microphone pressed to close to his lips you’d think he was trying to eat it.

            As SUGA’s performance drew to a close, Jimin smiled and clapped, even cheering along with the rest of the crowd. SUGA lifted his hand to wave out to the crowd, before offering a bow of his head in appreciation. As he scurried off stage, Jimin could have sworn he saw SUGA’s intense gaze turn to him once more. Jimin only would have noticed because his eyes were practically glued to the man as he exited the stage.

            “Wasn’t that amazing?” Taehyung beamed. “Holy crap!” Jimin nodded.

            “Yeah, it was.” He chimed. His friend offered him a boxy grin, and they raised their drinks in a toast before tossing them back.

            Backstage, Min Yoongi offered a cough into his arm as he descended backstage. Almost immediately, Namjoon patted him on the back.

            “Yet another stellar performance, hm?” He grinned. “You did awesome, Hyung.” SUGA nodded.

            “Thanks.” He hummed. “But I think all of that messed with my throat. I might head out early and get some rest.” Namjoon nodded, watching as Yoongi suppressed another small cough. “Good luck out there, my guy.” He waved off his friend, before stopping backstage and grabbing all of his belongings. He walked out towards the door, and the sound of people cheering and chatting filled his ears. As he headed to the door, he looked over into the crowd. His mind was wandering back to that gentleman in the crowd. The one with wide eyes and plump, adorable lips stared at him in awe as he performed. He wondered if that guy was still here, he wondered if he was still around if he wanted to talk. However, no luck for him, and with a shrug, and cough into his arm, he headed home.

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            Jimin got home around 1 a.m. the next morning, exhausted and with a sore throat from hours of shouting. Though he had thought he would go home and sleep right after Jungkook’s friend performed, he ended up staying for several performances after, SUGA’s performance hitting him with some sort of second wind. A breathless chuckle escaped his lips as he headed down towards his apartment door. When he arrived, he opened his door and realized that, once again, no note was waiting outside his door. He sighed. “Guess I’ll keep my end of the deal, Kim Taehyung…” he scoffed to himself. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow…” with that decided, he headed inside.

            The next morning, Jimin woke up feeling refreshed. He had the day off, allowing him to sleep in just slightly after his late night at the venue. When he woke up, a sinking feeling hit his stomach. His greatest fear came to fruition today, and he knew he had to at least knock on the door next store…he had to try and talk to Min Yoongi. As he got out of bed, Jimin threw on a set of casual clothes, thinking of what he was going to say. As he continued to think about it, that little knot in his stomach got tighter and tighter, and his mind began racing. He had been running a few sentence starters in his mind. Like a teenager preparing for his first date, Jimin had no idea what was going to become of this. Stepping into his living room, Jimin’s eyes fell onto his sticky notes on his desk. As he walked over, lifting the sticky notes, Jimin blinked.

            “Maybe I’ll write a note first,” Jimin said simply. Grabbing hold of a pen, he jotted down a note and then headed towards the door. As he stepped out onto the hallway, he turned towards Apartment 13.  The apartment whose tenant had somehow managed to get him feeling like a giddy schoolgirl for almost a month. As he walked up to the door, he pressed the note to the door, making extra sure that this thumb pressed against it. After a moment, he stepped back. He stood there for a moment, staring at it. For a moment, he asked himself if it would do something remarkable, hence why he hadn’t moved yet. Eventually, he decided it was time to head off. Since he was up, he might as well get breakfast. Turning on his heel, he began walking down the hallway towards the stairs that waited at the end.

            However, just as he took the first few steps, the sound of a door clicking behind him made him stop dead in his tracks. When he turned around, he saw the door to Apartment 13 open, and out step its tenant. When he turned around, the door closed and a pair of cat-like eyes stared in Jimin’s direction. He felt his heart sink into his chest, and he put his hands in his pockets. Yoongi was standing right there, only a few feet away. This idea, though completely possible in the world of reality, never felt like it would be something Jimin experienced.

            Yoongi stared at Jimin as well for a moment, then blinked. “Oh…” he said. “You were the kid I saw at the performance last night.” Jimin immediately nodded, the images of SUGA spitting fire last night flashing through his mind.

            “Yes…” he said. “I…wow, what a small world that you-.”

            “-And I happen to be neighbors, I know.” Yoongi also chuckled. He stepped closer. Almost immediately, he coughed a little, covering his hand with his arm. Jimin blinked. “Never thought I would get to see you.”]

            “I know,” Jimin said softly. “I’ve wanted to come and talk to you but…I guess I’ve gotten nervous each time.”

            Yoongi smiled. “Me too…” he said. “But no better time like the present, right?” He turned over to the door again, tugging off the sticky note. He skimmed it over and smiled. “This says ‘I want to talk to you but I’m too nervous. So, let me know if you want to do that’. Huh…” Yoongi set the note into his pocket. “Crazy how fate works, huh?” he grinned.

            “Yeah.” Jimin smiled, walking closer. “Well, you stopped replying for a while, so I thought you were kind of over everything. I didn’t want to seem annoying.”

            “Yeah, about that.” Yoongi sighed. “I was sick for the past few days. Getting over a cold.” As if on cue, he suppressed another cough into his chest. “See? I’m better now, but still…”

            “Oh…” Jimin said. See, you dramatic idiot. It was sensible.

            “By the time I got better, you had stopped. I figured you were kind of over it too. Funny hm?” Yoongi offered a smile.

            “Well, I thought it was fun.” Jimin laughed a bit. “It made me look forward to coming home more so than I already did.” Yoongi nodded.

            “Me too…” He agreed. A moment of silence fell over them, and Jimin looked up at Yoongi. Yoongi scratched the back of his head, also seemingly trying to find the right words to say. Then, Jimin got an idea.

            “Do you uhm…want to join me for breakfast?” Jimin asked curiously. Yoongi blinked. “Maybe we can get to know each other without writing it all down, you know?” Yoongi smiled a bit. “If you want, of course. I don’t know why you came out here, after all, so I-.”

            “I stepped out here because I heard someone outside my door.” He smiled. “Kinda glad I did.” Jimin turned a bit pink and chuckled. “Let me throw on some…” he motioned to his sweatpants and old white shirt. “Decent clothes?” Jimin nodded. “…Here, come in.” Yoongi motioned to his door, leading the almost hesitant Jimin inside. Jimin grinned, quickly following the older man into the house. As he closed the door, he struck up a conversation. “So…what had you at my show last night?” he hummed.

            As the conversation moved the duo from Yoongi’s home to the streets of Seoul and eventually to a nearby breakfast place, the both of them only thought of one thing coursing through their mind:

            It’s about time.

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[yeojaa]

LOVE HER, LEAVE HER - ft. pjm

You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember.  He loved you once, too.  But no one ever told you that sometimes that’s not enough.  That sometimes, loving is the hardest part.

pairing.  park jimin.

genre + rating.  angst.  fluff if you squint.  general.

warning / tags.  past relationship, break-up, unrequited love, moving on.  

reading.   n/a.  a stand-alone one-shot.  for now…

word count.  ~2200

“I miss you.”  He says, sweet and low and full of promise that you know he’ll never make good on.  His words ring eager, quietly drifting over airwaves to settle like a weighted blanket that keeps you rooted to the spot.  He beguiles you even as he tears you apart at the seams, stitching you together even as he ruins you.

Because you know it isn’t enough.  That you aren’t enough.

“Chim, please.”  You hate the way you sound - as if you’re begging for more.  Or maybe it’s less.  Frankly, you’re not sure what you want.

Would it be easier if he were gone?  Would the ache in your chest go away?  Would you be able to sleep without dreaming of him?  What would that be like?  It’s hard to imagine when he fits himself into every waking moment, his laughter ringing in your ears like a melody on loop and his brilliant smile burned into the backs of your eyelids.

“I’m sorry.”  But you think he must not be that sorry.  If he were, he wouldn’t do this again and again and again.

You’re so exhausted.  He knows that.  He must know that.  

Can’t he hear it in the way your voice trips over its own two feet, the heart cradled carefully in your hands shattering into a million little pieces?  Surely he can feel it when those same shards dig into his fingertips, begging to be put back together.

“You can’t keep doing this.”  There’s that desperation colouring your words the same pretty mosaic of black and blue as your broken heart.  “You can’t always come running back to me.  It isn’t fair.”

His silence speaks volumes - says more than the words you know he’s trying - and failing - to find.

“I love you.  You know I love you.  I’d do anything for you.”  Have done anything for him.

From staying up all night nursing his fever to picking him up at 3 AM when he’d decided he’d had enough to drink, you were always there.  You were always loyal.  A reliable presence in the otherwise unpredictable life of Park Jimin.

Maybe that’s why he did this.  Because he could - because you’d never stop him.

You were there, no matter when or why he called.  Even after he’d been out chasing the next big thing - and there was always something shinier, something better - you’d welcome him back with open arms, letting those devilishly long legs dance across your feelings as if they weren’t being crushed beneath his soles.

“I’m sorry.”  The apology is the same as it always is - heartfelt and affectionate.  All the love in the world is laced into each syllable.  It’s supposed to make you forget all about the pain, the way he strings you along and keeps you around.

And it does.  You hate it, but it does.

Because despite yourself, he’s the one.  He’s your one.  The one whose coffee order - two creams, a dollop of honey - you can’t get out of your mind.  The one whose hand warms yours when you’re cold, who loves you when you’re at your worst.  The one who you’ve invested every ounce of yourself in.

“I need time,”  he continues, as he always does.  “You know I love you too.”  You do.  Of course you do.  Even when you think he might not, you know better.  Despite all he does, he loves you in his own way.  “We’ll figure it out.  Just give me some time.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve given him days, weeks, months. That he’s had all the time in the world since he broke your heart a year ago.  Instead, you let yourself get lost in the way he tells you he loves you and how that ignites butterflies in your stomach, pretty little wings propelling your heart out of your broken brassy rib cage.

“How long?”  It’s a foolish, stupid question that you shouldn’t ask.  You’re never going to get the answer you want but you let yourself hope anyway.

“I don’t know.”  And that might be the most honest thing he’s said tonight.  He must realize it too, because his usual facade cracks and crumbles in the form of his voice faltering, hesitation creeping in like a cold chill.  You feel it in your bones, icicles forming beneath your skin.  You wonder if the patterns they form might resemble his silhouette.  “The right time will come.  It’s just not... right now.”

“I don’t know what that means.”  He doesn’t either, of course.  There’s no such thing as a right time.  You don’t live in a fairytale where things just fall into place, glass slipper fitting perfectly.

“Please trust me, baby.”

You hate how the pet name burrows into your thoughts, pervasive in the way it warms you from the inside out, thawing whatever icy exterior you’re trying and failing to uphold.

“This is so hard.”  You want to cry.  You can feel the tidal wave of emotion just beneath the warble of your words, a gargantuan wave threatening to overtake the current.  It climbs and recedes, never quite cresting.  You applaud yourself for holding it together so well.

“I know, I know.”

He has no idea. “You don’t know.”

“I do,” he insists in that way of his, the one that makes you feel silly and small.  It’s not condescending - far from it, in fact - but it’s so insistent that you momentarily think that you must be wrong.  “I think about you all the time.  You know that.”

“Don’t say that to me—”  Don’t get my hopes up, you think.

“You don’t want me to tell you how much you mean to me?  How it kills me to hear about you with someone else?”  You can just imagine his face, the way his mouth must pout around the question, already confident in the answer.  How he’d tilt his head just so, distracting you with the adoration in his eyes and the way his fluffy fringe would support his stare like a goddamn perfect picture frame.  “Because I do and it does.  I think about you every day.  I hate thinking of you with someone else, but as long as you like me more, I try to understand.  That’s how much I love you.”

Everything he says is a sucker punch knocking all the air from your lungs.  It’s like a certified K.O. that leaves you delirious on the ground, punch drunk in love and pain.

“I miss seeing you in my sweaters.  Or waking up holding you.  I think about how good you smell after a shower, or the way you laugh when I steal too much of the sheets.”  He’s so good at this - so fucking good at making you forget everything you hold against him.  It’s that patented Park Jimin charm that he turns on and dazzles you with.  It’s your weakness and he knows it.

It doesn’t mean it hurts any less, even when he’s spinning these cotton candy words that promise to keep you cozy.  Because you know the way it’s only temporary - that at any moment you might plummet through those sugar-spun clouds and shatter beyond comprehension.

“If you miss me so much—”

“Don’t say ‘if.’”  It’s not unkind and yet your cheeks heat, flooded with a guilt that gnaws at the pretty red ribbon that you’re sure connects the two of you.

“—then why can’t you just be with me?”  The million dollar question - another you know you’ll never get the right answer to - but, surprisingly, one you haven’t voiced. You’ve always been too shy, too soft, to make such a query.  It wasn’t in your wheelhouse of skills - so maybe that’s why it takes Jimin off guard.

He hesitates, pauses a beat too long as he mulls over your question.  “You know I don’t like ultimatums.”  It’s more of a relenting, a half-earned admission that doesn’t truly satisfy your curiosity.  

Somehow, it’s exactly what you’d expected.

Finality isn’t something he takes lightly.  He always weighs his options, considers all the pros and cons.  That’s why he still keeps you around - because you’re a safety net.  Even if he makes the wrong choice, you’ll always be there to welcome him back with open arms.  At least that’s what the horned advocate on your shoulder tells you, all red-eyed and spiteful.

“I know.”  There’s an unspoken - and unnecessary - apology threaded loosely between your words and the devil bristles, scowling at the man that could give her a run for her money.  Because surely that’s what Park Jimin is - Satan in disguise, leading you through the halls of Hell and calling it love.

You wonder how long you'll continue to follow him or if you'll ever stop.

It's two weeks later, on an overcast Wednesday afternoon, when he appears at your doorstep. 

"What're you doing here?"  The words come before you can help it, tipping off your tongue and crashing into the silence between you like a boulder.  It drags his sunny expression down with it, all the light in his eyes suddenly dimmed.  It makes your heart twist uncomfortably.

"Do I need to have a reason to come by?"  It's rhetorical, you're sure.  You can see it in the way he stares at you, the subtle turn of his jaw that doesn't leave much room for response.

He steps past you, silver-adorned fingers finding the shape of your waist, thumb drifting lazily over cotton as if it's the most natural thing in the world.  You suppose it is, but that doesn't keep your heart from thudding in your chest, nearly bursting out of its confines.  You have to remind yourself not to lean into the way he coaxes you closer, invades your personal space like you're one and the same.  It's near impossible.  You almost forget to breathe.

He smells so good - like Christmas morning, bright and crisp and dizzying to your senses.

"Didn't you miss me?"  Another question that doesn't beg an answer.  Yet he still demands one, presses insistence into the curve of your cheek, the silk at your temples.  His lips - full and pink and endlessly soft - trace his request, as intoxicating as cherry wine. 

"You know I did."  You mean to be reproachful, to steel your nerves against the fire he ignites beneath your skin.  "But you can't just show up like this."  Like you mean something to him - like he'll stay for longer than the day.  All words you should say, but can't.  Because despite it all, you'll take these secret, half-given parts of him and hope that you can piece them all together into something whole.

"I won't do it again,"  he says so sweetly you almost believe him.  

He's looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky and he's trying to find the meaning of the universe in the way your mouth curves and the flutter of your lashes.  But then again, it's nothing new.  You know he'll be distracted when the next meteor shower comes, all too fascinated by the streaks that illuminate the night sky and dim your light.

When you don't immediately respond, giving into him in that same way you always do, his expression shifts, twists and turns around a poorly hidden frown that marks his otherwise pretty features.  There's an edge now, all sharp corners that you cut yourself on in your haste to appease him. 

"Let's not fight."  

Three simple words and he's  your own personal Apollo again, bringing the glory and warmth of the sun into your atmosphere.  He strikes you with the way he smiles, how his eyes wane into little crescents - the moon and sun to your stars.  It's like basking in the July heat and it warms you from the inside out;  it reminds you of every happy memory, painted in rosy shades that keep you coming back for more, more, more.  

"Good idea."  He's catching your hands in his own and pulling you close, booted foot kicking the front door closed with a soft thud.  "Let's watch a movie and lay in bed all day.  I'll even braid your hair."  A small, inconsequential thing to anyone else but one that makes your heart soar. 

It feels so much like what it used to be.  How can you say no to this?  To him?

"I get to pick what we watch,"  you finally give in, relaxing into the way he holds you.  It's home in every sense of the word, lulling you into a sense of security you can't find anywhere else.  Your head slots into the space between his neck and shoulder, nose cold against his collar.  You inhale once, twice - the sweet scent of nectarines and flowers - and try to commit this moment to memory, tucking it neatly among the folded pages you've written together.  

"Of course, baby."  

And before you know it, you're two bodies folded as one.  Where his breath is yours and your heart beats in his chest, limbs tangled and intertwined as wholly as can be while some movie plays forgotten in the background.  When his laugh sounds from your lips and you can feel his pulse in your ears.

You wish it were enough.  It'll never be enough.

notes.  this fic is mainly based on the idea that... jiminie is a big libra baby.  a big, flirty, won’t-let-go-but-won’t-make-up-his-mind libra baby.  i say this with experience, as a fellow big libra baby.

anyway, i was supposed to finish chapters for two other stories but instead, you get this soft, nonsensical angst.  enjoy!

#heartsforbts #ficswithluv #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #park jimin #jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x oc #work.zip #oneshot.zip #jimin.doc