#Hope your day/week/month has been going good or okay-ish!!’

[sunsetsandsunshine]

AHHHHH HI FINNIE FIN 🥹🫶🏾💝💗💝💘💕💖‼️‼️‼️

Thank you so much for this ask…I actually REALLY needed a hug rn…this week has been stressful 😬…

Again, really appreciate it. I promise to DM you when life isn’t so…hectic ☺️🩷!!! I kinda just need to figure myself out rn

💖🙌🏾‼️

[fushiguho]

You Have a New Match ☆ Toji Fushiguro

☆ SYNOPSIS After several, agonizing weeks of your relentless torment, Toji has finally had it with your teasing antics. As ambiguous as dating apps can be, he wants to ensure that his intentions are very clear — he’s only here for one thing, to fuck. So why are you wasting his time? What are you, scared? ☆ WORD COUNT 6.6k (holy fuck) ☆ CONTENT WARNINGS Dilf!Toji, femme reader, rough-ish sex, kinda feral, strangers to lovers, Toji has a FILTHY mouth ☆ A/N okay guys so this is actually kind of insane and i do apologize for my absence to those who care LOL (boooo school and life.) but this was actually an anon request for dilf toji but i thought i’d take it in different direction?? this is honestly a personal best for me so i really hope whoever is reading this feels something :p also, thank u for 1k follows. means the world! :)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

Toji swears, it’s always the same song and dance with you younger women, yet time and time again he’ll find himself  enwrapped in a meaningless dalliance. Currently, that’s you, and you’ve been driving him up a fucking wall. For weeks, you’ll sweet talk him, go on and on about how deep you can take it, how wet your pretty pussy gets just from texting him, even how nasty you’ll get for him when you see him, but it’s always when. That’s the very thing, you’re all talk.

They say patience is a virtue, yet his runs thinner than cheap thread. Toji has never been known for bullshit, and after becoming a father, that fact has never been truer. For most, bringing children into this godforsaken world serves as means for betterment — change, but Toji isn’t like most. Oh, and he’s tried to be respectful about it too, but how can you ever expect him to be a gentleman when you act like… that.

Ever since you matched on Tinder, it’s been several, agonizing months of slutty messages and lewd pictures. God, and what a filthy mouth you have, detailing all the sick ways you’d let him use you, how you’d take it all like a good, obedient slut, how you’d do anything he wants. Yet, when he video calls you in response, huffing your name as the monstrous length of his cock glides through his slick fingers, you realize that maybe you’re not as grown as you thought.

So, you pull away, ghosting him, leaving behind nothing but the silence of uncertainty — purgatory. Whenever you inevitably decide to message him again, whether it be days or weeks later, it’s the same bullshit excuse every time, and quite frankly, Toji has had it. Of course you read his profile when you matched. He made his intentions very clear — that he’s only here for one thing, so why are you wasting his time? What are you, scared?

Toji F.

05:39 PM You scared? Is that it? 05:42 PM Scared of what this cock will do to you? What it could turn you into? Is that why you keep disappearing on me? 05:42 PM You’re breaking my heart here, girl.

Read at 5:43 PM

The audacity. Taken aback is an understatement, yet his message makes your stomach sink in arousal. You can hardly help the dramatic roll of your eyes, an incredulous scoff following as you stuff your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. As you trudge toward your last class of the day, his messages linger on your mind, igniting a flame of refutation that begs to be doused, because you? Scared? Please.

Boredom is a strange thing. It tends to bring out the worst, turning people into versions of themselves they weren’t sure could ever exist within the same universe — versions of themselves that defy the being they’ve worked tirelessly to become. But when there’s nothing left to do, nowhere else to turn, and everything else has been exhausted, we result to desperation; desperate times call for desperate measures.

Tinder.

If university has taught you anything, it’s that men don’t mature overnight… or ever. Even being four, entire years into your overpriced degree, it’s evident that maturity doesn’t exist within the minds of frat hopping, beer chugging, striped polo wearing college boys. You crave more. You crave experience and wisdom, but at the end of the day, you’re still just bored and in desperate need of something that’ll abide your time in university — Toji Fushiguro.

So really, is there truly anything wrong with downloading a dating app with the sole intention of fucking? Is it so wrong to toggle your age preference a little too high? Your preferred mile radius a little too far? You’re not sure, not really. All you know is that there is a point to be proven and a void to be filled, and maybe Toji isn’t the answer you should be seeking, but he damn sure is the easiest and most willing recourse.

That’s the exact reason you’re finally messaging him back, inviting him over to your apartment to chill. It’s nearly embarrassing how fast he responds. An obscure, upside down, smiling emoji at the end of his text masks his ever-growing anticipation with cordiality, though it’s a stark contrast to the way he’ll have you pried apart later on, fucking you rudely with the sole intention gutting you out completely, but you’ll find out soon enough. Curiosity kills cats anyways.

As the day grows on, your excitement grows beyond you. The rapid tap of your anxious feet strike against the tiled floor of the lecture hall, reverberating throughout the frigid, drab room. An exasperated sigh drags from your pouting lips, chin resting within the palm of your hand. Back and forth your eyes flit from the digital clock abut the wall to your monotone professor who paces through the aisles, blathering on about environmental law.

You can hardly help the way you’re beginning to eagerly gather your belongings, slinging your backpack over one shoulder before discretely slipping out of the room, scurrying home with a girlish grin long before class is said and done. Immediately, you’re fishing for your phone, informing Toji that you’re finally free and again, his response is embarrassingly quick. He’s on his way.

It feels like an eternity and you’re impatient. Your stomach lurches in excitement as you sit cross legged on the couch. The large television before you hums monotonously, a show you’ve never cared for flitting across the crystal display, but then, there’s a knock — three, hard, heavy-handed knocks. Your feet are moving faster than your brain can register, nearly tripping over your own feet on your way to the door. As you’re reaching for the knob, it feels like you can’t breathe — like you forgot how to breathe, but that doesn’t stop the hand that’s slowly creaking the heavy, wooden door open just enough to peek your head out and then up, up, up.

“Oh.” You breathe, huffing a breath you weren’t aware you held, your curious gaze shamelessly devouring the burly, heavy-set figure that fills your doorway. “Hi, Toji.” The door creeps wider as you step aside, granting him access into your home.

“Hi, pretty.” His gruff, baritone voice reverberates throughout your entire being, sending a cruel, unintentional rush of heat between your clamped thighs. A mischievous smile pries his scarred lips open, his sharp, sable eyes curiously falling to the cleavage that spills from your low-cut top.

Toji straggles behind as you pad through the archway leading to your small kitchen. He slips out of his shoes, wordlessly admiring your girlishly ornamented apartment, cock nearly throbbing from the overwhelming scent of you — so cloying and honeyed and edible. God, he’d only be lying if he said he hasn’t imagine what you’d taste like, fucking his fist like feral caveman to the pretty pictures on your Tinder profile.

“Uh, you hungry?” You observe your barren fridge, lips twisting in thought. “I have leftovers from last night.” You peer over your shoulder, watching as he observes your carefully thought out space.

He shakes his head in response, a slow, crooked smirk playing his slick lips. Slowly, he’s leaning back, legs crossing idly in front of him as his large hands reach backwards to prop himself against the cold, marble island that sits in the middle of the kitchen. He eyes you silently, watching intently as you stumble throughout your kitchen, fixing him a complimentary glass of iced water. You can hardly meet his intense gaze as you present him with the tall, overfilled glass, far too nervous to truly observe the way he practically devours you with his prey-like stare.

“What?” You finally croak, a nervous laugh tumbling past your lips. You’re stepping away to crane your head back, reluctantly registering the overwhelming sight before you.

Toji shrugs wordlessly before taking a long, ponderous sip from his condensating glass. He swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing before humming melodically, pondering in thought. His seemingly cruel gaze never leaves yours, even as you’re slowly backing away to lean against the opposing counter, subconsciously mirroring his stance as you prop yourself on the palms of your hands.

“You nervous or somethin’?” Toji smiles wide, cocking his head to the right. An intense set of dark eyes pierce yours, reading directly through your timid expression. Contrary to your fidgeting fingers, you shake your head in refutation as you peer down at your feet in a desperate attempt to avoid his relentless gaze.

Liar.

“No? Why are you so far then?” He observes, taking another sip from his dwindling glass before setting it against the marble. You hardly notice the way he shuffles closer, slyly inching toward your side of the kitchen. “After all that shit you talked, I was sure you’d be all over me… what changed, pretty?” Now, he stands hair's breadth away, looking down on you as if you’re prey to be devoured.

“Nothing.” You mutter, still averting your gaze. It’s hardly a whisper.

The slow, subconscious clamp of your thighs as you fruitlessly attempt to dull the throb of your poor, aching pussy doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, a burly knee is subtly creeping between your legs, deliberately forcing them back apart. There’s nowhere to run — nowhere to cower and writhe in fear or embarrassment; he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

You’re completely caged in, stretching to the tips of your toes in escape, but oh, sweet gravity — it’s pulling you down, down, down, driving your clothed cunt against the stiff muscles of his thigh. You gasp, hardly able to chase the breaths that tumble past your lips. Still, you can’t bear the thought of facing him, not after all that shit you talked, not even as you grind yourself against his thigh.

Toji pouts feignedly. “C’monnn, you won’t even look at me?” A large hand is cupping your chin, gingerly forcing your gaze onto his. “This can’t be the same girl who promised she’d let me slut her out… right?” His warm breath fans your parted lips, a fat thumb blindly grazing the lower half of your face. “No, you can’t possibly be the same girl who sent me a video of her noisy, little pussy cryin’ fa’me either… right?”

You’ve never felt so… small. The way your stomach sinks in arousal nearly forces a helpless whine past your lips. It almost feels like you’re in trouble, like you’ve done something horribly wrong and now, you await your inescapable punishment, yet your core aches at the very thought — it burns with an inextinguishable desire to be filled, to be punished.

As a father, Toji can’t help but to default back to his intrinsic lust for control, to assume authority. So really, can you blame him when he’s wordlessly pulling you up the counter you lean against? Two, strong hands finding purchase on your hips, yanking you closer to the edge of the frigid marble. He definitely doesn’t miss the way your legs practically fall open for him, naturally spreading to accommodate the girth of his hips as he creeps closer.

A slow and beautifully sinful grin is marring his face. “Are you a woman of your word?” It’s a low, gravelly hum, one that has you nodding desperately, lips parting sweetly. His head cocks to the right in query. “Yeah? So you’re gonna let me slut that pretty pussy out like you promised, hm?” A singular hand pushing your thighs further apart so that he can insert himself between them to which you audibly moan, nodding once again.

“I am a woman of my word,” you breathe, falling back to catch yourself on your hands as a newfound sense of confidence brews within you, “I meant it, you can have me however you want… please.”

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He subtly warns, slipping a large, intentional hand between your searing bodies. “Can you handle that?” Several, warm fingers are trailing against the fabric that hugs your cunt, eliciting a beautiful string of wanton moans from your pretty, parted lips — moans that make his cock twitch to life, eager to ruin you.

“Mhmmm, yes… yes,” you’re nodding, gasping out for more, head rolling deliriously from side to side as his fingers press firmly against your clothed cunt, “I can take anything, I swear! I’ll be s-so good.”

The subconscious roll of your body against the stocky hand that cups your pussy is pathetic; it’s dragging endless hums of pleasure and little gasps of air from your stupidly gaped mouth. You’re insatiable as you buck your hips, desperate to get more out of his teasing fingers, yet still, it isn’t enough. So truly, can Toji blame you for the way you’re beaming forward to catch his lips in a sloppy, haphazard kiss?

No, he can’t, because the way he kisses you back is nothing short of animalistic. It’s the way your teeth nearly clash; the way his fingers are threading through the hair at the back of your head, tugging you back to hold you still, kissing you exactly how he wants; even the way he’s huffing out hot, raptured breaths against your lips as if he can’t breathe, as if you’re the last, fleeting breath of air, nursing him back to life.

Your hands are everywhere. They’re wrapping around his slutty waist, pulling him closer; creeping up the hem of his shirt, into the waistband of his sweatpants, and over the unmistakable bulge of his warm cock again, and again, and again. It throbs against the palm of your hand, wordlessly begging to be heard, to be seen, to be touched.

“Take it out.” He breathes, stepping away just far enough for you to untie the drawstring. In a fruitless attempt to hide your grin of excitement, you bite your lip, wholeheartedly obliging as you fiddle to undo the tightly knotted bow that hides his most sacred possession. “Yeaaaah, take that cock out, sweetheart. Look at you… you’re excited for it, huh?”  He laughs at your fervid eagerness — a sharp gust of air through his nose.

As you’re tugging down both waistbands, a deep, guttural groan of relief is belting from the depths of his chest; he inhales a sharp breath through gritted teeth. His cock springs free, bouncing to kiss his lower abdomen in a smeared mess of arousal. Your mouth gapes as rivulets of precum spill down the length of his cock, lewdly pooling near his fat, swollen balls.

God, it’s pretty. It stands so proud and tall, longing to be seen — to be known. It literally weeps tears of desperation, begging for something, anything. How long has it been? Is he just as deprived? Your head burns with questions that yearn to be answered, but you’re determined.

Out of intrinsic instinct, you’re wrapping a hand around the base of his cock as if it’d explode if not dealt with immediately. Never in your life have you held something so… heavy. It’s warm and dense and wet. God, why is he so wet? Why is his precum slobbering down your fingers as you begin to pump him in your hand? Why does such a cruel, deafening schlop! ring out each time you drag your fist toward the leaking head? Why is it making you wet?

As if he can read your mind, Toji coos. “You like it, huh?” He’s amused, a smug grin plaguing his face. “You hungry, pretty? You wanna taste it?” Even the subtle lilt of enthusiasm that soothes his teasing tone makes your mouth sag in a whimper so you nod, of course. “You’ll just say yes to anything, won’t you?”

Duh.

Again, you nod dumbly before eagerly slipping off of the counter and falling to your knees with a thud! Like the good girl you promised you are, you’re lolling out your tongue to drool onto the tip of his cock without hesitation. A longgg, throaty moan drags from Toji’s gaped mouth when you gently tap the drooling head against the plush center of your tongue.

“Fuuuck yes, sweetheart. I knew just from your pictures that you’d be a nasty girl,” his hips are intentionally bucking toward your face, rudely forcing his cock deeper, “and you’re so obedient too… fell to your knees for my cock and you hardly know me.”

A cruel, wet gurgle spills from your mouth as you attempt to swallow around him. He fills your mouth perfectly, like the missing piece to a forgotten puzzle. You wail a muffled, helpless whine, jaw aching from the sheer weight of his cock as it rests against your eager tongue. His swollen balls throb painfully as he tucks himself deeper, forcing a proper gag from pretty lips.

The short, sable tufts of hair that adorn the thick base of his cock tickle your chin. A large hand holds your head taut, keeping you close as he presses the swollen fat of his balls against your trembling bottom lip. Your eyes well with tears as you gag again, throat tightening around the head of his cock when it prods your uvula. The achey, protruding vein that runs along the underside of his shaft throbs against your tongue as you gasp for air.

“Thaaaaat’s it. Hah — oh my god, are you drooling?” Two, deft fingers are swiping along your chin, collecting the saliva that dribbles down your face. “You are so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth… you gonna let me fuck it just a little?” The crooked smile that mars his face is sick, but it makes your stomach cave in arousal.

Toji doesn’t wait for a response as he’s reeling his hips back, two heavy hands steady on the back of your head, holding you in place. You gasp for a desperate breath before he pummels forward, tucking himself as deep as possible. He’s slow to pull out of your mouth, his thick cock leisurely grazing along every inch of your tongue. A timbre, wanton groan of pleasure drags from his slacked jaw.

“Suuuch a p— perfect throat for cock, holy fuck,” his hips are drawing back again, cock throbbing painfully when you cease the opportunity to gasp for air, “breeeathe, sweetheart… don’t you die on me. I’m not done with you yet, c’mere.” He’s abruptly yanking you to your feet, surely taking notice of the way your knees buckle beneath you.

He’s taking you by the wrist, leading you throughout your apartment as if it’s his own — as if he’s been here before. You follow him like a lost puppy, biting your inner cheek in anticipation as you trail behind him, warm arousal pooling between your thighs. It doesn’t take long for him to find your comfortable, eclectically garnished bedroom.

A large, curious hand is creaking the ajar door wider. He simpers to himself, inhaling the sweet, gourmand scent of everything you. Toji scoffs in what you can only hope astonishment as he peaks his head inside of the warm, dimly lit room. You follow his equivocal gaze, reimagining your sacred space from his fresh, much elder perspective.

“I wish my son would keep his room this neat,” he laughs and you follow him inside, watching as he curiously prowls your girlish room, "couldn't even pay him to wash his shit-stained boxers." A unique collection of trinkets entraps his gaze.

Son?

"Oh," you're taking a seat at the foot of your bed, wordlessly observing the grown, burly man that paces your carpeted room of light pink hues — a man who has to squat to even hear your sweet voice as you speak, "what's his name?"

Annoyed, Toji shakes his head, sucking his teeth. "Doesn't matter," he stalks closer, a subtle gleam of lust dancing across his gradually darkening irises, “I just wanna see how wet that pussy got from tasting my cock… you gonna show me, pretty?” The devilish, scarred smirk that pries his mouth open makes your sobbing pussy throb.

He kneels onto the edge of the mattress and you scoot further onto the bed; the soft, baby pink sheets ruffling as you eagerly peel your lounge shorts down your legs, kicking them to the floor. As you lie on your back, you rest on your forearms, bent legs falling open so sluttily for a man you hardly know. A dark, ever-growing patch of arousal soils your pretty, laced panties. The dim, twinkling lights that hang over your bed reveal such an embarrassingly wet mess — the sheer, drooling material that clings to your swollen lips for dear life, begging to be touched.

“Oh, fuck,” he audibly gasps, inching closer to the palpable heat that radiates between your legs, “yeeeeeah, show me that sloppy, little pussy, baby… holy fuck.” You can hear the sheer degree of arousal in his tone — the way he can’t help but to moan out his words; so overcome by his innate need to fuck that it exudes in the way he pronounces his vowels and consonants.

And then, he’s speechless, utterly enthralled by the several, glistening gossamers of arousal that stretch and snap erotically as you pull the damp fabric down your thighs. You’re obediently sprawled apart for him, pretty, slobbering cunt spread so sinfully for a mere stranger. His cock aches at the sight, jerking lewdly in tandem with the visible tightening of your leaking hole.

Three, longgg digits are dragging up the expanse of your cunt, collecting your prolific arousal. He’s smearing it between your swollen lips, across your quivering clit, then deep inside of your greedy pussy. Over and over and over again, his burly knuckles disappear into your endless slick, the pads of his fingers dragging so sinfully along your tensing walls.

“Such a pretty pussy… oh my god, listen to her,” his hoarse groan is so plainly conquered by his lust, he nearly moans as his jaw hangs in astonishment, sable brows furrowing deeply, “listen to how wet she is. Such a noisy girl, huh?”

And oh god, do you listen. A cruel, deafening squelch! cries from between your plush thighs each time his fingers disappear into your cunt. A familiar, palpable heat is creeping up your neck, spilling across your flustered face in a deep, crimson hue. Embarrassed by your bountiful arousal, your legs are flying shut, halting the hand that teases you. Almost immediately, Toji is wordlessly prying your thighs apart, pinning them to the sheets with a disapproving grunt.

Toji doesn’t miss the slack of your jaw or the sweet, little whimpers that fall so shamelessly from your raptured tongue. He can hardly help the way he’s subconsciously mimicking your expressions — his lips parting in tandem with yours, thick brows furrowing subtly, just as yours do, he’s even cooing in response to your pathetic whines and gasps of ever-growing pleasure.

Like a flower growing toward the warmth of the sun, you’re coiling into his touch, back arching up and off of the unkempt sheets. Your head deliriously falls back to press against the pillow. The repetitive batter of his thick, beckoning fingers is the only thing you can hear, feel, think. Your hips buck so nastily against the hand that paws at you, pretty little sighs and hums of pleasure dragging from your stupidly gaped mouth.

“I just know you wanna fuck, look at your back arch for my cock like that… such a hungry girl,” a big hand is creeping beneath the small of your back, helping you maintain that beautiful, fleeting arch and he inches closer, eyes narrowing so that he can read directly through your greedy expression, “yeah, look at that pretty face… you wanna fuck, huh?”

You can hardly nod before he’s whorishly pulling his cock out, a hiss of relief escaping his gritted teeth. Pearlescent beads of precum drool from the head as he stalks closer, a lazy, idle fist pumping his length. A singular hand is prying you open, burly fingers digging into the plush, underside of your thigh, rudely spreading you apart, and then, cries a lewd, deafening plap!

Not once, twice, but three fucking times, Toji spits into your quivering cunt; three, fat globs of saliva pool into one, sinful puddle, erotically dribbling down the expanse of your swollen lips, toward your endlessly drooling hole, then it creeps even lower, spilling between the slit of your ass, kissing the puckering hole that sits just below.

“Touch her,” he breathes, a hand reaches for yours, pulling it over the mess of slick that coats your pussy, “fuck my spit into your cunt so I can make you feel good, baby. Get her ready for me, c’mon,” he watches with a low, hooded eyes as you collect the mound of saliva on your clit, swirling the pads of your fingers around it before sinking them inside with a pretty gasp, “yeaaahhh, that’s a good girl, spread that slutty pussy open for me.”

As you spread yourself apart with your fingers, Toji is prodding his fat, mushroom head against your clit and it’s dragging the sweetest cries from your parted lips. He’s moving your fingers out of the way with his cock, smearing the precum that weeps endlessly, hips bucking ever so slightly to fuck against the slick that laminates your pretty pussy.

The pad of his thumb is guiding the head of his cock inside of you, a synchronous, drawn out moan echoing from your gaped mouths as he sinks deeper and deeper and deeper. The gradual widening of your eyes is drawing a dark, breathy chuckle from the pit of his sternum. You’re fighting the gnawing urge to run, to wriggle out of his grip and cower in fear, but you can’t fucking move.

“Oh, fuck, fuck… oh my god.” You feel helpless as you whimper, wanting so desperately to clamp your thighs shut, but Toji has you pressed apart on the sheets.

A longgg, slutty groan is falling from his slacked jaw as he reels his hips back, pupils dilating when he catches sight of the warm, glistening arousal that sheathes his cock. Never in his life has he felt something so… wet. Your syrupy, drooling lips stretch so wide for him, effortlessly swallowing each and everyone one of his languid, torturous thrusts.

Toji is so large, it nearly feels like there’s two of him. You feel him everywhere — he is everywhere. His fat, drooling cock is splitting you open while his calloused palms are pawing anywhere they can reach; they’re creeping up your pretty waist, pushing your shirt up, taking it off. His lips are parting, an unintentional gasp ensuing when your tits are spilling out for him.

Another big hand is reaching for your face, cupping your jaw as a warm, curious thumb grazes your bottom lip. Instinctively, your lips are parting, wordlessly inviting him into your sweet mouth. Obeying your silent needs, the salty digit is pushing past your parted lips to pry your jaw open. He can’t help the throaty moan that bellows from his lungs as you swallow around his finger, sucking so whorishly as your eyes threaten to cross.

He’s so entranced by the warmth of your mouth that he can’t help but to replace his thumb with his two middle fingers. The long, burly digits creep farther and farther down the length of your tongue, forcing a loud, helpless gag from your swollen lips. Your delirious eyes are welling with tears, brows furrowing deeply when your pussy throbs in response. A slow, devilish grin is marring his handsome face.

“Oh?” He gasps in near astonishment, taking notice of the undeniable pulse of your cunt. “You like my fingers in your mouth, don’t you?”

You nod, drool spilling from the corners of your lips. Never in your life have you been so aroused. It’s almost too much to bear, you can hardly think anymore. All you feel is him — his big hands that control you, his fingers that rest against your tongue, the heat his body radiates, even the repetitive strike of his full balls against the fat of your ass has you babbling nonsense.

Every deep, elongated thrust is pulling the nastiest sounds out of you, even the overwhelming pressure of the heavy thumb that’s pressed to your clit has you mewling in rapture. Your pretty pussy leaks like a broken faucet that begs to be mended — so sloppy and needy, poor legs spread achingly wide as he sinks into your slutty little hole over and over and over again like a madman on the brink of utter insanity.

“Were you thinkin’ about me in class, hm?” He’s abruptly jerking you closer, pulling your legs on either side of his waist. You nod dumbly, mouth falling open for your sweet, broken whimpers to escape. “Yeah, sweet girl? Were you thinkin’ about me comin’ over and stretching this perfect pussy out like this, huh?” A guttural groan tumbling past his lips when your hips buck weakly to meet his heavy thrusts. “Oh my god, baby, come here… you want more?” He’s nearly growling as he yanks you impossibly closer.

Two, strong hands are gripping at the thick of your hips, selfishly pulling you onto his cock, impaling you. He deftly drills himself into your pussy like a weightless fleshlight whose only purpose is to take cock. All of his noisy, ragged breaths come out in short huffs each time he bottoms out, fucking the literal breath out of himself. His bruising grip holds you still, long fingers splayed across your waist and hips as he continues to stuff you with the entirety of his fat cock.

The hypnotic rebound of your chest is killing him; they sit so perfectly and he’s feral. He’s leaning down to audibly inhale your sweet, gourmand perfume as it permeates throughout the sweltering air. His handsome face is tucked between your pretty breasts, greedy tongue darting past his lips to lick along the expanse of your chest. You’re panting out hums of pleasure, breath hitching discernibly when he begins to sink his teeth into the supple flesh.

“F— fuuuuckkk,” you’re deliriously wailing in rapture, hips rolling in tandem with his furious thrusts, “so good, so gooood… your cock feels s’fucking good. Hah—oh my god, Toji.” You’re slurring over yourself, truly intoxicated from the punishing buck of his hips.

His cock throbs at your drunken words, balls swelling painfully when you grasp for his shirt to ground yourself. Both of your mouths sag open, brows furrowing identically as you pant in loud, harmonious breaths. The wet, gut-wrenching smack! of skin against skin that reverberates throughout your bedroom is deafening, nothing else can be heard.

Your hips buck wildly, desperately fucking him back as sweet cries of his name spill from your tongue. His gaze is steady and unwavering, observing as you reach for anything you can — his face, his bulging biceps, the fabric of his shirt; but it’s when you reach for the small of his back, driving him impossibly deeper each time he bottoms out that makes the vein running along the underside of his cock throb painfully, his leaking head bullying your cervix over and over and over again.

“God, you tryna make me cum, huh?” He’s slipping out of you to hastily pull you on top of him, handling you just the way he needs. “Do it then, show me how you like to fuck, c’mon.” Two hands are gripping at the thick of your hips, encouraging you to use him.

With both hands, you reach for his chest, stabilizing yourself as you raise your hips. Warm palms are creeping up the fat of your thighs to soothe the discernible trembling of your aching muscles. He kneads the plush skin absentmindedly, mouth gaping incredulously when you slowly begin to sink down the length of his stiff cock, your pretty pussy slobbering all over him.

“Fuck me like a slut, c’mon,” it’s a low, demanding whisper as his hands are reaching forward to find purchase on your hips, subtly guiding your frantic movements, “show me how good, slutty girls are supposed to ride cock.” A nasty, crooked smirk plagues his face, crinkling the corners of his beautifully aged, darkened eyes.

Your mouth sags in a string of helpless whimpers when you sink down onto him again, and again, and again and each time your hips collide, he’s forcing you deeper. The large hands glued to your waist are pushing you back and forth, wordlessly commanding you. The dull, achy stretch of his cock as it drags along your sopping walls is pulling the filthiest sounds from your gaped mouth — beautiful cries of pleasure, desperate pleads for more, and short huffs of air that only make him harder.

Even under you, he’s still massive, taking up the entirety of your bed as you sit so prettily atop him, thighs aching from the width of his hips. Sticky beads of sweat adorn his face and several tussled strands of short, inky hair dance haphazardly along his forehead, partially occluding his vision as he peers up at you through thick, furrowing brows.

“C’mereee, baby, fuck,” a greedy hand is reaching for your throat, deft fingers wrapping so possessively around the expanse of your neck, pulling you close.

His lips deliriously catch yours, tasting you so desperately — so sluttily. His warm tongue is creeping into your mouth, shamelessly exploring the sweet cavity. He swallows each and every gasp and whimper that he fucks out of you, intentionally storing them in the depths of his mind for later retrieval whenever he’d inevitably think about this very moment again. Your mouth hangs wide as you mindlessly kiss him back, obediently taking all of his tongue, all of his hot, raptured breaths, all of his wanton groans of pleasure — everything. 

Toji can hardly help the feral buck of his hips beneath you, he doesn’t want to help it. He needs for you to remember the feeling of his cock — how it pries you open and guts you out, how it stupidly pulls your mouth wide, even the way it creates the slightest bulge in your abdomen each time he’s at a hilt. He needs for your cunt to remember the shape of him.

If you don’t go to class with his cock in the forefront of your mind, if it isn’t what you envision when you pleasure yourself during ungodly hours of the night, if you’re not drawn to tears because you can’t possibly replicate the feeling of his punishing thrusts, then it’s a job poorly done and Toji won’t have that. Not now. Not ever.

The sheer force of his thrusts are jerking you forward, toppling you onto his chest and into his arms; they’re wrapping around you, pulling you impossibly closer as the mind-numbing buck of his hips only intensifies. Every frantic breath and throaty groan is lost in the crook of your neck, the close range of his moans like kindle to a rampant flame.

“Is anyone on campus fucking you like this?” It’s a strained, breathless whisper against the shell of your ear, his wet lips grazing your skin. “Who else is fucking you like this, huh?” He reiterates, a hand creeping up your jaw, holding you still so that he can observe your drunken gaze.

“No… no one,” you cry, shaking your head as best you can under his tightening grip, “nobody knows how to f-fuck me right.” The quiver of your sweet, honeyed voice makes his stomach sink in his ever growing arousal, cock twitching, begging for release.

Toji frowns, his darkened eyes softening. “Awwww, nobody knows how to please this slutty little pussy huh, sweetheart?” The hand that holds your face caresses your flushed cheek, a fat thumb slipping into the corner of your parted lips. “You needed a stranger to come over and fuck the shit out of you like this?” As if to accentuate his point, he’s tucking himself unbearably deeper, the lewd plap! of his balls echoing each time he bottoms out.

A big, heavy hand is landing on the fat of your ass with an experimental, earsplitting smack! You yelp incredulously, hissing through your gritted teeth as you brace yourself for another impact, but it doesn’t come. Immediately, your lust-stricken eyes are searching for his, a desperate cry dragging for your kiss-bitten lips as you plead for another.

“A-again,” you mumble, reaching for his hand to pull it over the reddening fat of your ass, enticing him, “hit me again… please.”

Wordlessly, he obliges, his heavy hand coming down once, twice, thrice, and then, you feel the gut wrenching coil in the pit of your stomach grow impossibly tighter, yearning for release. As you stupidly bounce up and down the length of his cock, you’re drunkenly babbling, but it’s the slutty, breathless whine of his name that’s dragging his mouth open in pure arousal; every breath he huffs is now a whorish moan or a guttural groan of pleasure.

“Oh, god,” he groans, his head sinking deeper into your cushiony, pink pillow, “rub that clit for me, sweetheart… I wanna see how you cum on it,” his shameless, drunken gaze is flitting between your rolling eyes and the way his twitching cock disappears into your cunt, “be a good girl ‘n make yourself cum on my cock.”

A frantic hand is reaching down to play with your poor, swollen clit, your entire being shuddering so violently from the feeling your own, overwhelming touch; It’s too much, too sensitive. Sinful rivulets of drool spill down your chin, your head falling to the side so stupidly as you trace haphazard circles around the ravaged bundle of nerves. 

“M’gonna c-cum,” you gasp, stomach sinking as your orgasm swells in the pit of your core, “hah —ohhh my fucking god… f-fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah? Are you cumming for me, pretty girl?” He’s coos as he draws you closer, the tip of his large nose brushing yours. “Do it then, make a mess on my cock, sweetheart c’mon,” his lips are on yours once again, kissing you so fucking sloppily, nothing but wet tongue and clashing teeth, “fuuuckkk yes, c’mon baby. Thaaaat’s it… cum on my cock just like that, such a good fucking girl.”

His mouth gapes as you buck against him, desperate, uninhibited moans dragging from your sore throat. With nothing but a strangled whimper in his throat, Toji is reluctantly slipping out of you, feverishly pumping the length of his cock in his tight fist. It’s so fucking wet; your arousal adorns the entirety of his cock and his drooling tip leaks desperately for you, making for an obscenely loud schlop! that reverberates throughout the sweltering atmosphere.

Toji’s head is pressing deeper into your pillow, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly. His kiss-bitten lips are pursing together as he hums in rapture, whimpering strangled, erratic breaths through his nostrils. His forearm tenses as he hastily strokes his slick cock, sweet mutters of your name and lewd profanities spilling from his tongue.

“Help me, fuck, don’t just watch,” he gasps breathlessly, his vacant hand blindly searching for yours to wrap it around the fist that holds his cock, “fuck, fuck, fuck… yeah, make me cum like a good slut.”

The feeling of your smaller, less adept fingers wrapping around his fist and cock is what has him spilling an obscene amount of warm, syrupy cum between your searing bodies. It coats the expanse of your tits and abdomen, dripping so sinfully down your soft, perspiring skin. Toji thinks this is the hardest he’s ever cum in his life; even the day he lost his virginity pales in comparison.

It’s the look of utter enthrallment that’s written in your widening eyes as you observe his full body shudders that ensue with each viscous spurt of cum. It’s the way you’re beaming down at him, a content smile slowly spreading across your pretty, post-sex face. It’s the way you’re swiping a swift, curious finger to collect the cum that trickles down your chest, popping the digit in your mouth with a pleasureful hum of satisfaction.

Dumbfounded, Toji smiles. “You really are a woman of your word, huh?”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

[seungkwansphd]

let me...

pairing: idol!seungcheol x gn!reader word count: 1.2k synopsis: you can tell that seungcheol is frustrated by his injury. if he would just let you...you'd be happy to help take his mind off of it. themes: SMUT, MDNI, squirmy/whiny scoups, oral sex (reader giving to seungcheol), explicit descriptions of oral sex, idol au, established relationship, comfort-ish?. (lmk if there are others to add)

a/n: my brain is fully rotted out these days. thanks @the-boy-meets-evil for instigating/encouraging this behavior🫶

You snuck a glance at Seungcheol again and exhaled sharply. He had been in the wheelchair for nearly a week now and you were officially concerned. You imagined it would be tough for anyone to adjust to the change, but it seemed particularly challenging for him. He was, after all, the capable, strong, and self sufficient leader of Seventeen and despite his doctor’s orders, he seemed intent on refusing to ask for help.

“Hey! I said I would get things for you!” you yelled, concern rising as you watched Seungcheol try and fail to stand from the wheelchair.

“I can do it!” he insisted stubbornly, trying again.

Your hand shot out to his shoulder, pressing down as you rounded on him, pinning him with a stern look.

“It has not been that long since your surgery. If you tear something again I will truly kill you,” you narrowed your eyes at him menacingly. “Now what is it that you need?”

Seungcheol’s words died in his mouth as you turned from him to look at the cupboard. Even after months of dating you, the sight of your shape from behind never failed to drop his jaw. His brow furrowed. Yet another reminder of this godforsaken injury hindering him from the things he needed and wanted to do.

“Cheol? What was it you needed?” you turned your head to question again. His eyes shifted quickly back to the top shelf of the cupboard, but the hungry look in his eyes did not escape you.

“Tupperware from the top shelf. The blue one,” he answered.

“Okay,” you nodded, standing up on your toes, arching your back to reach for the item. You grinned as you did so, pushing your hips back towards your boyfriend because you could absolutely feel his eyes burning into you.

“Got it!” you chirped, letting yourself fall back into your heels and your ass to bounce gratuitously.

“This is killing me,” Seungcheol groaned, shifting in the wheelchair.

“Baby,” you turned to him with a simpering smile, “I know you hate asking for help, but what if you just let me…” you trailed off, tracing your fingertips up the brace on his leg.

Conflict played across Seungcheol’s brow as he considered your words. You knew it was tough for him to relinquish control, but you hoped he would so you could take his mind off of things, even if just for a while.

“Help me how?” he finally spoke, eyebrow raising expectantly.

You chuckled softly.

“You know I'm always good for you,” you smiled, tongue touching the corner of your lips playfully.

“Go ahead,” he nodded, giving his permission.

Your eyes lit up at him as you sank to your knees before him. You reached around the chair to lock the wheels before trailing your hands back over his hips and down his thighs.

He inhaled sharply and your pulse raced with pride. You leaned forward and started nuzzling your lips gently up the inside of his thigh. He squirmed as you drew closer and closer to the apex of his thighs. You were poked in the cheek by his tented erection when you finally arrived. Grinning at him, you nuzzled your cheek against him through the fabric of his sweatpants and Seungcheol was surprised at the way he reacted. Possessiveness and pride surged through him as you knelt between his legs, nuzzling his heavy cock eagerly.

“Someone’s eager,” you teased as you pushed the hem of his shirt up above his belly button. You kissed and lapped at the exposed skin above his waistband, knowing that this would drive him wild. The cool trail of your thin saliva set Seungcheol’s nerves alight and his hand found familiar purchase in your hair.

“Ah ah!” you shook your head, pulling his hand away. “I said…let me.”

Seungcheol’s eyes smoldered at you, but he gestured for you to continue.

“Good boy,” you teased and returned to the task at hand. Your hand stroked him over fabric as your lips continued their foray across his midsection. The feel and sound of him gasping and squirming underneath you was dizzying.

“YN, please,” he finally choked out. He felt ready to burst.

You hummed up at him before tugging at his waistband. He shifted his hips up, allowing you to pull it down around his thighs. You were mesmerized at the way his cock bounced when he sat back down, your eyes transfixed on the swollen, thick head.

In fact, many things about this moment were hypnotizing. The slight tension of elastic biting into Seungcheol’s thick thighs, the way the weight of his cock caused it to rest against his tummy, and the sturdiness of aforementioned midsection as the complimentary backdrop. After several moments of ogling, you literally had to shake your head to clear it of thoughts.

“You’re practically drooling,” he teased wryly, head cocked slightly as you regarded him. It was nothing short of a boost to the ego and he allowed himself to enjoy it. After a week of feeling frustrated and helpless, he let himself bask in your attraction and the power it made him feel.

“And?” you challenged him, lacing the fingers of one hand in his as the other grasped his thick cock eagerly at the base.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, eyes widening a hair as you started trailing kisses up his inner thigh.

At first through the fabric of his sweatpants and then on the bare skin of his upper thigh, Seungcheol was squirming by the time you closed your lips around his cock, sucking him hungrily into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, voice breathy as he slouched slightly in the chair. You chuckled as you drew back up, lips stroking along the ridges and veins of his shaft. Seungcheol’s hands fisted as you began bobbing up and down, stroking him with your tongue.

“Feel good?” you asked when you came up for air. You nuzzled and nipped at his wet erection and he nodded.

“Fuck! Your mouth feels so good,” he let out a strangled groan as you shifted lower to suck on his balls. They were heavy and hot in your mouth as you sucked gently. You rolled them around on your tongue and were delightfully surprised at the whiny noise that Cheol let out. 

“Oh?” your eyebrows raised with delight. You licked a long, wet stripe up his length before swallowing him whole again, this time relaxing your throat to take him entirely.

Seungcheol let out another breathy whinge as you swallowed around the part of him that was lodged firmly in your throat. His whines grew louder and more frequent and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Pulling back, you fucked him with your mouth and throat as he panted your name desperately and repeatedly.

“Close,” he cupped your chin and warned you.

You nodded as well as you could with your mouth full and you reached down to cup his balls, tugging gently as you increased the suction with your mouth.

“Fuck! Shit. Fuck,” Seungcheol’s entire body tensed.

You watched with hungry eyes as his thick brows knit together and his eyes squeezed shut before he emptied himself into your ready and waiting mouth. You enjoyed the way his chest heaved with deep breaths until he came back down to earth and met your eyes.

“Thank you,” he pulled you up for a kiss. “Thank you, thank you. You always know what I need.”

[weenwrites]

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WEEEEEEEEN

May I get some hurt/comfort with tfp arcee?????? Like when arcee has to leave to go back to cybertron and reader is balling their eyes out and begging her to stay and after years they finally reunite???

If not I completely understand! Thank you and have a good day/night <3

✎A/N: Hello hello! When I was writing this I forgot you mentioned they'd reunite after years, so I wrote it thinking that they'd probably reunite several months after the events of the TFP Movie. You can imagine that they do reunite in person after years if you'd like, just ignore the middle-ish portion of Arcee's letter. But other than that, I hope you enjoy it!

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

"Trust me, Y/N, I wish I didn't have to leave you as much as you do," she says, a sorrowful glint in her eyes.

"Then—then stay! Stay here!" They pleaded through their tears, "Please I—I could figure out some—something, anything! I'm not re-ready to say goodbye."

"With Cybertron revived, Optimus needs us all to help with the reconstruction efforts back home. We've all been fighting this war for thousands and thousands of years, and it's brought us nothing but the destruction of our home and the deaths of those we care about. Y/N, this project means a lot to me. I'm sorry, but I can't stay with you, even if I'm not ready to say goodbye either."

"You're... Right." They relented as they thought it over, and gradually they seemed to calm themselves, "God, you've just been on Earth s-so long that I forgot you had a home of your own. I'm sorry, Arcee, I didn't mean to be insensitive."

"Hey," she begins again, and she gingerly raises her fingers to brush the tears from their cheeks, "it's ok, it may be a while until we see each other again, but it won’t be forever. When things get settled on Cybertron, I’ll come back to visit you, but until then I’ll leave you messages as frequently as possible."

"Okay," they sniffle, "Just don’t leave me waiting too long, promise?"

"I promise."

And that’s just what she did. Every week—sometimes twice a week if work was particularly light for her—there’s be a message with Y/N’s name on it back at base. Ratchet give his usual greeting as he'd pass the message over to their computer as they'd sit down on the couch, and then he'd continue to work after the letter successfully popped up on their screen.

Y/N,

Hope things have been going better for you than they are here. The construction team recently finished fixing the power grid. The lights in my habsuite finally work again, and the communications equipment still work, but half the ship’s still out of power. We think one of the electrical dampers malfunctioned and caused the grid to overheat and explode, but Knockout said that the last of the dampers had been used for the omega lock, so Smokescreen and I will be out scavenging for parts the rest of the week.

I’ll be out of touch for a while, but not long enough to push me to postpone my visit, so you can still look forward to seeing me on what should be a weekend for you. Anyway, last I heard, things weren’t going well for you either, you were having a rough week too. I hope that things have gotten better since then. The rest of the team send their regards.

Take care,

Arcee

A warm feeling always lingered in their chest after reading her letters, and they leaned back with a smile as they thought over their response.

"I take it that Arcee and the rest of the team are faring well?" Ratchet spoke up behind them.

As they look up from the computer they nod to him as he worked on Fowler's jet, "yeah, they are! They just fixed the power grid but they still need to find some electrical—wait, what gave me away?"

"You aren't the most discreet when it comes to concealing your emotions, I could tell with how delighted you were with Arcee's letter."

"Ah, gotcha. But yeah, the team's doing well, they'll be off looking for parts to repair the eletrical damper though."

"Parts?" Ratchet stood up from the plane, "I believe we have some to spare in storage."

"I can go look with you while I think of what to say." They offered.

Though most of her letters now-a-days are uneventful and simple, perhaps that was for the best. The most exciting one they ever received from her was from the time that Megatron, posessed by Unicron, had raised an army of undead predacons and spearheaded them all the way to the well of all-sparks. When they read that one out to Miko, she seemed awfully disappointed she wasn’t there to see all the "zombie-con action" for herself as per usual. Still, it’s good to hear that things have become more peaceful for her.

She deserves it. Heck, she and the rest of the team deserve more than a pat on the back and a "great job" sticker for defeating the Decepticons once and for all.

And that's where they find themselves now.

"I mean, you and the rest of the bots have done so much for Earth, don’t you think it’s only right that the government fulfills your wishes as a little ‘thank you for all you’ve done’?" They ask over the video call.

Arcee crosses her arms, "I don’t think there’s any need, I didn’t choose to protect the Earth for rewards or glory. Just to keep the cons’ claws from ruining another world."

"But still, don’t you think it would be nice? Not even the slightest bit?"

She only pressed her lips together and thought for a moment, before she then nodded with a slight smile, "I can’t deny that a ‘thank you’ wouldn't have been appreciated…"

"Then I'll ask Fowler about it, I'm sure even he'd agree with us!"

"Good luck with that," she smirked, "Fowler might be with you on this one, but he's said that the people at Congress are impossible to get through."

"As stubborn as Congress may be, I'm not so easily dissuaded... I promise you that I'll get you the 'thank you' that you rightfully deserve one way or another."

"But don't let that get in the way of our plans next week."

"Psh, I wouldn't dream of it. I'll still be ready to go then."

"Good, I just have to wrap up a couple things on my end before I'm sure I'll be able to make it."

"And I'm sure you'll get the job done! Those vehicons have nothing on you."

And the rest of the night seemed to go on and on until the two of them realized it was 2 AM. Though they hated having to end the call here, Arcee insisted that they get some rest after catching them yawning for the nth time. There was always tomorrow and the day after that, she said, there shouldn't be any sort of rush to talk to each other now that things are better, and who were they to disagree with that?

It wasn't long until the fated day had finally arrived. They were practically stumbling over themselves as they rushed to dress and prepare accordingly for the ride. Hearing a motorcycle's engine rev in the distance only pushed them to rush through it even quicker, and just as they heard a vehicle stop outside their door and give a few honks, they had burst through the front door with their helmet in tow.

And there she sat, quietly beckoning to them in their driveway.

[bangers2]

Weekly Music Roundup 28/6/24 :)

Heya! I've had a lot more free time lately to listen to some new music, so I'm going to be sharing what I listen to each week through a Friday Tumblr post. I'm aiming to listen to an album (or EP, compilation, DJ mix, etc etc) a day, and this week my schedule wasn't perfect, but I found a lot of great stuff nonetheless and want to talk about it!

Look at this pic I took omg. just wanted 2 share ^_^

Tinashe - BB/ANG3L (2023)

I'd always been aware of Tinashe, but hadn't taken the time to deep dive into her discography until she dropped the Nasty remix EP (JANE REMOVER REMIX????). "Nasty" is a banger obviously, but a lot of stuff on BB/ANG3L is excellent as well! She traverses so many genres with ease and excels at each of them. This is such a diverse showing, and it's very concise as well, having a runtime of just 20 minutes. I feel like anyone can find something they vibe with on here. Personally, my favourite track was "Gravity," a song with gentle vocals juxtaposed with a bit of a breakbeat moment. I always love a breakbeat and was shocked to hear one on here. Overall, BB/ANG3L was short enough to leave me wanting more, but in a good way. I hope that she builds upon this sound and vibe with her next album! I'm super excited to listen to Quantum Baby and listen to the rest of Nashe's discography.

Jane Remover - jane_remover_heatwave.zip [NTS Radio] (2024)

Real ones know that I am Jane Remover's no.1 fan. That is a vast exaggeration, but I love her music to bits and greatly enjoy these DJ sets she does. Each one has a different vibe and the ones she's been doing lately have been my favourites ever. The mixing is immaculate and the tracks she mashes up are always so unexpected but go so well together. I really loved heatwave, especially the mashup between her song "Lips" and the Carti song "Different Day." So damn hard. These sets are always the highlight of my month and always become mainstays in my DJ mix rotation. Give it a listen!

Mk.gee - Two Star & the Dream Police (2024)

I was a little intimidated to listen to Mk.gee (Mike Gordon), since I've heard so many great things about him. However, I heard "Are You Looking Up" in Jane Remover's new DJ mix and fell in love with it instantly. The guitar playing intrigued me since it sounded so...different to what I'm used to. The control Mike has over his instrument is phenomenal and allows him to create these really unique sounds and textures. There's a wonderful energy to all of these songs that I can't quite place. Due in part to the interesting guitar sounds, but also the really distant-sounding vocals, nostalgic melodies, and bits of noise peppered about, this album vaguely reminds me of something that would be heard in an empty building. Not the backrooms or anything, but like...a quiet mall in the suburbs. Is that weird? Probably. On songs like "Candy" the melodies sound really 80s to me for whatever reason, and...I don't know. The nostalgia? Regardless of whether I've placed the vibe or not, Two Star is a wonderful collection of hopeful, sweet guitar melodies interspersed with little bits of noise. I need more people to get on the Mk.gee train RIGHT NOW. What are you even doing with your life if you haven't listened to this? I can seriously see Mike becoming an all-time great.

lil hero - pawwwfect! (EP) (2023)

Okay, this is another one I found from Jane's set. "big flirt" is such a bop, and it sounds kind of familiar to me (upon further research, the song went viral in 2022 ish...I have no recollection of that year tbh.). It's a song that instantly puts a smile on your face with its sweet bubblegum production and wonderful vocals. This whole EP sounds like bright pink. There are pitched-up samples, bouncy uptempo grooves, and cute lyrics about falling in love all across pawwwfect, and I eat that shit up. I need lil hero and PinkPantheress to collab; I feel like that could change my life. All in all, it's a great 16-minute project that makes me feel like a...chihuahua in a pink purse. Which is exactly how I want to feel. Excited to hear what lil hero does next! :3

Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007)

I've definitely listened to In Rainbows before but I don't think I ever properly digested it. It's an overwhelming album to take in upon first listen. I revisited it a couple days ago after not really liking it the first time I listened to it, and needless to say it clicked for me. I still need to listen to this a couple thousand more times to really get it, but as of right now I think In Rainbows is an excellent and innovative record that is as thought-provoking lyrically as it is gorgeous sonically. The whole album made me feel like I was spinning. I don't know why or how, but I physically felt sort of dizzy, like the world was trembling around me. Strange how music can do that. It's magic.

Not on free Soundcloud smh

Jelani Aryeh - The Sweater Club (2024)

I got this album in my Apple Music (do NOT judge me or you're BLOCKED. STOP IT.) recommended before it came out and was really drawn to the album art. As the no.1 "person lying on grass" fan and president of "person lying on grass" NATION I was intrigued, but also had absolutely no idea who Jelani Aryeh was hahah. I presaved but didn't listen to any of his discography and just listened to it when I realized it was out. The Sweater Club is a wonderful collection of indie pop jams that are warm and summery. The art matches the music super well - I felt like I was lying in the grass on a breezy summer morning as I listened, and am definitely turned on to more of Jelani's music now. Holy shit this was such a gorgeous record.

Kevin Abstract - Blanket (2023)

I listened to this at like...2 am and have no recollection of it, other than that it was filled with jams. I really liked "The Greys." Will probably have more to say about it after another listen hahaha.

Couldn't find this on Soundcloud, sorry!

Okayyyy and that was every album I listened to this week! (minus the relistens...which there were many of lol.) I hope you enjoyed reading my little ramblings and I hope you have a great week to come :)

Now i am going to sleep. In the morning i will listen to tonight's new releases. Today is stacked tbh

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

Weekly Tag Wednesday!

happy wednesday everyone, thanks for tagging me @lingy910y, @mybrainismelted and @creepkinginc

how is your day going? uh good-ish. yeah, i woke up feeling weird and kind of isolated but its not based in reality i have like 12 texts from friends im definitely not ignoring for some unknown reason (eek) and plans this weekend but i still just felt very far away from everyone, anyone get that?

are you okay? yeah! overall im good

what is your favourite shade of your favourite colour? deep, rich olive

are you single? no but my gf has been out of the country for over a month (!!!) luckily shes getting back this weekend so im pretty excited

are you happy about that? yeeee im a certified lovergirl

what age do you feel in your brain? what a question. I turned 21 while in quarantine living in my parents attic which set me back a few years mentally, but im the youngest person at my firm and i boss around adults all day so i do feel a little older so i guess my age but with a lot of caveats

do you feel like the good times are behind you or ahead of you? um both? i hope?

do you have a best friend? i only have best friends and acquaintances, no in between

did you have a childhood pet? yeah we had 6 dogs at different parts of my childhood, my dad was banned from visiting the humane society alone after #5

do you sing or whistle around the house? i sing a lot! I have a nice voice for singing around the house

do you light candles or incense? im a big incense girl, but the scent has to be super light

are you busy Friday night? im busy every friday night, i wfh friday and do all my work in advance so i can use that time to do chores between meetings so friday nights are my order take out, smoke some [redacted] and watch movies night to decompress

if you were a circus performer which act would you be in? i would be the bad bitch that throws knives at the dude on a spinning wheel

what is your favourite outfit? usually i wear jeans and a sweater over a collared shirt and cute sneakers, all very neutral

what's the last thing you created? this wedding drawing was the last thing i posted, but this week i finished another drawing i have to say is pretty stunning that ill probably post sometime this weekend :)

what is your favourite fic or book of all time? the vegetarian by han kang is my favorite book of all time

what are you looking forward to? my gf :) is coming back :)

what can put you immediately in a better mood? a little time to myself and a nice long run

do you like hugs? eh very much depends on who

what is something you wish people understood about you? do not let the resting bitch face fool you i am very fun and kind and lovely!

tagging @iansw0rld @energievie @gallovichhhh @mickeym4ndy @gallawitchxx @stocious @krysmiss @softmick @mickeysgaymom @metalheadmickey @heymrspatel @jrooc @softmick

[yandere-sins]

So I thought I’d give a little life-update as there’s a lot going on at the moment and I think it’s visible on my blog as well. Maybe the positives first:

I do really like my new work, I like that I have set hours (even if I do overtime here and there) and though it got incredible stressful the last few weeks, I think the four people that work in my office space are the coolest in the whole company and I love the support I am getting, it’s something I always wanted for my work-life tbh! My dog is also doing very fine, she’s really a total sweetheart and I wouldn’t know what to do without her, and at least I, myself, am doing pretty okay-ish physically, so nothing to complain there.

Now to the negatives.

Unfortunately, my mom’s cancer returned but is quite hard to pinpoint. She went back to an even more aggressive chemotherapy and we’re hoping for the best. Honestly, I don’t wish cancer on anyone, it’s such a tough battle and even just as the primary caretaker it’s been really hard to deal with for me, luckily I have grandparents and a brother who all deal with it and help and support, so that’s good! My mental health though is suffering. It’s biting my own butt now, but I cancelled therapy to focus on work at the beginning of this year and now my therapist is fully booked, so I will have to sit out this month probably. I am telling that because that’s the reason I am struggling with concentrating on one thing for a long time, which includes writing, which explains the fluctuation of posts you are seeing, since I try to get requests and drafts done on the weekend when there’s less stress. Sadly only works like 30% of the time...

Going forward I have decided to indefinitely pause commissions. I have noticed that they put too much pressure with the deadline and expectancy on me when I am already struggling and sometimes need a day to myself. I can’t say when they’ll come back, but thank you all so much for your interest and support, it’s always a pleasure to write your ideas and I never had a bad experience with commission ♥

Good news for Mermay: it’s still happening! ... buuuut I am shortening the story I came up with. I think I was too ambitious with the three routes I teased, so I am trying to figure out how to ensure that it won’t drag out as much as Atreo’s story last year. Unfortunately, the start will be delayed some more, but we were going to celebrate Mer-June anyway, so at this point it probably doesn’t make as much difference (’:

Because the question arose a few times already, I will not be playing Honkai Star Rail. It has a few reasons, but the main one is I don’t have the time. Sorry to everyone who asked about it, but it’s just not the right time for me at the moment! ): I’ll probably be miserable again later when everyone has moved on to it and I am stuck behind but I have to make cuts somewhere ;;

I actually have some commissions and requests that I haven’t released yet, so I will try to schedule some of these in the meantime while I work out how to go about stuff. If you’ve been around for a while you probably know I like routines that’s why it’s always important for me to build them and keep them up. Other than that, I’ll probably focus on Mermay and my own writing projects which will happen rather irregularly. No guarantees on posting, sadly ):

I do realize tho that it just isn’t always possible to keep up frequency of posts and interactions I had when I started this blog, as much as it saddens me. I have to prioritze my real life before my internet presence (and I really need to not feel guilty about taking breaks from everything ever so often ;;), so if you see me vanishing for a few days, it’s just that really.

Thank you everyone who stuck around and supports this blog ♥ There’s another big milestone coming up veeery soon and I am always in awe that so many people would stay to read my silly little stories!! If you have some time and don’t mind waiting for a response, I’m always happy to chat and answer questions, so please don’t hesitate to hit me up!

Thanks everyone ♥

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Breathe Free (Part Two)

Summary: You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He’d seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn’t about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he’s not too late!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sick!Reader, Hospitals, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 5873

One Shot - Two Parts

Author’s Notes: I have been sick with Covid for a month. Well… down sick for 2 ½ weeks and recovering my stamina for 2 more. Its been a real bitch. Plus my disabled mother has it now. This is following a nervous breakdown I had in June. Writing has been my passion and my mental health balm, but I’ve not been able to produce anything in months. So this… this is a fucking triumph!! I’m still working on all my other WIP, so please stick around. I’ll get there… eventually :) I’m hoping to finish part two shortly and post in a week… ish.

Thank you all for the continued support! Additional Notes: Still hanging in there, long covid is a bitch, but it does improve. More or less. I am SO happy with myself that I’ve finished a story! Even a little self-indulgent two parter. As always, thank you all! Your kind words and encouragement have really helped me. Love you guys :) Masterlist Breathe Free (Part One)

     Hospitals were noisy places.  Filled with squeaking wheels, scuffling shoes, and code calls.  The ICU was worse with its beeping monitors and hissing ventilators.  The constant stream of nurses and doctors talking in hushed concern about things like hypoxia and bradypnea and other terrifying medical babble.

     This wasn’t the first time Dean sat beside someone he cared about while they lingered between life and death.   He was a hunter; it came with the gig.  Broken bones and bullet holes.  The waiting and the worrying were pure hell, and he would know.  It was the reason he was so quick to put himself in the line of fire.  Not just to save a life, but to spare himself the agony of the wait.  Minutes that ticked by endlessly, ratcheting up the uncertainty.  Underscoring just how powerless he was.

     Never did it cross his mind that illness would snatch you away from him.  That you would simply get sick, like a normal person.  Pneumonia could be dangerous for anyone, but for someone with asthma, it could be deadly.

     You were sedated for three days while the ventilator breathed for you and gave your body a chance to rest and heal.  The doctors assured him that it was standard procedure, but damn was it intense.  Dean had never seen you look so fragile.  So pale.  You looked as if you could slip away at any moment, the only thing keeping you tethered to the Earthly realm were the wires and tubes attached to your body.   

     Dean took your hand.  He wondered about your soul.  Were you here with him?  Watching from somewhere nearby?  Or were you negotiating with a reaper?  Would you bargain for more time, or would you choose heaven?  A soul like yours was guaranteed a ticket to the penthouse. 

     It was in times like this that he cursed his profession.  What good was a lifetime’s worth of supernatural knowledge if he couldn’t use it to save you?  God knows he tried.  He tried every trick in the book, in the end it was Sam who talked sense into him.

     “She doesn’t need you to sell your soul Dean!  She just needs you.  Be there, hold her hand, tell her it’s going to be okay.  Let her know she isn’t alone.”

Sammy was right, as he usually was.  The nurses said you’d shown enough improvement that they were taking you off the ventilator today.  As much as Dean wanted to believe it, he was cautious in his optimism. 

     He was so wrapped up in his own worry that he didn’t notice your fingers shifting against his palm.  Your eyelids fluttered, then went still.  It was so slight, that Dean thought he’d imagined it. 

     He desperately searched your face and held his breath.  God please…

“Y/N?”

     A few seconds later you did it again, this time you gave his hand a proper squeeze and Dean felt like his heart was going to burst. 

     He squeezed back, his other hand coming up to brush your cheek, “Y/N… baby, can you hear me?”

     After several tries, you finally managed to open your eyes fully.  Exhausted, you looked around the room.  When your gaze landed on Dean, he smiled.  You tried to say his name and when you couldn’t, you panicked!  Choking on the tube shoved down your throat, your eyes went wide.

     “Hey!  It’s okay!  You’re in the hospital, Sweetheart.  Just stay calm.  We’ll get that tube out, let me go get the nurse.”

     He stood and your grip became desperate.  And strong.  Incredibly strong.  Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes as you tried to convey your thoughts.  You were wide awake, and you needed him.  Relief washed over him; no reapers would come knocking today. 

     “Okay, okay.  Shh…” he sat beside you and pressed a kiss to your forehead while his free hand hit the call button.  “I’ve got you; I’ve got you.  I’m not going anywhere.”

     Sam was walking down the corridor towards the ICU rooms with two large coffees balanced in one hand.  You were only allowed one visitor at a time, so he and Dean took turns.  Although, Dean always came back early.  And he begged the nurses to let him stay past visiting hours.  Sam got the impression they felt sorry for him, but knowing Dean, he would have found a way around the rules one way or another.

     When Sam saw his brother in the hallway, he quickened his pace.  He was leaning against the wall, bent at the waist with his hands braced on his knees. 

     “Dean?  What happened?  What’s going on?”

     Dean raised his head, sniffling back emotion, “She’s awake.  They’re… ah… they’re taking out that tube.”

     Sam caught the glossy sheen in Dean’s eyes.  He clapped a hand on his shoulder, “That’s fantastic.  Dean, that’s great.”

     Dean nodded and pulled Sam into a brief, tight hug then released him and took a coffee. 

     “Good thing you talked me out of selling my soul, huh?’

     You weren’t really sleeping when Sam and Dean walked into your new room in the regular section of the hospital.  But every muscle in your body was so taxed that even keeping your eyes open was an effort.  There was an oxygen mask covering your nose and mouth, but it was far more comfortable than that damn ventilator tube.  You were cold too, but that was part of being in a hospital.  It was all so familiar and disheartening.

     The squeak of the door prompted you to open your heavy eyes and you smiled.  The Winchesters were there, a welcome contrast of denim and flannel against the sterile hospital décor.  They had arms filled with gifts; balloons, books, a bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers, and the biggest arrangement of flowers you’d ever seen.  Dozens of roses, hydrangeas, and snapdragons.  

     “Flowers.”

     Your voice was a raspy whisper behind the mask, but it still made Dean beam brightly. 

     “Hell yeah, Sammy and I bought out every white flower they had.”  He set the massive vase down on the table.  “They’re your favorite, right?”

     You nodded, tracing a finger over the edge of one perfect bloom.  You had a late-night debate with him eons ago about how white couldn’t be your favorite color because it wasn’t really a color.  It’s a shade.  Technically, it was a sum of all possible colors.  Hence, the debate.

     Sam pulled out a stuffed a huge, stuffed moose from behind his back.  It was impossibly soft with floppy antlers and was wearing one of his flannel shirts tied in place with a white velvet bow.

     You laughed, “Aww!  A… Win..chester of… my own.”

     Sam’s throat got tight as the halting cadence of your words.  Even with the oxygen, you were out of breath.  He leaned down and hugged you.  Normally, he would squeeze you tight and lift you off your feet just to make you giggle like a kid sister.  Today, he was careful.  Mindful of the electrodes and wires and of how fragile you felt in his arms. 

     “You’ve already got two Winchesters,” he said, kissing the top of your head.  “Add him to your collection.”

     Your eyes were drooping, even after just a few minutes your energy was completely depleted.  You let your head fall back against the pillow with a tired smile, “Thank you… Sammy.”

     “We should get out of here, let you sleep,” he replied, catching his brother’s attention.

     “Yeah,” Dean gave a reluctant nod.  “If you’re lucky, we’ll smuggle in one of those triple thick strawberry-kiwi shakes you like.”

     You grabbed hold of his hand again and tugged.  It was so much effort to talk, you hope he got the message. 

     A wordless look passed between the brothers and Sam took his cue, leaving the two of you alone.  You tried to focus on your breathing and on the warmth of Dean’s hand holding yours.  It took every bit of strength you had to stay awake, but it was so important.  You couldn’t let him leave, not yet.

     Dean wiped away the single tear that slid down your cheek.  “Hey, hey.  What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

     “I… I’m… s… sorry.”

     He soothed back your hair, “Sorry for what?”

     “Should have… gone… to… th… the doctor.”

     “No, hey, don’t worry about any of that.”

     “Scared… you.”

     Dean cupped your face with his large palm, “Listen to me.  I don’t want you to think about any of that stuff, okay?  It doesn’t matter.  The only thing that matters is you getting better.  That’s all I care about.”

     You nodded; your eyes shuttered to half-mast.  “Tired.”

     He let out a chuckle and ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow, “I’ll bet you are.”

     You shook your head and pointed at him.  When he tilted his head in confusion, you patted the mattress beside you.

     He was exhausted.  It was etched in every line on his beautiful face.  His green eyes, the ones you had loved since you first looked into them were bloodshot.  His strong shoulders slumped under the strain of recent events.  Dean had been by your side for days, even after taking care of you back at the bunker.  It was a testament to his impressive stamina and force of will that he was still standing.

     Without a word, he turned down the lights, kicked off his boots and climbed into the narrow bed.  It should have been uncomfortable, given his size, but he gently arranged it so that you were partly settled on his chest.  Your weary body melted into the warmth he provided as his arms wrapped around you.  You were both slipped into a dreamless sleep without any effort at all.

     Three Weeks Later:      You were in the hospital eight days in total, three of them in the ICU.  When they finally released you, it was with a whole list of stipulations and guidelines.  Breathing exercises.  An oxygen tank for times when your levels dipped below a certain level.  Antibiotics the size of horse tranquilizers and updated rescue inhalers.  It was intense, but still preferable to staying one more night in the hospital.

     It was Sam alone who picked you up on your release date.  You were disappointed, but not surprised.  Dean was gone when you woke the morning after the two of you shared your hospital bed.  He texted you every day but only came back to visit you once when he and Sam dropped off some of your clothes. 

     It was okay, it really was. 

     You understood.  You’d scared him big time.  Frankly, you were still so sick that all you did was sleep anyway.  But when you were home and days passed with still no contact, you worried.  God bless Sam, he was right there every step of the way.  He drove you to therapy and helped you come up with a strength building regiment.  He kept you company and offered insight to his missing brother.

     “Give him some time, Y/N.  He’ll come around.  You know how he gets.”

And so, you did.  Sam’s words offered solace, but they didn’t make up for the fact that you missed that salty, pain in the ass.  Somehow, the fact that Dean was just down the hall made you all the more lonely for him.  But you were determined to respect his need for privacy.  After everything that happened, you owed him that at the very least.

     When you were in the kitchen a few days later making one of Sam’s health smoothies, the last thing you expected was to hear Dean’s voice. 

     “Tell me you’re not gonna drink that.”

     You smiled but didn’t turn.  “Of course not.  I haven’t added the spirulina or wheat germ yet.”

     You heard him mutter something about pond scum under his breath while he rummaged through the fridge. 

     “I’ve got enough for two,” you teased.  “Should I get you a glass?”

     “Too bad your stay in the VIP suite didn’t improve your sense of humor, smartass.”

     You turned around and grinned at him.  God, he looked incredible!  Maybe it was not seeing him for a month, but he was a sight!  Dark jeans on bowed legs.  That red and black flannel shirt that somehow made him seem even broader.  Especially when he crossed his arms across his chest.  Like he was doing right now.  And glowering at you!  Ridiculous man!  You’d been busy recuperating from serious illness, and he looked like he wanted to reprimand you for leaving wet towels on the floor.  It might have pissed you off, if you weren’t so pleased to see him. 

     So, you laughed. 

     His expression went from sexy and grumpy to utterly baffled.  “Why are you laughing?”

     You shook your head with a goofy grin and answered honestly, “I’m just happy to see you.”

     He cautiously smiled back, “Yeah?’

     “Yeah.”

     “Huh.  Well in that case, you wanna get out of here?  I was thinking of going for a drive.”

     Your heart felt light, “I’ll get my coat.”

     Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he knew he had to.  Even if it killed him, and it just might.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made the hard choice.  Break a heart, save a life.  He may as well get it tattooed on his ass.  At this point it was more of a life motto than saving people, hunting things.  He glanced over at you gazing happily out the window and he tried to burn the image into his memory.  Beautiful.  Hands down the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.  Even after he’d ignored you for weeks and pushed you off on his baby brother, you laughed and forgave him. 

     You looked just like you always had, maybe a bit thinner from your time in the hospital.  But Sammy had been adamant about those smoothies of his.  Nutrient dense.  They tasted like absolute ass, but they certainly seemed to help you get your color back.  Your hair was shiny and bouncy, he loved it when it was bouncy like that.  Cascading over your shoulders and framing your face.  It looked so soft and smelled like peaches when you tossed it back.  Your eyes were bright and glowed with good health.  Looking at you now, it was hard to believe you’d been on a ventilator only a few weeks ago. 

     “Hey, you wanna get out and walk for a bit?”  You asked, pointing out one of your favorite state parks ahead.

     “Sure.  You bring your scarf?”

     “Obviously,” you replied, pulling out the length of soft, white fabric from your bag.

     It was still a bit chilly out, but all the snow had been cleared from the paths and only an inch or so remained around the trees.  Dean kept shooting glances your way, checking for signs of distress as the two of you walked along.

     “I’m not going to keel over, you know.”

     Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket.  “You need to be careful in the cold air, it’s no good for you.”

     “True, but walking is very good for me.  It helps build stamina.” 

     He didn’t reply to that and the two of you walked along in silence until you really couldn’t take it anymore.

     “It’s ridiculous, you know?  Me, having to rebuild stamina.  I was in the best shape of my life; I could run up ten flights of stairs and still chop the head off a vamp no problem.  Now I have to stop halfway through a beginner’s yoga class.”

     “Almost dying does that.”

     There was venom in his voice, but the fear was too.  Evidently, he hadn’t worked through it as much as you’d hoped. 

     “Is that why you’re kicking me out?  Because I almost died?”

     Dean stopped and turned to you, but he kept his eyes downcast.  “Y/N…”

     “Its really not fair.  You’ve almost died several times and I still keep you around.”  You tried to keep your tone light, but it was difficult with the tears threatening.

     “It’s not funny,” his eyes were getting red as he recalled the terrifying night he carried you into the E.R.  “You stopped breathing.  Your fucking heart stopped!”

     You knew this part.  After Dean closed himself off from you, you asked Sam to give you all the details.  Full cardiac arrest from a severe asthma attack, brought on by complications from pneumonia.  It had taken the doctors a while to stabilize you, but when they did you were so weak, they weren’t sure you were going to pull through.  Sam had a hard time talking about, even though you were sitting there alive and well in front of him.  That night shook them both to the core.

     You brought your hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

     He closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of your touch comfort him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  All this time… a fucking two year long pandemic… Covid is a respiratory virus!  What if…”

     You hurt him.  Far more than you’d realized.  And you hated yourself for it. This was going to take much more than a simple reassurance to work through. 

     “Can we sit?”

     He led you to a park bench, “We should head back to the car, it’s too cold for you.”

     “I’m okay, Dean,” you grabbed his hands, “I really, really am.  And I’m sorry.  I didn’t deliberately keep it from you, I just didn’t think about it.  I know it’s hard to fathom, but I’ve lived with it my whole life.  The things I do to minimize my risk are second nature to me now. And I haven’t had an attack in years.”

     “This wasn’t my first trip to the ICU; I spent my childhood in and out of hospitals.  Mom was very protective.  The doctors had her so scared that she didn’t let me do much.  No sports, no sleepovers, no camping trips.  She even moved us to Glenwood Springs because of it.”

     “Like Doc Holliday.”

     You rolled your eyes out of habit.  Every time you mentioned your home, Dean spewed every bit of old west trivia he knew.  Which, you had to admit, was extensive.  Last time you were there he insisted on visiting the Doc Holliday museum, he even had you take his picture with gambler’s gun. 

     Then:      “Nice place,” Dean said, scanning the neatly maintained garden beds and brick walkways.

     “Yeah, it is.  Remember, this is just a quick stop so I can pick up some stuff.  Don’t do what you normally do.”

      “What are you talking about?”

     You ran a nervous hand through your hair and straightened your denim jacket, “That charming rogue routine you do whenever there’s a woman in front of you.”

     His grin turned cocky, “Sweetheart, that’s just me.  Can’t help it if the ladies love it.”

     You brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder with an impatient huff, “Rein it in, cowboy.”

     Before you could ring the bell, the front door swung open and revealed a woman who would have passed for your twin in her youth.  Tanned, with a bright white smile and silver bangles stacked on both arms.

     “Baby girl!”

     “Hi Momma,” you managed to say while she squeezed you tight.

     Your mother drew back and quickly scrutinized your appearance, “You taking care of yourself?  Regular appointments?  Feeling good?”

     “Yes, Ma’am.”

     That radiant smile was back, “Good girl!  And this tall drink of water must be that friend you told me about.”

     “Yes, this is Dean Winchester.  Dean, this is my mom, Beverly.”

     True to form, he turned up the charm to eleven.  “No way I’m gonna believe you are Y/N’s mother, you must be her sister.”

    “And you are the smoothest liar I’ve had on my doorstep,” Bev said, slipped her arm through Dean’s with a wink, “But please, don’t stop.  Why don’t we go out back and have coffee?  Y/N, I made that peach pie you’re so fond of!”

     “I love pie!”  Dean gave you an infuriating grin over your mother’s head as the two of them sailed into the house together.

     Three hours later, you had endured the torture of baby pictures and embarrassing stories from your adolescence.  While Dean supplied plenty of his own anecdotes of you getting lost in the grocery store and getting locked out of the motel room in only your underwear.  Luckily, the pie helped keep your mood from going sour. 

     “Okay, I’m going to head up and grab those boxes.”

     “Lift with your legs, Baby girl.”

     “Yes, Ma’am,” you replied, disappearing through the sliding glass door.

     Bev’s jovial mood turned serious as soon as her daughter was out of earshot.  “Okay, Winchester, shoot me straight.  How is my daughter?”

     Dean blinked in surprise, “I’m sorry?”

     “I may not be hip to everything going on, but I can feel the pair of you dancing around something big.  I’m not going stick my nose in, Y/N isn’t talking about it, and I respect that.  But I’m a mom and that girl is my whole life, so tell me… is she okay?  Do I need to worry about her?  About you?”

     Dean weighed his words carefully, “Y/N is… amazing.  She’s smart and strong.  She has the biggest vocabulary of anyone I’ve ever known, and she loves to show it off.  Even when she shouldn’t.  But she knows how to handle herself.  She kicks ass.”

     The corner of Bev’s mouth quirked, “It runs in the family.”

     “I can see that.”

     She leaned back in her chair and studied him, “You seem like a decent man, the sort who keeps his word.  That being the case, I have a favor to ask.  Keep an eye on my girl for me.”

     “Already done,” was his quick reply.

     Bev shook her head, “It’s not the dangers of the world I’m talking about.  I’m talking about looking after her when she’s not looking after herself.  Y/N… has a lot of life to live and when she gets busy… she just doesn’t see how far gone she is until she falls flat on her face.”

     Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees, “You’ve got my word, Bev.  I’ll never let her fall.”

Now:      “I like your mom,” Dean looked down at his boots.  “She made me promise to look after you.”

     “You never told me that.”

     “I got the impression she didn’t want me to.  Thought maybe she had a mother’s intuition about you getting into the hunting business.  Guess she was talking about something else.”

     You let your gaze drift over to the lake in the distance, half thawed already.  It would be an early spring this year.  A sign of hope for the future.

     “We got in this huge fight when I was nineteen.  I wanted to move out, go to college, see the world.  I missed out on so much as a sick kid, but I survived it.  I worked hard to strengthen my lungs and build up stamina.  I followed every doctor’s order to the letter so that I could actually live my life like a normal person… and it worked, but when the time came, I still didn’t have her support.  I was so pissed!  I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night.”

     “How’d that go over?”

     “I hadn’t yet mastered the art of covering my tracks.  Plus, she was dating the sheriff.  I was back home twenty-four hours later.” 

     Dean snorted, “Amateur.” 

     “Mom and I came to an agreement after that.  I stay local, stay in communication, and keep doing everything my doctors ask and in return, she would stop focusing on my condition like it was a death sentence.”  You shrugged, “Things were better after that.”

    “Your mom is awesome, I’m glad she supports you…. You’re lucky, Y/N.”

     Dean took your hand, surprising you.  His fingers linked with yours, rubbing his thumb over yours.  Then he frowned, his brows drew down over his eyes in worry.  Like a black cloud had settled over his heart. 

     “Y/N…”

     You knew what he wanted to say, you could feel it.  You could see it in his eyes whenever he dared to look at you.  The sorrow.  All you wanted to do was save him from it.  From himself.

     “It’s amazing how much we still don’t know about how the human body works,” you blurted out, making him blink in confusion.

     “What?”

     “Being sedated, for example.  Medical experts still aren’t sure why some people retain a certain level of consciousness and others remember nothing.  When I was seven, I was in the hospital for a month, my mother read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe to me even though I wasn’t awake.  When I came out of it, I remembered the whole thing.” 

     You could see the realization slowly register in his beautiful eyes.  If you heard your mother, you must have heard him.

     Then:      It was cold in your room.  You hated being cold, it was one of your main complaints about the bunker.  You cranked the thermostat, took boiling hot showers, and frequently stole clothes from both Winchesters.  Although, you seemed to favor Dean’s over his brother’s.  A fact he griped about, but secretly liked.  He liked knowing that you felt at home enough to make yourself comfortable.  If you were comfortable, maybe you would stay. 

     Dean brought your favorite blanket and tucked it around you, careful of the machines and wires.  “There you go, Sweetheart.  Just like home.”

     He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed and studied your peaceful face.  He tried to think of you as an enchanted princess.  Sleeping Beauty, just waiting for the right prince to swing by and break the curse.  Unlikely in his world.  Still… it was easier than the truth.

     He might have been able to fool himself for a while if it weren’t for that breathing tube.

     “Actually, that’s a lie…  this place is nothing like home.  Home has all the amenities, right?  I’ll bet this state-of-the-art medical facility doesn’t even have a firing range.  Or a dungeon!” 

     “Course, it wasn’t always so awesome.  A lot of spiders when we first moved in.  Plus, Sammy and I added our personal touches to make it more comfortable.  That mini fridge in the library, totally my idea.  It really pulled the room together, you know?”

     He chuckled a little at his Big Lebowski reference, disheartened when the only response was the hiss of the ventilator. 

     He reached over and gently combed his fingers through your hair.  Your skin was cool to the touch since your fever broke in the night.  That had to be a good sign, right? 

     “I’ve got a confession, but you gotta promise not to tell Sam, okay?  I never really wanted to live in the bunker full time.  Not at first.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked it!  It was our personal Batcave!  But Batman… he doesn’t live in the Batcave.  The Batcave is for work only.  And that was my plan.  Work in the bunker as a base of operations but live like we always did.  On the road.”

     Dean’s hand moved to yours, toying with your fingers.  You had such elegant hands.  You never wore jewelry, just like you never wore make-up.  You didn’t have a closet full of clothes.  You wore things of nice quality, but you didn’t have lots of them.  Only what you needed.  Same with everything else, you didn’t do fussy or extravagant.  But it wasn’t because you liked to keep things simple, it was because you were focused on living your life, not adorning it.  

     He liked that about you.  You were straightforward and up for anything.  You never hesitated to jump right in.  You were quick on your feet and quick with your wit.  You came up with better cover stories than he or Sam ever did.  Your contributions to the team were welcome and seamless, almost from the start.

     With anyone else, your eagerness might have come across as a need to prove yourself.  But you didn’t seem to be afflicted in that way.  You knew your worth.  You were confident.  And that rubbed off on everyone you came in contact with.  Cops, sheriffs, coroners, witnesses, victims.  All of them responded to you in ways that were remarkable.  Your presence calmed them.  Dean too.

     “The longer we stayed in the bunker, the more obvious it became that life on the road was never gonna be like it was before.  Sammy loved it, and I never could deny that kid anything.  But for me…. I dunno.  It took a while.  I even slept in Baby those first few nights.  Eventually, I picked out a room, got a bed that remembers me, and it was better.”

     “You were our first guest; did you know that?  Well Cas was, but he doesn’t sleep so that doesn’t really count.  You were the first non-Winchester to sleep in the Batcave.  On that old army cot, remember?  Tried to get you to take my bed… stubborn.  You were so stiff the next day you could barely walk, but you stuck it out.  You should have taken me up on it, I was on the couch most nights anyway.  Nightmares.”

     “I’ll never forget the morning I woke up and found you there with me.  All warm and cuddled up against me.  I moved and you shushed me in your sleep, mumbled that everything was okay.  God, I don’t think I’d ever slept that good.  We went to that diner in town for breakfast and I asked you to move in.  Sammy nearly choked on his egg whites,” Dean laughed softly at the memory.  “The bunker was a home then.”

     “If you were awake, you’d probably laugh and tell me what I sap I am.  And you’d be right, but I can’t help it.  It’s you, Y/N.  You have this magic… I don’t know what else to call it.  You don’t even have to say anything, and my heart starts to race.  I think about you, more than I should.  In ways that I shouldn’t, and I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.”

     “I love you, Y/N.  In case you don’t know; in case you can hear me in your dreams right now… I love you.  I’ve always loved you and if you stay, if you come back to me… I’m going to show you every day just how much.”

     Now:      He tried to speak, but you moved your fingers to his lips to stop him.  Tears shimmered in your eyes, but you managed a wavering smile. 

     “I love you too.”

     You watched the conflicting emotions flicker across his handsome face.  Joy and torment.  Ecstasy and pain.  He traced the underside of your jaw with his fingers, making your shiver inside and your eyes closed on a sigh.  When his lips connected with yours, it was electric!  The world shifted.  Colors, tastes, sensations, all redefined from that moment.  Soft and warm and connected on a level that could only come from love. 

     It was everything you’d ever dreamt his kiss could be, and it ended far too quickly.

     He rested his forehead against yours, puffs of white, heated breath mingling between you.  After a few minutes, he brushed the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, “Don’t cry, Sweetheart.  It breaks my heart when you cry.”

     “Don’t send me away.  Please don’t send me away.”

     “Baby, that bunker is no place for you.  There are no windows, the ventilation is crap, there’s a mildew problem.  I talked to those doctors about the type of environment an asthmatic should live in… Bomb shelter from the fifties didn’t make the cut.”

     “I’ve been living there for five years without an issue,” you pointed out.

     “Yeah, with a humidifier and inhalers.  But it’s different now, that round of pneumonia damaged your lungs.  You need to be someplace where its easier to breathe, not harder.”

     “You’re right.  Which is why Sam and I have been designing a new HVAC system.”

     That stopped him, “Really?  Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

     “Because you went all emo and hid in your room for a month.”

     “I’m not emo!  What kind of HVAC system?”

     “A kick ass one,” you grinned so that your tongue peeked out between your teeth.  “Any other concerns?”

     “What about hunting?” he challenged.

     “I don’t know,” you answered honestly and there was a pang of longing that went with it.  “I have no idea if I’ll ever get back to the physical condition I was before all of this.  No matter how hard I work for it or wish for it and the truth is… going into the field with that kind of a handicap is not in the cards.”

     Dean nodded grimly and dropped his gaze to his lap.  Admitting the possibility of an early retirement was killing you, and he knew it.  You loved hunting, it was as much a part of you as it was for him.  The uncertainty of not knowing if you could do it again, must be terrifying for you.

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I’m not.”  His head shot up and you shrugged, “Most hunters don’t get sidelined, they get killed.  My life might not look they way I thought it was going to, but I’m still here.  Living it.  I’m going to take that win and run with it.”

     “You’re amazing, you know that?  You’re so damn strong… your life got turned upside down and you just roll with it.”  Those impossibly green eyes looked at you with such awe, like he couldn’t quiet believe that you actually existed. 

     “You deserve the best, and that’s not me.”

     “That’s not for you to say.”

     “Doesn’t matter, it’s my choice.”

     “That’s where you’re wrong,” you lifted your chin in proud defiance, “Team Freewill, right?  I will always have a choice, no matter what hand you try to deal me.  I love you, Dean Winchester!  And I am never going to stop.  And I am never going to disappear from your life.  Even if you tell me to hit the bricks, I’ll still call and text and email and whatever just to make sure you’re still alive and well.  Even if this ends, I will still love you!  You ridiculous man!”

     There was a change in his gaze, subtle but there all the same.  He shook his head with a chuckle.  He knew when he was beat, and he was grateful for it.

     “Your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink when you get all worked up, you know that?”

     “My cheeks are pink because it’s freezing out here!”

     Dean ripped his coat off and wrapped it over yours, “Damn it, Y/N!  I knew you were cold!”

     “Well, if you were any kind of a boyfriend, you’d take my back to the car and warm me up properly!”

     He was pulling the hood up over your head when he paused, “Boyfriend, huh?”

     “Yeah, the kind that warms his girl up in the backseat,” you grinned and playfully rubbed your nose against his.

     He growled in your ear and stood, sweeping you up in his arms and making you yelp in delight. 

     “Dean!  I can still walk, you know!”

     “Save your energy, Sweetheart, you’re gonna need it.  Tonight, we’re gonna fog up all the windows!”

[bcofl0ve]

I’m not trying to be mean and I do respect your opinion.

But Kaia mostly got smaller acting role or doing smaller movies and you saying that she worked more than Austin technically is false (Austin being a principal character in a tv show is more “acting” than being not even a secondary characters in some movie/show). Also, people are already talking about him getting nominated for awards playing Feyd Rautha- in this case quality over quantity. Austin being on sets for months and her only for a couple of days or week. Doing a lot of project does not equal to being a good actor or being well-known esp if you do not even get an imp role. I do not know why you had to go for a comparaison between Austin and her just to show your point but well.

I personally do not think Kaia is a good actress at all and dislike the fact that she is getting role bc of her nepotism, but this is my perception, I really do believe if she decided to continue modelling she would do well as it suit her well. For me she is a good commercial model.

I do not agree with you on most stuff however I think your blog is important to create dialogue and to open people mind on different perception so thank you for that. You do not have to post this (you probably will not) but hope all is good for you :)

i meant it in a “she has physically been on more sets/worked for more productions in the past year” way 😅 which is objectively true 😅 sorry if what i meant wasn’t clear though! like- i think “so called career” is a really silly phrase to use for someone that has filmed on set in a casted role (not as 1/100 extras) for 4 movies in one year. that’s not “so called” whether the roles are small or not, that’s a working actor. the discussion in that post wasn’t about her being well known or a good actor. it was about the phrase “so called career” being used to describe her work life. like resume on paper wise i think she’s past so called territory lol i didn’t mean anything more than that. also i was specifically referring to this past year (2023-now, bikeriders reshoots kinda count i guess but still) during which technically speaking austin has only filmed eddington. i do think press is work in its own right! 1000% but the post chitchat was specifically about on set work.

i’m doing okay-ish LOL, thank you <3

[sakarrie-creates]

2022 Fic Round-Up/Reflection

Am I over a month late? Yes. Is that going to stop me? Nnnnnnope.

Another year gone and another end of year summary! Yeash, it’s been a rough creative year haha. I’ve practically done nothing but school and work, which has certainly been problematic for writing. It’s been a productive adulting year though, so hopefully this dead period will help me find more opportunities down the line. My gosh I’m ready to be done with school already.

Since I’ve really not written much this year, this will be an abridged version of my reflection from last year’s template. That being said, I’m still very rambly so you can see the details below the cut!

2022 Stats:

Fics Started: 11 Fics Fully Written: 3 Fics Posted: 2 New WIPs: 7 Total WIPs: 20 (ish?) Words Written: 25,950 (33,176 if including documents of pure brainstorm ramble lol) Words Posted: 9,541 Fandoms Written For: 2 Events: 2 (+1)

Posted Fics

Carmen Sandiego (Gen): 1

So Long As You're With Me (7,804): It's been several months since Team Red rescued Player from the clutches of VILE and snapped him out of their control... mostly. His base personality is back, but he still doesn't remember them from anything other than the false memories VILE created for him. And it's just their luck that VILE painted Carmen and company in such a way that Player thinks that their attempts to help him is all some elaborate form for torture, and it doesn't help that he's currently recovering from an injury she caused. Carmen is near her wit's end, but she refuses to give up on her oldest and best friend.

Supernatural (Gen): 1

Still the Same (1,737): After a hunt, Sam and Dean watch the stars for the first time since Dean came back from Hell. Things are finally starting to fall back into place between them, but it's impossible to ignore the ways things have changed. 

Specifics:

Events Participated In:

SPN Summergen, Player Appreciation Week (Fic and Art), Code Secret Santa (Art), Miraculous Magic Zine (Revamp Fic), and Fandom Trumps Hate (Offered Art/Fic).

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Oof, hard to answer. Definitely less than I’d hoped and maybe still a fair bit less than I expected, but I did know that my life was about to get swallowed by school and I wasn’t wrong. I definitely wish I had been able to participate in more events for sure and I’ve had a lot of inspiration for all sorts of stuff that I just haven’t had the brain power for unfortunately. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

I mean, looking at posting, I only have two options lol. In general though, I stuck fairly close to my norm for all that. I poked around time travel AUs which was fun but most of that was brainstorming/animatic storyboarding rather than writing.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Definitely So Long As You're With Me! That AU lives in my head rent free and boy howdy I’d love to share it all one day but there’s just so much to it. I swear, the pieces I have shared are hardly recognisable as the same story haha. Anyway, it’s definitely a little rushed at some points, but it was a very crammed piece that just kept getting longer, so I’ll take it!

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

Since I’ve only posted two new works this year, we’re going to go overall. Which would definitely still be Fragmentation. It’s got 20.3k views!! That’s only 400 less than it’s total word count and it seems like the hit count keeps going up slowly, which is wild to consider it’s on FF.net in a faded fandom and has been complete for like a year. Next up would be The Problem With Good Intentions at 11k, which also blows me away a bit cause Merlin ended a decade ago but I’m proud of the fandom for staying alive! XD

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Probably still A Letter to Never Be Read on FF.net. It’s a pretty niche fic, so I can’t really be surprised but I felt artsy writing it way back when lol.

Most overdue story?

Welp, It’s Only Natural is certainly overdue, but I don’t think anyone is really following that one so it’s not in a rush. A Long Ways Home on the other hand drives me crazy cause I’ve actually been wanting to write for it, but brainpower’s been too low from school. Can’t believe it’s been a year. :’(

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Tbh, not really? I pushed myself in what I did, but it was all relatively in my comfort zone. I guess I tried writing in S4 of Supernatural in Still the Same, but that doesn’t feel much like a risk. I also tried out some writing from screenshot prompts which was super fun and interesting, but unfortunately that was sniped by lack of time/energy too. So I guess not really this year.

How’d this year compare to your goals of last year?

Oh boy, I’m so intimidated to read these paragraphs haha. I bet I did like none of them. We’ll start with the bullet list though since that should be fairly straightforward. -Unfortunately, prioritizing school is honestly my biggest writing goal this year. So if I do that all successfully and get through any more than like, 1-2 of these, it will be a success haha. 

-A Long Ways Home (Gonna break it up into Chapter 3, Chapter 4, and if that’s not the epilogue, then an epilogue. I’m determined and really think it’s doable, I just need to be careful not to overestimate again) WIP Bang if not done by Summer. -SPN Summergen -PAB if enough interest -February week event -Loyalties AU Plotting/Drafting -SQZ Zines -Comments

If crazy inspired year: -Gencest Bang -WIP Bang with It’s Only Natural -Post More CS One-shots -Other Zines

Okay, so some of those crossings are a little generous, but I wanted to at least check off the school one haha. Tbh, though, it wasn’t as bad as I expected! I did a decent job of having low expectations lol.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Oh boy. See I wish that this last year being so sad would mean this year would be back to creative rush, but I’m already a month in and I haven’t even tried writing anything other than school papers. I’ve been getting surprisingly into Huntlow (omg, Sakarrie having a romantic ship that she’s like legit into????? whacK), so it’d be fun to experiment with some fic there! Willow needs more angst fic to balance out our traumatized golden boi. Trying to find some zines would also be fun! And I’ll be sad if I ever have to miss Summergen cause it’s 100% my favorite event of the year. Oh, and of course I’m hoping to be able to participate more in Player Appreciation Week this coming month!! Shameless plug.

I’d also like to make some progress on A Long Ways Home, so hopefully in my Summer break I’ll finally have a chance to sit down and write. I’m not going to be dumb enough to put time frame estimations on it again though haha. I also am not a huge fan of having WIPs just sitting out there so if I could knock off It’s Only Natural sometime, that’d be great, but it’s honestly not a priority and I haven’t been feeling Voltron for a bit.

As for other plans, Loyalties AU and EverYOnE is bROkeN AU both haunt me at night and then there’s the time travel au that just has my brain zooming whenever I think about it. They just all get so intense and I WANT to share that intensity cause I know they could be epic, but first I gotta finalize the details, then I gotta have the skills to pull it off, then I gotta actually write sooooooooooooo we’ll see where those get me.

Okay so comments. Bah that project is such a mindset monster haha. I want to be supportive and express thanks to those who write and comment, but also the more pressure I put on it, the harder it gets. I feel like it makes reading new fics very intimidating and makes leaving chill comments harder. I think it would be nice to get through, but I think my goal for this year is to let my 1000 tabs go and just comment/respond in the moment whenever I can and not overthink it. I do want to catch up on replies though so that can be my comment goal for this year. In terms of my numbers, though, I did meet my generous goal of 20k written and 10k posted this year! (Rounding a little but close enough.) And I met my ultimate wc goal if brainstorming essays count!

Bullet list time!

2023:

-Unfortunately, keeping my scholarship has to be my biggest goal this year again so gonna put that here in case it's the only thing I can check off come December. -A Long Ways Home (at least 1 new chapter) -SPN Summergen -At least 3/7 Player Appreciation Week days -Catch up on comment replies -At least do some more brainstorming for bigger CS aus -Huntlow/Owl House fics? -One zine?

If crazy inspired year: -All of A Long Ways Home -All Player Appreciation Week Days -WIP Bang with It’s Only Natural -Post More CS One-shots -Write out more big AU scenes -Other Zines

So with that, I’m gonna set my word count bar pretty low again haha. In fact, I think I’ll just leave it as it was last year.

Easy Goal Word Count Goal: 20k (at least 10k posted)

Stretch Goal (aka, if I don’t die from school): 40k (at least 25k posted)

Ultimate 2023 Word Count Goal: 30k

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Tw brief mentions of panic attacks, suicidality, death, trauma and dissociation, not so brief of self harm

Hey, I am currently looking for a therapist and I am a bit afraid of therapy tbh. I have a lot of trauma and forgot a lot and guessing by my symptoms, even worse stuff than that, what I remember. Most of it goes back to my abusive childhood home. And I am afraid what will happen, when I'll work on it and maybe/hopefully remember stuff again. I am afraid I'll go back to having 4 panic attacks a day, 3 day in a row unable to sleep, flashbacks or suicidality again. I once "woke up" (from dissociation-ish) and realized, I had zero memories of the last 3 months.

(Idk I just need to write this down: the like last thing I remembered was that I started to cut myself very lightly for... the feeling of overcoming myself. My natural will to be unharmed, whatever. And then I "woke up" and was sitting on my bed and was self harming at that moment, already had bad scars and didn't cut lightly anymore.)

I don't want this to ever happen again.

It's not like I overcame any of this, but panic attacks are rare, sleep issues not that bad, flashbacks very rare and I've gotten used to my suicidality. Okay I actually stopped self harming. I am not thriving but living in a way that is... okay. And I am leaving this relative safety (at least I know what shit to expect) for therapy and I am scared.

I mean... at the end of the session you'll leave their office after 45min, no matter how shocked or dissociated etc. you are and you are forced to sit with whatever issue on your own for the next week. That sounds scary as shit. I occasionally remember stuff that I once forgot and even then, like "remember when that aunt you barely knew died?" leaves me so unable to cope for many days. What about serious memories?

I am very scared.

Hi anon,

Thank you for reaching out so I could have the opportunity to validate and acknowledge your pain: I am so sorry for your experiences, and the impact it has on your daily life.  

I want to commend you for having the self awareness to even reach out for therapy options - many people do not - and it is very understandable that the process of unpacking memories, especially ones where our body remembers, but not our minds, feels panic inducing.  I’ve talked about this before, but essentially there is such a thing as trauma amnesia, and there have been studies (one, and two) and books (one, and two) on how trauma impacts our brains, where our body remembers but our conscious minds do not.  

Now when it comes to therapy, yes, there is a chance that unpacking your feelings, experiences, and memories in a safe space with a professional who is hoping to help form a treatment plan to help you thrive - might in fact, bring up painful ones that feel new to you.  But there is also a possibility that even with treatment you may never recover these memories and it might be more imperative to navigate the physical reactions to the feelings without the memories.

My hope would be that you could further explore them in your session for a set time, and then with the help of the therapist help calm your nervous system down with enough time to discuss coping skills/tools for how to handle the remainder of the week before you go into your next session.  

However, this is a skill that can take time to develop, so whether you find something that speaks to you right away, or whether it takes months, you are commendable for even wanting to put in the effort in the first place.  I do believe with the help of a trained professional it will go much faster than if you were simply tackling this on your own, and my hope is that with the healthiest supports in place for you, you will go from surviving to thriving.

Good luck <3

- Mod Kat

[sobbingdistantnoises]

Hi it is 🌹 again, reminder to make the bread!

Happy (as possible) Monday, I hope school doesn’t treat you too rough today!

For Alice songs I recommend Under My Wheels, Elected (covered by Duff), Billion Dollar Babies, and Big Apple Dreamin’

My favorite CD I have is definitely GNR lies, I bought it used for $5 in excellent quality and it has pretty pictures. Most I get from my dad

I “play the drums” but haven’t actually played in months, I can’t find the time and energy. The question I had for you today is also whether you play any instruments! If so, have you played with a band?

I did indeed make the bread!! Like half of it was eaten already when I took the photo (more is eaten now. I ate another slide of it, HDJSJJS) but here is some for you <3

Monday was OUCHIE, but it is okay because hopefully I have less (ish) stuff to do in total now! Gotta learn all the IP addresses :P I hope you had a good two days as well!!

Ooo, those songs have been recommended to a playlist!! I shall be listening to them soon :))

Woahh, that's really cheap from what I know! :0 <- I may be totally off but shhh It sounds cool!!

Ohhh, that's totally fair with the drums, it's kind of the same for me currently </3 I play piano and guitar, though not recently at all due to lots of school stuff recently, and I've only played guitar for probably a few weeks in total because of this, lsfsdjls. I'm hoping I'll be able to play a lot more during winter break in a couple weeks and that I'll be jumpscared into playing daily again, haha

I WISH I played with a band, it sounds really cool to do so!! I have an irl friend who also plays guitar and keyboard who I have Nirvana in common with, though we're going to different schools this year because of the way my school district splits grade levels up, so I've never actually played with her </3 And I have another friend this year who's been going to some of the (monthly unfortunately, not frequent) meetings of a music club with me, though she doesn't play any instruments except for Never Gonna Give You Up on school pianos, so if you consider that a band, yeah I'm in a band :P

A new question for you...if you could live your day as someone in a band you listen to, who would you pick and when?

[the-youngcinephile]

dead man's party is so good! It's a great album I love throwing No One Lives Forever on Halloween playlists because nobody knows it but it's a bop and a half.

Congrats on your award winning cookies. I'm a great British bake off guy, that's what got me into baking, so whenever I make something I pretend Paul Hollywood is there telling me how to improve.

My albums that I really can play whenever with no hesitation are Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan, Stay Sick! By the Cramps (this one has been on repeat for weeks now), The Blue Mask by Lou Reed and Eat to the Beat by Blondie (this was my first physical vinyl record I ever got so it's so special to me).

The holidays are not the easiest time for me, especially this year. So I'm sorry if I wasn't the most active secret Santa for you! But I really liked getting to know you and I cannot wait to follow you once we reveal our identities bc you seem sooo cool and have good taste. I hope you don't think I'm cringe for that!

Final question: how do you stave off the depressing nature of the month of December? What's your ideal winter holiday moment? Did I already ask this? It's been a long month. For me, a solstice dinner with friends is my ideal winter holiday moment. It's just that this time of year really gets me down, and I think anything we do to cheer ourselves up when it's *checks phone* 5 degrees Fahrenheit outside is super important. Remember to take care of yourself however that manifests and keep your loved ones close when it's sad and cold. Sending warm hugs your way~ -SRS

No one lives forever is such a bop. 

I have seen various episodes of bake off and have loved what I’ve seen. As for my viewing habits, I will watch any cooking show with Anthony Bourdain in it. I just really enjoy what he did. On the total opposite side of cooking shows, Great Food Truck Race is a guilty pleasure. 

I’m terrible at baking, but I do it anyways because I think it’s fun. I’m okay-ish at cooking but don’t enjoy it quite as much. 

I love love love Stay Sick! It’s such a good album. I keep my CD of it in the car constantly. I just love The Cramps. Also yes to Blondie and Lou Reed. I love listening to those artists.

The holidays have kind of sucked this year for me as well. You have great taste as well. And I loved having you as my secret Santa!

I just have to remember to drink liquids and pet cats because otherwise I will go insane. My boss brought kittens into her office the other day, and, not to be dramatic, they made everything in the world seem worth it. It’s -18 degrees fahrenheit outside. I’m staying inside with my 70s game shows, thank you very much.

Ideal winter holiday moment is playing board games on the floor with my siblings while wrapped up in blankets. Usually the cat tries to knock everything down. I don’t get to come home very often so whenever I do, I love to hang out with my siblings. We’ve been playing this dungeons and dragons board game recently. It’s a blast.

Happy holidays!

[weadapt]

(I read your tags @cal-with-a-kesett-tape )

....here's the thing. I have two versions of the POSSIBLE story in my brain that IM NOT GOING TO WRITE. First one, like you said, his parents have reservations of giving him up because they heard the horror stories, and they love him, and there's the impact of, what @eddawrites said in the comments, well-meaning friends/family giving him hand-me-downs and making his life awful, but the seekers come, explain what's going on with him, his parents make the hard decision of saying farewell to Cal, Cal finally has some relief because the Jedi know what to do, end story. Overall light, kinda happy(ish) story.

The other version in my brain uh...................................... okay, listen, ....... it's not so light....... if there is a baby, from birth pretty much, who is constantly crying, suddenly scared for (from everyone's perspective) no good reason, nothing anyone does calms Cal down, he won't sleep, and if he does sleep it's more like he passes out from exhaustion more than actually sleeping but he's not unconscious for long, he's just constantly screaming and crying till there are no more tears, and they can barely get him on a normal eating pattern because nearly everything baby Cal interacts with causes a fit so no one wants to interact with him anymore, but his parent(s) try to take him to the doctor but they have no idea what's wrong, by all their scans he's fine, so the parent(s) are tired, they haven't slept, they're frustrated, angry, they're frankly losing their minds and this goes on for days, weeks, months maybe—how do parents in that kind of situation of dealing with a non-stop crying child, when they're at their wits end, often react/almost react? huh? you know the answer. and it's, to me, the most unfortunately realistic reaction in that situation because you hear a lot of stories of that kind of abuse happening to babies/young kids when they just can't stop crying. So before the parent(s) almost do that to Cal, someone has to come in, save him, steal him, they go on a journey across star systems to try and find him help but no doctors, know matter how many they go to, knows what's wrong with him, they don't know what's causing the seizures, the crying fits, the blank, thousand-yard stares, but this person who takes Cal in isn't going to give up on him, not like everyone in his life before gave up on him, there has to be a solution somewhere out there, but in the meantime, they try to find ways to help Cal cope, how to help him calm down, and try to find things which make Cal happy, try to find places where he can safely play and safely interact with the world, with nature or animals without having adverse reactions, they introduce him to things maybe like turbo dogs and other things and just try to find him a little relief until a solution for him can be found. Maybe a good amount of time passes on this quest, maybe weeks, months, maybe this character takes on a job maybe as a courier of some sort to have enough money to still be able to travel to different places, I don't know, but it's an ongoing struggle, and maybe there's a point where it's getting desperate, Cal is getting worse and worse and these sudden reactions, seizures, petrified moments where he's just paralyzed, can't get him to snap out of, it's all really really starting to affect his health more than before, he's refusing to eat, he can't sleep, none of the coping mechanisms are helping, he's withering away, there's a moment of hope though, some mention of a doctor who knows more than other doctors perhaps. so this character is willing to do anything, even something illegal, just to have the funds to get to this special doctor, but this is another fraud, another disappointment, cal isn't going to get help, in-between all of this the character trying to help Cal has been having this sense that they're being followed, makes them uneasy, the feeling is valid, they are being follow, and eventually it's revealed that the people following them are seekers for force-sensitives and they are willing/know how to help cal, but are they trust worthy??? can't just hand Cal over to these strangers, not after taking care of him for so long, Cal has to be protected from these people, they probably have bad intentions, so this is a matter of getting out of the star system as quickly as possible, Cal is in danger.... so they take Cal far away from that place, but this is still desperate, Cal needs help. These seekers track them down again and prove they can help Cal....... and this character who has protected and loved and taken care of Cal for all this time has to make the hardest decision, they chose to let him go....... they say goodbye....

and yeah that's the second idea in my brain

If I POSSIBLY (no promises) wrote a story of Cal having severe echos at a very, very young age and his parent(s) struggling to find a way to help him, what would you ultimately want out of the story?

[aquagustd]

hell is empty - JJK, KTH

06.2 SWEATER WEATHER

life has a tendency to throw things your way when you least expect it, when you’re content, and the ominous presence knows exactly how to steer your existence back into the darkness.

prev | series masterlist | next [chapter summaries under masterlist]

pairing — drug lord!jungkook x reader, hotel owner!taehyung x reader

genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, smut, love triangle au

word count — 8.9K

play — sweater weather by the neighbourhood

warnings/tags — single parent!reader, dad!JK, ex-boyfriend!JK, CEO!taehyung, strong language, graphic depictions of violence & blood, mentions of harassment, alcohol consumption, anger issues, flirting 👁, tension, jealousy, wet hair tae, mentions of drugs, puke warning, bickering, manhandling, one spank, mentions of babies, unsolicited? cuddling, drunken makeouts, grinding, some oral (f), all in a semi-public area-ish + a lot of feels

note: part 02 to part 06 👄 i like this one a lot 🫣 & i hope you guys do too !! ✉️ jungkook in anything grey just 🫣 & tae with wet hair 😩

halmeoni - grandmother

A few days, no, a whole week has passed – you’re obviously over it.

But of course, seeing him sat on Yoongi’s armchair as you enter the lounge has you questioning how true that statement is. Junho hops onto his lap, unzipping his backpack to show his father all the toys he’s brought along. His head lifts, gaze meeting yours for a second before you divert your attention to Yuri, whose face is buried in the crown of Yoongi’s head.

You laugh, “Yoongi? Still in a wheelchair?”

He sighs, gesturing to his wife who now has her arms wrapped around his head.

“She insists.”

“Hey,” she scolds, hands pressed to her hips, “till I know you’re 100 percent okay, you sit put!”

Even if Yoongi frowns, you can tell he’s loving the attention, accepting the kisses she leaves on his forehead, patting her back slowly.

“Jungkookie,” she calls, holding up a warning finger, “if he gets off, even for a second, you give me a call!”

Jungkook grins, “got it.”

Yoongi tosses the cushion in Jungkook’s direction which misses and hits Junho instead.

“Hey!”

“Sorry Smiley,” Yoongi grins, already picking up another cushion to aim at Jungkook, “that was meant for your dad.”

“Anyway,” Yuri sashays to you, hooking her arm in yours, “we’re heading out. You boys be good hm?”

All three hum their affirmations, already getting distracted by the snacks left out on the table. Before you leave, you scurry over to Junho and leave a kiss on his head, warning him not to trouble Yoongi. As you spin around, Jungkook catches your wrist, leaving you hunched over his seated figure.

“What about me?”

You flush, glancing at Yoongi who’s sat right next to Jungkook, clearly occupying himself with the chips packet he has in his lap.

Clearing your throat, you break out of Jungkook’s hold, eyes on the tile as you return to Yuri’s side, seeing her sport an amused expression as she fits on her coat.

“Where you guys going?”

“Girls’ night,” Yuri replies, helping you into your coat.

“I know,” Jungkook laughs, “I mean where?”

“Tiger Lily,” you respond, having expected his reaction of wide eyes and gaping mouth.

He turns to Yoongi who’s unbothered, before his gaze returns to yours, “the club?”

“Yeah,” Yuri winks, sliding her arm around your waist as she waves over her shoulder, “see you boys later.”

Of course, Yuri waited till you were in the car to ask: “what the fuck was that?”

You click in your seatbelt, feigning nonchalance, “was what?”

She slaps your thigh, “what happened just now? ‘What about me?’ I heard him!”

You giggle at the way she imitates his deep voice, “he’s…an idiot.”

Narrowing her eyes at you, she wags a finger with suspicion, “something happened.”

“Nothing,” you exclaim, holding up your arms with exasperation, “nothing happened!”

“You’re forgetting that I’m your best friend.”

You groan, “fine I’ll tell you when we get there, now can we go?”

“I knew it!”

Once you’re inside, you realize that it’s been a few months since you’ve had a proper girls’ night out with Yuri. Even if you’ve started to hate the loud music, sweaty bodies constantly bumping into you, you missed nights like these. In those few months, so much has happened. Which means that you have a lot to talk about but obviously, you had to start with the kiss because she wouldn’t stop pestering you.

“Did you like it?”

You nearly spit out your cocktail, “WHAT?”

She gives a one-shoulder shrug, straw poking into her lip, “did you like the kiss? Did you enjoy it, rather?”

“I—” Eyes on your purse, you try to find the right words, which only has you recounting the kiss and it’s all downhill from there. “I don’t know! It all happened so fast…and and…I was worried that Junho saw. I didn’t want to confuse the child!”

She nods, “totally. Given that he saw you kiss Taehyung just a few hours ago the same day!”

“Shut up,” you scoff, “he wasn’t meant to see either one!”

“Oh, so you planned the kiss with Jungkook!”

The booming music around you drowns out your yells, “I TOLD YOU HE KISSED ME!”

“Okay, okay,” she laughs, holding up her hands placatingly, “it was a joke. Calm down mama.”

You huff, setting your drink on the counter before turning to her, hands on her knees, “I didn’t enjoy it.”

She cocks an eyebrow, russet brown eyes twinkling under the neon lights, “you sure?”

“Yes,” you sigh, after spending seven days and eight nights replaying it in your head, you had enough time to really think about it, “he just…repulses me as a man. I feel like he sort of…put me off ever thinking about him in that way again.”

She nods, gesturing for you to continue.

“And he’s with Sora, I have Taehyung and—”

“You guys are on a break,” Yuri reminds, speaking over the lip of her glass, “did you forget?”

“I know but he’s still there. And I still want us. I know that we’re gonna work things out soon and I just can’t have any distractions.”

“So Jungkook would be a distraction?”

“Yeah.”

She makes a face, the face that tells you she has a lot to say but she’s settling on a low hum. You scoot closer to her, knees brushing hers.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

She exhales a deep breath, “you want the truth?”

“Obviously!”

“You know what I mean,” she tuts.

Nodding slowly, you readjust your position on the chair, “I can handle it.”

“Imagine if Jungkook never showed up, where would you guys be? You and Taehyung I mean.”

“We’d be together, obviously.”

“Exactly,” she snaps her thumb theatrically, waving away the bartender who’s been hovering for the past five minutes, “if Jungkook hadn’t been around, you and Taehyung would’ve been together. A good, solid relationship. What you’ve always wanted. But now, you’re on a break because of everything that happened because of Jungkook, your ex, your baby daddy—”

“Your point?”

“You’re on a break with Taehyung and suddenly, the very same day, Jungkook kisses you.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “what are you saying?”

“What I’m saying is that…that’s Jungkook’s purpose. To distract you from better things, better things as in Taehyung and the future you and Junho could have with him.”

“I…oh my God yeah.”

She raises her drink, “he wants to distract you and lure you back into his trap.”

You stare off into the distance, “he wants to sabotage my relationship with Taehyung.”

“Your whole life, technically…”

Taking a sip of your drink, you feel as though the cogs are turning. Pushing Jungkook to the back of your mind and bringing Taehyung to the forefront. You can’t allow him to change anything. Even if he’s the father of your child, a relationship with him will only end in more tears and suffering. Why are you even considering a relationship when he has a fiancée?!

“I need another drink,” you announce, beckoning the bartender over, “another round?”

Yuri shakes her head timidly, crossing one leg over the other, “not for me. I’ll just have a water.”

You gawk at her, “it’s girls’ night and you’re gonna make me drink alone!”

“Well, you won’t be drinking alone,” she beams, resting her head on your shoulder, “I would’ve, but my gynae suggested that I take it easy.”

“What—” You hold up a finger in the bartender’s face, shutting him up before you repeat her words, only a little louder.

“Your gynae? As in gynaecologist?”

She smiles coyly, cheeks turning red, “yes, that��s what gynae stands for, right?”

“Oh my God,” you screech, catching her cheeks between your palms, “are you and Yoongi finally gonna—”

“YEAH!”

“OH MY GOD,” you sob, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, fighting your tears, “I’m so happy right now. You have no idea. Junho is gonna have a little cousin soon, I can’t believe it.”

“Well,” she giggles, eyes glazed over, “I hate saying this, but we’re still trying.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure, “I have faith in both your abilities.”

She smacks your arm, apples of her cheeks glowing, “my face hurts—AHH.”

“This calls for celebration,” you announce, ordering a round of tequila shots, “I’ll drink for the two of us. God, I can’t believe it’s happening. You’re gonna be a mom! And Yoongi’s gonna be a dad!”

She wrings her hands, “do you think he’ll be a good dad? I know I’ll be a good mom.”

“Of course, he’ll be a good dad. Except he can’t be there on delivery day,” you giggle, “he was a nervous wreck when I was in labor. He only had me stressing out even more!”

Her mouth quirks to the side, hands encircling her glass of water, “he was there for you, huh?”

Your smile turns mellow, reminiscing on those days where you would have any craving, and Yoongi, or Hoseok, would have it there for you in less than ten minutes, how you would crave a home cooked meal and Yoongi would try his best, “yeah, he was.”

She pouts, “miss him now.”

You nudge her with your shoulder, “don’t worry, you can get home soon to your man and keep trying.”

“Shut up,” she whines, “old man has been unavailable these couple days.”

Chuckling, you down the rest of your drinks and ask for another round, feeling the buzz hit you with each passing second.

“Slow down,” Yuri warns, “have some water.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, spinning around to scan the crowd with your elbows propped on the counter. You really want to dance. “Come on.”

Yuri lets you take her hand, slotting into the gyrating bodies before you find your rhythm and rest your hands on her shoulders, swaying with the beat. It hits you full force when you twirl around once, colliding with her chest before she steadies you with her hands on your hips.

“You okay?” She chuckles, “been a while since we did something like this.”

You hum, “yeah.”

“Good thing I’m driving to—oh my God.”

Your eyes fly open, following her line of sight to the other end of the dancefloor, “wha—”

Taehyung, white button-up shirt, dark hair wet, snapping his fingers as he bounces around with the beat. You blink twice, hoping it’s not the alcohol that’s playing tricks on you. But Yuri saw him first. Idling among the bodies, you get hit in the face with someone’s hair, bringing you back to reality.

Your first reaction is to shield Yuri’s stomach, guiding her back to your seats. Pouting when she swats your hands away.

“I’m not pregnant yet you idiot.”

“Oh…yeah,” you laugh nervously, gaze finding Taehyung once again. Except this time, there’s a girl dancing with him, grinding into him as she waves her long, blonde hair, smiling back at him. He seems all too pleased, hand finding her waist before he moves expertly with her, his hips sliding with hers.

Your eye twitches.

“Another,” you order, tipping your head back as you empty two shots at once, not even noticing the burn. He has his arm around her neck now, head tossed back just as the song fizzles into a sexier tune, pissing you off even more.

Yuri calls your name, fingers intertwining with yours, “he’s clearly drunk, and so are you.”

You say nothing, just observe how her neon green dress rides up when she coils into his arms, seeing him whisper in her ear. It’s been a long, long time since you felt this familiar twist in your gut, the way your jaw refuses to move even an inch, the back of your head turning hot. And even if you are drunk, like Yuri said, you still feel it bubble in your belly: jealousy.

But you’re not the type of person that’s sad when they’re jealous, you don’t whine about it. Instead, you choose to seethe far away from the source, until you feel it consume you, branding into your brain, sending all kinds of signals to your limbs, which forces you to do something about it.

Shaking off Yuri’s hold on your hands, you weave through the crowd and come really close to where Taehyung and the…girl are romancing, eyes slipping shut before you finally decide to shake your body again, not knowing how you must look but you know you’re sexy, with all the salacious stares being thrown your way. It isn’t long before you feel a pair of hands settle on your waist, knowing that this would be the perfect opening for you to have him burn with jealousy too.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Goosebumps prickle your skin, heart stalling in your chest when you look up to find Taehyung’s handsome face, lips stretched in a smirk.

You glance over his shoulder, “where’s your friend?”

In a second, you’re being twisted around, a small ‘oomf’ tumbling from your lips when your bodies bump into each other, feeling his hand rest above the curve of your ass. You wish he would go lower.

“What friend?”

Rolling your eyes, you slide a hand up his chest, wrapping it around his neck before bringing his face down to your level, “don’t play dumb.”

He clicks his tongue, “she wasn’t my friend—” his eyes flash devilishly “—didn’t think you were the jealous type.”

Before you can deny that statement, his thick scent bombards your senses, reminding you of how you spent your days yearning for it. How afraid you are that he’ll soon become a sweet memory.

His head tilts to the side, “what?”

“I’m not jealous, just possessive of what’s mine.”

He stops all movement, flashing his teeth before he takes your wrist in his hand and tugs you through the crowd, heading for what you think is the restroom. The end of the hallway is empty and dark because of the black light, his face lit blue as you’re being slammed against the wall, moaning when he presses his lips to yours. He tastes like beer and cigarettes, the lewd smacks of your lips sending your inebriated mind to another level.

You flail around, not knowing where to put your hands because you missed him, missed feeling his body against yours, his tongue in your mouth, his half-hard cock nudging against your stomach as he hooks your leg around his waist, fingers digging into your supple skin.

He grunts, teeth piercing into your bottom lip a little too hard, ensuing a whimper from your swollen lips, “I’m yours, huh?”

“Tae—” you tilt your head to the side when he begins to nip at the skin under your jaw, jolting when he cups your ass, rearing his hand back to land a bruising slap on your flushed skin.

“Tell me,” he husks, lips grazing yours after he suckles up the column of your throat, “do you miss me?”

He reaches down for the hem of your dress, bunching it up in his hand before he drops to his knees, “I know you miss me.”

His head disappears under the skirt of your dress, hair tickling your inner thighs before you feel his slick lips drag up the crevice between your thigh and pussy, dangerously close to your throbbing heat. Through your haze, you feel panic rise in your throat, looking around to see if anyone is near, but the queue for the ladies’ is on the other end of the hallway, there’s no way anyone could see you.

“Tae, you—Fuck,” you pant, hands falling to his head that’s covered by the thin fabric of your dress, cunt dripping for him as he pushes your panties to the side and kisses your clit, tongue flicking out briefly.

With the thunderous music and chatter, you can’t hear what he’s saying, but you can feel the vibrations against your pussy, crying out when his teeth catch on your clit and his tongue prods at your entrance, slurping up every last drop of your essence.

“Not here,” you moan, rolling your hips into his face, “not here, Tae.”

The chatter becomes louder, closer, and as much as you’re enjoying the way he’s devouring your pussy, you shove him away, air knocked out of your lungs when he purses his lips around your engorged clit and gives it one last, hard suck. You throw your arms around his shoulders, slotting your lips with his before he begins grinding into you, wet hair caught between your fingers.

“I miss you,” you breathe, searching his eyes, “of course I do.”

“I was dumb to let you go,” he grits, speaking against your lips, “I miss you…and Junho.”

As you expected, a group of people attempt to walk around your joined bodies. You let Taehyung go, muttering low apologies.

“I’ll be back,” he informs, disappearing into the men’s room. You think you know why.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you try to calm your racing heart with a few labored breaths as you make your way back to Yuri, seeing her face flush with relief when you plop down on the stool.

“Oh my God, I was worried, where were y—your neck.”

Your hand flies to your throat, suddenly a bit sober, “what? What about my neck?”

She grins mischievously, “met up with Mr. Kim in the toilets, hm?”

At the mention of Mr. Kim, you suck in your lips, still tasting remnants of your tryst a few seconds ago, shifting uncomfortably at the wetness between your legs.

“Tell me all about it!”

You rub the back of your head, the loud music suddenly too loud, “later.”

The bartender sets two cocktails in front of you, the same cocktails you had ordered earlier.

“Did you order those, Yuri?”

“No,” she responds, forehead creasing, “I told you I’m done for tonight.”

The bartender leans across the counter, pointing to the other end of the lit-up tables, “he sent these over for you.”

“Blue silk,” Yuri exclaims, “oh my God, blue silk has been staring at you all night! I was watching him.”

Yuri’s way of naming strangers – what they’re wearing.

Your mouth falls open once you spot blue silk, because he is in fact, wearing a baby blue silk shirt and white pants. He raises his drink in your direction once your eyes meet, smirking.

“Yuri,” you grit, speaking into her hair, “that’s Park Jimin.”

Her eyes widen, about to stare at him again before you warn her not to, gripping her arm tightly.

“Really? The guy from the the—abduction and Taehyung’s friend.”

“Yes, did you not recognize him from the party?”

She shakes her head, bottom lip sticking out, “no, I didn’t see him that day. Oh my God, he’s coming.”

“What?”

Elbowing you, she turns around as if to say; ‘you’re on your own,’ leaving you to deal with Park Jimin, who’s indeed making his way to you. Still wearing that smirk you saw a few seconds ago.

“Hello,” he smiles, gaze raking down your figure, “wouldn’t expect to see you here. A lovely surprise.”

“You too,” you scoff, arms crossed over your chest, “what about you? Moved this side now?”

And then you realize that in your head, you’ve assumed that he works for Yang, and Yang doesn’t operate in these parts.

He chuckles, speaking over the music, “just for work. Taehyung has been dragging me out nearly every night this past week.”

“This past week?” You parrot, wondering if Taehyung was always such a party animal, or if recent events had turned him to alcohol and women.

“Yeah, hardly my scene.”

“Thank you for the drinks,” you smile tersely, “and Junho’s gift.”

Slotting his hands in his pockets, he takes a few steps closer, only standing a foot away now. This close, you admit that he’s incredibly attractive. He could totally make it as a model or actor, you muse.

“I’ve actually been trying to contact you for a while now,” he begins, raking a hand through his hair, “Taehyung refused to supply me with your details. He’s been questioning my intentions, you see.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has good reason,” you quip, squinting your eyes at him, then peeling them open when the action causes your vision to get a little blurry.

He rubs the side of his nose with a knuckle, stifling a laugh, “of course. But I’ll have you know that my intention was never to harm you or your son. Purely out of obligation.”

“Well, you did,” you sigh, pulling the hem of your dress so the scar on your leg is visible to him, he examines closely, gaze lingering even after you let the material fall over your skin, “why did you want to talk to me?”

He looks from his left to his right cautiously, beckoning you closer with a curl of his index and middle finger, “we might have a lead.”

“A lead for what?”

His eyebrow jumps, “I assumed that Taehyung had already spoken to you? About my uhm…anonymous employer?”

“Oh, right—” you giggle, slapping a hand on your forehead, nodding, “he did. My bad.”

He offers a bright smile, “that’s alright. This is hardly the appropriate setting to discuss this. But that’s why I’ve been trying to arrange a meeting, you see? But I understand if you’d like to shelve this case, Taehyung is funding us after all.”

“Oh, no no,” you assure, leaning in to speak into his ear, “I want to know everything.”

“I thought you might,” he beams, “you’re a smart woman. Here.”

He produces a black card, holding it between his middle and forefinger. You take it from him tentatively, unable to read anything with the dim lighting, only finding raised lettering under your fingertips.

“If you need anything,” he affirms, breath wafting over your ear, “anything at all. Just give me a call. We’ll arrange a meeting soon.”

With a wink, he fades into the crowd, leaving you lost for words.

Yuri grabs your shoulder, shaking you lightly which only causes your head to spin more. You slide onto the stool, tucking the card into your purse.

“Why was he flirting?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “what? No, he wasn’t.”

“He was! You’re a very smart woman. If you need anything at all,” she mimics, sticking out her jaw, “hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, just got a bit of a headache, it’ll go away soon.”

“Oh no,” she laments, arms winding around your torso, “time for mama to go home.”

Craning your neck, you try to find Taehyung, but your eyes fall on someone else. It wouldn’t have caught your eye, if she wasn’t squealing and trying to break out of the burly man’s hold.

“Is that…Sora?”

Yuri follows your line of sight, terror contorting her features, “it is. And she’s not comfortable at all.”

It baffles you that no one is even batting an eye at the way she’s punching at his forearms, legs lifted off the ground while the tatted, baldy remains unstirred, just carrying her to the back of the club, to your horror. It makes you wonder if things like this go on in this club frequently. Surely someone will help her, her annoying screeches will get to someone, right?

Your blood runs cold, Yuri who must reflect your expression, grabs your hand.

“We have to help her.”

You swallow, seeing Sora struggle in his hold, “I’m sure he’ll—”

“Stop! Leave me alone. You fucking—OW!”

Springing from your chair without much thought, riding off the liquid courage you still have in your system, you charge toward them, Yuri following close behind.

“Buddy,” Yuri calls, reaching up to pat his sweaty, pale shoulder, “she said to leave her alone.”

You’re busy looking for security, even going so far to ask a random guy where’s security. Which is useless because he only shrugs, drunk out of his mind.

Sora has an unreadable expression on her face before you find what you think might be relief in her eyes.

Baldy lets her go, to instead tower over Yuri, his body odor causing your eyes to water.

“Fuck off.”

Reaching around his body, you grab Sora’s hand, wondering how Yuri hasn’t started crying yet. Sora cowers behind you, stumbling slightly.

“She said to leave her alone.”

He takes hold of Yuri’s hand, a sadistic twist to his lips, “what are you gonna do about it?”

Panic floods her eyes, especially when he takes her in a similar grip, arm held around her waist.

Both you and Sora start shouting, prying Yuri out of his hold, but it’s you who takes the hit. Dazed as you wobble away from them, with your hand held to your head.

You’re being lifted off the floor by your arm, Jimin’s face coming into view, “you okay?”

You nod, gathering yourself because you’re worried about Yuri, but she’s not there anymore, she’s standing next to you and Taehyung’s standing toe to toe with baldy, a whole head taller than him. Of course, you’ve managed to snatch the attention of everyone around you now, chaos at a standstill. Even the music stopped.

“Mind your own business, pretty boy.”

Taehyung laughs, plopping a lollipop in his mouth, “they’re my friends, so they are my business.”

With that, Taehyung spins around, gaze zeroing in on your face.

“You can have them, bunch of whores anyway.”

You see his jaw tick, and Jimin is sucking in a sharp breath next to you.

“Taeh—”

Taehyung dips his head, fists clenching at his sides, “what did you say?”

Baldy chuckles, peeking over his shoulder at his friends who are all too thrilled by what he said. You’re watching with a stagnant heartbeat, hearing Jimin mutter under his breath.

“Let it go, Taehyung-ah.”

“I said—” the man bares his teeth, far too close to Taehyung’s face “—you can—”

Taehyung presses a hand into his shoulder, shoving him away, “get the fuck out of my face.”

You gasp, eyes as large as saucers, “Tae—” Hand flying to your mouth when his fist makes contact with Taehyung’s jaw, his head snaps to the side.

Blood drips from his mouth, you’re trembling. Hearing everyone cheer around you. The last thing you see is Taehyung’s wicked grin, spitting out his lollipop before he grabs the man’s collar and pounds his fist into the man’s shocked face, falling to the floor with him.

You’re being pushed and shoved, hand held out for Yuri to take as you hear the deafening crunch with each of Taehyung’s hits, stunned when you see blood splatter across his face, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Stop! Stop! You got him—” Jimin surges forward, grabbing at Taehyung’s arm to pull him off the bloodied and unconscious man, eyes not leaving his still figure for a second “—you got him Taehyung. Fuck. Let’s get out of here.”

Jimin ushers all four of you out, Taehyung eyes not meeting yours. But when he does find your worried eyes, it’s as if your heart starts pumping again, nearly going weak with the sensation while you’re sucking in harsh breaths. He takes your cheeks between his hands, kissing your forehead.

“I’m so sorry. So sorry you had to see that. Fuck.”

You place your hands over his, hair whipping around with the chilly breeze, “I—it’s okay.”

He licks his lips, pulling away to run his fingers through his hair, “no, it’s not.”

Hugging yourself, you see Sora bend over the sidewalk, Yuri rubbing her back as she empties the contents of her stomach. You hate the feeling whenever you puke, but you think you might need it right now.

Jimin pats Taehyung’s chest, “relax. Do you ever listen to me? Did you even hear what I said yesterday about controlling your anger? Fuck, Taehyung, we don’t know who that guy was!”

Taehyung chews on the corner of his mouth, gaze latched onto yours, “he deserved it. I just wish she wasn’t there to see.”

Jimin clicks his tongue, holding his phone to his ear while Taehyung returns to you, sorrow brimming his eyes.

“I miss you and Junho,” he begins, taking your hands in his as his breath kisses your lips, laced with the scent of alcohol, “I want you to give me another chance. Give us another chance. But I understand if you don’t want to after…what you just saw…”

“Taehyung,” you soothe, thumbs running over his bloodied knuckles, “it’s—”

“Don’t,” he sighs, eyes shutting briefly, “I’ll see you soon.”

Your lips quiver, sadness filling your eyes when he presses a kiss to your forehead, thumbing away your tears.

Before you can say anything, he backs away, nodding to Jimin who waits by his car before he slides in, without turning back once.

There’s so much you wished to tell him; how much you miss him, how you found a spot of your pillow that smells exactly like him, how you browse through the few pictures you took together any chance you get, how much you regret ever suggesting a break, and how lonely you feel without him.

Which is a feeling you fear most.

But most of all, right now, you want to tell him that you’ve seen worse.

As if the chair could melt your worries, you sink further into the cushion, feet sloshing around in the foamy water. A blissful smile creeps onto your face as you shut your eyes, focusing on the tinkling music filling your ears and the warmth travelling from your toes to your ankles, fingers resting on the plush towel in your lap. You inhale a relaxing breath, the giddying scent of lavender fills your nostrils. This is exactly what you needed after…everything. It’s been ages since you’ve treated yourself like this.

Hair done, fresh set for your fingers and a foot massage before your toes are painted too. But of course, the duties of a mother are endless.

“Mama!”

You crack one eye open, hearing the loud thump of Junho’s chunky sneakers as he rushes over to you with a magazine he no doubt found in the reception.

“Look, it’s the Matchbox sign!”

Reaching for his hair, you fix his fringe, noting that he needs to get a haircut himself, “yeah. Smiley I told you to wait in front for me and not to be too loud.”

He pouts, magazine slipping from his hands before he bends down then rises to his full height with an even bigger, cuter pout. You wish you could have him next to you, but you’ve noticed a few of the other ladies who are probably just trying to relax, give you the side-eye multiple times. And your son can’t sit still.

“Go wait there for me now, I can see you from here.”

With a small nod, he pads across the wooden flooring, shoulders sagging slightly. You’d just have to make it up to him later.

Peeking around the tall plants next to you, you ensure that he’s in sight, giggling to yourself when you catch him looking at you, but he quickly turns away once you meet his doe eyes.

With your distraction, you failed to notice that the once vacant seat next to you is now occupied by an elderly woman. You would’ve returned to your small meditating session, had you not heard the masseuse say her name, prompting you to turn and find a familiar face, staring back at you.

“You need anything else, Mrs. Kim?”

She shakes her head, pale feet dipping into the sudsy bucket of water, “thank you dear. Nothing else for me at the moment. But I will let you know.”

You’re about to speak when the masseuse bows, then crouches in front of you, lifting your right foot out of the water to set on her knee and begin rubbing slow circles into the crevice of your foot, finding the tension collected there with ease.

The truth is, you don’t know what to say. You wonder if she knows that you and Taehyung aren’t together anymore. You tilt your head in her direction once again, finding the same smile Taehyung has on whenever he’s trying to be cute. It makes your heart skip a beat at the memory.

“How are you?” She asks, taking her silky hair, which you’re envious of, into a loose ponytail, not a grey strand in sight.

“I’m well,” you smile, head falling back into the cushion, “and you?”

“Ah, I’m doing good…I haven’t seen you around the house lately,” she says after a beat of silence, narrowing her eyes in your direction.

You chuckle, buying yourself some time before providing a reason as to why. So, he didn’t tell her. A part of you is wondering why you’re stammering to find the right words. But another part of you knows that you want to keep up the good impression she has of you. Taehyung had said that he dealt with a lot of women in the past who were only with him because of his wealth. You’re wondering if the short-lived relationship you had with her son could taint her image of you.

“Uhm…Taehyung and I—”

She titters, dismissing your words with a wave of her hand before she slumps into a position similar to yours, eyes forming two sweet crescents.

“My sons hate it when I interfere, especially in their love life. It’s okay,” she sighs, interlocking her fingers in her lap, “I know things are different nowadays for you youngsters.”

You laugh dryly, feeling the knot between your shoulders loosen at her words. You want to say something to fill the silence, but you can’t come up with anything. Especially, after Taehyung had popped into your head, when the fact that Taehyung hasn’t been answering all your calls and texts, since that night, spoils your mood all over again.

It bothers you that the last image you have of him is a drunken, bloodied Taehyung, emptying his sober thoughts.

“I miss you and Junho.”

“Give me another chance. Give us another chance.”

“It was dumb to let you go.”

You clear your throat, shuddering when you feel your left foot also being lifted onto the towel, wiped down and moisturized.

“I know what happened and I think I should apologize on Taehyung’s behalf.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “apologize? For what?”

She meets your gaze, the corner of her mouth crinkling slightly, “I don’t know, there’s only so much I could get out of him but, he feels embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Your voice raises in pitch, hands pressed into the armrests so you can sit up a bit in the chair. “Why would he be embarrassed?”

Her gaze bounces around the room before she gestures for you to lean in closer, maroon shawl sliding off her back. You follow her instruction with mild confusion, attempting to get your thoughts in order.

“I know my son too well, and I know that he thinks very highly of you and your opinion of him.”

She leaves you with that, readjusting her position while you’re forced to sit back, chewing on your bottom lip.

“That’s why he’s embarrassed,” she nods, holding a manicured finger in your direction.

“Mama!”

Just like earlier, Junho comes sprinting to you, pointing at something in the magazine, but you’re too focussed on Taehyung’s mother’s stare that falls on Junho once he’s standing between your seats, a dazzling smile lifting her features.

“Is this your boy?”

She enquires once Junho is done with his rambling, sitting up in her chair.

“He is,” you grin proudly, cradling the back of his head while Junho stares straight back at her, blinking.

You take his hand in yours, tugging him closer to your seat so he’s facing you, “you remember mama’s friend, Taehyung? This is his mama.”

His head snaps in her direction, “really? I didn’t know big adults have mamas!”

Despite the glare the masseuse sends you, you set Junho on your lap, “of course they do!”

Lips forming a frown, his fingers find the bow on your dress, “mama doesn’t have one. Or even a dad! Dad doesn’t have a mama too!”

You swallow, smile faltering. Of course, you couldn’t tell Junho why you no longer associate with your parents. So, you had just avoided talking about them in the first place. Pretended as if they didn’t exist.

Taehyung’s mother looks between the two of you for a second, before she reaches for her muted brown purse, rummaging through it before her face lights up, beckoning Junho to her chair with a small wave of her hand.

After reassuring him that it’s okay, he hops off your lap and walks the short space to her, accepting the pinches and sloppy kiss she leaves on his cheek. You don’t know why your heartbeat accelerates watching the interaction.

She drops a bag of coins into his hand, patting the back of his head, “chocolate,” she smiles, dipping her head to look at him, “I keep them in my purse when my blood sugar goes low.”

Junho makes a noise of surprise, gaze fixed on the shiny coins in his hand, “blood sugar?”

“Energy!” She chuckles, pinching his cheek once more. He giggles, holding up the bag to his face.

“This is chocolate? Chocolate coins?!”

“Yes!”

He spins around, wiggling them in front of his face, “look mama!”

“Say thank you, Smiley!”

She quirks an eyebrow, both hands resting on his shoulders now, “Smiley? Is that your name?”

He nods, “my name is Jeon Junho. But my friends and my family call me Smiley.”

“Oh, can I call you Smiley?”

Covering his mouth with his hand, he turns to you, chuckling as he shakes his head, “only my friends and family!”

“Junho…” You chide, lips forming a thin line when she holds up a hand.

“I understand, but what if I say I’m your halmeoni?”

Junho repeats the word clumsily, head cocking to the side.

“Yes. Your mama will explain,” she assures, now cuddling him to her chest. You’re shocked at how well Junho is accepting her affections, usually he would be squirming and wriggling in a stranger’s hold, but he seems incredibly comfortable, even going so far to hug her back with his short arms.

It’s either the chocolate or her comforting aura. Probably both.

“You must come to my house, I have more chocolates and sweets that I think you will like!”

His eyes droop at the corners, “I can’t have too many.”

“When you come to my house you can have as much as you want!”

“Really?!”

“Yes, of course,” she smiles, cupping his cheek, “you’re a very handsome boy Junho.”

He blushes, now fiddling with a tassel on her shawl, “everyone says I look like my dad.”

Her gaze finds yours as she steers him back to you, a reassuring smile on her face. When Junho goes home that day, all he can talk about is halmeoni and her chocolate coins. And it’s one of those days where you think of your mother, and how much she would’ve loved Junho.

Without Yoongi at work, your days are turning into one endless loop. But you know that’s not the only reason. It’s the lack of free time you have to spend with your son, and the fact that you are once again: lonely. Taehyung hasn’t responded to you as yet, you don’t know when he’ll get over his embarrassment and realize that you were drunk that night too and you also make stupid mistakes. And then the drive every evening to Jungkook’s house, which is out of your way and super tiring to drive back to your house and prepare Junho for school the next day.

But you have no other choice, because you can’t take care of him once he’s out of school for the day. You should really look into a babysitter.

Dragging yourself across the lawn, you ring the doorbell twice, shoulders slumping when you find Bam and Jungkook on the other side.

Without moving an inch, you peer around the large door to find Junho, “where’s Smiley? I’m not coming in, I hope he’s ready.”

Jungkook’s grey T-shirt hangs loosely on his frame, a sudden breeze causing the thin material to stick to his waist, giving you the perfect image of his toned abs. You look away, gaze on the tips of your white boots.

“It’s Friday,” he reminds, stepping aside as he gestures for you to enter, “he’s spending the night here.”

The cold forces you to step over the threshold, finding Junho sat in front of the TV, looking through a pile of DVDs. He’s already in pajamas, to your surprise, grey pajamas which looks a lot like his dads. This whole idea of matching fits is definitely Jungkook’s idea. You found it endearing at first, but matching pajamas down to the socks and slippers? He’s taking it too far.

“Come on, Smiley, we’re going home.”

His mouth falls open, springing to his feet with indignation, “but it’s FRIDAY!”

“I know, I just need you home with me tonight, I need to take you for a haircut tomorrow morning also.”

Jungkook kneels next to Junho, sorting through the endless stack, “I can take him.”

“Dad can’t take me!”

“No,” you object, frustration building, “you’ll come back with mint tips or something. I know what haircut to get him.”

Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling softly before holding up one of the DVDs, “have you watched Fast and Furious?”

You gasp, “Jungkook?! That’s not suitable for kids and what the—he’s not staying tonight!”

Junho whines, “but Mama—”

“Junho,” you shout, a loud crack of thunder punctuating your words and you don’t know whether it’s your admonishment or the weather that has Junho falling into his father’s lap.

Either way, you give in, reaching down to drag down the zipper on your boots before tossing your purse onto the couch, peeling Junho away from Jungkook and huffing onto the couch.

“Fine, we’ll stay and watch but after that we’re going home.”

Jungkook rises from the floor, sliding in next to you, “it’ll be too lat—”

His mouth clamps shut when he finds your glare, shoulders shaking as he laughs. Junho pulls away from you, head tucked under your chin as he stares straight ahead at the TV, rubbing at his eyes.

“What movie did you put?”

“The Lion King.”

Junho perks up, snatching the cover from his father’s hands, “I like lions.”

“Let’s get some snacks,” Jungkook exclaims, slipping on his sandals as Junho follows him out, “anything for mama?”

Without lifting your head from your phone screen, you mumble a small ‘no.’ The only snacks you want are the ones waiting for you in your secret stash of chocolates and chips under your bed. Still, Jungkook returns with an extra bowl of popcorn, and orange juice, setting it on one corner of the coffee table which is closest to you.

“I brought you some orange juice, I know you like orange juice.”

You scoff, glaring at the glass as if he served you poison, “I’m not drinking that.”

Jungkook sighs, reaching over to take a sip before he smacks his lips together then shrugs, “it’s safe to drink.”

Rolling your eyes, you look to Junho, “what snacks do you have Smiley?”

“Popcorn and chocolate milk!”

“Nice.”

“I have popcorn and banana milk,” Jungkook informs, standing at your side of the couch, “thanks for asking.”

“I didn’t.”

Jungkook sinks into the couch, throwing his arm over the back rest which is essentially behind your shoulders. You move away slightly, setting your elbow on the armrest as the movie starts.

“It’s about this lion cub,” Jungkook begins, “that’s born and he’s supposed to be the next king but his dad dies and—”

You gasp, eyes widening in Jungkook’s direction, “you just spoiled the movie for him!”

Junho sinks to the floor, squeezing in next to Bam as he settles on the fluffy rug, already intrigued by the animals and intro song. Leaving a rather large gap between you and Jungkook. You can feel his stare on the side of your face every now and again, as if he’s checking if you have fallen asleep or if you’re just as engrossed as Junho in the movie. Even if you’ve seen The Lion King a million times before, the scene with Mufasa always gets to you, but you’re trying to keep a straight face. Showing Jungkook that you just want to get this over and done and go home. Because you’re exhausted.

Discreetly, you turn around, looking for any sign that Sora might be home. But her keys are gone and her pink sandals are still at the door. You wonder if she told Jungkook what happened the other night.

God, you feel a headache coming on.

Subconsciously, you reach into the bowl of popcorn, trying not to hum at the silky taste of butter. You need something to wash it down once you’re done, so you reach for the lukewarm orange juice, trying not to screw your lips at the overly sweet taste. Fresh too.

Rain patters against the window, you know that it’s far too late for you to drive out in this weather. Junho found his way back into your lap, legs spread on the other side of your body which forces you to, unfortunately, move closer to Jungkook. It’s the scene where Simba meets Nala and Junho’s eyes grow heavy, yawns reaching your ears but the bright light in the lounge prevents him from falling asleep fully. You turn to Jungkook, about to ask him to turn off the lights, but he’s already on it, holding up a small white remote as the lights dim into a pale orange.

You bury your nose in Junho’s hair, murmuring a soft ‘good night’ as you breathe in his scent. A scent you hope he never loses. The man sitting next to you proves that he won’t.

Soon, your lids become too heavy to keep open and you don’t know how or when, but you’ve fallen asleep. That’s what you realize; when you rouse a few…you don’t know…later. The TV is switched off and you’re pleasantly warm, head pressed into a plush cushion. A cushion that has a heartbeat.

Your eyes fly open, head tilting up to find Jungkook looking down at you, his arm tight around your back. You open your mouth, heartbeat accelerating at the proximity while he moistens his lips, shaking his head before you try to speak.

“Sleep,” he orders, keeping his voice low so as to not disturb Junho.

Swallowing your words thickly, you inhale a shuddering breath, drowsy with his scent. Maybe you were dreaming, but you think you feel a kiss on the top of your head, tugged impossibly close to the warmth. But it was, indeed, a dreamless sleep for you.

The next morning, you jolt awake, a bitter taste on your tongue. You grimace when you realize that you didn’t brush your teeth last night. Great. What a nice example you’re setting for your child. The curtains are drawn, unmistakeable scent of vanilla flooding your senses once you rise from the awfully comfortable couch, finding a beige blanket draped over your figure.

Folding it neatly, you bend over to pick up your purse, seeing your socks balled up next to it.

You don’t remember taking off your socks last night, and even if you hate sleeping with socks, this is not the kind you can just kick off in your sleep, you’d usually have to peel it off every time you decide to wear it, solely for the tiny bow on the sides.

Once you’ve freshened up in the guest bathroom, you make your way to the lounge, finding Junho bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with his equally enthusiastic father.

“Mama! Dad made waffles!”

You wrap an arm around his head, pressing a kiss into his hair, “did he?”

“I can make eggs if you want,” Jungkook offers, jutting his thumb in the direction of the stove, “I know you like to have eggs for breakfast.”

Taking the stool next to Junho, you shake your head, grabbing a plate, “waffles is fine.”

The three of you eat in silence, Junho munching happily while you’re finding it hard to swallow, not because his waffles suck, they’re actually really good, but because it feels incredibly…normal. Comfortable. The clanking of forks, Junho asking for more, Jungkook topping up your mug with coffee.

“Dad and I want to go on a vacation next week!”

You look between him and Jungkook, dabbing at the corner of your mouth, “oh really? But you have school.”

Jungkook clears his throat, “he’s off for the next week, so I was thinking maybe we could go on a little beach trip?”

Junho grips your arm, “please, Mama!”

“We’ll see.” You already know your answer, but you won’t spoil Junho’s mood.

“How did you sleep?” Jungkook asks, predicting the smug grin he has on.

“Fine,” you reply curtly, finishing up the last corner of your waffle. And then you decide that it’s the right time to ask, since you and Yuri had dropped Sora off here the other night, and it’s also been nagging at the back of your mind ever since you woke up, “where’s Sora?”

He doesn’t lift his head, chewing slowly, “she’s out for work.”

“All night?”

“Yeah, all night,” he repeats.

You make a noise of surprise, knowing what work she might be out for but not knowing why he didn’t accompany her, “did she tell you what happened the other night? At Tiger Lily?”

Junho’s fork clatters into his plate, “done!”

“Good boy!” Jungkook cheers, reaching for Junho’s plate across the countertop, “why don’t you go upstairs and get your stuff ready for today?”

Junho hops off the stool, Bam tailing him and once he’s out of sight, you cock an eyebrow, awaiting his response. He rises from his seat, adding your plate to the stack of dirty dishes.

“She did.”

“And?”

“You shouldn’t have interfered.”

You laugh in disbelief, sinking into your chair, “what? That guy was—”

“She can handle herself.”

“She was drunk,” you counter, bile rising in your throat at his ignorance, “if we didn’t intervene, he would’ve—”

“Would’ve what?” He rests his palms on the counter, leaning forward, “I bet she didn’t tell you that she’s equipped enough to take that guy or any other guy out in future. She just loves to play the damsel in distress. The victim.”

You exhale a mirthless laugh, anger boiling over, “this is how you talk about your fiancée? I feel sorry for her.”

He grabs the rag hanging over the edge of the counter, drying his hands, “she’s not my fiancée.”

A puff of air leaves your lips instead of words.

“Anymore.”

“Wh—What? Why? You…” you rise to your feet, coming around the counter to stand in front of him, “is she really out on work? Or did you chase her out? I know for a fact that this is her house as much as it is yours.”

“What do you know, hm?” He stalks toward you, a few feet away now, “do you know how we met? How we ended up here?”

You keep your mouth shut, because obviously you don’t know.

He draws his bottom lip into his mouth, two dents appearing in his cheeks before his eyes darken, tossing the rag across the granite.

“We met when I left all those years ago, in a world—” he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking one step closer, invading your personal space “—with the way we started, it wasn’t meant to last. If you hadn’t turned down my offer—”

“What?” Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, “you’re still talking about that? After—” you point to the stairs “—Junho. Junho loves you so, so much and you have the nerve to talk about your offer again. How could I ever leave him behind? That’s what you wanted!”

“You’re missing the point,” he grits, reaching for your hands but you back away, tears threatening to fall. “That’s not what I meant. I meant if we had worked things out, Sora and I—”

“Working things out? Worked things out, Jungkook, you didn’t want Junho! You claimed he wasn’t your son, he was just a baby and you still talked about abort—” you choke on your own breath, hand clasped over your mouth “—just when I think things will be okay, not for me, but for Junho. You prove me wrong.”

Stomping away with ragged breaths, you grab your purse, the sick feeling only intensifying when you recall his words. How dare he talk about that day? The day he decided to show up and ruin your life? What does that have to do with Sora and him? As fast as your tears come, they dry even quicker, knowing that it’s time you make that phone call. Reaching into your purse, you pull out the black card, stepping outside as you shut the door behind you.

It's time to arrange that meeting.

On your way back inside, shoulders a little looser, you find Junho seated between Jungkook’s legs, staring at the screen as they battle in Mario Kart.

“Mama! Did you think about it?”

You hover behind the couch, eyebrows furrowed, “about what?”

Jungkook pauses the game as Junho turns around, eyes filled with hope, “about the vacation next week.”

“Oh,” you giggle, “I did.”

You can tell Jungkook is waiting for your answer too, his head turned slightly.

Junho lurches toward you, “AND?”

“Let’s do it.”

oop- if you liked this, please send in feedback. i would love to hear what you think ✉️♡

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[trektraveler]

Breathe Free Part Two

Summary: You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, thank you very much! Dean knew that, he also knew better. He'd seen you sick plenty of times in the past five years, but this was different. This was much more than a cold, but you were so stubborn about doctors! Dean Winchester isn't about to let you slip away, even if it means going against your wishes. He only hopes he's not too late!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Dean x Reader, Dean x You

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Sick!Reader, Hospitals, Kissing, fluff

Word Count: 5873

One Shot - Two Parts

Author’s Notes: I have been sick with Covid for a month. Well... down sick for 2 1/2 weeks and recovering my stamina for 2 more. Its been a real bitch. Plus my disabled mother has it now. This is following a nervous breakdown I had in June. Writing has been my passion and my mental health balm, but I've not been able to produce anything in months. So this... this is a fucking triumph!! I'm still working on all my other WIP, so please stick around. I'll get there... eventually :) I'm hoping to finish part two shortly and post in a week... ish.

Thank you all for the continued support! Additional Notes: Still hanging in there, long covid is a bitch, but it does improve. More or less. I am SO happy with myself that I've finished a story! Even a little self-indulgent two parter. As always, thank you all! Your kind words and encouragement have really helped me. Love you guys :)

Masterlist (Part One)

     Hospitals were noisy places.  Filled with squeaking wheels, scuffling shoes, and code calls.  The ICU was worse with its beeping monitors and hissing ventilators.  The constant stream of nurses and doctors talking in hushed concern about things like hypoxia and bradypnea and other terrifying medical babble.

     This wasn’t the first time Dean sat beside someone he cared about while they lingered between life and death.   He was a hunter; it came with the gig.  Broken bones and bullet holes.  The waiting and the worrying were pure hell, and he would know.  It was the reason he was so quick to put himself in the line of fire.  Not just to save a life, but to spare himself the agony of the wait.  Minutes that ticked by endlessly, ratcheting up the uncertainty.  Underscoring just how powerless he was.

     Never did it cross his mind that illness would snatch you away from him.  That you would simply get sick, like a normal person.  Pneumonia could be dangerous for anyone, but for someone with asthma, it could be deadly.

     You were sedated for three days while the ventilator breathed for you and gave your body a chance to rest and heal.  The doctors assured him that it was standard procedure, but damn was it intense.  Dean had never seen you look so fragile.  So pale.  You looked as if you could slip away at any moment, the only thing keeping you tethered to the Earthly realm were the wires and tubes attached to your body.   

     Dean took your hand.  He wondered about your soul.  Were you here with him?  Watching from somewhere nearby?  Or were you negotiating with a reaper?  Would you bargain for more time, or would you choose heaven?  A soul like yours was guaranteed a ticket to the penthouse. 

     It was in times like this that he cursed his profession.  What good was a lifetime’s worth of supernatural knowledge if he couldn’t use it to save you?  God knows he tried.  He tried every trick in the book, in the end it was Sam who talked sense into him.

     “She doesn’t need you to sell your soul Dean!  She just needs you.  Be there, hold her hand, tell her it’s going to be okay.  Let her know she isn’t alone.”

     Sammy was right, as he usually was.  The nurses said you’d shown enough improvement that they were taking you off the ventilator today.  As much as Dean wanted to believe it, he was cautious in his optimism. 

     He was so wrapped up in his own worry that he didn’t notice your fingers shifting against his palm.  Your eyelids fluttered, then went still.  It was so slight, that Dean thought he’d imagined it. 

     He desperately searched your face and held his breath.  God please…

     “Y/N?”

     A few seconds later you did it again, this time you gave his hand a proper squeeze and Dean felt like his heart was going to burst. 

     He squeezed back, his other hand coming up to brush your cheek, “Y/N… baby, can you hear me?”

     After several tries, you finally managed to open your eyes fully.  Exhausted, you looked around the room.  When your gaze landed on Dean, he smiled.  You tried to say his name and when you couldn’t, you panicked!  Choking on the tube shoved down your throat, your eyes went wide.

     “Hey!  It’s okay!  You’re in the hospital, Sweetheart.  Just stay calm.  We’ll get that tube out, let me go get the nurse.”

     He stood and your grip became desperate.  And strong.  Incredibly strong.  Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes as you tried to convey your thoughts.  You were wide awake, and you needed him.  Relief washed over him; no reapers would come knocking today. 

     “Okay, okay.  Shh…” he sat beside you and pressed a kiss to your forehead while his free hand hit the call button.  “I’ve got you; I’ve got you.  I’m not going anywhere.”

     Sam was walking down the corridor towards the ICU rooms with two large coffees balanced in one hand.  You were only allowed one visitor at a time, so he and Dean took turns.  Although, Dean always came back early.  And he begged the nurses to let him stay past visiting hours.  Sam got the impression they felt sorry for him, but knowing Dean, he would have found a way around the rules one way or another.

     When Sam saw his brother in the hallway, he quickened his pace.  He was leaning against the wall, bent at the waist with his hands braced on his knees. 

     “Dean?  What happened?  What’s going on?”

     Dean raised his head, sniffling back emotion, “She’s awake.  They’re... ah… they’re taking out that tube.”

     Sam caught the glossy sheen in Dean’s eyes.  He clapped a hand on his shoulder, “That’s fantastic.  Dean, that’s great.”

     Dean nodded and pulled Sam into a brief, tight hug then released him and took a coffee. 

     “Good thing you talked me out of selling my soul, huh?’

     You weren’t really sleeping when Sam and Dean walked into your new room in the regular section of the hospital.  But every muscle in your body was so taxed that even keeping your eyes open was an effort.  There was an oxygen mask covering your nose and mouth, but it was far more comfortable than that damn ventilator tube.  You were cold too, but that was part of being in a hospital.  It was all so familiar and disheartening.

     The squeak of the door prompted you to open your heavy eyes and you smiled.  The Winchesters were there, a welcome contrast of denim and flannel against the sterile hospital décor.  They had arms filled with gifts; balloons, books, a bag of watermelon Jolly Ranchers, and the biggest arrangement of flowers you’d ever seen.  Dozens of roses, hydrangeas, and snapdragons.  

     “Flowers.”

     Your voice was a raspy whisper behind the mask, but it still made Dean beam brightly. 

     “Hell yeah, Sammy and I bought out every white flower they had.”  He set the massive vase down on the table.  “They’re your favorite, right?”

     You nodded, tracing a finger over the edge of one perfect bloom.  You had a late-night debate with him eons ago about how white couldn’t be your favorite color because it wasn’t really a color.  It’s a shade.  Technically, it was a sum of all possible colors.  Hence, the debate.

     Sam pulled out a stuffed a huge, stuffed moose from behind his back.  It was impossibly soft with floppy antlers and was wearing one of his flannel shirts tied in place with a white velvet bow.

     You laughed, “Aww!  A… Win..chester of… my own.”

     Sam’s throat got tight as the halting cadence of your words.  Even with the oxygen, you were out of breath.  He leaned down and hugged you.  Normally, he would squeeze you tight and lift you off your feet just to make you giggle like a kid sister.  Today, he was careful.  Mindful of the electrodes and wires and of how fragile you felt in his arms. 

     “You’ve already got two Winchesters,” he said, kissing the top of your head.  “Add him to your collection.”

     Your eyes were drooping, even after just a few minutes your energy was completely depleted.  You let your head fall back against the pillow with a tired smile, “Thank you… Sammy.”

     “We should get out of here, let you sleep,” he replied, catching his brother’s attention.

     “Yeah,” Dean gave a reluctant nod.  “If you’re lucky, we’ll smuggle in one of those triple thick strawberry-kiwi shakes you like.”

     You grabbed hold of his hand again and tugged.  It was so much effort to talk, you hope he got the message. 

     A wordless look passed between the brothers and Sam took his cue, leaving the two of you alone.  You tried to focus on your breathing and on the warmth of Dean’s hand holding yours.  It took every bit of strength you had to stay awake, but it was so important.  You couldn’t let him leave, not yet.

     Dean wiped away the single tear that slid down your cheek.  “Hey, hey.  What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

     “I… I’m… s… sorry.”

     He soothed back your hair, “Sorry for what?”

     “Should have… gone… to… th… the doctor.”

     “No, hey, don’t worry about any of that.”

     “Scared… you.”

     Dean cupped your face with his large palm, “Listen to me.  I don’t want you to think about any of that stuff, okay?  It doesn't matter.  The only thing that matters is you getting better.  That’s all I care about.”

     You nodded; your eyes shuttered to half-mast.  “Tired.”

     He let out a chuckle and ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow, “I’ll bet you are.”

     You shook your head and pointed at him.  When he tilted his head in confusion, you patted the mattress beside you.

     He was exhausted.  It was etched in every line on his beautiful face.  His green eyes, the ones you had loved since you first looked into them were bloodshot.  His strong shoulders slumped under the strain of recent events.  Dean had been by your side for days, even after taking care of you back at the bunker.  It was a testament to his impressive stamina and force of will that he was still standing.

     Without a word, he turned down the lights, kicked off his boots and climbed into the narrow bed.  It should have been uncomfortable, given his size, but he gently arranged it so that you were partly settled on his chest.  Your weary body melted into the warmth he provided as his arms wrapped around you.  You were both slipped into a dreamless sleep without any effort at all.

     Three Weeks Later:      You were in the hospital eight days in total, three of them in the ICU.  When they finally released you, it was with a whole list of stipulations and guidelines.  Breathing exercises.  An oxygen tank for times when your levels dipped below a certain level.  Antibiotics the size of horse tranquilizers and updated rescue inhalers.  It was intense, but still preferable to staying one more night in the hospital.

     It was Sam alone who picked you up on your release date.  You were disappointed, but not surprised.  Dean was gone when you woke the morning after the two of you shared your hospital bed.  He texted you every day but only came back to visit you once when he and Sam dropped off some of your clothes. 

     It was okay, it really was. 

     You understood.  You’d scared him big time.  Frankly, you were still so sick that all you did was sleep anyway.  But when you were home and days passed with still no contact, you worried.  God bless Sam, he was right there every step of the way.  He drove you to therapy and helped you come up with a strength building regiment.  He kept you company and offered insight to his missing brother.

     “Give him some time, Y/N.  He’ll come around.  You know how he gets.”

     And so, you did.  Sam’s words offered solace, but they didn’t make up for the fact that you missed that salty, pain in the ass.  Somehow, the fact that Dean was just down the hall made you all the more lonely for him.  But you were determined to respect his need for privacy.  After everything that happened, you owed him that at the very least.

     When you were in the kitchen a few days later making one of Sam’s health smoothies, the last thing you expected was to hear Dean’s voice. 

     “Tell me you’re not gonna drink that.”

     You smiled but didn’t turn.  “Of course not.  I haven’t added the spirulina or wheat germ yet.”

     You heard him mutter something about pond scum under his breath while he rummaged through the fridge. 

     “I’ve got enough for two,” you teased.  “Should I get you a glass?”

     “Too bad your stay in the VIP suite didn’t improve your sense of humor, smartass.”

     You turned around and grinned at him.  God, he looked incredible!  Maybe it was not seeing him for a month, but he was a sight!  Dark jeans on bowed legs.  That red and black flannel shirt that somehow made him seem even broader.  Especially when he crossed his arms across his chest.  Like he was doing right now.  And glowering at you!  Ridiculous man!  You’d been busy recuperating from serious illness, and he looked like he wanted to reprimand you for leaving wet towels on the floor.  It might have pissed you off, if you weren’t so pleased to see him. 

     So, you laughed. 

     His expression went from sexy and grumpy to utterly baffled.  “Why are you laughing?”

     You shook your head with a goofy grin and answered honestly, “I’m just happy to see you.”

     He cautiously smiled back, “Yeah?’

     “Yeah.”

     “Huh.  Well in that case, you wanna get out of here?  I was thinking of going for a drive.”

     Your heart felt light, “I’ll get my coat.”

     Dean wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he knew he had to.  Even if it killed him, and it just might.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made the hard choice.  Break a heart, save a life.  He may as well get it tattooed on his ass.  At this point it was more of a life motto than saving people, hunting things.  He glanced over at you gazing happily out the window and he tried to burn the image into his memory.  Beautiful.  Hands down the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.  Even after he’d ignored you for weeks and pushed you off on his baby brother, you laughed and forgave him. 

     You looked just like you always had, maybe a bit thinner from your time in the hospital.  But Sammy had been adamant about those smoothies of his.  Nutrient dense.  They tasted like absolute ass, but they certainly seemed to help you get your color back.  Your hair was shiny and bouncy, he loved it when it was bouncy like that.  Cascading over your shoulders and framing your face.  It looked so soft and smelled like peaches when you tossed it back.  Your eyes were bright and glowed with good health.  Looking at you now, it was hard to believe you’d been on a ventilator only a few weeks ago. 

     “Hey, you wanna get out and walk for a bit?”  You asked, pointing out one of your favorite state parks ahead.

     “Sure.  You bring your scarf?”

     “Obviously,” you replied, pulling out the length of soft, white fabric from your bag.

     It was still a bit chilly out, but all the snow had been cleared from the paths and only an inch or so remained around the trees.  Dean kept shooting glances your way, checking for signs of distress as the two of you walked along.

     “I’m not going to keel over, you know.”

     Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jacket.  “You need to be careful in the cold air, it’s no good for you.”

     “True, but walking is very good for me.  It helps build stamina.” 

     He didn’t reply to that and the two of you walked along in silence until you really couldn’t take it anymore.

     “It’s ridiculous, you know?  Me, having to rebuild stamina.  I was in the best shape of my life; I could run up ten flights of stairs and still chop the head off a vamp no problem.  Now I have to stop halfway through a beginner’s yoga class.”

     “Almost dying does that.”

     There was venom in his voice, but the fear was too.  Evidently, he hadn’t worked through it as much as you’d hoped. 

     “Is that why you’re kicking me out?  Because I almost died?”

     Dean stopped and turned to you, but he kept his eyes downcast.  “Y/N…”

     “Its really not fair.  You’ve almost died several times and I still keep you around.”  You tried to keep your tone light, but it was difficult with the tears threatening.

     “It’s not funny,” his eyes were getting red as he recalled the terrifying night he carried you into the E.R.  “You stopped breathing.  Your fucking heart stopped!”

     You knew this part.  After Dean closed himself off from you, you asked Sam to give you all the details.  Full cardiac arrest from a severe asthma attack, brought on by complications from pneumonia.  It had taken the doctors a while to stabilize you, but when they did you were so weak, they weren’t sure you were going to pull through.  Sam had a hard time talking about, even though you were sitting there alive and well in front of him.  That night shook them both to the core.

     You brought your hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

     He closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of your touch comfort him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  All this time… a fucking two year long pandemic… Covid is a respiratory virus!  What if…”

     You hurt him.  Far more than you’d realized.  And you hated yourself for it. This was going to take much more than a simple reassurance to work through. 

     “Can we sit?”

     He led you to a park bench, “We should head back to the car, it’s too cold for you.”

     “I’m okay, Dean,” you grabbed his hands, “I really, really am.  And I’m sorry.  I didn’t deliberately keep it from you, I just didn’t think about it.  I know it’s hard to fathom, but I’ve lived with it my whole life.  The things I do to minimize my risk are second nature to me now. And I haven’t had an attack in years.”

     “This wasn’t my first trip to the ICU; I spent my childhood in and out of hospitals.  Mom was very protective.  The doctors had her so scared that she didn’t let me do much.  No sports, no sleepovers, no camping trips.  She even moved us to Glenwood Springs because of it.”

     “Like Doc Holliday.”

     You rolled your eyes out of habit.  Every time you mentioned your home, Dean spewed every bit of old west trivia he knew.  Which, you had to admit, was extensive.  Last time you were there he insisted on visiting the Doc Holliday museum, he even had you take his picture with gambler’s gun. 

     Then:      “Nice place,” Dean said, scanning the neatly maintained garden beds and brick walkways.

     “Yeah, it is.  Remember, this is just a quick stop so I can pick up some stuff.  Don’t do what you normally do.”

      “What are you talking about?”

     You ran a nervous hand through your hair and straightened your denim jacket, “That charming rogue routine you do whenever there’s a woman in front of you.”

     His grin turned cocky, “Sweetheart, that’s just me.  Can’t help it if the ladies love it.”

     You brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder with an impatient huff, “Rein it in, cowboy.”

     Before you could ring the bell, the front door swung open and revealed a woman who would have passed for your twin in her youth.  Tanned, with a bright white smile and silver bangles stacked on both arms.

     “Baby girl!”

     “Hi Momma,” you managed to say while she squeezed you tight.

     Your mother drew back and quickly scrutinized your appearance, “You taking care of yourself?  Regular appointments?  Feeling good?”

     “Yes, Ma’am.”

     That radiant smile was back, “Good girl!  And this tall drink of water must be that friend you told me about.”

     “Yes, this is Dean Winchester.  Dean, this is my mom, Beverly.”

     True to form, he turned up the charm to eleven.  “No way I’m gonna believe you are Y/N’s mother, you must be her sister.”

    “And you are the smoothest liar I’ve had on my doorstep,” Bev said, slipped her arm through Dean’s with a wink, “But please, don’t stop.  Why don’t we go out back and have coffee?  Y/N, I made that peach pie you’re so fond of!”

     “I love pie!”  Dean gave you an infuriating grin over your mother’s head as the two of them sailed into the house together.

     Three hours later, you had endured the torture of baby pictures and embarrassing stories from your adolescence.  While Dean supplied plenty of his own anecdotes of you getting lost in the grocery store and getting locked out of the motel room in only your underwear.  Luckily, the pie helped keep your mood from going sour. 

     “Okay, I’m going to head up and grab those boxes.”

     “Lift with your legs, Baby girl.”

     “Yes, Ma’am,” you replied, disappearing through the sliding glass door.

     Bev’s jovial mood turned serious as soon as her daughter was out of earshot.  “Okay, Winchester, shoot me straight.  How is my daughter?”

     Dean blinked in surprise, “I’m sorry?”

     “I may not be hip to everything going on, but I can feel the pair of you dancing around something big.  I’m not going stick my nose in, Y/N isn’t talking about it, and I respect that.  But I’m a mom and that girl is my whole life, so tell me… is she okay?  Do I need to worry about her?  About you?”

     Dean weighed his words carefully, “Y/N is… amazing.  She’s smart and strong.  She has the biggest vocabulary of anyone I’ve ever known, and she loves to show it off.  Even when she shouldn’t.  But she knows how to handle herself.  She kicks ass.”

     The corner of Bev’s mouth quirked, “It runs in the family.”

     “I can see that.”

     She leaned back in her chair and studied him, “You seem like a decent man, the sort who keeps his word.  That being the case, I have a favor to ask.  Keep an eye on my girl for me.”

     “Already done,” was his quick reply.

     Bev shook her head, “It’s not the dangers of the world I’m talking about.  I’m talking about looking after her when she’s not looking after herself.  Y/N… has a lot of life to live and when she gets busy… she just doesn’t see how far gone she is until she falls flat on her face.”

     Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees, “You’ve got my word, Bev.  I’ll never let her fall.”

     Now:      “I like your mom,” Dean looked down at his boots.  “She made me promise to look after you.”

     “You never told me that.”

     “I got the impression she didn’t want me to.  Thought maybe she had a mother’s intuition about you getting into the hunting business.  Guess she was talking about something else.”

     You let your gaze drift over to the lake in the distance, half thawed already.  It would be an early spring this year.  A sign of hope for the future.

     “We got in this huge fight when I was nineteen.  I wanted to move out, go to college, see the world.  I missed out on so much as a sick kid, but I survived it.  I worked hard to strengthen my lungs and build up stamina.  I followed every doctor’s order to the letter so that I could actually live my life like a normal person… and it worked, but when the time came, I still didn’t have her support.  I was so pissed!  I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night.”

     “How’d that go over?”

     “I hadn’t yet mastered the art of covering my tracks.  Plus, she was dating the sheriff.  I was back home twenty-four hours later.” 

     Dean snorted, “Amateur.” 

     “Mom and I came to an agreement after that.  I stay local, stay in communication, and keep doing everything my doctors ask and in return, she would stop focusing on my condition like it was a death sentence.”  You shrugged, “Things were better after that.”

    “Your mom is awesome, I’m glad she supports you…. You’re lucky, Y/N.”

     Dean took your hand, surprising you.  His fingers linked with yours, rubbing his thumb over yours.  Then he frowned, his brows drew down over his eyes in worry.  Like a black cloud had settled over his heart. 

     “Y/N…”

     You knew what he wanted to say, you could feel it.  You could see it in his eyes whenever he dared to look at you.  The sorrow.  All you wanted to do was save him from it.  From himself.

     “It’s amazing how much we still don’t know about how the human body works,” you blurted out, making him blink in confusion.

     “What?”

     “Being sedated, for example.  Medical experts still aren’t sure why some people retain a certain level of consciousness and others remember nothing.  When I was seven, I was in the hospital for a month, my mother read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe to me even though I wasn’t awake.  When I came out of it, I remembered the whole thing.” 

     You could see the realization slowly register in his beautiful eyes.  If you heard your mother, you must have heard him.

     Then:      It was cold in your room.  You hated being cold, it was one of your main complaints about the bunker.  You cranked the thermostat, took boiling hot showers, and frequently stole clothes from both Winchesters.  Although, you seemed to favor Dean’s over his brother’s.  A fact he griped about, but secretly liked.  He liked knowing that you felt at home enough to make yourself comfortable.  If you were comfortable, maybe you would stay. 

     Dean brought your favorite blanket and tucked it around you, careful of the machines and wires.  “There you go, Sweetheart.  Just like home.”

     He sat in the stiff chair beside your bed and studied your peaceful face.  He tried to think of you as an enchanted princess.  Sleeping Beauty, just waiting for the right prince to swing by and break the curse.  Unlikely in his world.  Still… it was easier than the truth.

     He might have been able to fool himself for a while if it weren’t for that breathing tube.

     “Actually, that’s a lie...  this place is nothing like home.  Home has all the amenities, right?  I’ll bet this state-of-the-art medical facility doesn’t even have a firing range.  Or a dungeon!” 

     “Course, it wasn’t always so awesome.  A lot of spiders when we first moved in.  Plus, Sammy and I added our personal touches to make it more comfortable.  That mini fridge in the library, totally my idea.  It really pulled the room together, you know?”

     He chuckled a little at his Big Lebowski reference, disheartened when the only response was the hiss of the ventilator. 

     He reached over and gently combed his fingers through your hair.  Your skin was cool to the touch since your fever broke in the night.  That had to be a good sign, right? 

     “I’ve got a confession, but you gotta promise not to tell Sam, okay?  I never really wanted to live in the bunker full time.  Not at first.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked it!  It was our personal Batcave!  But Batman… he doesn’t live in the Batcave.  The Batcave is for work only.  And that was my plan.  Work in the bunker as a base of operations but live like we always did.  On the road.”

     Dean’s hand moved to yours, toying with your fingers.  You had such elegant hands.  You never wore jewelry, just like you never wore make-up.  You didn’t have a closet full of clothes.  You wore things of nice quality, but you didn’t have lots of them.  Only what you needed.  Same with everything else, you didn’t do fussy or extravagant.  But it wasn’t because you liked to keep things simple, it was because you were focused on living your life, not adorning it.  

     He liked that about you.  You were straightforward and up for anything.  You never hesitated to jump right in.  You were quick on your feet and quick with your wit.  You came up with better cover stories than he or Sam ever did.  Your contributions to the team were welcome and seamless, almost from the start.

     With anyone else, your eagerness might have come across as a need to prove yourself.  But you didn’t seem to be afflicted in that way.  You knew your worth.  You were confident.  And that rubbed off on everyone you came in contact with.  Cops, sheriffs, coroners, witnesses, victims.  All of them responded to you in ways that were remarkable.  Your presence calmed them.  Dean too.

     “The longer we stayed in the bunker, the more obvious it became that life on the road was never gonna be like it was before.  Sammy loved it, and I never could deny that kid anything.  But for me…. I dunno.  It took a while.  I even slept in Baby those first few nights.  Eventually, I picked out a room, got a bed that remembers me, and it was better.”

     “You were our first guest; did you know that?  Well Cas was, but he doesn’t sleep so that doesn’t really count.  You were the first non-Winchester to sleep in the Batcave.  On that old army cot, remember?  Tried to get you to take my bed… stubborn.  You were so stiff the next day you could barely walk, but you stuck it out.  You should have taken me up on it, I was on the couch most nights anyway.  Nightmares.”

     “I’ll never forget the morning I woke up and found you there with me.  All warm and cuddled up against me.  I moved and you shushed me in your sleep, mumbled that everything was okay.  God, I don’t think I’d ever slept that good.  We went to that diner in town for breakfast and I asked you to move in.  Sammy nearly choked on his egg whites,” Dean laughed softly at the memory.  “The bunker was a home then.”

     “If you were awake, you’d probably laugh and tell me what I sap I am.  And you’d be right, but I can’t help it.  It’s you, Y/N.  You have this magic… I don’t know what else to call it.  You don’t even have to say anything, and my heart starts to race.  I think about you, more than I should.  In ways that I shouldn’t, and I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.”

     “I love you, Y/N.  In case you don’t know; in case you can hear me in your dreams right now… I love you.  I’ve always loved you and if you stay, if you come back to me… I’m going to show you every day just how much.”

     Now:      He tried to speak, but you moved your fingers to his lips to stop him.  Tears shimmered in your eyes, but you managed a wavering smile. 

     “I love you too.”

     You watched the conflicting emotions flicker across his handsome face.  Joy and torment.  Ecstasy and pain.  He traced the underside of your jaw with his fingers, making your shiver inside and your eyes closed on a sigh.  When his lips connected with yours, it was electric!  The world shifted.  Colors, tastes, sensations, all redefined from that moment.  Soft and warm and connected on a level that could only come from love. 

     It was everything you’d ever dreamt his kiss could be, and it ended far too quickly.

     He rested his forehead against yours, puffs of white, heated breath mingling between you.  After a few minutes, he brushed the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, “Don’t cry, Sweetheart.  It breaks my heart when you cry.”

     “Don’t send me away.  Please don’t send me away.”

     “Baby, that bunker is no place for you.  There are no windows, the ventilation is crap, there’s a mildew problem.  I talked to those doctors about the type of environment an asthmatic should live in… Bomb shelter from the fifties didn’t make the cut.”

     “I’ve been living there for five years without an issue,” you pointed out.

     “Yeah, with a humidifier and inhalers.  But it’s different now, that round of pneumonia damaged your lungs.  You need to be someplace where its easier to breathe, not harder.”

     “You’re right.  Which is why Sam and I have been designing a new HVAC system.”

     That stopped him, “Really?  Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

     “Because you went all emo and hid in your room for a month.”

     “I’m not emo!  What kind of HVAC system?”

     “A kick ass one,” you grinned so that your tongue peeked out between your teeth.  “Any other concerns?”

     “What about hunting?” he challenged.

     “I don’t know,” you answered honestly and there was a pang of longing that went with it.  “I have no idea if I’ll ever get back to the physical condition I was before all of this.  No matter how hard I work for it or wish for it and the truth is… going into the field with that kind of a handicap is not in the cards.”

     Dean nodded grimly and dropped his gaze to his lap.  Admitting the possibility of an early retirement was killing you, and he knew it.  You loved hunting, it was as much a part of you as it was for him.  The uncertainty of not knowing if you could do it again, must be terrifying for you.

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I’m not.”  His head shot up and you shrugged, “Most hunters don’t get sidelined, they get killed.  My life might not look they way I thought it was going to, but I’m still here.  Living it.  I’m going to take that win and run with it.”

     “You’re amazing, you know that?  You’re so damn strong… your life got turned upside down and you just roll with it.”  Those impossibly green eyes looked at you with such awe, like he couldn’t quiet believe that you actually existed. 

     “You deserve the best, and that’s not me.”

     “That’s not for you to say.”

     “Doesn’t matter, it’s my choice.”

     “That’s where you’re wrong,” you lifted your chin in proud defiance, “Team Freewill, right?  I will always have a choice, no matter what hand you try to deal me.  I love you, Dean Winchester!  And I am never going to stop.  And I am never going to disappear from your life.  Even if you tell me to hit the bricks, I’ll still call and text and email and whatever just to make sure you’re still alive and well.  Even if this ends, I will still love you!  You ridiculous man!”

     There was a change in his gaze, subtle but there all the same.  He shook his head with a chuckle.  He knew when he was beat, and he was grateful for it.

     “Your cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink when you get all worked up, you know that?”

     “My cheeks are pink because it’s freezing out here!”

     Dean ripped his coat off and wrapped it over yours, “Damn it, Y/N!  I knew you were cold!”

     “Well, if you were any kind of a boyfriend, you’d take my back to the car and warm me up properly!”

     He was pulling the hood up over your head when he paused, “Boyfriend, huh?”

     “Yeah, the kind that warms his girl up in the backseat,” you grinned and playfully rubbed your nose against his.

     He growled in your ear and stood, sweeping you up in his arms and making you yelp in delight. 

     “Dean!  I can still walk, you know!”

     “Save your energy, Sweetheart, you’re gonna need it.  Tonight, we’re gonna fog up all the windows!”

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