#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

💖🙌🏾‼️

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

Double Babysitter - Hozier x fem! reader

Summary: You and Andrew end up with the tough task of babysitting your friend's child together.

Word Count: 6,325

Author’s Note: hi hi hi!!!! this is my first real fanfic, i’ve written little things here or there but this is the only full fic i’ve written. shoutout to the wonderful @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading this, im so grateful for u! this is based on the Bluey episode Double Babysitter, it's not required watching but if you want to watch it to understand the fic better you can. i hope you enjoy!!!

ALSO: I do not know Hozier in real life, nor do i claim to. This is a fictionalized (ish) version of him. All other characters featured are fictional. Now, enjoy!

fic under the cut <3

Andrew was always vaguely aware of the fact that he was getting older. He had spotted the occasional gray patch in his stubble, noticed a faint wrinkle somewhere on his face. He even felt his back ache every now and again, but he had always brushed it off.

It wasn't until he had been asked by an old friend from college to babysit his daughter that he can say he actually felt old.

Of course, he wasn't complaining. He had met the young girl only a few times, but to say she held a special place in his heart would be an understatement. He had just finished up the last leg of his tour, so he had all the time in the world back at home. And he did owe Liam and Quinn, her parents, a favor. They deserved to have a night out just the two of them; watching their daughter was the least he could do.

He took this responsibility very seriously. He was even on time, arriving at 6pm on the dot, as instructed (given, it was only because he told himself he had to be there at 5:30).

He walked up to their doorstep, gave their door a few light knocks, and stepped back. It took a moment, but he could hear his friend’s voice call for Quinn through the door before watching it unlock. Liam opened the door with a puzzled expression that had Andrew wondering if he somehow showed up on the wrong day.

“Andrew, you're here… on time? Are you feeling okay?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He replied sarcastically, accompanied by an eye roll. They greeted each other, Liam widened the door, and Andrew stepped inside.

“Honey, the babysitter’s here!” Liam shouted up the staircase. Quinn quickly emerged with open arms and gave Andrew a quick squeeze once she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Andrew! It's great to see you. How long has it been?” She asked.

“About… six months, I’d say. The week before I left for the States.”

“That's much too long. We need to actually go out sometime soon.”

They spent a few minutes standing around and catching up, swapping stories about their jobs (including a concert story or two). It gave Andrew a moment to appreciate these smaller, mundane moments that seemed to slowly be becoming a rarity. He was mid-sentence when he was caught off guard by the pitter-patter of small footsteps rushing towards him.

“Uncle Andy!” He glanced down, finding a little girl already latched on to his leg; Katie, the reason he’d been asked to babysit. He reached down to pat her head, ruffling the little one’s hair.

“Hey there, lass! How are you?”

A muffled noise that sounded something like ‘I’m good’ came from the girl as she buried her face in his leg.

His sentence was cut off at the sound of another knock at the door.

“That's odd. I don't think I’m expecting anyone-” Quinn started, interrupted by Liam opening the door to find you standing on their front step. You didn’t even notice the surprised looks on everyone’s faces as you entered, blindsided by your excitement.

“Hey,” you said, giving Liam a side hug before moving on to Quinn and doing the same. Katie let go of Andrew’s leg and rushed over to you, joyfully screaming your name. A wide grin grew on your face at the sight of her, and Andrew couldn’t help but notice how beautiful your smile was. He immediately snapped himself out of it once he realized he had no idea who you were, let alone what you were even doing here.

“Hi, Katie Cat!” you exclaimed. He watched as you pulled her into an embrace, not noticing his presence until you pulled away. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, smile fading in awe.

“Y/N, this is my Uncle Andy,” Katie explained as she held on to your hand, quickly dragging you towards him until there was maybe a foot between you two before pointing upwards. A thought flashed across Andrew’s mind: Is this five-year-old playing matchmaker?

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Have you met my friend Andrew before?” Liam asked.

“You do seem familiar. Didn’t you get drunk and sing Take Me To Church at the wedding?”

“Probably.”

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry. I think I double-booked myself and accidentally asked both of you to watch Katie,” Quinn admitted. “Again, so sorry. My head’s been all over the place today.”

“It’s alright. He got here first. I’ll just go, then. Leave you to it,” you decided, admittedly a little disappointed but understanding the whole scenario. You took a step back, turning to go before a small hand grabbed yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don't go! You can both stay.” Katie begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect. It's like she knew exactly how to tug on your heartstrings, because after that you were willing to stay for as long as she wanted. But you still needed permission.

“I mean, as long as it's okay with… Uncle Andy.”

Andrew gave you a nod, perhaps a bit too quickly. He couldn't tell if it was because he already knew he was going to need help with this, or because he simply wanted to be in your company. Either way, both were true.

“Two babysitters it is.” He conceded.

“Hooray!” She yelled, latching herself onto your leg as she had done to Andrew's just moments before. You looked down at her, a warm smile returning to your face, before looking back up at him. All three of you could tell this was going to be… an interesting night, to say the least.

Before they left, Liam and Quinn had given you two very lenient instructions. All you had to do was put Katie to bed by 8:30 and watch the house until they got home around 10. Everything else was fair game. Easy enough of a job for two grown adults. However, the way that your night started at their kitchen table made you wonder if perhaps their rules were too permissive.

You were sat across from each other, you and Andrew on the same side, Katie on the other. It oddly felt like you were being interrogated by this small child. Which, after offering a game of 20 questions so you could get to know each other better, wasn't exactly far off from reality.

“Why do I feel like she's going to ask me why I was at the scene of the crime?” he asked you in a whisper, leaning towards you. Andrew swore he could feel his heart skip a beat as you chuckled at his remark, and he was relieved as you revealed you felt the same.

“The real question is, is she Good Cop or Bad Cop?” You replied in the same hushed tone.

“Oh, bad cop. I’ve done this with her before, and when she wants to know something she’ll badger you until she gets an answer.”

“Perfect. She can be my lawyer in about twenty years.”

That elicited a laugh out of Andrew, a small chuckle that caught Katie’s attention.

“What's funny?” She asked, genuinely feeling like she missed out on your conversation.

“It's nothing.” You changed the subject to convince her it was inconsequential. “Why don't we get started? Ask us anything,” you instructed, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth, mostly because of the next words that came out of Katie’s.

“Why don't you have a wife?” She turned to Andrew, whose mouth was now agape. Your own eyes had widened, shocked by the boldness of her first question before remembering she is a little girl that hadn't yet developed a filter.

“You haven't seen me in a while. How do you know I don't?” He retorted, a lazy attempt at deflecting the question.

“Do you have a wife?”

“Well, no…”

“Then why don't you have a wife?”

“Ehm… I think it's her turn.” He tilted his head in your direction. Katie agreed with a nod and thought for a beat. Once she formulated her question, her attention turned to you.

"How many friends do you have?”

“God, I don't know… four? Five?”

“That's not a lot. Why do you only have five friends?”

“Good question… back to him!”

Katie turned.

“How come I don’t see you often?”

“Because usually I’m on tour.”

“Is that why you don’t have a wife?”

“Huh. Maybe.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“Yes,” you both said. You exchanged a glance, surprised you both had the same answer. The girl across the table was oblivious to this small moment you shared, and immediately went back to her questioning.

“Will Tommy be the husband?” Katie leaned across the table, an excited gleam in her eye.

Tommy. Your ex. Last time Katie had seen you, you two were in love, almost madly. However, a lot can happen in four months, and you found yourself having to explain a breakup (a particularly messy one, at that) to this naive girl. You let out a sigh.

“No. Me and Thomas… we aren't really friends anymore”

“But you said he was your true love.”

“Not anymore! Next question. Please.”

“True love is forever. Is true love not forever?”

“It is! It is.”

“Then how come you and Tommy aren't friends?”

“Well, Tommy — Thomas,” you corrected yourself before continuing, your words stunted, “and I weren't as good together as we thought. It took longer than it should've to realize, but we couldn't work. Kind of like when you’re doing a puzzle, and it looks like two pieces fit, but when you try to put them together, they don't.”

It was like you could watch the gears turn in Katie’s little head; she was trying as hard as she could to imagine your comparison. Meanwhile, Andrew was watching you as you thought, mentally praising you for not only putting into words something obviously painful for you, but explaining in terms a kid could understand. Despite the supposed ‘way with words’ he had, he knew it would take him several tries and multiple rough drafts to do the same. He let you continue, his eyes never leaving your face.

“It’s just sometimes, you think someone is your true love, when actually they’re not. Sometimes some things aren't meant to be. And that’s okay. No matter how sad it makes the both of you afterwards, or how upset you get…”

Your sentence trailed off, your throat closing up with that all-too-familiar feeling you recognized immediately. All of this had happened months ago; the breakup between you and Thomas had devastated you of course, but you had recovered. But having to explain the complicated events between you two in such a straightforward way, to put all the emotions you felt into simple terms, made it all seem real. And it only made those feelings resurface.

Andrew could tell something was off. He, of course, had no idea about this past relationship, and frankly, it was none of his business. What was his business, however, was how you looked like you were about to cry, how he could see the tears in your eyes welling up. He wasn't about to let you shed a tear over this. So, he attempted a diversion.

“Alright, I think we're done playing 20 questions. How about a movie?” He stood up, a feigned smile on his face. Your eyes lit up at his suggestion and you stood up after him, following suit.

“You know what? Good idea. Katie, why don’t you go find something to watch with Andrew and I’ll make popcorn, get some snacks ready?”

For a moment you worried she wouldn’t comply and more innocently personal questions would be coming your way. However, Katie didn't seem to mind this interjection, immediately agreeing and hurrying over to the living room to find the TV remote.

You both watched as she scurried away before looking back at each other eyes meeting for the first time that night. A few seconds were spent just staring into his eyes, noticing how very green they were. This captivation distracted you from the awkward silence that filled the air between you. You broke eye contact first, stepping around your chair and pushing it in. You walked into the kitchen, the footsteps you heard behind you letting you know he followed you. You didn't speak until you knew Katie would be out of earshot.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

“No problem. I completely get it.”

“Jesus, my first babysitting gig and I almost cried. At this rate, I’ll have to go back to selling lemonade to make ends meet.”

He let out a laugh, and the sight of it made a smile tug at the corner of your lips, though you couldn't shake the feeling you looked a bit… pathetic.

“ You probably think I’m a loser, huh?”

“No! No, absolutely not. Love, breakups, endings … dealing with that stuff isn't easy. If I thought it was, I wouldn't write songs on the matter for a living. Having to explain it to a kid without crushing her dreams is even harder. If anything, I commend you for it.”

For a reason you couldn't immediately explain, his praise actually managed lighten your mood, to the point where you had to suppress the urge to grin from ear to ear.

“What is it?” Andrew asked, as if to tell you your smile hadn't gone unnoticed.

“That was… just really nice of you to say.”

“I mean, it's true.”

The room filled with silence for a moment before you broke it.

“Do you think we could just forget that the whole thing ever happened and get on with the night?”

“Absolutely. It's forgotten,” he agreed, borderline erasing it from his memory as soon as you asked. His attention shifted as he yelled into the other room.

“Katie, have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”

Andrew went off into the living room, following Katie, and a smile grew on your face as you looked through the pantry for microwave popcorn.

It took a solid ten minutes of searching due to the plethora of streaming services Liam and Quinn had, but you finally found The Princess Bride. Katie brought down some blankets from her room in the meantime. Given, because they came from a six-year-old’s bedroom, they were patterned with Disney characters and unicorns, but they were comfortable all the same. You sat on opposite sides of the couch, a bowl of popcorn equidistant between the both of you, and for a reason only her little brain could rationalize, Katie was sitting on the floor.

You looked at the screen in awe like it was your first time watching, when in actuality you’d seen the movie more times than you could count. You mouthed the words of the most famous lines, almost subconsciously, as to not disturb the little one’s first viewing experience. Of course, you also snuck a few glances at Andrew when the screen held less of your attention. Okay, maybe more than a few glances. It was the first time that night you both could actually relax, and you took the moment to size him up. His hair, which was up in a man-bun at the beginning of the night, had since been let down, brown curls now loosely framing his face. He wore a white sweatshirt and black jeans. On his feet were white Converse that were clearly well-loved, to say the least. Despite how casual it all was, he really pulled it off. It almost made you wish you could raid his closet, see what other unexpectedly stylish clothes he had in his possession, maybe steal a sweater on the way out.

Oddly enough, it felt natural, being this comfortable on opposite sides of the couch with a man that might as well be a stranger. It’s almost like you wouldn’t mind if this was your house, your television, your kid-

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the clapping you heard from Katie’s spot on the floor as the credits rolled.

“So what did you think?” Andrew asked. Katie’s gaze broke from the screen to look at him.

“I wanna watch it again!”

“You can watch it again another time with mum and dad.”

“I want to watch it now!”

“Katie, the movie’s over, and it's 8 at night. Get upstairs, put on your pajamas, and brush your teeth.” He scolded as he got up from his spot on the couch. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees.

“I said I wanna watch it again!”

“It's getting late, you have to get ready for-”

“Again! Again! Again!” She stomped. You knew she was bound to have a tantrum any second now. Something that, judging by the concerned on his face, Andrew had no idea how to handle. It seemed like it was your turn to come to the rescue.

You got up from your seat, walking over to Andrew to stand by his side (figuratively and literally).

“Could you help me out here?” He asked, his frustration with her slowly growing.

“Watch and learn.”

You turned to Katie and crouched down to be on her level.

“Do you want to play a game?”

She didn't give a verbal answer, but based on her frown immediately disappearing and her head nodding so rapidly you thought it might fall off, you could assume what she would say. You thought for a moment before continuing.

“All you have to do to play is go upstairs and do everything you would usually do right before you go to bed. I’m going to set a timer, and if you’ve done everything and you're in bed before the timer, you win. Got the rules?”

“Yep!” She squeaked, her excitement evident.

“Alright. Ready… set… go!”

She quickly ran out of the living room and up the stairs, leaving the two of you left stunned for a moment. You both got up from your crouching, and you craned your neck upward to be met with, to your surprise, a look of amazement from Andrew.

“I swear, you must be magic.”

You deflected his praise almost immediately.

“Please, I’m not even close to being magic. I just know that kids will do anything if you turn it into a game.”

“Which is a level of sorcery that I can only wish to achieve!”

“If we end up babysitting again, you can always become my apprentice.”

“Offering a second date already?”

You knew he was teasing, but the romantic suggestion was enough to make your heart pound in your chest. You responded the only way you knew how.

“Shut up…”

You bantered and talked, taking advantage of the very little time you had to try and get to know each other (past the deep secrets you already knew from Katie’s questions). Your conversation immediately felt as if you knew each other for years, not hours. There was almost a click to it; the back and forth between the two of you happened easily, naturally. But, like all things, it couldn't last forever. After about ten minutes, a small voice yelled from up the stairs:

“I’m done!”

“We’ve been summoned.” Andrew stated.

He started walking towards the staircase, and nodded his head to tell you to come along. You caught up to him with no hesitation.

Andrew opened the door to Katie’s room and took a look around. It was as messy as one expects a five-year-old’s bedroom to be. Toys, anything from fake jewelry to Barbies, were scattered across the floor. Her drawings, mostly scribbles of rainbows and cartoons and her family, hung on her wall. Stuffed animals and fuzzy blankets were contained in a chest in the foot of her bed. After a moment, he held the door wider, giving you room to walk inside. You thanked him and walked over to the side of Katies bed. A bit unsure of what to do, Andrew stood behind you as you talked to Katie.

It was as messy as one expects a five-year-old’s bedroom to be. Toys, anything from fake jewelry

“Hey, you tricked me!”

“Yeah, I did. But now that you're all ready for bed and tucked in, aren't you tired?”

“I guess,” she started, a yawn interrupting her thought, “I am.”

“Then it's time for you to go to bed. Good night Katie Cat.”

You leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead before Katie let out a yelp.

“Wait! I can’t go to bed yet. I need a story.” She whined. “Mum and dad tell me a story every night before bed. I can't sleep without it.”

“What do you want it to be about?”

“Can it be about a princess? Like the movie?”

“Sure. Well, there was-”

“It needs to start with ‘once upon a time’.”

“Does it really have to?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” you conceded, knowing as much as you wanted to protest, she wouldn't let it go.“Once upon a time, there was a princess… that was trapped in a tower… guarded by a dragon.”

“Wow, that’s never been done before,” you heard him whisper behind you. You looked over your shoulder and shot him a small look of disapproval.

“Well, to her it's original. Just go with it,” you chided before continuing.

“As I was saying, there was a princess trapped in a tower. And there was a prince,” you turned behind you again, mouthing ‘that's you’ to the man behind you, “that was trying to rescue her.”

“Can I be the dragon?” Katie asked eagerly.

“Whatever you want, dear.” You replied, giving her approval. Katie let out a roar and, shockingly, Andrew got into character, already miming holding a sword and shield.

“Hello, Ms. Dragon. Listen, I have to slay you. I’m not happy about it either. It's the only way to save the princess.”

He gave you a quick glance, one you would've missed if you had blinked in the wrong moment. He returned his focus to ‘the dragon’.

“I usually am a pacifist, so I truly hate to do this, but I must…”

He faked a lunge towards her and began to tickle her, making both of them double over in laughter. You attempted to engrave the memory into your mind in fear that you would never experience a moment as heartwarming as this one again. He gave up after thirty seconds, standing up again.

“And just like that, the dragon was defeated!” You announced.

“Now the princess needs to marry the prince!” Katie yelled, almost commanded.

“What?” Andrew asked, more confused than opposed. Katie only gave him a disapproving look, which was enough to make him comply.

He knelt down on one knee and scoured the ground for something that had caught his eye before: a toy ring. He snatched it off her messy floor and held it towards you in an extended hand.

“Princess, I have rescued you from the dragon. Now, should you say yes, I would like to have you as my wife.”

This wasn't necessarily the most romantic moment of your life, but for some reason, it definitely made the list. A fact that was a bit pitiful, sure, but still very true. Which was exactly why you- technically, the princess- needed to take the story in an alternate direction. It was a personal way to protect your ego.

“And the princess said… no thanks.” Surely that would save your self-esteem from his imaginary judgment. To your surprise, it did the opposite. His brows furrowed in confusion, and his smile dropped.

“What? Why wouldn't the princess want to marry the prince?” He asked, trying to give you a look as if to tell you to just go with it. You, of course, got the message, but decided to lean more into your own narrative.

“She didn’t like the look of him.” Lie. But one that kept the girl entertained, her laughs growing louder.

“Why not?” Andrew couldn’t help but feel just a little offended, even though he knew everything you were saying was intended lightheartedly, the real purpose being to entertain the girl.

“Well, he was a bit lanky, for starts.”

“That’s not exactly something the prince can control. You have to cut him some slack there.”

“And his hair was better than hers! It was beautiful. All long and curly and fluffy. The princess simply wasn’t having it.”

“Wait, you think my hair is-.”

“And to top it all off, he was tall! Very tall. She’d have to go on her tiptoes just to kiss him, which, honestly Katie, gets very inconvenient.”

Andrew was about to counter, the words on the tip of his tongue, but stopped himself upon hearing the fits of giggles escaping Katie. He decided to let the moment be, taking in both your and Katie’s smiles from this new perspective.

You turned, your face showing your feigned contemplation. For a brief moment, you enjoyed the fact this might be the only time you'll be taller than him. A sigh escaped your lips and your eyes rolled, but you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

“I guess the princess could try and give the prince a chance.”

He looked back up at you, giving you a sheepish grin.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He took your hand and carefully placed the ring on your finger, as gentle as he would be if it was made of diamond and not plastic. His calloused fingers wrapped around your hand, undoubtedly hardened by all the guitar he’d played over the years. The feeling of his hands on yours, him looking up at you, the way his eyes were staring into yours with such admiration, it all almost felt like a real proposal. Not one that came after slaying a dragon, but after years of knowing and loving each other. One that came before celebratory kisses and preparing for a wedding. One that made your heart stir and your mind wander, only stopped when you heard him mutter something.

“You kinda have to finish the story.”

Right. The story. His words snapped you out of your deep thought, and you blinked a few times as you focused back on reality and not what you’d made up in your head about the man you'd only known for about two hours. The gorgeous, tall, kind, funny man you had only known for two hours. You cleared your throat.

“So, the princess finally said yes to him. And then they got married and they all lived happily ever after!”

You took a bow, as if you had just finished up a broadway worthy performance. Andrew, however, stayed in his spot on the floor still kneeling, something you only noticed when you looked up to smile at him to find empty space where you expected his head to be. You looked down at him and whispered.

“You can get up now, you know.”

“Oh. Right.”

He got up and did his own small bow before making an announcement.

“Alright, story’s over. Time to go to sleep.”

Though she had enjoyed it, by the end of your story (performance?) Katie's eyes were already drooping, so she had no more hostility towards going to bed. You walked over and stood on the left side of her bed, Andrew on the right.

“Goodnight, Katie-Cat. Sweet dreams.” You said softly before placing a small kiss on her forehead. He quickly did the same, placing a kiss on her forehead as well.

“Goodnight, Katie. Sleep well.”

He paused for a moment before adding on something you hadn't expected.

“I love you.”

As if your heart couldn't melt any more.

“Love you too, Uncle Andy.” She mumbled before making herself comfortable, snuggling up under her blanket; it was almost a signal for you to leave the room. You both obeyed, walking towards her door frame. You flipped the light switch, leaving the room in darkness, and closed her door behind you both.

You hated to admit it, but a smile grew on both of your faces.

Unsure of how to celebrate (a handshake was too formal, a high-five was too loud), after an awkward rotation of gestures, you settled on a fist bump.

Does fist-bumping a man ten minutes after calling his hair beautiful count as mixed signals?

“We did it!” You whisper-shouted after your small celebration. Andrew's tone mirrored yours as he spoke.

“Jesus, is this what being a parent feels like?”

“I hope not. No offense to you, but I’m miserable.”

“Oh no, the pounding headache’s got to you too?”

“That and the back pain from all the crouching over.”

“At times I could feel my hair turning gray.”

“What I’m hearing is that you could also go for a cup of tea right about now.”

“That's exactly correct. However, this isn't our house, which means it's not our place to make tea.”

“It can be if you give me two minutes.”

You shot Quinn a quick text to ask.

hey. is it alright if me and andrew make some tea? I know you said we could do whatever but i feel bad if you're not home.

It took a minute, but Quinn replied.

i trust you both so much i’d let you cook a three-course meal without me home. go ahead and brew your tea.

“Well, we’ve got Quinn’s approval.”

You showed him the text, and he let out a soft chuckle, nodding. You both headed down the stairs as quickly (and quietly) as possible.

You returned to the kitchen and began to look for teabags while Andrew looked for a kettle. You didn’t dare to make a mess, so you both just closed and opened drawers until you found exactly what you needed. He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove while you made the hard decision between chamomile and earl grey; you immediately made your decision when he made a comment about chamomile being his favorite.

You leaned on opposite sides of the counter, the stove between the two of you. After a minute you fell into a silence that was comfortable, but unwanted. It was the first time that night you had the freedom of being alone now that Katie was fast asleep, yet you had no idea what to do with yourselves. Biting at your lower lip, you thought of something to say.

“Hey, we did a pretty good job being her court jesters for the night.” You finally commented. Andrew nodded his head before jokingly correcting your statement.

“More accurately, we did a good job being her prince and princess.”

“Almost made me think I should’ve pursued a career in acting.”

“You have to give some credit to your co-star here, as well.”

“Oh, absolutely. Oscar-winning performance. I appreciate you incorporating props, as well.”

“One of the greatest improv moments of my career.”

“I had no idea I was in the presence of such a legend. ” You said barely, being able to hold back your laughter. Your conversation fell back into a now-familiar rhythm. The topics started anywhere from how you knew Quinn to how much you both loved Katie, but as you went on you diverted to your favorite movies snd Andrew’s interest in classical literature. The only interruption was the whistle of the kettle, which you had almost forgotten about. Andrew took it upon himself to prepare the tea, even after you insisted that you would take over. Instead, you actually took in the kitchen, finding something unexpected on the counter.

You were both surprised that Liam and Quinn actually owned a radio.

“Do you mind if I put on some music?” He asked.

“Not at all.” You stepped to the side, giving him permission to turn the radio on.

He twisted the knob of the radio, searching for a station for a moment before stopping. He landed on a station playing jazz, turning up the volume as he recognized the tune: A Kiss To Build A Dream On by Louis Armstrong. Instinctively, he tapped his foot to the beat.

You both stood in silence, one that almost drowned out the song playing. This silence was just strong enough for you to formulate an idea. You liked this song, you were bored, and most importantly, you wanted to be close to him. So you decided to take a risk. You extended a hand in his direction.

“Care for a dance?”

It took him a moment to process your question out of shock. After a few seconds, he stuttered out his answer, his gaze shifting to your hand.

“I- No, I couldn't. I have two left feet. I’d probably be… stepping on your toes the entire time.”

You shrugged.

“Who cares? It's just us, and I’m not gonna judge you.” You reassured him, motioning for him to join you.

Andrew was quickly learning he couldn't say no to you.

He gave in, taking one of your hands in his and placing the other one on your waist. At first, you awkwardly kept your distance between each other, like two teens during a slow song at their school dance. However, you got more into a rhythm as time went on, eventually getting comfortable enough with him to rest your head on his chest, as close as you could get to his shoulder with his height. Andrew was hoping you were more focused on dancing so you couldn’t feel his heart beat out of his chest. He kept his promise of stepping on your toes, mumbling a “Sorry!” every time he did so. He wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He even tried to spin you by the second chorus, almost crashing you into him, but helping you regain your balance. Laughter was your only response to any of this.

Much to the dismay of you both, the song ended, and you pulled away from each other. You missed his touch, your hand buzzing from the sudden change. Another song began to play from the radio: I’m In The Mood For Love by Julie London. Christ, it was like the universe was sending you a sign. Everything else throughout the night had all led up to this.

You could barely process what was happening when Andrew placed his lips on yours.

The kiss was small and chaste, cautious in case you didn't reciprocate. It was so sudden that you forgot to kiss him back, just absorbing the moment that you had slowly been longing for more and more throughout the night. When he pulled away, all he saw was the astonishment and shock on your face. He didn't notice how your gaze was fixated on his lips, and instead frantically began to apologize.

“Shit, I misread you, didn't I? I’m so sorry, I apologize. You have every reason to be upset with me.”

His suggestion made you laugh.

“Are you kidding me? That's all I've wanted all night.”

You saw something change in his demeanor, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“It's alright if I kiss you again, then?”

“Yes! Yes. Please do.”

As soon as you gave him permission, he placed his hands on the sides of your face and pulled you close to him.

Another thing about the universe is that not only does it send signs, it tends to have impeccable timing; just as Andrew leaned in to kiss you again, you heard the front door unlock. Quinn’s voice rang through the hallway.

“Hey, I don't know if you got my text, but there wasn't that much traffic so we got home… Oh. I see we're interrupting something."

You both let go of each other, a look of guilt like you’d been caught doing something illegal. Thankfully, Quinn was no cop.

“I’m not mad or anything. Just happy you waited until Katie was asleep to start swapping spit.”

You both thanked her, ignoring a passing comment she made about how she “always did think you’d be good for each other”. You said your goodbyes, hugging Liam and Quinn with smiles and faces that were still flushed from earlier. You waved them a final goodbye and walked out onto the patio together, Andrew holding the door for you again. You were alone together again.

“So, do you think we could pick up from where we left off before?” You asked a mischievous glint in your eye.

“I thought you'd never ask.”

He finally leaned down to kiss you again, holding your face gently. This time, you reciprocated, placing your hand on the nape of his neck to keep him as close as possible. It was slow, as if both of you decided to take your time; a gentle precursor for all the kisses to come in the future. Your hands made their way into his hair, his making their way to your waist. You stay like that for what could have been forever for all that you care, but's only a minute.You both pulled away to get some air, small pants escaping your mouths. Andrew looked down at you with wonder, a smile growing on his face.

“You really are magic.” He mumbled.

“Still not magic. Just… me.” You deflected again.

“Is there a difference?” He asked rhetorically. He let out a sigh before speaking again.

“ Y/N… God, I feel like a teenager saying this, but… would you want to go on a date sometime? A proper one, with no babysitting or playing pretend. Just me and you and staring at a painting or a sunset or each other's faces.” He rambled, taking a deep breath. “Whatever you want.”

Letting out a laugh, you replied.

“I would love to.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Good night, Andrew."

“Good night, Y/N.”

Andrew gave you one last peck on the lips before you, unfortunately, went your separate ways for the night. Walking back to your car, you also couldn’t help but feel like a teenager, but because he made you so… giddy, so willing to start something new with him. You could barely keep down the butterflies in your stomach. All of this caused by coincidence, a bit of fate, and a babysitting gig. Not how you thought the night was going to go, but perhaps the most pleasant surprise you’d ever had.

You got into your car, and tuned the radio to the same station as before. All the songs remind you of him.

You had the stupidest smile on your face the entire drive home.

[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.

[bluestar22x]

Finding Eden: Chapter 6

Summary: You and Zach spend the winter at the cabin

Pairing: Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 2,510(ish)

Author’s Note: Back at it and I hope this was worth the wait over holiday break

xxx

So I found this tiny notebook in the kitchen "junk drawer" and thought if Zach has a journal, why not me? Not that he really writes in his, he just uses it to try to keep track of time as best as he can. The more years that pass, the less accurate he'll be. He knows which months have 30 days or 31, but he doesn't know which February will have a leap day or if he's ever forgotten to make note of a day or two. It all adds up, but he says it's better than nothing. Knowing a little something about the time that has passed matters to him, so it matters.

I'm feeling silly about starting this journal now. I haven't kept a personal one since I was fifteen years old. Why bother now? No one's gonna read it. And where do I start? Do I explain everything - what happened to the world, how I met Zach, etc.? Or do I just jump right in?

I think I'll start with: We found a cabin. This cabin. It's been a couple months since then. The fishing in the lake has been surprisingly good and Zach's managed to kill a deer and a few hares since we've been here, so we haven't gone a single day hungry since we moved in.

The back up generator is getting low on fuel. But when we run out, we'll just do our best with the lamps and fireplace. We have already been using the latter to cook.

Huh. I think I know why I started this now. I miss telling other people what's going on in my life. I miss telling stories about my week. I miss my family. My brother...he was a shockingly good listener. Wise beyond his years. I miss telling him stuff. Zach's good at listening too, but I don't do much talking nowadays. I don't want to think too much about the past, and he knows everything about my day cause he's always there right beside me.

You'd think we'd get on each other's nerves, but usually the most heated argument is over when we should do a chore. He likes getting them done in the morning, but I like working in the afternoons.

I do have my ways of convincing him that delaying the chores is better. Ones tried and true throughout human history. Turns out Zach is not immune and we both benefit.

Anyway, we're doing well. Athena (sweet doggie) is also doing well. I hope wherever my family is, whether they're dead or alive, know this. I miss them, but I'm okay. I miss them, but I've found some good again. And I am trying not to feel guilty about that because that's what mom taught me. That I can only do my best and that I shouldn't be ashamed for living my life.

At least I can promise I won't take any good fortune thrown my way for granted.

x

You put down the blue ink pen in your hand and shut the notebook on your lap before standing from the couch to put it away in the empty nightstand - the condoms that you'd found there that first day at the cabin long since used up.

You and Zach spent a lot of time working inside and outside the cabin daily, doing anything from snow shoveling to cleaning ashes out of the fireplace, but the nights were for exploring each other, for doing something more than surviving.

Night was still hours away after you'd finished your first journal entry so you bundled up and left the warmth of the indoors to head for the frozen lake.

You could see Zach and Athena out on it from afar, the dog a moving tan mass, sniffing around with great interest while the man sat relaxed in a collapsible camping chair by a small hole he'd carved in the ice, a fishing pole held in his right hand.

It was a cold day, but not too cold. The sky was cloudy, but it wasn't snowing. It was as close to perfect weather for an inland winter day in Canada, a time when and a place where clear skies usually meant brutally low temperatures.

You reached them in a few minutes, rubbing your gloved hands together. "How's it going?"

"Got enough to last us another few days," Zach replied.

The fishing line became taut and you reached for the pole. "Let me reel this one in."

He smiled. "Be my guest."

You were no noob to fishing. It had been your father's go-to outdoor activity, his way of bonding with you, since you'd refused to go deer hunting with him, unable to bear the idea of killing anything with fur on it. You'd eventually learned how to prep deer meat with your parents and brother, but even after the US failed, you couldn't bare pulling the trigger on a cute, innocent animal. You'd tried a few times, but had missed every shot despite you knowing how to use a gun, so Zach had designated himself hunter.

The fish on the line was surprisingly fast, but you'd pulled in a 25 pound lake trout once, and this felt much smaller.

Sure enough, with some patience, the fish tired and you reeled in the twenty inch long whitefish and threw it in Zach's cooler with the handful of smaller fish he'd caught throughout the late morning and early afternoon.

"Maybe I should leave you to this," he mused. "That's the biggest fish I've seen all winter."

"I already told you I'd gladly take over fishing duties," you said. "I'm not afraid of a little cold. But you insisted."

"I like it out here," he reminded you, "And there's only one fishing pole."

"Oh, so it was purely selfish, I see," you teased.

You knew the truth. Zach was a tiny bit old fashioned. He liked being the provider. He didn't expect you to be the caretaker, but you'd also fallen into old ways and become the cook and cleaner. You both helped each other when you could though, by no means limiting yourselves to the roles.

"Got me." He shut back the lid to the cooler and stood up. "With that, I think I'll head back and gut these unlucky few."

"I'll help," you offered.

He simply nodded.

x

Night came fast, as it always did in deep winter, but with your bellies full, you and Zach didn't dread it. Nights were your time together, to just be and to enjoy each other. That didn't always mean sex, but it often did.

Some nights you'd guide him to the bedroom, kiss him, undress, and climb onto his lap to eagerly to slide down onto him, and he'd hold you tight as you started to move, bury his face into the curve of your neck.

Other nights you followed him to bed.

Still other nights you'd be lying in bed together side by side, perfectly content, only to find yourselves tangled in the sheets together again moments later, giving and taking. Your sharp inhales and exhales mixing, filling the room.

You'd had a few boyfriends before Zach, but you'd never wanted them so often as you did him.

It wasn't just because you lived in a world more uncertain than it had ever been in your lifetime, or because it made you forget for a time that the world was crueler than it had been less than a decade before.

It was also because without using words, Zach made you feel loved, wholly, without exception.

Your mother had once told you that real love was messy, that it couldn't compare to the ones in the novels teen you once read with fervor, but you think it's just way more scarce, if it wasn't better. Zach had his faults, but he had been your safe person, your sanctuary, since the day you met, and you had never felt more understood by any other person in your life. Your trust in him deepened with every brush of his calloused fingertips, every kiss stolen by his soft lips, and therefore your connection did too.

That night after the successful fishing day you took each other to the bedroom as soon as the dishes were washed and Athena had gone on a potty break outside, shutting the door behind you to make sure she couldn't interrupt.

Neither of you wasted any time, quickly finding yourself flat on the bed naked, his body on top of yours and his hands everywhere, consuming most of your thoughts. Where they were, how big they were, and how rough they were yet paradoxically gentle at the same time.

What other thoughts you had related to his smell. You had become acutely aware of what Zach smelled like by then. His scent was a lot like yours due to your living conditions - woody, earthy, with a pleasant tinge of sweat. The only difference was the unique masculine scent that he had that you couldn't put into words. You just knew you liked it.

You found a rhythm together soon after, working equally to build each other up, sharing glances and touches and encouraging words that were both sweet and dirty. With all your practice, it wasn't long before you came undone with one last look to where you were joined together, and he pulled away from you to finish on your stomach.

Once your breathing evened out you both cleaned yourselves up and you snatched a jar of honey from a kitchen cabinet to snack on in bed.

Zach joined you again in an increasingly more common relaxed state, casually sprawling upside down in the bed, eventually finding himself pinned under one of your legs, kissing up your bare thigh. You had put on a tank top and underwear that matched his black pants, but he didn't try to remove them. Instead, he gave you a peck to an exposed patch of sensitive skin near you knee and you pitched forward, giggling.

"How are you ticklish there?" he asked incredulously, chuckling.

You dipped your right index finger into the honey jar for another taste and shrugged. "I don't know. Why are you ticklish behind your ear?"

He grinned. "Fair point."

"Want some?" you inquired, licking your finger clean before digging for more honey.

"Sure." He leaned over you and you slipped your honey coated finger into his mouth so he could suck on it, wrap his tongue around it. "Mmmm."

It was erotic, it reminded you of what his talented mouth could and did do to you, but you were sated and satisfied with lounging around with him for the time being, so you just smiled at him.

It faded when you thought about spring being just two months away.

"I wish we could stay here," you confessed. "It's nice, just the two of us and Athena. Am I crazy for thinking that?"

Zach stroked your thigh reassuringly. "You're not. It is nice here. But it'll only be nice until the propane is completely out and the fish stop biting or one of us gets hurt and needs medical attention. If Eden's real, it will be better for us in the long run."

You nodded and sighed. "I know. I know. I'm romanticizing this place."

He shrugged. "Hard not to. It's idealistic. Quiet. And it's not like I miss society. I miss the conveniences that came with it, but in case you've never noticed, I'm not extremely social, and never was. When I was in the marines, that was as social as I ever got. My squad. They meant a lot to me."

There was a hint of melancholy injected in his words, and you wondered silently if he was thinking of any teammates lost in the war, or if he was thinking about the odds of the ones who survived it still being alive. It hurt your heart, knowing from your father that the bond between fellow soldiers was often tight. It had to be for their survival.

"You mean a lot to me," Zach added softly, drawing you back to the present and making your chest warm.

You beamed at him. You hadn't needed the confession, but you were grateful all the same to hear it in words. "You mean a lot to me too."

You traced his chiseled cheekbones with your fingertips fondly.

"Promise that won't change in Eden?"

"Promise," he murmured seriously, kissing your palm after.

"Good."

x

It was only a couple weeks later that things started to go south. For one, the last propane tank emptied and you were forced to rely on the fireplace and oil lamps scattered around the cabin.

Most importantly though your food supply became low. You and Zach hadn't seen a deer or rabbit in weeks, and had finished off the cans in the cupboards. The fish weren't even biting like they used to, and it seemed the ones you both caught were getting smaller and smaller.

Your luck was running out, and it weighed heavy on you both. It was still early to leave, but the cabin's safety and warmth wouldn't be worth starvation.

Mulling over what to do, when to pull the trigger and leave, Zach spent a morning chopping wood, not sure if he was ever going to feed them to the fireplace, but not caring. Sometimes hard work brought clarity to him.

Around mid-morning you joined him outside. He could feel your presence before he saw you, his back turned to the front door when you walked through it.

When you didn't speak right away, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that you were watching him. Admiring the view, as you'd put it before. You'd mentioned once or twice that you loved how his arm muscles twitched and flexed while he worked. He knew you couldn't see them under his thick winter jacket, but he doubted that stopped you from recalling what they looked like the night before, holding you.

He kept working, letting you observe him, admittedly enjoying the flattering attention.

"Should we leave now?" you questioned, and he could picture the look on your face, the way your eyebrows pinched and you bit your lip in worry. "Would it be safer to stay or not?"

Zach turned to you and seeing that expression on your face made him wish he could make it disappear, but he couldn't lie. "It's a risk either way, you know that. But more and more I think it'll be worse if we stay here when the wildlife has clearly moved on."

You deflated, disappointed, but you nodded. "I'll start packing."

Early the next morning, you both were on the move once more, backpacks stuffed as much as physically possible.

You didn't look back at the cabin in fear you would decide to turn around if you did, but Athena paced for a while, and you could've sworn she whined as you left the opening in the forest that had temporarily been your home.

You'd never related to an animal more.

xxx

Tagged: @musings-of-a-rose @morallyinept @harriedandharassed @love-affair-with-fandoms @captain-jebi

xxx

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[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 ♥

[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

[vcrnons]

hi j!!! 💙 it's your secret carat santa again! i hope you had a wonderful weekend and i hope your week has been kind to you. 💙

i see that you have 4 biases in seventeen and i'm wondering the order you started biasing them (not the order you bias them most) because i know i thought i'd only bias one and it was like a rabbit hole biasing more and more! how did you start biasing woozi, dk, vernon and dino? 😊

i know you said you'll be busy so please take your time and answer at any length you'd like! i look forward to talking to you more 💙

- secret 💎🥕 santa 💚

omg hiii, i'm sooo sorry this got buried and i forgot to check my inbox pls forgive me<3

i was EXACTLY the same thinking it was only gonna be one but no. three more came out of the woodwork (+ on any given day at least 3 others are playing some serious games with my mental health, we move). but GOD that's such a great question hehe okay i'm about to go IN so i hope you're sitting comfortably!

i biased vernon first! i found out about svt around the time black eye teasers were dropping because my best friend is a pre-debut carat and has been a dolly since the dawn of time. they were sending me the promo photos and the mv teaser and i was HOOKED. the vibe and the styling and his voice (i was a big pop-punk girlie as a teenager so when she sent me the 2 minus 1 open mic it was like someone had shot me out of a cannon and into space). crazy. then the song released and it was iterally like i'd been reborn. from there it really was like falling into a pit to the centre of the earth. (it got me through some very hard times in 2023 and it'll always hold a big place in my heart.) and i guess as for why he remained the top of my bias list this whole time... i could go on about this man for days. i love how fluidly he dances, his voice is SO unique and versatile and he just has buckets of charisma when he's on stage. he has a LOT of very endearing behaviours and quirks but also, like. he's a very comforting person to me? especially in gose/inse/behind videos, and i guess in a way that's because i kinda see parts of myself in him (and they're not always things that i like about myself, but i adore them in him, so it's healing to recognise those things in a positive light in a way i can't really describe?). i don't know. he kinda just makes me want to be a little kinder to myself, you know?

second came dk 🥲 that man hit me like a TRAIN. after a few days of listening/watching and searching them up on ig my explore page was just entirely seventeen reels. december 2022 was the end of the us leg of the FTS tour which meant only one thing. peak numero uno dk. the state of my dms with my friend around that time was... tragic. genuinely so embarrassing, i can't even read them back. it was SO BAD. i couldn't come to terms with how fine but also how crazy talented and kind and loving he was all at once. he's my sunshine!!!!! i've always thought he has just the most incredible, beautiful soul. the pretty smile was a nice touch too :(

woozi came third and it was around the time of caratland 2023/pre fml era. i always had a real soft spot for him because of how hard he works and again, just how incredibly talented he is. i think partly seeing him get so emotional singing circles (which i'd already established as one of my ultimate comfort songs) and showing that real raw vulnerability on such a big stage made that soft spot more of a soft all over rash. the straw that broke the camel's back though was that brief era on weverse where he was growing his hair out and super active posting selfies all the time. just as i'd accepted him formally into my bias line the fucking. vogue cover happened. and truthfully i never recovered.

last but by no means least, was my little dinito. this formally happened early-ish during the follow tour (idubily changed me as a person) but it was frankly a long time coming. i think i spent a good 6 months in denial. there was an entire crisis period where i kept asking myself why i kept getting roped in by aquarius men and also where i'd told myself i couldn't bias him too because then i was looking at almost a third of the group and that was ridiculous. so naturally i went down a rabbit-hole of fancams and dino laughter compliations and i decided that i'd blow up the world just to keep him warm! one day i was doing great (a lie) and the next chan was carrying his couch into my mind and settling in to live there rent fucking free !

this was so much fun to think about, i don't think i've ever put this down into words like this before!! thank u for the amazing question, i love reliving my cringe baby carat days and remembering the excitement of wading through all the members and finding out new things about them all :(

[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?

[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!”

TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis  @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @chucksfavouriteprophet

[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!”

[hot-soop]

winter: you’re the one who bloomed me

pairing & genre: roommate!yoongi x reader, college au fluff

tags: soft min yoongi, fluff, sharing a bed, a splash of angst, falling in love, the sharing a bed trope has been dragged out and abused for nearly 6k words, everyone has poor communication skills but especially the landlord, yoongi thinks reader is the prettiest :(, unspecified reader gender/appearance, friends to lovers, and they were ROOMMATES, Andrew Garfield is not the love of your life actually, quiet romance

wc: 5.6k (complete)

rating: teen & up - frequent swearing, briefest mention of intent to waterboard someone, blink and you’ll miss it

The heating breaks in the middle of winter. Your landlord is a total shit. Yoongi lets you sleep in his bed.

———

“Hey, can I sleep in here?”

The mass under the duvet rolls, a corner flips down to reveal a bleary eye.

“Huh?”

“It’s just- there’s ice on my window. On the inside.”

You’d both been away for several days to spend Christmas with your families, and returned within a few hours of each other to find that the heating had broken. And at the start of the harshest winter in a decade, no amount of layers or hot chocolate will keep you warm throughout the night. And your room, with its single glazed windows, is far colder than Yoongi’s.

The lounge isn’t an option, you’d already tried for the best part of an hour, but the pleather sofa is colder still.

Yoongi, probably too tired to care, just grunts and moves a fraction to make more space, so you climb in. Double-socked toes seek out warmth next to his but you’re still careful to leave a polite gap. Polite enough for new-ish roommates sharing a bed for the first time, at least.

Yoongi said when you moved in back in September that the landlord was shitty, said that it’ll be weeks or months before he’ll do anything that requires spending his time or money, so Yoongi himself had taken to making the repairs. You didn’t mind at the time. The rent was cheap and it was close to the city. Close to campus. Yoongi was quiet, kept to himself, cleaned up, and paid his bills. The ideal roommate. But it was still warm then, and you weren’t aware that Yoongi’s skillset didn’t extend to fixing boilers.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you whisper to the mound under the duvet.

The duvet grunts.

—-

The apartment is empty when you wake. The clock says nine-thirty, but it’s the weekend, and your roommate doesn’t usually leave his room before eleven at the earliest.

You curl up on the sofa, blanket around your shoulders, legs tucked against your chest, a bowl of hot porridge balanced upon your knees. If you wanted, you could message him. Say something like sorry for invading your space or i hope i didn’t snore! Anything that could un-knot the worry lacing in the pit of your stomach that you crossed a line by asking to share his bed.

It’s not necessary as it turns out, because Yoongi is home just a few minutes later, one bag and two to-go coffees in his hands. He’s especially lovely just out of the snow, with his cheeks turned pink, eyes bright, and a dusting of snowflakes. There’s a lot on his hair. Pretty.

“Sleep okay?” He doesn’t look at you as he hands over your coffee, marked oat milk capp on the side in barista cursive. You weren’t aware he knew your order.

You nod and smile gratefully, mouth still occupied by a spoon of porridge. He sits at the other end of the sofa.

“Good.” He doesn’t smile back, but his few gruff words are enough to set your mind at ease. It doesn’t seem like he’s bothered. Bothered people don’t buy coffee for their botherers.

“Why’d you get up so early?” you ask, after a minute.

“Can’t sleep- when it’s cold,” he says between sips of his americano. “Got some hot water bottles for us, and a bunch of those handwarmer things that you crack.”

Oh. You dig out your phone from your pocket and open PayPal. “How much do I owe? For the coffee too.”

You’re broke as hell, but you hate the guilt that comes with not paying your way. You can walk to the restaurant you work part time at for the week instead of catching the bus, for the sake of keeping warm at night.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, an awkward noise, something someone makes when they’re caught. “Don’t worry about it.” He catches your narrowing eyes. Shifts in his seat. Sighs. “I should’ve explained better before you moved in. Should’ve said that the bastard will let us suffer and not lift a finger,” Yoongi explains, keeping his eyes trained on his cup as his tone grows more bitter. “Should’ve said this happened last winter too, and I ended up paying for the engineer to fix it. I’m sorry I didn’t say.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you?”

“Do you know how hard it is these days to find a student with a job, a non-smoker, and obviously has decent personal hygiene? One guy tried to shake my hand after scratching his asshole right in front of me.” Yoongi shudders. Whether it’s the cold or that unnecessarily vivid imagery, you don’t know. “And I can’t afford this shithole on my own.”

“Wow,” you say, wryly. “I feel so used.”

Yoongi scratches at the nape of his neck. Doesn’t reply, even though that was obviously meant to be a joke.

“That was obviously a joke.”

Yoongi laughs. Sounds fake. “Hah- yeah, no it was funny.”

Hmm. Still awkward. Before you get the chance to open your mouth, Yoongi stands abruptly, announces he has something to do for a group project, says he’ll be at the library all day, probably. You nod again. It must look dumb, how often you nod at him, like one of those bobblehead dogs people keep on the dash of their cars. He doesn’t even notice, already walking into his room.

Within a few minutes he‘s in the lounge again, backpack slung over one shoulder. He doesn’t look at you when he asks if you have plans tonight. His ears are red. Taps at his phone.

“Nope. No plans.”

“Okay. Well- see ya.” And he’s gone, the door catching on a draft and slamming behind him.

You get his text an hour later while you’re writing an essay from your spot on the sofa, your new hot water bottle saving your toes from the chill.

yoongi [10:36]: bring your duvet if you’re gonna sleep in my bed tonight

yoongi [10:36]: you kept stealing mine

me [10:37]: sorry yoongi

me [10:37]: were you too cold?

yoongi [10:39]: only a bit

yoongi [10:39]: bring your duvet? : )

me [10:40]: okay : )

yoongi [10:40]: okay : )

It keeps you warm for the rest of the day.

———

It feels weird, the notion of following Yoongi to bed when he announces he’s going to sleep. So you don’t. You don’t, even though you’d been yawning for thirty minutes before the movie ended. Even though you’d already all but said you’d sleep with him tonight. Not with h- just… just in his bed.

But when you get to your room and notice the ice on the windows thicker still, and your own breath fogging the air, the decision is basically made for you. Fuck it.

Yoongi is cocooned in his duvet, only his eyes and forehead visible from the light of his phone, when you tap on his open door. Your own duvet is draped around your body like a cloak.

“Offer still on the table?”

“Mhm. Close the door, yeah? It’ll keep the heat in.”

He shuffles back while you shuffle over and all you can hear are short huffed breaths and the rustle of cheap polyester. It’d be a little funny if the winter didn’t bite at your nose so.

“Is this weird?” you ask after a few too-long minutes of laying side by side, facing each other and scrolling on your phones in total silence.

Yoongi looks up from his phone. “I don’t know. Yeah- I guess- I guess a bit.”

You don’t reply, you just chew on your bottom lip, and Yoongi must take that as some kind of worry about him and his intentions because he says, “I’m not going to- like..” and you interrupt him by saying “No- No! I know-“ and then he interrupts you by saying “you wanna build a pillow wall?” and then it definitely is weird because you keep talking over each other, trying to make each other comfortable but your voices keep getting louder and more insistent and more rapid and neither of you are actually listening or even saying anything until you just - stop. And then you smile awkwardly at Yoongi from your cocoon. And Yoongi smiles back at you from his, but his eyes are kind, and crinkly, and it doesn’t feel so awkward when he’s doing it. And then you’re both laughing over nothing. His breath is warm even with the gap between you. Smells minty. It’s nice.

“You wanna just go to sleep?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He smiles.

“Okay.” You smile back.

——

On the fifth night, you’re woken by Yoongi screaming your name.

“Get up! Fuck! Help me!”

You don’t even notice the water until your socks are wet. The cold, the wet, it stings, but you’re running - slipping - until you get to the bathroom, the source of both the water and the screaming.

He’s drenched. Completely. From head to toe. It takes a few seconds to register why.

“Why are you just fucking standing there?!” Yoongi screeches, gripping the pipe under the sink with a soaked towel. Despite his efforts, it’s spraying everywhere, catching him in the eye even though he’s craning his neck away. “Oh my god! The pipes froze! Help!”

“Fuck,” is the only stupid sound you can get out of your stupid mouth. “Fuck, Yoongi! What do I do?!”

Your hair is getting wet now too. The spray is coming from two directions, you realise - the sink and the shower. Shit.

“Turn off- ugh-turn off the water.” He tries to angle his face away from the spray, but it keeps hitting him in the eye, in his open mouth. “At the stoptap.”

“The- the what?”

Yoongi’s eyes grow wide, groans incredulously. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding?” Any other time you’d be offended, but your pyjamas are wet and it’s fucking freezing and right now you couldn’t give a shit about anything else so you just glare right back at him through the spray.

“Here,” he says with urgency, grabbing you by the wrist and manoeuvring your hands over the towel he’s wrapped around the pipe - for what little good it’s doing. “Hold this.”

He dashes off, faster than you’ve ever seen the man move leaving you to be hit in the face by the spray instead. A minute that feels like an hour later, the water slows to a fast drip.

“Did it work?!” Yoongi calls from what you think is the kitchen.

“Yeah!” You shout back.

You meet in the hallway, water trickling down your noses. You both stand there just looking at each other, panting, hair sticking to your foreheads. Cheeks red and hands redder.

Yoongi looks bothered. “Sorry,” he says. “For swearing at you. For shouting.”

“No- no it’s okay. I get it.”

He pushes his hair back from his eyes. Now isn’t the time to think about how pretty he is, but you do it anyway. And then he takes you by surprise, by stepping closer, reaching out, and tucking a lock of wet hair behind your ear. It’s such a small thing, insignificant really but it feels like something is happening and it’s too much. He’s looking at you. Looking. He’s so close, and his fingers are brushing your cheek and it’s too much. It’s intense. You look away. Down at the floor. Down at the floor that has quite literally turned into a paddling pool.

“It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Huh?”

“It’s like- three a.m on New Years Eve.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know why you said that. But Yoongi’s not looking at you anymore. He’s looking at the floor too.

“Now what?” you ask, though the answer is obvious to anyone with an ounce of sensibility.

“Ugh.”

——

In the morning, you call in sick to the restaurant from Yoongi’s bed. There’s no way you could manage a twelve hour shift after a night of mopping and barely two hours sleep. Yoongi’s in the kitchen, you can hear him calling the bar. Your managers probably think you’re both faking, but that’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re replaying the moment. The moment it seemed like he was going to kiss you, and you made a terribly un-smooth attempt to break the tension. It’s not even like you’d never thought about kissing him. Maybe once or twice. Maybe more, if you’re honest. So why did you dodge?

Yoongi comes in with two steaming mugs. It’s basically all milk, he explains with a frown, seeing as the pipes are still burst and you can’t have the water on. He calls his friend Namjoon, who lives with his boyfriend just one block away, to explain what happened. Namjoon offers up the use of his shower to the both of you without Yoongi even having to ask. Everyone likes Yoongi. You like Yoongi. So why did you dodge?

——

Namjoon and Seokjin are disgustingly in love. That much is obvious as soon as you see them both together. You’d met them individually, briefly, in the months gone by - but seeing them together, it’s blindingly obvious why Yoongi had refused to move in with his best friends, instead choosing to stay in his shitty apartment with the shitty landlord.

Yoongi encourages you to shower first, Seokjin points the way for you. And God, it’s hard not to take your sweet time. You haven’t been this warm in nearly a week, and your skin is damp and hot by the time you emerge from the bathroom twenty minutes later.

The three men go quiet when the bathroom door clicks shut behind you. Too quiet. Namjoon’s smile is bright and friendly but he clearly plastered it on to disguise something else. Seokjin looks like he’s trying to stop himself from smiling at all, the corners of his lips twitching as his eyes dart from Yoongi to you, and back again. Yoongi just gathers up his things and heads past you into the bathroom.

Namjoon offers you a chair at the table, and Seokjin sets a bowl of porridge in front of you a moment later. While you eat, you try not to notice the way Seokjin keeps opening his mouth, and the way Namjoon keeps elbowing him, or poking his thigh or shaking his head. They are really, horribly, obvious, and they’re making it incredibly difficult not to laugh into the breakfast they’d so kindly made for you.

“I just want to say-“

“ Seokjin…”

“-that Yoongi is really happy with you-“

“your company as a roommate-”

“Namjoon…”

“Uh-“ you start.

“You like living with him, right? He’s a good cook, and he’s good at fixing stuff-“

“Except the boiler,” says Namjoon with a laugh, which is silenced instantly with a sharp look from his boyfriend.

“-cause he’d be really sorry to lose you-“

“-as a roommate.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “-yes, yes, as a roommate,” he agrees but with air quotes. “Especially before he can tell you he’s in l-“

“Kim Seokjin!”

Seokjin ignores Namjoon’s admonishment. Just reaches out to lay his hand over yours. “You’re not going to move out, right?”

“Uhm,” you mumble around your porridge. You swallow to stall for time. Jesus Christ.

——

It’s New Year’s Eve, and you’re eating pizza in bed and watching TV. You should be working, and if not working then at some club with your friends. But here you are, with Min Yoongi, sharing a bed in a fancy hotel, apparently “a late Christmas present!” from his best friends.

Both of you had tried to refuse, but Seokjin, who you now understand to be sweetly manipulative with all the best intentions, insisted that the room would only go to waste if you didn’t take it. Taehyung knows a plumbing apprentice who’ll fix the pipes for cheap, but not for another few days. Namjoon and Seokjin have offered up their shower for use, and you’ll get by with bottled water for the dishes. For one blissful night though, you have a warm hotel room and a jacuzzi bath.

“They could’ve gotten us a twin.”

You look over at him. His ears are red again.

“Is this not okay? you say, voice tentative and small. “I can go, if you’re uncomfortable.”

Yoongi’s eyes catch yours at that, shakes his head. “I’m not. I thought you might be.”

You try to make your smile reassuring, and when Yoongi doesn’t look reassured in the slightest, you scoot closer and rest your head upon his shoulder.

“I’m comfortable. Okay?”

“Okay.” You glance at the mirror, catch his eyes trained on the top of your head and he’s smiling. He’s smiling so fond.

Outside, there’s fireworks.

“Happy New Year,” he whispers against your hair.

“Happy New Year, Yoongi.”

If you were braver, you’d kiss him.

——

It’s night seven, and Yoongi hasn’t stopped complaining. Maybe it’s because he’s nursing a cold. Maybe it’s because you’d had a taste of warmth and comfort at his friend’s home, and then the hotel, and then you had to come back here to this frozen place with no running water for the next three days.

His voice is thick with cold, and his throat must feel like razor blades like yours - but he’s still talking shit about the landlord and it’s driving you fucking mad. You just want to sleep. But Yoongi, for once, is far too chatty. At first you’d tried to reason with him.

“When he gets here I’m gonna turn the hose on him.”

“No you’re not.”

“I fucking am-“

“He’s not even gonna come.”

“Shit... Yeah, you’re right.”

——

“I’m gonna get a lawyer-“

“No. You’re not.”

“Yeah- and then we’ll sue-“

“Yoongi, we’re students. We don’t have the money for a lawyer.”

“Fuck. Fine. Okay.”

——

“I’m gonna find that cunts house and waterboard him in the middle of the night.”

“Yoongi!”

“What?”

“That’s too dark.”

“Yeah… Sorry, baby.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.” Yoongi coughs twice. “I’m very sick.”

——

“I’m gonna-“

That’s enough. That’s fucking enough.

“I swear to God, Min Yoongi,” you hiss from your cocoon. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t I’m gonna go to sleep then I will drown you in that fucking bucket under the sink.”

“I thought you said waterboarding was too dark?”

It sounds like he’s teasing, but it’s pitch black and you can’t see if he’s smiling. You punch the burrito of a man lying next to you anyway.

“Oof,” he chuckles. “That might’ve actually hurt if I didn’t have all this padding.”

“I hate you tonight, Yoongi.”

“Will you like me tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” It’s hard to stay mad at him. “If you let me sleep.”

“Okay. I will. I’m sorry.” Sounds like he’s smiling. And then he does what he hasn’t done before, not even once this past week of sleeping in his bed. You feel the weight of his arm across the middle of your burrito cocoon duvet, wraps around, tugs you a little closer. Tugs you so close that you’re tucked under his chin. So close you’re sure he can feel your breath on his neck. And his voice soft, ever so gentle, “this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “S’okay.”

“Okay.” Sounds like he’s smiling. You let yourself smile too.

——

Jimin and Yoongi finally met tonight, at Hoseok’s birthday party. You’re just so pleased they’re getting along.

“What about you? What’re you doing after graduation?” The question is directed at Yoongi, you won’t finish your degree for another year. You turn to look at him with interest, because you hadn’t discussed that before. Why didn't you?

Yoongi gets a little faraway look in his eye at the question. “Norway.”

“Huh?” That doesn’t make sense.

“I wanna go to Norway. Study the architecture. Just for six months. A year at most.”

This doesn’t make any sense. “But you hate the cold.”

He’s only looking at you now. He could lean in, but he doesn’t. So polite. Maybe he doesn’t want to- in front of all these people. Maybe he doesn’t want to at all. The chatter carries on in the background. No one’s even paying attention.

“You look… really pretty.” It’s a poor attempt at a whisper.

“Yoongi,” you laugh, the Norway talk suddenly (almost) forgotten with the unexpected compliment. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not. If I’m drunk, you’re drunkerer,” he huffs, but he’s looping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “Smell pretty too. I like this top on you.” He runs a gentle hand up your arm, traces a finger across your necklace. You’re holding your breath. “Beautiful.”

He rests his chin upon your shoulder, and you lean back against his. Anyone at Hoseok’s party would be inclined to think you’re together, the way you’ve spent the whole time together on the sofa, laughing at jokes that no one else gets. It’s not cold here, in fact it’s awfully warm compared to what you’re used to now, but you’re huddled close all the same. So yes, everyone here thinks you and Yoongi are together. You’re inclined to let them think it.

You press a kiss to his cheek while the alcohol makes you brave.

“You’re pretty too, Yoongi.”

And he smiles so wide that it could split your heart right open. Lay it bare for everyone to see. God. You wish it would stay winter forever.

——

You wake up on that same sofa the next day, your head pounding in Yoongi’s lap. In Yoongi’s lap. One of his hands is in your hair, the other on your hip. He’s sleeping still, you think, and you twist to look up at him and that’s a mistake, because the movement makes him stir.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice is nice when he wakes up, so deep and a little strained. You wanna keep this moment, where his hand moves to cup your cheek and you remember kissing his last night. Can’t remember now if he was calling you beautiful or your necklace. He definitely called you pretty, and that was… yeah. You want to hear him say it again. Sober.

“You wanna get breakfast before we go home?”

“Dressed like this?”

He laughs under his breath. “We’ll get take out, yeah? Movie day in bed?”

“Yeah.” You smile bright, he lights up. “Yeah okay!”

“Okay, lemme go say bye to Hobi.”

——

“What did you choose?” Yoongi asks when he climbs in next to you, his hair still a little damp from the shower. Smells like he stole your shampoo again. All citrusy, mixed with something deeper. You like it. Suits him.

“Hacksaw Ridge.”

“You wanna watch a war film at ten a.m on a Saturday. With a hangover?”

You grin. “Andrew Garfield is the actual love of my life. I’ll suffer for him.”

“Really?” Yoongi says, the tease evident in his tone. He’s trying not to smile. “The love of your life?”

“Celebrities are the easiest people to love,” you explain, taking a bite of your bagel.

Yoongi tips his head, amused. “How so?”

You weren’t expecting this conversation. Not hungover on a Saturday with the love of your life (Andrew Garfield) present. You swallow. “No pressure with celebrities. Nothing to ruin. Unless they turn out to be- like… a sex predator or something.” You point at Andrew Garfield who is holding a gun. “I think I’m safe with him.”

Everything goes really quiet for a second. Yoongi looks from you, to the TV, and down at the bagel on his lap. You can’t work him out when he goes quiet like this.

“What about-“ he starts, looking back at the TV and the love of your life, Andrew Garfield. “What about… people?”

“People?”

“People you actually know. Are you safe with them?”

If he’s talking about Tae, or Jimin, or Siwoo, then yes. Yes because there’s no heartbreak there. You’re not too close. You can love them without expectation. If he’s talking about himself (more likely, you guess) then a few months ago, you would’ve said yes too, because he was just the sweet guy you lived with who helped you put up shelves. Now- it’s just… you can’t - you don’t know.

“I don’t know.”

Yoongi just looks at you blankly. A few seconds or a minute or ten pass and he’s just looking, eyes searching yours and you think you can hear your heart beating in your chest. Maybe it’s his. Maybe it belongs to both of you.

It gets louder, louder still and then you both seem to realise with a jolt that someone is at the door. Yoongi is faster, somehow, and he jumps out to answer it. You stay where you are, wondering if you should’ve just said yes, I’m safe with you because then he might’ve kissed you, and you can forget all about the love of your life, Andrew Garfield.

There’s raised voices down the hall, and you recognise the other as the landlord, showing up out of the blue but two months too late.

As it turns out, he’s scheduled to have the boiler replaced in ten days.

Yoongi is livid. Angry that he’s let you both suffer in the cold over the hardest winter in years.

“You know we had to share?! It was so fucking cold we had to the sleep in the same bed to keep warm.” There’s venom in his voice. The landlord deserves it but you hate it all the same. Had to.

The landlord says something indecipherable and Yoongi’s rage is palpable even from down the hall. “Don’t you get how inappropriate that is? That’s disgusting.”

Oh.

On the TV Andrew Garfield tells Teresa Palmer I love you. You scowl.

“Shut up, Andrew.”

——

yoongi [19:22]: joon gave me a copy of the new spider-man movie, you wanna watch it tonight? : )

me [19:57]:       uh actually i think i’m gonna stay at sungho’s place. it’s his birthday party tonight

yoongi [20:03]: oh okay

yoongi [20:03]: wait sungho your ex boyfriend?

me [22:49]:        yeah

You don’t know why you came really. You could say it was because Tae begged, because he’s your best friend and he’s been complaining about missing you for months. But now Taehyung is gone, as he usually is at parties,  somewhere in this house, he’ll be in the arms of Jungkook. You’ve seen Sungho maybe twice, kissing his girlfriend of eight months on the cheek. You’d smiled at them, waved, and they waved back. They’re cute together. And you’re not having fun. You’d much rather be at home, tucked under Yoongi’s arm watching a movie from bed that neither of you really watch, as you had for the past several weeks.

Perhaps it’s because there’s less than a week of cold left, before the replacement, but last night… Last night was the hardest.

Yoongi was holding your hand, brushing your knuckles with a calloused thumb over, and over. And when you were both falling asleep, with the movie still playing, you’d curled around each other, limbs intertwined, finding warmth against the body of the other rather than within your respective duvets.

And when you woke up in his arms - your hands under his shirt, against his back and holding his body against yours, with his fingers curling under the hem of your top, brushing against the soft skin of your stomach - it was everything.

So you found yourself wishing you could wake up like that forever. But that hurt all the more, because how could it be forever when winter will give way to spring so soon? When the boiler will be replaced and your room will be habitable again. How could it be forever when Yoongi graduates in a few short months, and does what he said he would - move to fucking Norway or Sweden or some horrendously far away place, swapping one frozen home for another. And you’re left here another year, in this shitty apartment with the shitty landlord, and without the one person who keeps you warm at night with just his smile. How could it be forever when you’re letting him think you’re with your ex tonight? Who fucking does that?

Maybe you’re just scared.

——

me [17:12]:           i’m home! i’ll cook if you wanna watch spider-man tonight?

me [17:59]:           yoongi?

yoongi [21:22]:    pulling an all-nighter at the library with namjoon, feel free to watch it without me

That’s a lie. You know because Namjoon added you on Instagram, and he and Seokjin are teaching Jungkook how to ice-skate right now. But you lied too. Because a lie of omission is still a lie, right? So who are you to call Yoongi out?

——

Yoongi stays out the next night too. Blames his dissertation, says you’ll understand next year.

It’s bitterly cold without him. You say so and he doesn’t reply.

me [00:43]:       yoongi i miss you. please come home

He doesn’t read that one.

You really fucked up.

——

Today, he comes in the door just as you’re leaving for class. The lie clearly wasn’t about being up all night, the circles around his eyes say as much.

He brought two electric heaters with him. Explains in passing that one of them is for your room.

Oh.

——

You’ve had the bed to yourself since Sungho’s party. Yoongi says he’s working on his dissertation. Which you know to be bullshit because he never works on anything for his degree until the week before it’s due. On the fourth night his side is left cold and empty, it’s too much of the wrong thing. So at two a.m, maybe three - you get back up, walk into the lounge where Yoongi sits on his laptop, with two empty cans of Red Bull at his feet.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You try to sound assertive, but the sound comes out small and pathetic. Because the truth is you know why he’s avoiding you, and you know it’s your fault.

“I’m not?” See, he makes it sound like a ridiculous question but he didn’t even look up. Avoiding even looking at you.

“Yoongi,” you start and he sighs, exasperated. “It’s been ages. Come to bed, stop pretending you’re working.”

“I am-“ you cut him off with a bark of incredulous laughter and he looks up at you, wide-eyed when you push his laptop firmly closed.

“No, you’re not.” Hot tears threaten to spill over if you don’t break the dam with your words first, so here goes. “You think you’re so fucking subtle sitting there typing away when you know I’m looking but I can see in the mirror that you’re on fucking discord with your friends.”

Yoongi, the idiot, turns to look at the mirror he seemingly forgot existed, despite him being the one to hang it.

“I know this thing we do only started because I was cold,” you reason, more to make sense of it all for yourself rather than for his benefit. “But it’s more than that for me, Yoongi. You’re more than just a warm body to sleep next to.”

He’s too quiet.

“You want me to sleep in my room again? You brought the heater, right? So I should? I don’t want to but I will.” An embarrassing noise threatens to make itself heard when Yoongi turns back to you, eyes huge and sad. “If you don’t want me around should I move out-”

“No.” Yoongi gapes. Opens and closes his mouth like a fish, a big dumb fish out of water. “I’m not angry. Don’t go- I’m really not.” And then he takes your hand, tugs you down into his lap. His hands are in your hair now, holding you against the crook of his neck but his T-shirt is wet against your face and it takes a few beats to realise the wet is coming from you, and then you’re sobbing and fuck, it’s so stupid. It’s embarrassing.

He’s stroking your hair now, peppering soft kisses against your temple, down your cheek, whispering in your ear, “don’t go, baby. Don’t cry. God, I’m sorry- I’m really sorry.” He waits for you to calm, for the tears to stop, and then he’s guiding you to stand, leading you back into his room.

He climbs in next to you, pulling one of your duvets over the both of you, and it’s hard to put into words how much that one small thing means. He wraps you up in his arms again, like the night he held you last. You press a kiss to his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” you say, when you find your voice again. “I let you think I was with someone else.”

Yoongi shakes his head as soon as you start talking. “Shh. Don’t explain. We’re not even toge- wait… let me think?”

You cringe. “Nothing happened. I just went to the party with Tae, we crashed in the lounge with a bunch of people. I was- I dunno. It- nothing happened, okay, Yoongi? I didn’t even want anything to happen. I wanted to be here.”

“Why weren’t you here?”

“Scared.”

“Oh.” You hold your breath as your eyes rake over his blank expression. And then his face crumples and he holds you tighter, burying his nose in your hair. “I th- thought I made it clear, how much- and then you… baby I was so jealous. Shit .” He laughs then, bitterly, more at himself it seems, because his hand strokes down your hair, and tips up your chin. His dark eyes are intense on yours. “Are you scared now? I thought I misread everything. Or missed my chance. Did I?”

You shake your head.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, his voice deep, running a thumb over the apple of your cheek. “Use your words, yeah? Let’s not get this wrong again.”

“No, Yoongi, you didn’t misread anything,” you say, and he smiles, leans in, his breath ghosting your lips. “You didn’t miss your chance. I’d give you a thousand.”

“Still scared?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you admit. “But I want us anyway.”

His smile is wide and beautiful. You love it. Love him. Dark eyes dart to your lips.

“Can I-”

“Y-“

And you’re kissing.

Outside, there should be fireworks. But there isn’t and it doesn’t matter because you’re kissing, and kissing has never felt this good.

➪ part 2: 400 words (that same night (morning?) cute fluffy nice stuff)