#i really wanna be here but the body is weak but the spirit is willing

[monstriiss]

crawls out from my hole in the ground: what did i miss

[mypoisonedvine]

vignettes of a bond || alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

I originally wrote this in two parts for my sleepover but after I realized how long it accidentally became, I've reformatted it, added/changed a few things, and made into a oneshot!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: smut, angst, knotting, violence

June 2nd, 1943, 11:43 p.m., James Barnes’ bedroom

“I wanna do it, before I go,” he whispered against your skin. “But I know it’s wrong. It’s too cruel.”

“No, please,” you whimpered, “I want it. I want your mark.”

Bucky pulled back for a moment and you examined your Alpha’s face carefully, knowing it might be the last time for a long time. “I couldn’t bond to you and then leave you. It wouldn’t be fair… you deserve to find somebody who can stay, and be with you, and protect you.”

“All I want is you,” you whispered. “Please, Alpha… bite me.”

You saw him hesitate for a moment before he leaned in and sucked at your neck, building the anticipation before he finally sunk his teeth into your skin and you cried out, one single tear rolling down your cheek. “Mine,” he growled against your skin as he lapped at the healing wound, “my Omega. Forever.”

“Yours, only yours,” you agreed eagerly.

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had taken you, but that night he really and truly claimed you, left you a desperate begging mess, stretched out over his knot as he filled you over and over.

The next morning, you were still sore between your legs as well as on your new mark, and it took everything in you to be strong as you saw him off at the train station, waving goodbye and praying that your Alpha would return to you soon.

November 9th, 1943, 2:24 p.m., undercover SHIELD facility

“You promised Bucky you’d take care of me,” you reminded him with a little smile, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“I know,” Steve relented, “but we both know I can’t do that. Not in this state. But maybe I can protect you if I do this. Maybe I can protect my country. I owe it to everyone, especially Bucky, to try.”

You nodded. “But I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. Come see me before I ship out for good, alright?”

“Of course,” you agreed.

December 27th, 1943, 8:32 a.m., your front porch

“You’re lying,” you gasped as you shook your head. “You’re wrong, no, it’s not true.”

“It is,” Steve promised as tears welled in his eyes, “I’m so so sorry, I saw it myself, I had to watch him fall…”

“It’s not true! He’s not dead!”

“I know he loved you so much. He talked about every day, he couldn’t wait to come home to you,” Steve remembered, choking up noticeably. “But he won’t. He’s gone.”

“You don’t understand, I know, okay? I know.”

“You’re in shock, I understand, it’s hard to lose your mate—”

“You’re a beta, you wouldn’t understand,” you dismissed; sure, he looked like an alpha now, but it didn’t make a difference. “Omegas, we know when our Alpha dies, we feel it, it kills us. He’s far away, but he’s still there, I still feel him!”

Steve held you as you sobbed, your body crumpling into his arms. Sometimes you thought maybe he held you too tight on accident because he was still getting used to his new strength; other times you thought he did it on purpose.

February 3rd, 1944, 12:00 p.m., undercover SHIELD facility

“Even when I had nothing, I had Steve,” you recalled shakily, “and now he’s gone too.”

“Is that why you’re volunteering?” Agent Carter asked you. “Because you’d rather sleep for a hundred years than live without your mate and your best friend?”

“I’m volunteering because my mate and my best friend died for SHIELD,” you corrected firmly, “and if I’m not willing to also, then I’m admitting I think they went to waste.”

“Steve told me you didn’t think Bucky was dead,” Peggy remembered.

You winced. “I’m not sure. But I know he’s not coming home again. I came here to give whatever I could to help find him… I was asked to participate in a cryogenics research study. If it helps him, then I’ll do it.”

She was about to get up, apparently satisfied with your final interview, but you stopped her.

“On one condition,” you added. “If James Barnes is found, alive or dead, wake me up to see him.”

She nodded, stepping out of the room and leaving you alone again.

May 8th, 2012, SHIELD headquarters

“Can you hear me?”

You slowly blinked awake, your vision taking a moment to catch up with your mind. You saw tubes coming out of your arms; you saw Steve above you, looking like the day you saw him last.

“Did you find Bucky?” you asked instantly. Why else would they wake you up?

“No,” Steve answered, seemingly a bit disappointed that that was your first and only question.

“Then put me back to sleep,” you demanded.

“It’s been 68 years,” he told you. “You’ve slept for 68 years. It’s time to wake up.”

And you did, more than you ever wanted to, because you realized you couldn’t feel him anymore. Your Alpha was gone. Worse, he probably died while you were asleep; he probably died alone.

One more time, like he had 68 years ago, Steve held you while you sobbed.

August 1st, 2014, 2:11 a.m., Avengers compound, Steve Rogers’ quarters

You ran into Steve’s room barefoot and still in your pajamas, barreling through the door and right into his bed.

“Steve, I feel him!” you rushed.

“What?” he groaned sleepily, looking up at you as he blinked in confusion.

“I feel him again, he’s alive,” you explained. “I know it. He’s weak… he’s hurting… but he’s there.”

“That’s impossible,” Steve shook his head. “It’s been too long, he would’ve died of old age anyways.”

“Don’t you want to believe it? Don’t you want to think he’s out there?”

“Do I want to think he’s alone and I didn’t save him?” Steve hissed. “No, I can’t say that I particularly do!”

“But we still can, Steve, we just have to find h—”

But before you could finish, the feeling left you, and you were just half of something again.

“Oh,” you breathed.

“He’s gone again?” Steve realized.

You nodded, biting your lip as it started to quiver. He sighed and pulled you into a hug. “If I could just see his body, and know it was over,” you whispered, “if I could just bury him, have a funeral…”

“We’ll have one,” Steve decided, “after this mission. We’ll put him to rest. He deserves that, and so do you.”

You nodded into his shoulder. It shattered you into a million pieces but it was still the better option, to try to let him go in whatever small way you could. He would always, always, always be your Alpha, nothing could change that, but a funeral would at least bring some closure.

That would have to wait until after your next mission though… and it was going to be a big one: tracking the elusive Winter Soldier.

August 3rd, 2014, 1:14 p.m., Lower East side

You were a few blocks away, helping civilians escape the firefight, when you felt it.

For one impossibly brief moment, you felt him, stronger than you had in nearly 80 years. He was here.

You instantly got up and ran like you’d never run before, finding the Soldier and Steve locked in a brutal showdown— but his mask was gone now, and you nearly fell to your knees at the sight of him.

“Bucky!” you yelped, but you knew he wasn’t there or you would’ve felt his presence. Your Alpha was somewhere underneath the shell that wore his face, and you needed to find him.

You ran forward just as Steve made a break for it, getting to him just in time to stand between the Soldier and his mission.

“Alpha, please,” you whimpered, clutching at his chest. A metal hand backhanded you to the ground.

“Out of my way, Omega,” he growled, stepping over you, but you grabbed at his ankles even when he tried to kick you away.

“My mark,” you explained hastily, pulling your shirt down some to make sure it was visible. “It’s yours. Do you remember? You gave me this. This is your mark on me.”

He stared down at you, seeming to be contemplating it, and you scrambled back to your feet and faced him.

“I still feel you,” you whispered. “I knew you were alive, I knew you’d come back to me. I could feel you, right here,” you explained as you took his hand and placed it on your chest. “Could you feel me? Did you know I was waiting for you all this time?”

His eyes were watering but he still seemed confused— stunned, more specifically, as you placed your hand on his chest.

“I’ll always be yours, Bucky. I’ll always be your Omega, no matter where you are.”

A stun gun took you down, an array of masked men appeared, and before he could really see you for what you were, he was dragged away and taken to be erased again.

August 3rd, 2014, 9:04 p.m., Avengers compound, medical bay

“I can’t believe we let them get away,” Steve lamented, resting his face in his hands. “I can’t believe they took him again…”

“They’ll be back,” you promised sternly. “They’re going to figure out what I am to him. They’re going to realize I could break his programming. And they’re going to come for me.”

“And when they do?” Steve pressed.

“We’ll be ready. And I’ll get my Alpha back.”

August 3rd, 2014, 9:04 p.m., temporary HYDRA operations facility

"The woman on the bridge... the Omega..." Bucky mumbled. "She knew me... she had my mark."

"No she didn't."

He furrowed his brow. "She showed me..."

Pierce sighed, glancing over to the HYDRA scientist who looked back at him sternly.

"She's too dangerous to be left alive," the man sighed, shrugging in his lab coat. "We can't deprogram a bond like that."

"We'll take care of her," Pierce promised.

Bucky launched from the chair, snapping his restraints like paper. "Touch her and I'll fucking kill you!" he bellowed, tackling his handler to the ground.

Pierce just laughed as another scientist jabbed Bucky with a needle, dosing him with something strong enough to kill any other man but just enough to knock out a super soldier. Pierce stood up and dusted himself off as he watched Bucky go limp and be lifted back into his chair.

"I can see the fight in your eyes, Soldier," he taunted as he leaned into his face. "I know you really would kill me, if you could. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, right? But don't worry about your mate, we'll make it quick and painless. Hey, maybe beforehand me and a few of the other Alphas will show her a good time, poor thing's been without her mate for 70 years... I bet she's raring to go."

Bucky's arm twitched as his eyes started to fall shut, a tear falling down his blank and motionless face.

"Wipe him," Pierce instructed to the scientist, turning and walking away as the electric whirr of the machine charging up filled the room.

August 11th, 2014, 3:53 p.m., SHIELD headquarters

Steve was impressed with how accurate and imminent your prediction was; HYDRA was hot on your trail and desperate to eliminate the biggest threat to their Asset. Knowing they were coming made it easier, but it was still a brutal fight.

You and Steve tried to stay together, but they were smart, they used the perfect bait to lure you away.

"Tell me where he is," you demanded from the HYDRA agent as you held a blade to his neck, "then I'll kill you."

"Isn't it supposed to be 'or I'll kill you'?" he frowned.

You shook your head. "Not the way I operate."

Opposite to the reaction you were expecting, he grinned widely. "He's here."

Your heart stopped.

"On the roof. He's here to kill you."

You dropped the knife and ran straight for the stairwell, ascending them like they were nothing and calling out for your Alpha.

You found him there, waiting, gun trained on you. Raising your hands in surrender, you yelled to him again.

"Bucky," you called across the windy roof, eyes nearly blinded by the bright afternoon sun. "Alpha."

"I'm not who you think I am," he yelled back. "I'm not your Alpha."

It hurt to hear it in his voice, but you knew it wasn't him. Cautiously, you stepped closer. "Before you left, you told me you didn't want to mark me and leave me behind," you recalled. "But I wanted it. I wanted to be bonded to you more than I'd ever wanted anything."

He could clearly see you were coming closer, he even tightened his finger over the trigger of his weapon, but he was waiting. You kept walking to him, slowly.

"I've never regretted it," you continued, "not even when I thought you were dead, not even when I had to spent a lifetime-- more than that-- apart from you."

Finally you were face to face, and you stepped closer until his gun was pressed right into your chest.

"You can shoot me now and I still won't regret it," you promised. "I love you."

Shakily, he lowered his weapon. "Omega..." he breathed.

"Your Omega."

He pulled you into him and you sobbed as you felt him come to life in your arms-- the real him, your Alpha, your Bucky. He held you close and breathed against the top of your head and it was like a dream coming true decades after you'd forced yourself to let it go.

But you'd never given up. And now you had found him again.

Agents started to come onto the roof and Bucky spun the two of you around, firing with his right hand and using the left, metal arm as a shield for you.

He carried you and you didn't even know where he was taking you, but it didn't matter. In his arms, you were home.

August 12th, 1:03 a.m., Avengers compound, your quarters

You hadn't stopped coming or crying for at least an hour. Bucky had all but split you open on his knot all night and he didn't show any signs of stopping.

He apparently intended to make up for lost time. And you'd lost a lot of time.

"Just one more, I know you can give me one more," he groaned furiously rubbing your clit as his knot began to swell again.

You could give him anything, as long as he asked for it like that.

You'd lost count of how many times he'd told you to come for him, and how many times you did it immediately.

"I can see how full you are," he whispered as he rubbed your stomach gently. "So much seed in you that your body can't hold it all."

You looked down and yep, you were distinctly bloated from his come alone; it made you a little dizzy to even look at it.

"The idea of you alone during your heats, no one to protect you, it kills me," he explained with a growl. "I won't let you go again. I can't."

"Then don't," you sighed. "Never leave this bed, fill me with everything you have."

"Did anybody ever help you through them? The heats?" he asked. "I wouldn't blame you, they can be so painful... I just need to know so I can make sure you forget about them."

"No, Bucky, never— I never let anyone touch me."

"Steve could've helped you, at least some..."

"He wouldn't have, he loves you too much. And I wouldn't accept anything less than you, ever. You're my Alpha. We're bonded. There's never anyone else."

That didn't seem to satisfy him, his eyes darting away as he swallowed. Your gut sank with the realization he probably wasn't being totally honest about why he asked.

"Your ruts," you gasped. "Were you alone for all of them?"

He shut his lips tighter.

"Bucky, it's okay, just tell me. I was asleep for 70 years, I skipped most of them, but you... you had to live through them all."

"They gave me betas, and omegas," he mumbled, "but I don't... I don't really remember. I know they wanted me to. They threatened to hurt me if I didn't, because they knew I'd go crazy after so many ruts alone, but I can't remember if I really did it. I remember... I remember crying, and begging for you."

"Alpha," you breathed as you felt new tears run over the stains of your old ones. "It's okay. Whatever happened, it's okay now. We're together again. Everything's okay."

You wiped his tear away with your thumb, holding his face tightly, weaving your fingers into his long hair.

"I'll always be your Omega," you promised.

He leaned in closer to you, kissing your cheek before pulling back a little. "It's faded," he whispered as he ran his thumb over the mark on your neck. "The last time I saw it, it was still fresh."

"It's older, sure, but it's stronger than ever, Bucky."

August 14th, 10:12 a.m., Avengers compound, residential area kitchen

Steve's eyes went wide when he came into the kitchen for breakfast and found you there, steeping your tea. "Surprised to see you out of the love nest so soon," he smirked.

"It's been three days, I don't think that counts as soon," you scoffed.

"It does to him," Steve frowned. "He's asleep, isn't he?"

"Yep."

"I know he wouldn't let you out of his sights if he was conscious," Steve chuckled.

At that moment, you heard Bucky call your name and run out into the hall, only a bedsheet covering his groin as he appeared in the doorway. You spun around and smiled when you saw him come running towards you, embracing you with his free arm.

"You should've told me you were leaving, I got scared when I woke up without you," he admitted weakly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry!"

He pulled back and clutched your face in both his hands. "I'm waking up next to you every morning for the rest of my life, you understand?"

You nodded dutifully. "Yes, Alpha."

"One hand on the sheet, please, Buck?" Steve winced, looking away.

“Whoops,” Bucky groaned, reaching to cover himself as you laughed softly.

“Let’s go back to bed, baby,” you decided quietly, taking Bucky’s (free) hand in yours and waving goodbye to Steve, who was already making his way as far out of earshot as possible.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Hello I just wanted to say ur amazing writer and I was wondering if I can request Winchester brother x sister reader where the reader is the youngest Winchester maybe around 16- 17 you can choose the fits but I was hoping u can do like where the reader is depressed and has ED (eating disorder ) and doesn’t tell the brothers and one day it gets worse and passed out the brothers are worried trying to help her out but it hard for her I hope this ok if not I can do different request it just I found comfort in angst topics with struggles I go through you know sorry if this doesn’t makes sense

It started years ago. To be exact it started when your father lost it, going mental on your oldest brother Dean. The three of you were thick as thieves and it physically hurt to see the complete and utter destruction your father left behind for Dean to clean up.

Living your life on the road was okay, you had two great older brothers that kept you up. Kept you in good spirits but it's hard when your whole world around you is crashing. You know it, your family knows but no one else.

How Dean and Sam ever dealt with the massive weight on their shoulders. It blew your mind. You. You weren't worth anything, especially not your mother burning on the ceiling. Your father resented you. You didn't need him to say it, because you could tell. Dean was his soldier, Sam was the disappointment, but the smartest out of the three of you. But you, you were the reason all four of you were in this mess. The reason why John was searching for that revenge every day.

Covering it up with the idea of saving people, but you were smart, so very smart. Sam had complimented you many times on your quickness, and sharpness when it came to the lore, but regarding your father, it was never the approval you were looking for.

Lots of things happened, to get you to the age of seventeen and drowning in the pit of your stomach all because you all no desire to be here anymore. You weren't helping your older brothers you were just in the way.

In the way of progress, a major setback to them. For them to prove to John that they would be like him, do like him. They'd have to leave you behind. It was for the best.

It started off as a way to conserve the little food the four of you had. At the ripe age of seven you learned quickly that offering your food to Sam was a better idea, or skipping off to lay in a shitty motel bed was better than eating. Yes your stomach would growl and the acid would burn, but anything to keep the weight of your brother off your shoulders.

As you grew up you learned that if you stayed at school as long as you could it was the best. Dean had just learned how to drive driving was his passion, reading was Sam. And yours... yours was to stay away, out of the way.

By the age of fifteen, you had your patterned packed down and tight. You leave with Sam since he drove you to school, and since he was a senior. You felt a wave of dizziness almost every morning. The night's dinner is still wrapped in its paper bag. Claiming to take it for lunch. Dean never argued with you. Kiss your forehead and hitting the pillow quicker than he hit on the girls that passed by the motel's door.

Your father was already starting to become absent. The shadow of what a perfect family no one ever talked about. You thrived in the school building though. Sam kissed your forehead his height greatly giving him the advantage before saying his goodbyes to you and running to meet with his senior friends.

You walked alone in the hallways. The bullying started almost immediately the second you stepped into the building. Near of my brothers were aware of the shit I went through on a daily basis. Years later they still weren't.

You had settled on never telling them about my dislike for eating, you hoped and prayed most night that they'd never find out. It was better without their acknowledgment of your weakness. Who knows they might be the same way everyone was at school.

The last year had been hard for you and your brothers, your father making less, and less of an effort with all three of you. Your relationship was already straining to stay alive, the burning and hurt in the bit of your stomach was something that was constant now, and from what you could tell it wasn't going to get any better.

Your brothers are now in their early 20's still taking care of their baby sister. Nights you guys sat down for dinner were odd, without John there. The quiet days where a now older Sam would drive you to school, along by yourself all day long. The teasing being relentless.

The whole idea, you were constantly dizzy, constantly on the verge of falling asleep no matter if you were in class, or at the crappy motel room with your brothers.

Tonight though, tonight your world fell apart as you walked in through the door, your final year of schooling was just starting your summer of staying inside and reading was over. The hot day of September had gotten to you more than you were willing to say. As you walked in through the motel door, the cool air hitting you in your face, and the hot air of the evening summer day kicking you in your ass.

It was too much, down you and your light bookbag went. Dean had been on one of the motels' beds when he heard you fall, Sam behind hadn't been able to catch you even with his long arms.

You don' remember much. You do remember hearing the sounds of your brothers frantically rushing around the room, one dropping his gun, and the other rushing over to your side.

"Dean what the hell just happened?" Sam asked in a frantically worried voice. "I don't know all I heard was the engine of Baby, and then her fall to the floor," Dean said rushing to your thin frame. Neither had noticed until now when they finally had time to pay attention to their baby sister that she was rather thinner than a normal seventeen-year-old.

Paler then normal, "Sam do you notice it?" Dean asked as Sam pulled the lightweight bookbag from your small shoulders. A small hum came from Sams's lips, maybe it was too much to say it. The words making truth when they leave his lips.

Sam picked you up feeling just how boney you were. "How did we let her get this bad Dean?" He questioned, Dean kept his head down grabbing her bag and following behind Sam to the bed's side.

When you woke up your two brothers were talking quietly in the tiny kitchen. Sam saw you try to get up their conversation stopped at a halt, and they both came over to help you.

Quiet overcame the room. Dean was the first to speak. "How are you feeling, Y/n?" He asked, you shrugged your shoulders, the ache in your body was strong, but not enough to make that your brother's problems.

"Y/n please be honest with us... Is this the first time something like this has happened?" Your brother Sam asked. Swallowing hard, before talking you answered Dean's question. "I feel fine guys really nothing to worry about." Answering Sams was going to be harder, you don't really remember the last time something like this happened, maybe last week in school, maybe a few years ago. "I don't remember Sam." That was all you said. Sad expression littered their coarse and worn faces.

"Y/n, how long have been like this?" Dean asked, furrowed brows as he asked the question. "Like what?" You replied. "Like how you don't eat at dinner and think we don't notice, how long Y/n? Just answer please." Dean said.

You tried opening your mouth, but the pressure of being truthful with your brothers was overbearing. Trying again and still, nothing slipped out. Sam ur interrupted your train of thought. "Since dad started on with his hunt for yellow eyes?" Simple questions always have a simple answer.

"If you want an honest answer I'd say seven or eight." You said, pushing yourself up from laying in the bed to sitting up against the headboard. The gasps for air were real between your two brothers. One hand came to rest on top of yours while the other paced around the motel room.

Your guess as to which was mad, and empathic wasn't hard for you. Dean pacing around the room meant he was angry, and Sam's empathic hand on top of yours meant he to wanted help. "Why didn't you tell us?" Dean questioned me, Sam turned to look at his older brother. "That won't help, we were talking remember. We need to help her, bot questions her about her actions or even her reason why." Sam said, Dean, calm down as he continued to pace.

Sam returned his attention to you. Hand still laying on top of yours, "Y/n why don't we, all the three of us help you yeah?" He said you laughed a little and Dean looked up from his pacing feet. "I don't think you guys could ever help me. I've been and felt this way for ten years now. This is just how I am now. Broken and worthless to this Winchester family." You said the strain of holding back was harder than you thought. Dean had paused his pacing staring at you and Sams's hand had engulfed yours.

Dean came over, putting his finger under your chin, grabbing your attention. "You listen here, to Sam and I. We care more about you than you'll ever know. We don't care what any person thinks, we don't care about Dad as much as we care about our little sister. Now believe me when we say that all we want to do is help you, helping you is what Sam and I are here for. Y/n you aren't alone, you aren't, worthless, and you most definitely aren't broken. We can help you all you have to do is let us in." Dean said sitting down next to you when he was down.

"We love you and don't wanna see so much potential be wasted especially when we knew we could have helped you," Sam added. You were having a hard time believing them, but nothing would stop you from trying especially when you had your brothers by your side.

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘐𝘊𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ jeno's installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: he likes to think it's romantic how he always finishes your sentences for you. you think it's annoying that he keeps interrupting you.

✧ ice hockey player!lee jeno x (fem.) tutor!reader ✧ college au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slightly suggestive ✧ word count : 4.4k ✧ disclaimers : mentions of sexual activities, swearing

✧ author’s note — same universe as my puck in your goal which does not need to be read first but can be. also, hi @crownily i did it :)

let's just say jeno sucks at school and that the one thing he doesn't suck at is hockey, ice hockey. and let's just say that you're his tutor, strictly for tutoring purposes. yet, here you find yourself at his doorstep at 3:47 in the morning, or so your phone says.

he opens up to see you clad dressed down, different from the neat tee and skirt he's so used to. to be completely honest, jeno has never felt anything towards you and even he himself finds that hard to believe since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive but he isn't attracted to you, per se.

jeno wished he would though, especially now that he's suffering from what he called you here for in the first place: an extreme case of breakup.

one hand leaning your weight on the doorframe, the right of your shit rides up. jeno bites down on his lip, retracting his eyes to your face. "let me get this straight, you called me here, at this time of night, to get me to help you with what exactly?" so what if he thought fucking you would be a good way to keep his mind off things? too bad he didn't think any further than that. the words come to his as he speaks, "i just thought that- that...you- you would be awake at this time! because you know- you like to study…did i interrupt anything?"

donning a dreary expression, you nod in clarification, "yeah, you interrupted my studying."

"right, okay, i'll let you get back to that," he turns in haste as if to close the door behind him but you catch it with your heel, a scowl making its way across your face at what you were about to say, "forget it, jen, i'm already here. what do you need help with?" you stare into his back, his widening eyes unbeknownst to you. he turns again, now deliberate in motion, just to give him as much time to get his bearings together. lifting one shoulder in suggestion, and truthfully confusion, his voice is a pitch higher when he responds, "...studying?"

and that's how he finds himself staring into the crack between the wall and the far end of his desk, your figure hovering above him but not in the way he'd planned for, planned poorly for. jeno is on edge and frankly, he feels incredibly bad because he doesn't understand anything that comes from your mouth and the words you jot down on his paper before him all seem to collide and blur into each other. that's when he realizes he's started crying.

and that's when you're rendered speechless as the boy sits there, the little tracks running down his face wetting the paper you were teaching off of. "jeno, oh my god. fuck, you good?" you don't want to come off as prying so you avoid the whole 'why' notion but you're not that socially inept to miss that he didn't call you here at such an ungodly hour of morning just to get some unpaid tutor hours in and he certainly isn't crying because he doesn't understand shit. 

a hand of his is sifting through his hair while another rubs harshly down the side of his face. "i don't think you should- i'm just gonna go get you some tissues, i'll- i'll go get that." you turn on your heel and navigate your way from his room to the kitchen you'd passed on the way in. it's dark and you know he has roommates, you were less than willing to make your presence known. to your dismay, the kitchen was currently being occupied by a man whom you've yet to identify, being only two steps in when you stop in your tracks. 

he identifies you first, "y/n, what are you doing here?" and you pick up from the voice that it's donghyuck. your foot hits a cabinet before your eyes get a chance to adjust to the lighting, "fuck, yeah i'm here with jeno, well i'm not- not like that, we're just studying."

"just studying?" there's no way to see it but you swear the cock of his brows is apparent as it would be at day. you hum in response, fingers trying to make out the paper towel dispenser you were sure you caught a glimpse of on the way in. "so you're saying," he pulls out his phone and the light that emits from the screen is enough to guide you in the right direction before he shoves is back in his pocket. "that you booked a tutoring session with him at 4:19 a.m.?"

tearing one, then two, from the dispenser, you distractedly let a disbelieving, "yup," past your lips. hyuck scrutinizes you in the dark and his next words nearly shock you out of your skin, "is he fucking you because he just got dumped? is that why?"

you swivel at lightning speed, "he what?" hand over his mouth, donghyuck seems genuinely apologetic, though you wouldn't put it past him if he was not, "shit, you didn't know?" folding the paper towels two times over in your hands, you gingerly across the room to where the boy is seated, "i mean, i know that he didn't call me here just to study but that's legitimately what we ended up doing." he doesn't answer for awhile so you follow up with a question, "you think he wants to fuck me?"

hyuck looks you straight in the eye, "yeah, yeah i do." it hangs unsaid in the air between the two of you, but it's within both of your knowledge that jeno only wanted you here for sexual relief from his frustrations, that whatever else could be denoted by the deed was simply inapplicable for this situation. you shake your head of the thoughts, "so, what are you doing up this early?" you know that there is a weary and weeping jeno you have to get back to but you also know that your presence is somewhat unwelcome there, uncomfortable even, while he wades in his fit of tears.

hyuck replies with a heavy tone, "he gave me some things to think about too."

and you jump to conclusions all too quickly, "he wants to fuck you too?"

"god, y/n, no."

a weak laugh lining your demeanor after the last of the interaction, you reenter jeno's room to find him sprawled wide, his back to the bed. "hey," you preface as you round upon his bed, setting the paper towels on his nightstand. it seemed his tears had run their race and his eyes were now staring lethargically into the ceiling. perching yourself on the edge, you reach to place a hand atop one of his, giving two reassuring squeezes. "need anything?"

only now does jeno seem to take note of your arrival, his eyes hooded eyes flit to you for half a second before resolutely tugging you by the hand you had clasped within his. "what-" your breath is stolen from you as your back hits his chest. jeno drapes his arms across you front, "jeno, what-"

"i need a pillow, that's what i need."

you blink, trying to make sense of your thoughts, "did you ask me here to fuck you numb?" his body goes rigid underneath yours and you're right to assume that you've pinpointed the answer. "i'm right, huh?" eyeing downwards, his fingers are fiddling for you to see. after a few moments laid in bated breath, he lets weakly, "sorry about that, it's not gonna happen."

"yeah no shit," is said dulcetly despite the denotation. you feel his chuckles reverberate beneath you. "i'm really sorry, i swear i don't think of you that way." a smile upon your own face, you turn in his arms to place an expression to his voice. propping your head up on your folded arms, your arms atop his chest, you peer into his eyes sincerely. there is much that needs to be said, the reasonings behind his unexpected breakdown and the closeness you suddenly feel with still have to be addressed. but at this hour in the morning, you can't bring yourself to. 

instead you query, "should i stay the night?" he peers into your eyes with equal sincerity when he responds, "it's already early morning, you'd probably be off better sleeping here." giving a soft nod and a few moments to rearrange your thoughts, you perk up again just as he's about to fall asleep. he isn't annoyed in the slightest, rather he smiles at that, your voice, "do you have practice tomorrow?"

it's his turn to give a nod in response. "wanna come watch?" your arms move around his chest, encasing him like how he's encased you. hiding your smile in the front of his sweatshirt, your voice comes out muffled, "i'd love to but i'm a bit busy, jen. next time, maybe."

at your response, it's the first time that jeno feels, acknowledges, that his heart drops, even though it's in the slightest. there's an image of you in the stands, your textbooks in your lap and glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose. the image moves as he moves cross the rink and you look up when he passes by, eyes bright and a small smile and thumbs up in encouragement. from then on, it's that image that's plastered in his mind every time he thinks of you, that one self-conjured image. 

jeno feels his heart drop even more when he awakes to an empty bed. he finds that the text that you've sent in departure isn't nearly enough to repair his spirits, he wishes you were there instead.

practice sucks ass the next day and the day after that, he doesn't pay it any mind, knowing more than well enough how renjun whispers of the news of his breakup among the members. he doesn't hold it against him though, after all, his ex is his teammate's best friend. jeno thinks it hurts the most when his ex shows up at the next game, the one he'd invited you to when you'd crossed paths on campus a few days ago. he finds himself in a weird predicament between trying to forget about a girl and chasing after another one. he can't tell if he really likes you or if he just needs a rebound.

today, jeno decides it's the latter because he's fuming the entire game at how hyuck would send winks in her direction, how he would skate up to the edge of the rink to converse with her during their breaks. jeno hates how she's moved on all too easily and he feels and urge to prove that he can do the same. he wants to prove to himself.

he's let almost every goal in by the time the buzzer signals the end of the final round. the coach reprimands him because at this point, he might as well be from the opposing team. the helmet is off in a split second, he showers for the briefest of moments, only allowing the water to slosh across his body one time before he's patting himself dry. jeno slips the towel from his shoulder throws on a hoodie in its stead. he's out the locker room in bare minutes where he comes face to face with you. you, with the little sheepish, apologetic smile on your face. you, who'd just arrived from your shift at the local cat adoption center, late for the game but in just time for him. you, the only person he's been aching to see the whole day. but even now, he's unsure of exactly why. 

"y/n, hey," he's by your side in an instant, hesitant in his actions but words tumbling out nonetheless, "you came. late, but...you came."

you meet him in the middle, hands coming up to your aid and waving nonsensically as you speak, "i'm so sorry, my shift was extended and i forgot to tell my boss beforehan-"

"it's fine, i'm just glad you're here." he readjusts the bag onto his shoulders in a nervous fit. he barely manages to make eye contact with you and he wonders when he started to feel this way about you or, again, the desire for a rebound, his need for a taste of vengeance is willing him to act this way. jeno shrugs off the thought and fills the silence with an offer, "so do you wanna go...do something together?" 

jeno should know by now. the little sparkle that glints in your eyes and the way his stomach upturns itself in response. he should know by now how much you like him too. hyuck exits the locker rooms in that instant, he greets you in passing as he joins a girl up ahead. you turn back to jeno, momentarily distracted, only to find his gaze hardened and fixed on the girl. a sickening feeling erupts within you as you begin to piece one and one to make two. 

he turns back to you and you avoid his gaze. the shift in your countenance jolts him as much as his had jolted you. you lick your lips before looking back up at him, your own eyes guarded. he wishes he knew why. "jeno, i'm gonna have to rain check. i just- i thought of something- something came up. i have to go."

you're stalking away from him before he can even process it. he's lucky that his strides are long because he catches your wrist right before you get to the exit, "y/n," he tugs gently so that you turn to him but he's caught off guard even more when he sees the tears that have begun to form in your eyes. "why are you like this all of a sudden? what happened?"

you shake your head at him, hurriedly swallowing the sobs before you can embarrass yourself even further, "nothing, jeno. i just realized something." you stare down at his wrist expectantly but he only clutches it tighter, "then, what did you realize?"

he lets go of your wrist now and you feel like your heart couldn't get any heavier as you answer, "i realized that i'm just a fill-in until you get over her." jeno sucks in a breath as he watched the words leave your mouth, as he watches you turn and leave, and he hears more tears bubble from your frame, the sounds receding the farther you walk from him. for some reason, it's only when you tell him so that he understands that he feels the exact opposite.

it's only when you shove it in his face, your own face scrunched up in tears, that he's only going after you as a rebound, when he sees his feelings for what they really are. honest, jeno finds it hard to believe that he's never felt anything towards you since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive, he finds you attractive. fuck it, he likes you.

fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, your next tutoring session was scheduled for just a few days after, just enough time for him to get his act together and enough for you to cool your head enough sift through the thirty or so voice mails he'd left you. most of them seem to contain the same rueful, repentant tone, though a few seem to be displaying his slow spiral into self-deprecation. you're pretty sure the last is a mistake, a butt dial maybe.

jeno's not proficient with the knife, definitely not with how he's cutting the pears right now. he thinks he would've been better off bringing bananas but that would've seemed too insincere, wouldn't it? his thoughts are jumbling and sludging against one another when a finger of his slips and the fine edge of the knife is pressed on a knuckle. "fuck," he swears, his other hand already reaching over to the sink to run the cut under cold water. the sting is piercing and he looks away from the cut to the clock overhead. "double fuck," he mutters this time. the last thing he needs right now is you thinking that he stood you up. 

with steadfast athleticism, he finishes off the last of the pears with one hand. he's sure you'd laugh at the whole debacle if you were there though he's thankful you're not. jeno faces the fear that he sucks at everything except ice hockey, and he's barely getting by these days. he only ever feels confident on the rink with his stick in hand, crouched low so his eyes were level with the ice. he's never felt that much control over anything else, much less confessing to a girl and trying, somehow, to show that she was of much more worth than what he'd made it seem like. 

the library is a ten minute walk from his house, a three minute sprint. yes, he had sprinted. 

he knows for a fact that pears were the right way to go when you let the tiniest of smiles adorn your face at the sight of him setting the tupperware in front of you. you check your expression back into taut impassivity before he can indulge in his victory any longer. he knows you're not half as mad as you present yourself to be but that doesn't mean he'd take his mistakes lightly and go about this sleazily. jeno needs your trust. 

you resist the urge to reach over and flip over the hair that stood upright on the wrong side of his head. reverting your eyes onto the computer screen before you, "let's get started." not a half hour into your session, you're spaced out, eyes zoned onto the way jeno spins his pen between his fingers. maybe it's the lack of sleep that's getting to you.

"y/n? you good?"

you swallow thickly, removing your gaze from his hands, from him, from his paper, from anything that has to do with him. you notice how your chair has inched closer to his, or his to yours, you notice the finger-wide distance between you and him. shivers are sent down your spine. "let's take a break, is that fine?" jeno, from beside you, yawns and for a brief second you think he's about to pull the stretch and hand around shoulder trick. you blush unknowingly. 

jeno speaks before you can ask to resume the session, "can i say something?"

"is it work related?" you give your best efforts at keeping your voice level and head turned somewhat in his direction. in your peripheries, he cocks his head to the right, "...no, but we're on break." almost letting a huff escape your complexion, you relent, "fine then, shoot," figuring he would say it anyways.

"i want you to come to our next game."

you're lucky you had the whole scenario thought through, at least something can be harvested from your late nights spent tossing and turning, "i don't think i can-"

"y/n, i haven't even told you when."

"okay fine," you wrinkle your nose in distaste and hand out the truth for him to see, or hear, "i just don't want to." jeno is doing his best, he really is, but he knows that you've heard all that he has to say, if not once, then twenty-nine times over. the last one was a mistake. "did you get my voicemails?"

sighing, you chance a glance at him to see that he isn't the slightest bit annoyed, face drawn into a frown of sorts. you'll never admit that even just the sight could soften your set mindset. consideration replays in your irises when you answer the yes or no question with a decisive nod.

"then i'm sure you understand why i want you to come."

jeno lets you drive him home that day, he'd be the last to complain. the ride is silent from start to finish until right when he's about to close the passenger door, the car parked in front of his shared house. an, "i'll think about it," is what he's left to brew over for the next week or so as he stares that the text, read and unreplied, that he'd sent to remind you of the day and time of the game. he's anxious but it's only to that extent.

it's becoming more and more evident that jeno is loosing his touch on ice. he hates that the only thing he can attribute it to is his dwindling love life. he finds that the enforcer is atypically rough today but he's glad that his role at the goal requires the least interaction and footwork. he'd promised his coach that he would be more wary of his surroundings but he can't help the occasional glance at the rink entrance every once in awhile. what he doesn't understand is that his definition of 'once in awhile' marks at around every thirty seconds.

the last round is the most painful, undoubtedly, because it's as if his defeat is being dragged on and on, as if the giant timer above the rink is ticking to the heartbeat of a dead man. 

jeno can is aware that he's breathing. he's aware but he has to double check when the entrance doors open for the last time that game and you've arrived. you're standing by the doorway, apprehensive, but jeno can't get it past his head that you've arrived, that you're here. he'd have gotten decked in the face had you not motioned your head in the direction of the fast approaching puck and the burly man behind it.

he blocks the shot and every shot after. there's no need to wonder why.

the buzzer rings in his head so quick that he thinks time runs on his emotions rather than the clock. his helmet is often in seconds and he's making his way at supersonic speeds to the part of the rail where you're stood. the glass fogs with his breath as he tries to get his words across. 'i'll be quick,' he mouths. 

you count two minutes until he's off ice. jeno hasn't bothered to shower, he lacks the patience for it. he sits you down on the lowest of the bleachers, closest to the rink. standing over you, he finds that he has so much to say, so many things he wants to let you know, all the feelings he's ever bottled up for the girl so obviously made for him.

he's never had much of a way with words but he thinks that the romance movies hyuck's made him watch over the years give a pretty good overview of what to say in situations like these, "i'd cross the world for you." you snort back at him, nose crinkling in distaste at his choice of words and poking fun at him with your own, "rink, jeno. you mean you'd cross the rink for me."

"y/n, i'm tryna do something here," he whines, the pout on display mimicking his displeased but light-hearted implications. you're equally as amused, "oh yeah? what are you tryna do?"

"i'm tryna," he takes your two arms in his and wraps them around his middle. you instinctively fist the fabric of his blue jersey at the back, "jeno, what are you-" you stop when a hand of his own comes to trace the lines of your face softly. maybe he can't find the words but surely he could show you. if he could just…"you keep interrupting me, jeno."

drawn from his resolution, he's snappy when he retorts, "i think as your boyfriend i ought to have that privilege."

"boyfriend? since when did you-"

"i just did," he revels in the idea that you think him to be smooth with words when in reality the 'boyfriend' was a slip up, a mirror of his daydreams. he's over the moon that it worked out in his favor. while he fixates on just how much he feels for you, you're playfully annoyed at a whole other, "stop fucking interrupting me, jen-"

"i love you."

you blink up at him. well shit. a lot of things are happening and you lack the brain cells to process them. there's only one thing you can think to do, only one think that you're thinking about, have been thinking about, will still be thinking about. 

he may be the one to steal words right from your mouth but beyond that he's oblivious, you think. the smile still plays on his lips when he follows up, "is it okay to interrupt you if i say something like tha-"

you press a smile of your own onto his lips, cutting his words effectively. a hand of yours moves up to the curve of his neck to bring him down further, the angle at which he is kissing giving him all the advantage he needs to deepen it. when you part, you aren't surprised to see how half your body is leaning on the row of seats behind you and that jeno's entire body is sprawled on yours, supported by a knee on one side of you. 

you like your lips as you feel his breath hot on yours. "how's it feel now?"

shaking his head, jeno presses his temple to yours so that the only thing you can see is him, just him. "interrupt me any day, will you?"

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — wrote this up in approx. three hours. lee jeno is so rude for interrupting all my other wips (that are also mostly for him). i hope you enjoyed because i did, i freaking love writing for him <3

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Easy to Forget Me by Cimorelli

Pairings: Tobio Kageyama x fem! reader

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: When the king's queen was out of his grasp before he can realize

Warning/Genre: angst, toxic friendship, anxiety attack

Symbols: Italics=flashbacks

A/N: um- im very much hurt

Kageyama pants as he runs, pushing his limit with his eyes scanning the street ahead of him. His chest heavily coming up and down with sweat dripping down his skin. Mind empty but theres a certain feeling in his chest that was urging him to come back to a certain period in his life or a certain someone.

As he passes by a certain store, he suddenly stops. The feeling of his legs as if it they were holding him back, restraining his every move along with a voice lingering in his head like a broken record.

"She wasn't there."

Like a rock thrown to glass, his heart shatters, the sharpness of it scattering around his body making him weak to his knees as he stares at the shop that brought back memories he should've cherished. Maybe he should've gone with you when you asked him, maybe he should've took interest in your stories that had you smiling for days.

Maybe he should've chosen to remember.

"Tobio! Please don't push me away." Y/N begs, as Tobio disregards your words as he locks the door, slamming it in front of you. It was right after the match of Kitagawa, where his teammates claimed him the King, leaving him stranded.

"Please.. I'm here. I'll stay with you, I promise." Y/N says, head leaned on the door as she desperately tries to talk to the boy who've built such high walls a person like her can never reach. Kageyama can hear her pleas through the door but only one scene was repeating in his head-the moment the ball dropped, not even a soul was willing to save it for him.

"Kageyama.." she whispers sliding down with tears in her innocent eyes, scared for the condition of the boy, even more scared of what was bound to happen to their closeness.

The door creaks open slightly, and she was off her feet wiping away her tears as she turns around to see the broken boy clutching his shirt. He collapses into her arms and she gladly takes him, both sat on the ground with her hands running through his dark locks. Tears in each of their eyes, Y/N holding onto him while he questions himself. All the words that slipped through her mouth was nothing but sweet whispers and promises, reassuring him that he was no king.

Just a prince surrounded in a kingdom he didn't deserve.

-

"T-thank you for yesterday. You're the only one I can..count on." He says through the phone and you immediately smile at his words, surprised he believed in your promise. You let your hand rest on top of your heart, gripping on your shirt feeling that your heart was too big to fit into your body with how your emotions were overwhelming you just because of one boy. You wonder how long it'll take for you to break under him, under the kings command.

"It's nothing, Tobio. I'll be here whenever you need me."

-

"Kageyama! Good morning!" You say as you gladly bring him his usual choice of milk. He nods to you as a sign of thank you, and you smile at him. You walk with him silently, admiring the pleasant air between you two. It was a coincidence you two entered the same school, or was it really just your instinct and you chose it to protect the boy?

"I heard about this new store. Do you wanna come with me? I've seen photos of it everywhere!" She rambles on yet it fell on deaf ears as Kageyama was only delighted about being back on the gym, able to play his passion. When he turned to her, even if she was talking, his slightest care couldn't be given to her. He'd only nod every once in a while to make it seem like he'd understood.

If your heart knew that he didn't care, maybe then you would've realized.

-

We're in the same town

But you're nowhere to be found

"She hasn't been around for days. Do you think she'll make it to our game?" Hinata asks as Tanaka hands him another ball. Tanaka sighs as he looks over to the empty bench. It was funny how they were all concerned yet one boy couldn't care less. The second year looks over to Kageyama who spiked the ball perfectly, seeing him cheer at his success.

"Worry less about Y/N, she probably has her own problems. We all know that she could never miss our game, especially when Kageyama is playing." Daichi says, looking over to the younger boy. Daichi can feel how cold the atmosphere was with just a glance. He tries not to interfere with whatever happened between you two but after the match no one saw you again. Yet he sees Kageyama, perfectly back in his mindset and not an ounce of suspense as to why you weren't present.

"Plus we missed her birthday! Can't we buy some gifts for her? She doesn't really seem okay to me." Sugawara say and Nishinoya jumps at the idea agreeing completely.

"Seems like he shouldn't be invited." Tsukishima says, pointing at their other setter. Hinata sighs beside him, before shaking his head, in denial of the tension.

"Let's just go after practice!"

-

He walks inside the record store, seeing a variety of albums and vinyls. He lets his slim fingers run over the texture of each album, wondering which drew his attention. The atmosphere of the store was enough to leave a weight on his shoulders.

It's you, isn't it?

He eyes a poster on his left, enjoying how the colors were spotlighted by the sunlight that was peeking through the window. All the soft hues, having a dark gradient at the bottom he couldn't help but feel how familiar everything was. He carefully listens to the song that was playing, concentrating on every lyric as if he was trying to find a connection.

This is her world.

He watches how everyone in the store was occupied in conversations. Conversing about their interests, debating about different eras, even singing in different aisles. He can only feel sympathy, alone in her world he didn't bother to acknowledge. He should know by now what music you like, what album you first bought, which band poster was hung on your wall, but when he tried he could only hear murmurs and whispers.

I wish I listened.

-

Do you ever miss me?

You wonder as you sat in your room, knees to your chest in the far corner, listening to the song playing in your earphones. You stood up, walking to your window and opening it, greeted by the cold air. You let you hands dangle from the window while your eyes landing on the night sky creeping a smile on your face at how comforting it was.

The moon stares down on you, feeling helpless for the girl who thought numbness was the right choice. She couldn't even mask the way her world was slowly loosing color. To her, music would always paint her skies with color. All she can do now is envision the colors but in reality they were all desaturating with every passing day. There's pretty smile set on her lips yet feels like a tug of force knowing it was hard to act civil when her heart lost the battle.

-

"This place is so cool!" Hinata exclaims, eyes sparkling at the sight of the vivid posters and overall aesthetic and aura of the store. Nishinoya joins him on the excitement. Daichi turn to Kageyama who looked like a lost puppy, eyes wandering everywhere. Sugawara taps Daichis shoulder quite cutely holding up a vinyl in his hands.

"This looks like something she'd like!" He says with a smile and Nishinoya joins the conversation, holding out his own album waving it in the air claiming it was more her type. Asahi laughs at the two while he continues to view the albums that were in front of him.

Kageyama glances at his seniors along with the second years. He sees the genuine care they have for her but why is that he feels empty? Like he was numb to any feeling. He did miss her birthday, not even bothering to greet her, focusing on doing better for the next matches.

Hinata notices the dismay from the boy but his lips form a thin line, knowing exactly why Kageyamas clueless. He wonders about the feeling of neglecting a person that's been by your side for years. Kageyama seemed like he was a pro for such things. He always took notice of how Y/N would look whenever he's decline her offers, the way she walks to class disheartened but when she sees the setter, she instantly lights up at the sight.

Seeing her cry that day was enough for him to keep a distance.

How can he even comfort her? The moment she turned her back to Kageyama, she had a hopeless smile on her lips, tears continuously rolling down her puffy cheeks. He could see the way she collapsed that way. How the queen finally let go of her duties from the king.

-

Kageyama laid on his bed with earphones in, hands to his chest focused on the melodies. It was ironic how he wanted to badly catch up on what he's lost. He was badly trying to find the trail back to you but he was unfortunate. It seemed like he was the one that changed everyone's destination.

The moment she stepped in the gym, so bewildered at the different personalities they had. Hinata was the first one to approach her, asking her questions about their "friendship." The following months went by and Hinata found comfort in her and so did the rest of the team, favoring her for her endless support, always hearing her cheers at each game. After every match, she'd always encourage the others, being the brightest sun to cast upon the team who was discouraged.

Yet he found this unnecessary?

He bites his lip at his old thought. He hated himself for thinking how useless of a habit that was for you. He believed that Daichi was enough to lift up the spirits of his teammates so the team really didn't need you. It's opposite for the others though. They truly appreciated each of your compliments, each pat on the shoulder or head. Even if you wanted to do the same for him, he'd always walk away before you could even reach him. Hinata and Yamaguchi would always try to make you forget how harsh the boy was.

He lets his eyes close for a while. For a second, he was at peace but then words started resurfacing.

"How could you just walk away?"

He tries to ignore the tone of her voice, trying to drown it out by increasing the volume, but his heart was panicking at the memory. Even if he tightly shuts his eyes, all he can imagine was the sight of the last time he saw her. He wanted to sit up, to avoid the anxiousness that was crawling under his skin, but his back remained on the bed, struggling to escape the encounter.

"Is it that easy to forget me?"

Y/N.

(TW! Anxiety attack. Do not proceed if this makes you uncomfortable)

He calls out to her like a whisper, clutching his pillow as he stares wide eyed at the ceiling. He feels the room swirl around him, the walls caving on him as every insult and memory came to him. He sits up and desperately tries to walk but he collapses on the floor, hands quickly reaching the hem of his shirt bringing it over his shoulders. Panting incredibly with his sweat covering his forehead as he tried to calm himself down but each second he was reminded of a moment in his life he could never change.

"Hey..Kageyama it's okay." Y/N tries to reach for his shoulder but he harshly grabs a hold of her hand, gripping it tightly in his as he stares her down with his dark eyes, locking on her terrified ones.

"We fucking lost! To Aoba! To Oikawa! How can you act like this when we lost?!" Kageyama shouts at her and she winces at the volume but she lets her other hand rest on top of his, trying to make sure her eye contact reminded him that everything was going to be okay.

"Tobio- Karasuno will come back and win again.. You have to trust that everything isn't set in stone. Failure-"

"FAILURE? I don't have any fucking time for more failures Y/N! You simply don't know what that feels cause all you've been doing is tagging along and being useless." He spat and you felt your smile crumble at his words. He removes your hands from his as he frustratedly runs his hands to his hair, feeling as if pins went through his hands, blaming it for their loss.

"Kageyama..you don't m-mean that. Stop. I know you're angry-"

"I'm disappointed Y/N for fucks sake! I could've done better! We could've won if I didn't slip up. Stop acting like you can fucking solve everything and leave!" She takes a step forward to him as he extends out a hand, blocking her from moving any further. The gesture completely draining the life out of her, her heart growing more and more in her chest, the admiration for the boy trying to erase his negativity.

"K-kageyama-"

"Fuck Y/N! Can't I have a day without you talking to me? Or even being around me? I don't need you. The team doesn't need you. No one else does.. so please just leave already."

He stares at her for a while before rushing off, annoyance and pride feeding his heart and mind. She sees him getting more and more distant as she lets her last smile fall on her lips. All the love and joy was erased from her heart, feeling how shallow and dark the atmosphere was inside it. It began to feel like every heartbeat was slowing down as her tears painted her a trail as she walked. The tears continuously flooded her cheeks as every function of her body was weakening with every action.

She feels the tension that there was in the bus, while she was stuck in the corner, silent.

Silent but the Kings poison consumed her.

Happy birthday to me then. She thinks bitterly.

She looks at the scenery beside her, appealing dull. She allows her heart to cry at the sharp pieces that went through it, as if it was like a balloon being popped or like the light from a fire was blown out.

There was a certain part of her that died that day. She wonders if it was her entirely, or just her ability to feel anything apart from the harsh reality. It was the mere feeling of hearing him say the exact opposite of the words you were badly used to. As the person who he counted on even back at Kitagawa, you should've believed it. But every word he threw were all words that should've never been brought to light. You were back to zero to say the least, back at the darkest corner of your mind. Touching in with your negative emotions drowning you with every replay of of his words.

Then she glances at him.

She lets her eyes linger on him for the last time before she sighs, hands forming a ball, nails digging through her skin.

I don't know you anymore.

Kageyama opens his eyes slowly, hands reaching for his phone as he dials a forgotten number. He was panting furiously, desperate to hear the sound of your voice he was late to miss. He dreaded the silence the surrounded him, he wished the silence would be killed by your voice, assuring him that all was forgiven and you were ready to come back to him so he can apologize for everything he's done.

On the other end of the line, you sighed sadly. You the see way your phone lit up the dark room, seeing a name you've yet to see in months. You carefully place the phone in your hands, trying to find the feeling in your chest when he was around. The feeling of excitement to see or hear him has vanished yet you wished that you had the ability to feel for him again.

Love has faded, no evidence, not even a trace.

So you put the phone down, done waiting to be found.

Kageyama hears the way the sound of the phone stopped, seeing his wallpaper flash in front of him. He lets the tears fall from his eyes as he calls out to you one more time, even if you broke your promise, still holding on to it but there wasn't a chance for him anymore.

And the queen left the kingdom, leaving the king to rule by himself.

[def-initely-soul]

house rules {2}

pairing: jimin x reader (f.)

genre: fluff; angst; roommates au; kinda new girl au; smut; f2l au

rating: explicit

warnings: sexual content; mention of emotional abuse; mention of manipulative relationship; mention of body issues; explicit smut

words: 19.6k

summary:

↠ {living with two guys has always its pros and cons. Pros being someone will always get you popcorn for your midnight cravings. Cons being you might like one of them…?} ↞

or alternatively, the shenanigans of five friends, where two of them are in a loving relationship, one is Kim Seokjin and the other two don’t know what the fuck they’re doing

.

.

Next morning, on Christmas eve, you try to be as nonchalant as you can. Thankfully your walls are thick enough so no one took notice of your late-night shenanigans and what happened between you before Hoseok’s interruption was barely anything out of the ordinary.

Thankfully you get yourself distracted with the preparations for this evening. Every year the five of you plan a traditional Christmas dinner, idea courtesy of Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s minds, where every single one of you was assigned to different tasks.

Seokjin is in charge of the roasted turkey, as he is every year, Hoseok will cook his famous vanilla-roasted sweet potatoes, Jimin will prepare a cauliflower soup and Ana is always in charge of the desert. This year choosing the recipe of a Buche de Noel.

You’re left with the simple task of making smooth mashed potatoes and bringing the booze.

Even though simpler than what others have to do, it gives you time to be alone and focus on something else other than Jimin. Whether you’re cooking or going to the store to pick up the alcohol, your time is productively filled with anything other than thoughts of him.

You take a nap around midday, leaving the kitchen free for the guys to use. Taking a hold of this opportunity to stay clear of Jimin’s gaze. You make sure your interactions are limited between the lines of what is only necessary, even when the preparations are done and you sit around the table.

Ana and Seokjin arrive together, the turkey the size of a small TV, which Seokjin himself puts on the table. Not letting anyone else help him or carve it, flashbacks of last year when Jimin tried to carve it and nearly dropped it still etched to everyone’s memory.

You help Ana move the desert to the fridge for later, and as all of you take your places at the dinner table, you feel a particular set of eyes on you.

Thankfully you don’t sit next to him so you don’t have any one-on-one conversation like you do with Seokjin sitting to your right. You only talk to him when the conversation involves the whole group and that’s only to not alert anyone that something is off.

Your mind is swarmed with memories of Jimin’s look. With the way he’s looking at you now.

You ignore it in favour of talking to Ana at the end of the table as she rumbles excitedly about the party next week. You immerse yourself in that conversation, going lightly over some details and pouring another glass of wine as Seokjin passionately joins you.

Although, even if you’re engrossed to something else you can’t help but notice one thing. 

He never mentions Dinah.

And that gives you magnificent, dreadful hope.

.

.

It’s New Year's Eve, and you’re in an awfully good mood.

The party is in full bloom, the essence of joy and excitement wafting through the air, people dancing their worries away and laughing under the neon-lights (Ana really went all-in in the decoration department), having fun in what can only be a fitting welcome for a bright New Year.

The mulled wine has gotten slightly into you, landing you in that perfect spot between sober and tipsy, just enough to elevate your already high spirits. Besides you’re also celebrating finally finishing your book. It’s been a bitch of a struggle but finally, you’ve gone and did it. Finally booking an appointment with a publishing company that took an interest in you after reading one of your drafts you’ve previously sent them.

And well. Dinah isn’t here.

“I cannot believe I’m talking to the next Stephen King!” Hoseok yaps excitedly, throwing an arm around your shoulder, voice raised higher than normal due to the several “old-fashioned” he managed to throw back.

You grunt from the sudden weight as he leans a bit too much on your side to stand up. “Okay, step it down a notch, buddy,” you chuckle, patting him on the shoulder.

He thinks it over before-. “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?”

Your eyes widen, an involuntary laugh escaping you. “I said step it down a notch, not climb the whole mcfreakin ladder?” Hoseok giggles happily, before his eyes rest on the hostess, who’s currently talking to a coworker, gleeful smile in full bloom.

He waves at you to lean closer to him and you oblige. “See that girl over there?” he whispers to you conspiratory, pointing at Ana who seems oblivious to your conversation. You chuckle at his drunk antics but decide to appease him and nod.

A blissful smile takes over his lips. “Imma marry her someday.”

You barely keep your smile at bay. Honestly, Hoseok is whipped for Ana and anyone who doesn’t see that is blind, so it doesn’t sound weird coming from him. You’re willing to bet his wish is gonna come true someday. It’s just a matter of time.

Though you’re happy for your friends, you can’t let this teasing opportunity pass you by.

“Hey, champ, I got some bad news for you…” you press your lips together in mock-sadness and Hoseok’s face falls.

“She has a boyfriend,” you deliver the final blow and his eyes widen. Before he bursts into tears.

At least a couple of people stare at you, as Hoseok bawls his eyes out and you can’t stop cackling. Oh, god, you didn’t know he was this drunk, he was perfectly fine moments ago! Although to be perfectly candid, he has a low alcohol tolerance, so really this one is on you.

Ana shows up after a few seconds, worry etched into her features after seeing her boyfriend cry like a baby. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asks him, obviously more sober than him, but once she sees you laughing, her eyes narrow. “What did you do to him?”

You shrug, your expression being the poster-child for innocence. “Nothing! I just told him you have a boyfriend.”

This sends another wave of tears down Hoseok’s cheeks and Ana laughs incredulously. 

“Is it true? Do you have a boyfriend” Hoseok struggles to ask through his hiccups and Ana can’t repress the lovesick smile on her lips.

“Yes and he’s a giant baby.”

“Does that mean I still have a chance?”

Ana chuckles before pressing a kiss on Hoseok’s pouty lips. “It’s you, you dufus! Now, come on, let’s get you to lay down…”

“Really?” he says with the most childlike smile you’ve ever seen on him. And only seconds later it turns into a smirk. "Oh, I will lay down, I will lay down so hard that you-” he struggles to complete his sentence, “that you’ll want to lay down with me…”

You groan out loud, not ready for the scene to turn into an NSFW one. “Are you horny all the time?” you complain out loud and the couple raises their brows at you.

“...Already know the answer to that one. Thank you very much five years of living together!” you admit regrettably and Ana tsks you.

“Serves you right for having the nerve to terrorize the sun himself!”

“That’s me!” Hoseok points to himself with a proud smile and you press your lips together to stop the giggles from escaping as Ana rolls her eyes fondly at her boyfriend.

“I’ll get him to my room-” Hoseok finger guns her, winks and blows her a kiss, “could you please make him some coffee?” Ana pleads you as she struggles to push a drunk Hoseok down the hall.

“You got it, babe! I’m gonna roast this coffee so bad, it’s gonna go running to its momma!” you announce in the spur of the moment, but Ana just looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Doesn’t work for me, does it?” Ana just shakes her head and you huff. “I’ll go get the coffee…”

You drive through the crowd, barely avoiding the drinks spilling left and right and finally reach the kitchen. Thankfully there’s only like a couple of people around, so you reach for the french press easily, adding the coffee grounds and warming some water in the microwave.

“Why on earth are you having coffee with so much alcohol around and why does that weirdly make sense for you?” Jimin enters your vision, resting his hip on the counter in a mirror of your stance and you have to take a breath.

His dark blue hair is slicked back, revealing the magnificence of his eyebrows (yeap, that’s another spot of Jimin you’re weak about). He’s dressed in all black; black jeans, black T-shirt with an open neckline, a leather belt hugging closely at his hips, a dangly earring gracing his earlobe and a silver chain resting against his glistening collarbones. He has been dancing and all you wanna do is dive in and bite at the skin of his neck, glinting welcoming under the dimmed lights.

Focus.

“Give me a break, it’s not even for me…” you joke back, just in time to cover up your little zone-out. Jimin stares back confused.

“Who then-?” he makes a sound of realization before he chuckles. “Hoseok,” he responds and you nod, a giggle already on your lips.

After Christmas eve, when you refused to even speak to him, things became less weird. It seems like the two days you spent actively avoiding each other helped in restoring the dynamics back to normality. You’re not even sure who made the first move but after a few days, you were back to normal, as if that thing on the couch never happened.

Maybe it is for the best to pretend it never happened. No feelings are going to get hurt this way.

“Yeap, Ana took him back to her bedroom,” you reply, moving to pour the water into the french press.

Jimin raises an unconvinced eyebrow as he hands you a mug. “And are you sure they’re not gonna fuck back there?”

You take the mug with an appreciative nod. “Honestly, they’re probably fucking right now on their way there. Maybe they are, maybe they’re not. Maybe I’ll be scarred for the rest of my life walking into that and maybe I won’t.”

“And you’ll take those chances?” Jimin chuckles incredulously and you almost swoon at the way his smile lights up the room.

“This coffee won’t deliver itself!” you joke and Jimin’s smile turns bigger.

“Your service is greatly appreciated!” he says with an awful British accent and proceeds to laugh.

“Well, thank you good sir!” you play into it with a curtsy and both of you burst into happy, slightly intoxicated giggles.

Your eyes rest on the french press as the coffee grounds seep into the water and it’s like your lips have a mind of their own when they ask the following question.

“So, alone tonight?” you ask with fake nonchalance and you swear Jimin tenses.

You can’t help yourself. From the moment you realized Dinah was absent you wanted to know why. They’ve been dating for almost a month, so that means they’d still be all over each other, you figured they’d want to spend New Year's together.

So how come Dinah isn’t here?

Jimin nods, eyes absentmindedly following your fingers as they trace the marble counter.

“What happened to Dinah? Didn’t want to spend New Years with our ugly asses?” you joke, hoping to lift the tension off his shoulders and rejoice when Jimin cracks a smile.

“No, no. Actually, her friends are throwing a party too…” he simply says, not giving you another explanation even though something else clearly bothers him. You don’t ask further, figuring he’ll tell you if he wants to, so you move to press the plunger down and pour the brown liquid into the cup Jimin handed you earlier.

“And I actually didn’t …” he hesitates, biting his bottom lip.

God, this is straight-up torture.

“Didn’t…?” you urge him on, sensing his desire to say whatever’s bothering him.

He takes a breath.

“Didn’t have the need to invite her…?” he admits, eyes on the steaming cup of coffee, struggling to put his thoughts into words as you stare at him utterly confused. He didn’t have the need to invite her? Like, he didn’t care if she was here?

No, Y/N, don’t get your hopes up.

Jimin huffs, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean.. I didn’t want to.”

And you find him staring at you again, with those intense, magnetic eyes and your breath is sucked out of your lungs.

He didn’t want to invite her. Why? What does it mean? Why did he do it?

And why is he looking at you like that?

Did he-?

“Surprise!” a familiar female voice echoes through the kitchen as Dinah throws herself literally against Jimin, hugging his waist with an excited smile. No concern in her eyes over your panicked faces.

You don’t know if she heard your conversation but if she did, she doesn’t show it.

Jimin’s wide, panicked eyes travel between you and Dinah. “Dinah, what are you doing here? I thought you were spending New Year’s at Minoh’s?” he turns around to bring her forward and the intimacy hiding in the domestic action drives a knife through your chest.

“That party was boring as hell. And I missed you,” she says with a blinding smile and leans in to press a soft kiss on Jimin’s lips, ripping your heart in two.

You can’t stand this. You can’t stand to watch as she kisses him right in front of you and you feel like an outsider, glimpsing at something you long for but can’t have. Is it always gonna be this hard?

You swallow the lump in your throat, gripping the cup tighter and force a smile on your lips just in time for the couple to miss your crestfallen expression.

It’s time to get out of here.

“That’s great! You’re just in time to spend New Year’s together!” you exclaim with forceful enthusiasm and Dinah nods excitedly as Jimin looks at you with an indecipherable expression. “You’ll have to excuse me, I have to deliver this bad boy!” you smile, pointing at the mug and you start walking away, already waiting for the moment you don’t have to keep that smile on your face any longer.

That seems to wake Jimin up as his eyes widen. “Wait, Y/N, I didn’t-”

“Have fun at the party!” you interrupt him, keeping the smile on for a little longer, before you turn your back at them, smile disappearing, steps fast as you miss Jimin’s face filled with despair.

.

.

Your steps bring you back to the living room, already having delivered the coffee to Ana’s room. Although Jimin’s suspicions were correct and you walked into a scene you’d rather forget, closing your eyes to avoid any more damage on your retina, resulting in you leaving the couple with a half-spilt coffee.

Not that they’ll be needing it now anyway.

Stepping into the main area of the party you can’t help the sour mood that takes over you, watching everyone have a good time. You were also having a good time until Dinah arrived.

Which reminds you. What did Jimin mean back then? Was it just stupid you with your tendency to read way too much into things or did he actually mean what you wanted him to?

And if he did, why is he still dancing with her?

Your eyes are stuck to the couple in question, dancing in the middle of the living room as a mid-tempo dance track plays through the speakers, Dinah’s hands wrapped around Jimin’s waist as he sways her softly to the beat.

The night started out so well. You were having fun, for once all worries put aside as you didn’t have to think about the book or Dinah, or Jimin. You were happy.

But then someone decided to shit all over that happiness and you were back to the beginning. Having your heart broken by your best friend and he doesn’t even know.

You take a breath to calm the erratic beating of your cracking heart when you see a too familiar face emerging from the kitchen.

Oh no, what is Jaehyun doing here?

You move quickly, dreading to talk to him, hoping he won’t see you but, alas, luck was never on your side.

His eyes spot you all the way across the room, with numerous people in between like he has laser vision or something. A smile takes over his lips as he waves at you and begins walking towards you.

God, no. No, you can’t deal with him right now. He’ll probably want another date and you know he deserves to know the truth but you just can’t do it right now.

You’re quick to move to the balcony, trying to lose him through the crown but his voice keeps calling you even outside. You slip through the people and into the living room, stopping to see him briefly lose you as his eyes scan the balcony.

You escape into the kitchen, hoping he won’t look for you here and in your hastiness to hide, you fall face-first into Seokjin’s chest.

“Fuck, sorry, you need to move!” you say urgently, trying to hide behind the massive wall he calls his shoulders.

Seokjin regards you with a suspicious glare. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to hide from Jaehyun!” you bite through gritted teeth as your eyes scan the open area behind you. With relief you realise Jaehyun isn’t anywhere near, just a bunch of other people and Jimin talking with Dinah and Hoseok.

Your heart still clenches uncomfortably when Seokjin interrupts your thoughts.

“Why are you hiding from Jaehyun? Didn’t the date go well?” he asks you purely confused and with guilt, you realize you never told him nor Ana that you bailed.

You bite your lip. “I didn’t go…”

Seokjin’s eyes widen comically. “What?! Why?! I thought you wanted to!”

You groan rubbing your palm on your face. “I just… didn’t feel like it anymore! And now he’s here, looking for me and I don’t know what to do! Who invited him anyway?”

At that Seokjin has the decency to look guilty. “I may have seen him at the coffee shop and invited him… But in my defence I didn’t even know you bailed on him!” he looks at you with a scolding glare and another groan leaves your lips.

“Oh, shit here he comes…” Seokjin looks carefully behind you and you steal a glance to indeed see Jaehyun stepping into the living room and walking straight towards you.

“Okay, fuck, let me think…” you mumble in thought when you see something on the ceiling, hanging just a few centimetres behind Seokjin.

“Got it!” you exclaim, and when Seokjin doesn’t follow, you push him back so both of you stand right beneath the thing hanging from the ceiling and then you point at it, knowing he’ll catch the drift.

Seokjin’s eyes follow your fingers, only to widen in horror when they rest at what you're pointing at.

Mistletoe.

“No! No, no, no, I’m not kissing you so you can get rid of him!” he hisses, eyes swimming in denial and disbelief. But you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s your fault he’s here! So step the fuck up Kyle!” you hiss back and Seokjin looks less than thrilled.

“Don’t quote vines to me, you heathen, I won’t hesitate bitch!” he responds and you know you’re halfway winning him over.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this…” you reply, mastering the perfect puppy eyes.

The sound of his favourite vine has him yielding in a matter of seconds, choking back a laugh before he rolls his eyes. “Fine. But we gotta hurry up, he’s almost here,” Seokjin relents, eyes falling behind you.

“Buckle up,” is the only thing you say before grasping Seokjin’s panicked face and press your mouths together.

You stay like that for a few seconds, simply pressing your lips together like an awful K-drama kiss though there’s no romantic music playing in the background. The kiss is at its best… underwhelming. That’s what you were lusting after all those years? It certainly doesn’t live up to the expectations.

You lean back, staring at Seokjin who barely manages to conceal his weirded out face. “Is he gone?” you whisper and Seokjin nods in relief.

“Yes, he’s gone…” he mumbles, letting out a breath as you let his face free and take a step back, finally breathing freely.

“Don’t ever do that again!” he exclaims, his words followed by a loud gagging noise.

“Anything for you Beyonce!” you say, sharing the sentiment and you grab a random shot glass on the counter, to wash out the feeling of Seokjin’s clumsy mouth on yours.

“We don’t tell anyone. We take this to the grave and live the rest of our lives feeling slightly awkward with each other. Sounds good?” Seokjin states with wide eyes and you laugh at his seriousness.

“Ay, ay, captain! Now take a shot with me to erase the memory for good!” you say, filling two glasses with tequila and you hand him one.

“To forgetting this ever happened!” he raises his shot and you follow his movements before downing the contents of the glass.

“Amen to that.”

.

.

Half an hour later, its time for the countdown so the New Year can officially begin.

The automatic clock on Ana’s TV screen reads 23:59:03 and you rush to gather your friends together in one place, so the New Year can find all five of you together as it has for the last four years.

The rest of the attendees also gather in groups; friends, couples, coworkers, newly made acquaintances but all shimmering with the vibrating delight to welcome the New Year and the opportunities that are bound to come.

Ana and Hoseok are already counting down the numbers - admittedly a bit too early -, and Seokjin passes you four tequila shots to celebrate once the clock strikes midnight. But then he’s left with an extra one and realization strucks you.

“Hey, where’s Jimin? He’s supposed to be here!” you yell to be heard amidst the loud chattering of the crowd, but your question remains unanswered when Seokjin shrugs his shoulders in loss.

Ana looks around to find said-man but it’s Hoseok that finally puts an end to the mystery. “Uh, actually he went home!”

Your eyebrows furrow, confusion apparent in your eyes. He’s never missed out on this! How could he leave? You always spent New Year’s together, the five of you, it was your unique tradition, one you’ve expected him to keep up with.

Maybe he was feeling a bit under the weather, you try to reason with yourself. Let’s not get mad at him before knowing the whole story.

“Wait, so he left without telling anyone? Is he okay? Did he even tell Dinah he’d leave?” you question back, aware of Ana & Seokjin’s wary gazes but you don’t bother to acknowledge them.

Thankfully, Hoseok still isn’t entirely sober to notice them either and start asking questions.

He just shakes his head at you. “Oh, no, they both left. Oh, the countdown’s started!”

As people begin shouting along with the voice on the TV you can’t help but stare aimlessly into space.

They both left. Jimin ditched you, all four of you to spend New Year’s with Dinah. Alone.

And it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

It shouldn’t feel as much as a personal attack but it does. He left all four of you but it still feels like he specifically left you behind. As if he doesn’t care anymore. Before all that the chance of the two of you ever happening was abysmal. But it was still there, however small. You were fine with that cause at least you knew he valued you as a friend.

Now, you’re not even sure of that anymore.

You should be fine with him leaving. You’re just his friend.

And yet the heartbreak is overbearing.

Seokjin looks at you carefully as Hoseok keeps counting down to one, entirely unaware of what just happened as Ana counts with him but her eyes are on you.

You give her and Seokjin a weak smile, before averting your eyes quickly to count as well, not bearing to see the looks of pity in their eyes.

You hate this.

The clock strikes midnight.

You’ve never felt more alone.

.

.

The next morning finds you exhausted when you wake up on Seokjin’s couch. You’re not sure you could handle going back to the apartment and having Dinah and Jimin across the hall from you. Hoseok was going to spend the night at Ana’s, meaning firstly he kinda gave Jimin the pass to run wild and secondly you couldn’t crash at Ana’s. Of course, she insisted it was okay but you didn’t want to cockblock her on New Year’s. So Seokjin offered his home as an alternative which you happily accepted.

You’re dreading to go back to your flat, though already knowing it’s an inevitable curse, you leave a note for Seokjin to find when he wakes up and then you leave his apartment.

On the way home, you wonder if you should trek over to the donut shop around the corner for some heavenly delicacies but then you’d have to buy Jimin and Dinah some. And that is simply something you’re not willing to do.

Hopefully, they’ll be both asleep when you arrive, too tired to be up at 10 am on New Year’s, so you’ll get your chance to quietly slip into your room and avoid everyone for the rest of the week.

Maybe even a month until those stupid feelings finally decide to disappear.

You try your best to be as soundless as possible when you unlock the front door. You enter the living room on your tiptoes, closing the door quietly behind you before moving to throw your coat on the hanger.

The moment you think you’re alone passes by quickly when you hear the door of the fridge being shut and immediately turn around to see Jimin staring at you with bleary eyes. His hair is a mess as he’s clad in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants as his pjs, a cup of what must be steaming coffee on one hand as the other runs through his locks. You find yourself salivating.

“Where did you go this early in the morning?” his gruff voice comes out, purely confused and before you get to correct him, his eyes fall on your figure. And he realizes you’re still dressed the same as last night.

“Did you just get here?” he asks, his voice a tad too sharp and accusing to be considered friendly and your arms wrap around your middle protectively.

“Uh, yeah… I crashed at Seokjin’s… Too tired to come back after helping Ana clean up…” you joke, forcing a laugh to hopefully ease the sudden tension hanging in the air.

Though your airy laugh doesn’t reach Jimin. Instead, his eyes are fixed on the wall to his right, jaw tense in what seems almost as anger before he takes a quick sip of his coffee and slum the cup on the counter.

“Ugh… are you okay-?” your confusion is apparent in your voice as Jimin walks off the kitchen, down the hallway.

“I’m going back to sleep…” he mumbles through clenched teeth before he disappears inside his bedroom and closes the door with a loud bang.

You stare weirdly at his door, bewildered by his entire behaviour but you’re still too sleepy to let it get to you. So instead you opt for crawling over to your room and hide beneath the covers.

.

.

The days after New Year’s turn out weirder and weirder to the point of questioning your mental state.

Seokjin still feels somewhat awkward around you after the kiss but instead of avoiding you, as any normal human being would do, he actively seeks you out, clinging to you and following you around like a shadow, as if the over-exposure will help him get rid of the awkwardness faster.

True to your words, none of you have said anything about it to the others, so you were half waiting for everyone to be immediately weirded out by Seokjin’s sudden display of affection. But apart from Ana that gave you some scarce confused looks, the other two haven’t made a single comment, as if this is a completely normal situation. They barely blink when even yourself gets creeped out from Seokjin’s insistent coddling.

Which brings you to the other weird thing happening in the flat.

Jimin barely talks to you anymore.

You don’t have the slightest idea why. If you said something, or done something that offended him, you’re none the wiser. And how are you supposed to know when he barely greets you in the morning?

Every time you attempt conversation, there’s always something he has to do, which sounds completely ironic, given you were the one that kinda did the same before.

Not to cover your own ass but you did that for the sake of your friendship! If Jimin ever finds out you’re into him, you can’t bear to think the effect this might have on your friendship.

Whereas Jimin might as well be angry over such a small thing as you using his earbuds.

It wouldn’t have bothered you that much if it wasn’t for Dinah.

Well, she barely does anything, it's just that Jimin always goes to her when he has the chance. Nights spent with all five of you together munching on popcorn in front of the TV, turn into awkward gatherings as Ana and Hoseok pair up against you and Seokjin, leaving the two of you cringing whenever the couple does something too coupley.

At New Year’s Eve, he practically admitted he wasn’t that much into her anymore and now he’s always with her. Did he lie back then? And if so why?

Everything is wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

If only Jimin hadn’t begun dating Dinah, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have realised you liked him, he wouldn’t have spent so much time with her, he wouldn’t abandon the four of you for her.

Although, a small part of you screams you would’ve realised you liked Jimin either way. It wasn’t about Dinah.

And yet you can’t help the loathing that emerges like bile in your throat when you hear her name.

Or when Jimin, after two weeks of avoiding the rest of you, announces you are to throw a dinner so you can get to know her better.

You feel the headache splitting your skull open.

.

.

It’s nearly impossible to hide your sour mood once Dinah steps into the apartment.

A switch has flipped and where there was a smile from joking around with Ana, now there’s a permanent scowl on your face as you refuse to even acknowledge the newcomer, as she greets the rest of your friends.

Once she says hello to you too, you mumble something that resembles a greeting, not even bothering to look at her direction, as Ana regards you with a warning glare.

Deep down you know most of your attitude comes from Jimin’s behaviour these last couple of days, and Dinah’s direct contribution is only at roughly 10%. But you’re stubborn, immature and putting the blame on her seems like an easy way to cope with the situation and the hurricane of feelings swirling in your mind.

No one said it’s the right one. But for now, it’s what keeps you from hiding in your bedroom and wallowing in self-pity. Not that you won’t do that later.

You result in setting the table with Hoseok in silence, not really in the mood to talk, as everyone else sits in the living room and you catch glimpses of their conversation.

Seokjin and Ana talk about a new addition Seokjin wants to put on the menu of his restaurant, while Jimin and Dinah dally on the other side of the room.

You think you’re gonna barf.

“Ugh… Y/N are you okay?”

You turn around at the voice, surprised to see Hoseok stare at you with confused and worried eyes. Shit, did he sniff out something?

“Ah, yes! Why?” you put forward your most cheery voice in the hopes it will throw him off.

“‘Cause you keep stabbing the meat with the forks…” he comments carefully, leaning a bit backwards as his worry grows, once your confused eyes meet his.

And then you look back to the meat and, surely, all the forks you were supposed to pass around the table are stabbed into the steaks on the centre of the table.

Your eyes widen as you press your lips together in horror. God, why can’t you just behave for once?

You rush to remove all the utensils, dumping them into the sink and you pick out new ones, as Hoseok keeps staring at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m fine!” you respond with a clipped voice and you’re not sure what Hoseok hears in your voice but he drops it, in favour of placing the napkins around the table. Though you can still feel his weirded-out stare from time to time.

Once the table is set, Hoseok calls for everyone to gather around and one by one flock to their seats.

And as you put the finishing touches, you can’t help but hear Jimin’s conversation with Dinah.

“We have ice cream for dessert, you’re gonna love this one, it’s heavenly!” he says with excitement.

“Oh, only if it’s vegan, me and regular milk don’t go along…” she jokes and as Jimin says he’ll have someone check, an idea pops into your head. A petty, childish idea but it gives you some purpose for now.

So, she’s lactose intolerant? It would surely be a shame if she were to eat normal ice cream.

And by “shame” you mean hilarious.

The little voice in the back of your head berates you for acting so immature but at this moment you desperately need this. You can be salty for one evening.

What’s the harm?

.

.

Once everyone’s plates are empty, the lot of you migrate to the living room, as you stay in the kitchen to get the ice cream out of the freezer.

Jimin told Ana to ask you to check for the ice cream some time ago, -can you believe it, he didn’t even ask you! He had to talk to Ana for god’s sake-, and you did. But just as you’d suspected it wasn’t vegan.

So your plan is good to go.

You have Seokjin help you carry the bowls of ice cream to the living room and you pass each one around as they’re expected with excited noises.

Ana almost moans at the delicious flavour and Hoseok chuckles at his girlfriend’s antics as you sit next to Seokjin and dive straight into your own bowl.

During dinner it seemed everyone got along just fine with Dinah, talking and joking together as if she’s been a part of this group for a long time. And it bothers you even more.

You also recognize her attempts to get close to you as well but really you can’t be bothered. It comes to the point where she talked to you and all you did is give her a one-word answer before turning your attention somewhere else.

Though right at this moment your attention is solely on her as she takes a scoop out of her ice cream.

“Mmm, it’s really good!” she says excitedly to a smiling Jimin, as she swoops in for another spoon.

But after a few seconds, her eyebrows scrunch in confusion, as she keeps the ice cream in her mouth, looking as if she’s trying to figure out something. You can barely contain your gloating.

“Uhm, this ice cream is vegan right?” she rushes to say, eyes growing just a bit wider with what seems like panic.

Ana turns to look at you and you answer with the most innocent look you can manage, acting like you just realised you didn’t.

“Oh, oops! I guess I forgot to check, sorry! Why, are you lactose intolerant?” you respond in the first complete sentence you’ve given her tonight, internally gloating at her misfortune.

She swallows, her eyes widen even more, traces of fear growing in them. “Ugh, no-”

What does she mean no?

“I’m allergic.”

At once every conversation ceases, all eyes resting on her, wide in shock.

Fuck.

Jimin is the first to react.

“What?! Shit. Are you okay, should we take you to a hospital?” he asks in panic, placing the ice cream as further away from her as he can while you’re left staring at her in horror.

“Well, since I can feel my tongue thwelling, I thay we thould,” she comments shaking, losing the ability to pronounce the letter “s” as more time passes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you struggle to say, full of remorse, but no one seems to hear you as the situation goes haywire.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen!

Seokjin is immediately on his feet. “I’ll drive you there, you guys clean up here okay?” he commands urgently and as you feel the guilt overwhelming you, you stand up form your spot in an instant.

“I’ll come with!” your voice trembles as you reach for your bag while Jimin and Seokjin help Dinah out of the apartment hurriedly.

But as soon as you speak Jimin’s furious eyes are on you.

“I think you’ve done enough.”

And then he slams the door behind them.

You’re left staring at the piece of wood with trembling eyes, as Ana and Hoseok simply stare at you, Hoseok’s eyes wide in shock as yours while Ana’s are filled with disappointment.

You. Fucking. Idiot.

.

.

It’s almost four hours later when Jimin and Seokjin return, finding only Hoseok in the living room waiting for them as he asks them how it went.

But Jimin doesn’t bother answering him as he instead marches with loud, angry steps towards your room.

On the other side of the door, your nails are nearly non-existent from all the nervous thinking that has plagued your mind for the last few hours. Your texts to both of them asking how Dinah was, were left unanswered and you were left brewing in your own nerves.

Until the door opens and Jimin walks in.

You freeze in your spot once your eyes meet his and see the undecipherable expression on his face.

You only manage to mumble a guilt-ridden “hi” and he closes the door behind him as he closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath.

Although it seems to not do much.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

Your answer is immediate, full of regret. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Is she okay?” you ask, out of your wits with panic as you wait for him to answer.

He seems too tired, too exhausted as he responds. “They gave her an antihistamine, she’ll be fine,” he says with a sigh but then his eyes are full of rage as they rest on you again. “But do you realize what might have happened if we were a bit late?! She could have died!” he yells at you, voice full of unbridled outrage as his eyes grow even more with the passing of time and you feel smaller and smaller.

“I’m sorry!-” you repeat again, feeling incredibly awful with what you’ve done, “-I thought she was just lactose intolerant, not allergic!” you say in hopes of redeeming yourself even just a bit but maybe this wasn’t the right thing to say as it seems Jimin’s anger only grows.

“This isn’t the fucking point, Y/N!”, you flinch at the volume of his voice, “The point is you've been trying to sabotage this for weeks! You think I haven't seen the side-glances and the mocking giggles?! I fucking know you don’t like her but couldn’t you just pretend for my sake? Do you have to go to such lengths to let us all know you hate her?!” he spits at you with wild eyes and you fight the urge to wrap your arms around your frame.

“I didn’t poison her on purpose…” you mumble in explanation and your eyes stare at your feet, not daring to look at him, drowning in shame.

“No, but all the other things were!” he refutes with impatience, but then he sighs. His shoulders fall down but his jaw’s still clenched. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? I know what she did better than anyone, believe me, but people are allowed a second chance, and frankly, it’s not your place to decide if she deserves it or not. All I was asking of you was to be decent towards her because I was stupid enough to think you’re my friend above everything and you’d respect my wishes!” he confesses, face crest-fallen and what you once feared, -him looking like this because of you-, has finally come true. You can feel your eyes watering but you can do nothing to stop them.

“I am your friend!” you respond desperately with pleading eyes, trying to stop him from questioning how much he means to you. If only he knew exactly how much.

“Are you really?”, he questions back, “Because the rest of the guys are my friends too and they don’t have a problem with her. It’s just you! And if you can’t accept her and be happy for me then…” he stops, eyes falling on the floor, refusing to meet your gaze and you have an awful feeling blooming in the pit of your stomach.

“...Then we’re better off as just roommates,” he delivers the final blow.

You can’t believe your ears. There’s no way, no way.

You feel your throat closing up. “...You don’t mean that…” you mumble in denial, eyes blurry and voice almost breaking at the possibility of losing your best friend.

Jimin still refuses to look at you, his lips pursed as he shakes his head. “Yeah? And you said you’ll support me no matter what so I guess we both said things we don’t mean.”

“Or I guess that was just you,” he says in a final tone, eyes serious this time on you before he turns towards your door to leave your bedroom. To leave your life.

You can’t breathe.

“Jimin-” you manage to stutter out although you feel like choking. You can’t lose him, you simply can’t.

“No, Y/N, you can’t just-!” he snaps back but stops himself before saying anything else, pressing his lips together.

Then he takes another breath. He collects himself and before you manage to stop him, he closes the door on his way out with a loud bang.

And you can’t move. Your eyes simply stare at the door, refusing to let any tear drop and you purse your lips, feeling a mixture of stubbornness and sorrow.

He left. How could he? How could he push you aside for her?! You’ve been friends for a little more than five years now and he ruins your friendship because of her?! Her?!

You rush to lock the door behind him with blurry eyes, putting the blame on him as for now you need this to stay sane.

Tomorrow you’ll know that everything was your fault.

But for now, you choose to believe otherwise.

You step back from your door, crossing your arms on your chest in defiance.

“If he doesn’t want to be friends then we won’t be!” you exclaim in an attempt to salvage your broken ego but once those words are out of your mouth, once they finally feel real, you can’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

You have to cover your mouth to drown the sound of your sobs.

You can’t let him hear.

At that moment there’s a knock on your door, before “Y/N? It’s Seokjin, can I come in?”

His voice is quiet, calm, reminding you that he and Hoseok probably heard everything. You can’t deal with it. You can’t deal with any of it.

“Go away, Seokjin…” you mumble with a low voice in order to hide the fact you’re crying.

You hear him sighing. “Come one, at least talk to me-”

“Go away!” your voice is coarse as you yell back, for a second not realising it was you. You know you're gonna regret yelling at him later, but you just want to be alone.

There’s silence on the other side. Then the echoing steps of someone leaving.

And then you break down in the middle of your room.

Alone.

The only sound coming from your quiet sobs.

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

Keep it together. Don’t lose focus now just because she looks like she’s about to cry.

It’s easier said than done, but Jimin manages to remain focused on what he came here to do. Even if it’s just barely.

He can’t go on like this. Maybe if you were happy for him and actually supported him, things would be different. But when you act like a spoiled baby that didn’t get her wish with no excuse whatsoever when you were supposed to be okay with Dinah… there’s not much he can do.

Not when your behaviour acts as a false beacon of hope. One he can’t afford to see. Otherwise, he might do something he can’t take back.

He’s got to be firm and decisive.

So he turns around to leave before he takes it all back.

“Jimin-” he hears the breaking in your voice, knowing how much this may weigh you down but all he can feel right now is unfairness. It’s unfair how he wants to move on but with one single word he finds his resolve crumbling.

You shouldn’t affect him this much.

“No, Y/N, you can’t just-!” he begins but stops himself. What was he about to say? Something he shouldn’t, probably.

Still, you stop talking. And you just stare at him, with disbelief written in your eyes. He avoids those in favour of staying true to his words.

There’s no saying what he’ll do if he meets them.

So, he simply leaves your bedroom.

Marching through the small distance between your door and his, he can see Hoseok and Seokjin, from the corner of his eyes, staring.

They probably heard everything.

He steps into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, needing some space. To calm down, to take a breath, to finally think about what he just did.

You looked like you were ready to break down at any moment.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been that harsh with you. Maybe he was a bit too hasty, too vengeful in making that decision.

Someone knocks on his door.

What if it’s you?

His steps can’t take him to his door any faster.

But it’s just Hoseok.

“... what?” he hears himself get defensive once he sees your door still closed shut behind the other man.

Hoseok stares at him with understanding. “It doesn’t have to be like that, Jimin…” he comments with a soft voice, always knowing how to approach Jimin when he’s angry, better than anyone.

Jimin sighs, still feeling stubborn but he knows by the end of what Hoseok has to say, he’ll almost certainly listen.

“... Let’s talk about it okay? I’m sure Y/N wants that too…” at those words Jimin swears he feels a small pinch of pain on his chest. He wishes they’re true.

“Seokjin is also gonna talk to her…”

But those words manage to bring his stubbornness back full force.

There’s a chuckle coming out of Jimin but none of it sounds happy.

“Of course he will…” he snaps at Hoseok, who bites his lip once he realises his mistake. “Yeah, Hoseok, I think I’ll pass,” the bitterness is evident in his words, not bothering to hide it from the one person that knows the cause of it.

Hoseok’s eyes widen once he realises Jimin is about to close the door on him. “Wait, Jimin, don’t-”

“Goodnight,” is what Jimin simply says before closing the door on his best friend.

.

.

He can’t be sure when everything began to change. He can’t place a finger on the exact moment his feelings had changed.

On the exact moment, he fell in love with you.

Was it the moment you walked through the door as a roommate applicant? He can’t be sure. But somewhere along the way, the feelings bloomed, outgrew everything he ever felt for anyone.

He just was a bit late at realizing it.

When he woke up after you slept together and his eyes rested on you as you slept, he felt a pain in the middle of his chest. But it didn’t feel like a regular pain, it felt like his heart was expanding like he was experiencing growing pains. Because while he stared at you, he realised there was nothing else he’d rather do. You looked so serene, so at peace sleeping next to him, he never wanted the moment to end.

And that’s how he realised.

Of course, he had to push his newly-found knowledge aside when he saw you nearly going into panic mode. Just because he felt like this, didn’t mean you did too.

So he hid those feelings, playing it cool for the sake of being your friend.

But this shit was difficult when he was surrounded by you twenty-four-seven.

Right before Seokjin’s birthday he had sworn he’d finally tell you. He thought that maybe, just maybe you’d like him back, or at least he’d get to have a weight lifted off his chest.

But then he saw you hugging Seokjin…

He wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything. He was just trying to reach the bathroom when he saw you wrapping your arms around Seokjin. Around the guy you had a crush on for the past few years. It was like a stab to his stomach, even more so when he knew you weren’t really into hugs and when you did hug someone, it usually meant a lot to you.

Jimin couldn’t believe his eyes. He also couldn’t believe how much it hurt and how much he needed something to distract himself.

Or, rather, someone.

That’s how Dina came along.

He never intended to string her along this far though. At that night she was just a distraction, someone familiar who knew how to take care of him, despite everything that had transpired between them in the past.

But Dinah kept trying, kept fighting vigorously for that second chance and he couldn’t help but acknowledge how much she’d changed over the past year. So he let her back into his life, hoping that at least she’d help him forget about you.

And it worked for some time. Until that night.

Until the night you were supposed to go on a date with Seokjin and cancelled it because of him - he’s sure of it even if you vehemently denied it back then-. The night you were dressed on that tight, little, black dress, the one that reminded him of that night eight months ago and suddenly his mind was going haywire with thoughts, or rather, memories of you.

He swears he saw hunger in your eyes when his palm was on your thigh, scorching both of you at the connected spot and if it wasn’t for Hoseok’s interruption, he was sure he’d’ve lost control.

Jimin hates to admit it but that night he kept thinking of you, of your eyes, of your lips, of the way your thighs had fit around his waist back then, of the sound of his name falling from your lips as he touched himself, trying to drown his moans onto his pillow.

He couldn’t talk to you after that for a couple of days. Too ashamed, too embarrassed, too enamoured with you, he thought you’d be able to see right through him.

But once things got back to normal, they were ruined once more.

Dinah appeared at the worst of times at New Year’s. He was so close to letting you know how he feels, encouraged by your reaction when you ditched your date for him, which was another green light for him at the moment. But Dinah showed up and you were out of there before he even got a chance to explain.

Hoseok had found him then, drinking away his sorrows.

“And the worst of all is, she’s dating Seokjin, which I now realise makes me a big jerk and an awful friend as I keep trying to steal away his girlfriend,” Jimin mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

Hoseok seemed perplexed but that might have been from the near-alcohol-poisoning he just had before Dr. Ana “nursed” him back to health. “And remind me, how are you sure she’s dating Seokjin? They haven’t told us anything yet…”

Jimin stared into his drink, already sort of tipsy on alcohol and self-pity. “Saw ‘em huggin’...” he mumbled behind the glass. Hoseok had to do a double-take at that.

“What?” Hoseok responded in disbelief. “That’s it? Dude, I do that with Seokjin all the time, that doesn’t mean I’m dating him!”

Jimin sighed in annoyance. “It was more than that okay? There was this feeling to it! I could tell it wasn’t just a simple hug!” Jimin groaned as he rubbed his face with his hand.

Hoseok rolled his eyes at his friend. “Still you can never be sure by just a hug! Have you talked to her?”

“No, I tried to but Dinah came in and she left as soon as she saw her…” Jimin admitted and Hoseok almost laughed out loud at his friend’s idiocy.

“Bro, if that isn’t a sign to talk to her, then I’m not dating the most bomb person in the whole ass world.”

Jimin wasn’t impressed as he cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

Hoseok wasn’t deterred. “I can see you have an objection here and it’s a complete disgrace to Ana’s name, so Imma pound you to logic city later, you limp dick, but right now you need to talk to Y/N!” he concluded as he shoved Jimin out of his stool.

Jimin groaned as he stood up, but as his eyes fell to the bottom of his drink, he realised Hoseok was right. He should’ve talked to you first. Maybe he had misunderstood and there was nothing going on with Seokjin.

And right then as he saw you bumping into Seokjin, he figured it was a great opportunity to find out what was happening between the two of you from both parties involved.

But as his steps got him closer and closer, he saw you kiss him.

He froze. He couldn’t look, couldn’t bear, but still, his eyes stayed glued to the both of you as your arms circled around his neck to press him closer.

Jimin felt like vomiting.

He turned around right then and there and walked away. He needed to get out of there. He gave Dinah a half-assed apology as he also sent her on her merry way and he left for his apartment. He couldn’t even tell Hoseok why he was leaving the party, only announcing his departure and disappearing.

It was the first time in years he spent New Year’s alone.

He hated it.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

You’ve done the worst sleep in ages.

You rub your eyes, immediately regretting it when the slightest touch has them stinging from how swollen they are from all the crying.

Right. It wasn’t just a dream.

You drag your feet begrudgingly across the floor to the bathroom to splurge some water on your face, in a futile attempt to calm down your puffy eyes. Before you’re off to the kitchen where Hoseok is currently eating his breakfast cereal.

Once he hears the sound of footsteps, he raises his head, only to see you awkwardly walk in the kitchen, eyes downcast as you go for the fridge.

“Hey,” you hear him say.

With your face facing the inside of the fridge you take a breath, letting the low temperature calm you down.

You knew it was coming. Hoseok definitely listened to everything along with Seokjin. And yet you don’t feel like replying.

Nonetheless, you turn around and acknowledge him with a tilt of your head as you move to have the coffee machine working.

“So… How you feeling?”

The question prompts a humourless chuckle out of you and Hoseok sighs in response.

“I know, that’s a lousy question. I just…” he takes a breath, eyes gentle on you, not at all judgemental as you’d expect them, after what you’ve done yesterday, “I mean I know Jimin’s side of the story, but I never heard yours…” he concludes, letting a soft smile take over his features.

Huh. Your side of the story.

You swallow the lump in your throat, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you resolve to looking down at the floor as your hands grab tightly at your empty cup.

Hoseok, sensing your hesitation, sighs resigned but he doesn’t push you on it.

A moment passes when both of you remain silent until your coffee is ready. You pour the liquid into your cup, almost moaning in relief you don’t have to stay here another second.

But before you get to leave Hoseok speaks up again.

“I know things may look like a mess right now but I’m sure this won’t be the case forever. Jimin… yeah, he’s mad but you're his best friend. He’s gonna change his mind soon…” Hoseok’s gentle words reach you and, oh god, how do you want to believe them.

You turn to look at him and see the hope written in his eyes.

You give him what might have resembled a smile if you weren’t feeling so beat-down.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me Hobi…” you whisper and Hoseok’s face falls just a bit at how broken you sound.

“Things will change, I’m certain of it,” still he replies, eyes full of determination that make the slightest sliver of hope go through the cracks of your sorrow.

Right then another pair of footsteps echoes as Jimin walks into the kitchen.

His sudden arrival has you both freeze, eyes resting on the newcomer and while Hoseok keeps on looking at Jimin, you’re quick to avert your gaze, the lump in your throat growing.

A second passes where Jimin doesn’t move forward or backwards. Like he isn’t sure if you could be in the same room anymore after yesterday's events. Your heart pangs at the thought.

He coughs awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I can come back later-” he begins softly, eyes avoiding yours as well, making the pain grow a little sharper.

“No, it’s okay, I was done anyway…” you interrupt him, hands gripping tightly at your steaming cup as if it is a life board.

And without another word, you’re out of the kitchen.

.

.

{Hoseok’s POV}

A week passes by and it seems there’s no hope for reconciliation on the horizon.

Both of you went the extra miles and rearranged your schedules to avoid each other as much as possible. Jimin spends nearly every night at Dinah’s, barely seeing the others and you spend days locked into your room under the pretence of writing, but really you’re just avoiding everyone.

The rest of the guys don’t know what to do anymore.

It’s a Friday afternoon when Hoseok is over at Ana’s place, the mood in his apartment too heavy to bear and he can’t bear this anymore.

“Babe, I’m back, they didn’t have any vinegar chips so I bought oregano instead. Can you imagine the disgrace?” he shouts as soon as he steps back into the apartment, after a small walk to the seven eleven down the street.

But instead of hearing his girlfriend’s welcoming back, he hears her sigh. Then he sees her walk around the corner from the kitchen with her phone pressed to her ear like she’s in a conference call.

“I still don’t understand why won’t you just tell him!” Ana speaks on the phone, sending a tired wave to her boyfriend who looks at her entirely confused.

Hoseok just takes his shoes off and plops himself on the couch, sensing Ana won’t be done with that phone call anytime soon.

There’s a silence from her side as she listens intently to what the other person is saying. Hoseok decides to open the bag of chips just to keep his hands occupied.

After a while, Ana talks again.

“But what if she doesn’t tell him?” she? First, she mentioned a “him” and now a “she”? Hoseok’s getting more confused by the second.

“And what about Jimin then? Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?” her voice is stern, like a mother berating her child and a sound of understanding leaves Hoseok’s lips, as he concludes Ana is talking to you.

There’s a small silence from your side, indicating no response to Ana’s question and so she keeps talking.

“And I’m talking about the whole truth Y/N.”

Hoseok’s intrigued. What whole truth?

“I know I was the first person to be against telling him about your feelings but with how poorly you handled the situation, I don’t think you can possibly make anything worse!”

At that, Hoseok’s eyes blow wide open. Feelings?! What feelings?! 

He’s immediately up, approaching Ana with quick steps as she listens to your response. Your voice, even though muffled through the phone, sounds weaker, sadder. Disheartened.

Ana’s words are softer now. “But you’ll never be able to do this. You’ll never be ready but, the truth is, no one ever is. That’s kinda how it goes and that’s okay. But you gotta do it at some point, sooner or later,” she talks to you calmly, Hoseok sensing her sorrow at hearing you like this.

But he can’t shake the feeling that he can somehow help if he finds out what those feelings are.

Ana sighs tiredly as if what she just said didn’t have much of an impact. “Y/N-” but before she gets to respond you hang up.

Ana gasps while staring at her phone. “She just hung up on me, I can’t believe it, how dare?” she says to no one in particular as she rubs her hands on her face tiredly.

“Tough luck?” Hoseok comments wrapping his hands around her waist. Ana welcomes the embrace, her hands winding around his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder.

“She just won’t listen! She’s so infuriatingly stubborn and it’s driving me nuts!” she blows a stray hair out of her face, accidentally tickling Hoseok’s skin in the process and he chuckles.

“Kinda like you then?” he teases as he finally pushes that stray lock behind her ear and she pokes out her tongue at him in retaliation before falling into peaceful tranquillity.

Hoseok hates to disrupt this but he has to ask her what all of those things meant. For the sake of Jimin.

“Hey, babe…” he begins and Ana hums in acknowledgement.

“When you talked about Y/N’s feelings…” he feels her stiffen in his embrace but nonetheless he carries on, “... what did you mean?”

Ana takes a breath. “I guess there’s no point in not telling you now…” she speaks softly before taking another breath, one Hoseok holds until he hears her answer.

“Y/N… she likes Jimin. Well I mean that’s what she says anyway. I think it’s way more than that…” Ana admits sadly but Hoseok’s mind goes into overdrive.

“Are you serious…?” he asks in what can be perceived as a calm demeanour but in reality, his head is about to explode.

Ana chuckles calmly, still in Hoseok’s embrace. “I know right?”

Oh my god, they’re both idiots, he thinks. But he has to do something now.

“Oh god, those giant baboons!” he almost yells, making Ana flinch and take a step back to look at him perplexed.

“Hoseok…?”

He laughs incredulously as he takes a step back, trying to process the situation.

“For how long?” he asks and Ana looks more weirded out by the second.

“Two months, give or take?” Ana responds with narrowed eyes.

Hoseok chuckles. “That’s…” when Jimin started going out with Dinah, of course, it all makes sense!

“Seriously our friends are the worst idiots ever!” he complains once more.

“Okay, now do you mind telling me what’s going on?” she retaliates, getting irritated with her boyfriend and his tendency of not explaining anything for the dramatics.

“Jimin likes her back!” he shouts out loud, the magnificence of what he found out too overwhelming to bear.

Ana’s eyes widen. “What? How can that be? What about Dinah?”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at her. “He began dating her again after that one night stand that only happened because he saw Y/N hugging Seokj- Wait! What about Seokjin?”

Ana seems confused. “What about Seokjin?”

“Isn’t Y/N dating him?”

Ana almost bursts out in giggles. “What? No! Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“Cause of the hug!”

“So what, a simple hug means automatically they’re dating each other?”

“Well, we all know Y/N hates hugs, plus she had a crush on him so it would be believable- Wait, that’s not the point. So Y/N isn’t dating Seokjin?”

“Nope. Never did,” Ana concludes as both of them fall into the same realization.

“So Jimin did all that stuff…” Ana begins, not quite believing the absurdity of the situation.

“...Because he thought Seokjin was dating Y/N,” Hoseok admits tiredly.

“We gotta tell Jimin,” Ana grabs her phone to punch in his number before Hoseok stops her.

“Wait…” he stares at the phone, the cogs in his mind whirling before his eyes light up.

“I got a better idea.”

.

.

{Jimin’s POV}

Sweat still drips down his forehead as Jimin bids goodbye to his students, after the end of his contemporary class. He reaches for his water bottle and heads for the teachers’ lounge where his stuff is before he gets to his last class.

He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand before pressing the now lukewarm bottle on the nape of his neck, to get some sort of relief.

Once again, his focus wasn’t entirely on the class. It has been like that ever since your fight, but at least it started getting better as time passed. Still not at its best though.

He finds himself feeling guilty more than he thought he would. Guilty towards you, towards Dinah. It’s a mess.

Admittedly, he was really mad at you but as he got to think it over, he realised he acted too rashly in cutting you off. And he misses you already.

But the thing is… you haven't made a move to reconcile either. That could be because you’re afraid of him pushing you away again. But shouldn't you make the first step? If you did, Jimin is sure he would forgive you on the spot.

He shakes his head tiredly as he enters the teachers’ lounge and reaches for his backpack. Everything’s a mess.

And then there’s Dinah. Dinah who’s changed, who’s kind and understanding. Dinah who he strings along and who’s possibly already aware of Jimin’s use of her as a distraction. They both know that, even though Dinah’s changed and everything’s seemingly fine, the relationship is doomed this time around as well.

Although this time it’s Jimin’s fault.

He needs to come clean to her. He has to end this.

Right then his phone begins ringing.

Once he sees the contact name, he’s a little less willing to answer it.

“What do you want?” is his response once he picks up and there’s an awkward chuckle at the other end before the caller finally replies.

“Whoa, okay, forward, can’t you buy me a drink first, champ?” Seokjin tries to make the tension disappear unsuccessfully, resulting in Jimin not even answering that particular quip.

He hears Seokjin sigh on the other side, before “Anyway, can’t I just call my friend to see how he’s doing? It’s been a while since the last time we talked…” the other man admits cautiously and Jimin’s defensiveness slowly ebbs away to give place to additional guilt. He’s the one blowing off all his friends because he wants space. Or more precisely, he thinks, because he’s a coward, too afraid to really deal with the situation, so instead picking the easy way out, at the expense of his friends.

He rubs his face with his hands, before letting out a breath. “Yeah, I know, things have been kind of…” Jimin trails off but Seokjin hums, as if he understands what Jimin means without him having to say it out loud.

“Yeah…” Seokjin agrees quietly and Jimin feels more horrible as time goes by. When did he begin to feel such animosity towards his friend? They used to be really close ever since they worked together at the same shift, and now Jimin can barely be in the same room as him. It’s not Seokjin’s fault in any way and the truth is Jimin’s animosity arises not towards Seokjin but more towards himself.

He has stuff he needs to work on.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about…” comes Seokjin’s response that has Jimin sitting up straight in his seat, terrified of what his friend wants to talk to him about.

And it seems his fears were not unjustified.

“How long have you liked Y/N?”

There it is.

Jimin takes a breath, panic trying to take over him but he wills it to go away and answer his friend. Even if he’s terrified to do so.

“I…” he begins, audible shakiness colouring his voice, “... how do you know?”

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Hoseok told me…”

Jimin takes another breath, one full of guilt.

“Look, I… I’m sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen, it just did! And I know it’s awful of me to have done this but, yeah, for some time I had thought of acting on it. But now that I know for certain you’re together, I wouldn’t even dream of-”

“First of all, Y/N and I are not together.” Seokjin interrupts the babbling idiot and Jimin stops mid-sentence.

He blinks, uncertain. “I… what?”

Seokjin sighs with a chuckle. “Y/N and I aren’t dating,” he repeats.

Jimin opens his mouth like a fish, in complete and utter shock. “But… but I saw you…” he states full of doubt, almost like a question.

He can almost hear Seokjin raising his eyebrow. “You saw us doing what?”

The lump in his throat doesn’t make this any easier. “I saw you kissing a-a-aand-and hugging!” he retaliates, trying to support his reasoning.

Seokjin sighs once more, the gesture coming off him naturally by now. “Okay, she kissed me because she wanted to avoid a dude she ghosted, I had little to no say in this!” Seokjin responds in a typical Seokjin fashion.

But Jimin has more questions. “A dude she ghosted?”

“Yeah, she was supposed to go on a date with this guy in my restaurant but blew him off for some reason…”

Wait.

“When was this?” Jimin asks, eager but nervous to find out the answer.

“A couple of days before Christmas.”

So that wasn’t a date with Seokjin but just a rando?

God, Jimin has fucked up big time.

“And what about the hug?” he asks for the last time, to make sure he resolves any misunderstanding.

“What hug? Oh, you mean on my birthday? Dude, that was just her coming clean about her past crush on me and us moving past this like a couple of adults.”

Jimin’s throat constricts uncomfortably but in unbelievable hope. “Past crush?”

Seokjin’s smile is nearly audible. “Yeah, “past”. Know why? Because she has feelings for someone else.”

And just as easily as Seokjin has given him hope, he just as easily rips it away.

“Oh…?” Jimin barely manages to utter, voice almost breaking alongside his heart. “Who?”

Seokjin groans on the other side, taking Jimin wholly by surprise by the irritated tone in the older man’s voice. “Oh my god, you really are both idiots,” he says almost to himself, “You, you soggy tit! Do you really think she did all that to Dinah simply because she didn’t like her? No, she was fucking jealous!” Seokjin concludes, voice rushed and angry to berate his friend and finally put an end to this huge mess.

But Jimin hears only one word.

You.

She has feelings for you.

The girl he’s been in love with for nearly a year now, if not more, has feelings for him. Reciprocated feelings.

Is this real? Is this a fucking dream from which he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling shittier than ever?

But Seokjin said she was jealous. Jealous.

“She- She was? Seokjin, just…” he stops himself to take a calming breath, refusing to believe this just yet, “Please, don’t joke about this, I’m not gonna laugh,” he warns his friend. He can’t bear to have his heart messed with any more than it already has been.

“Does it sound like I’m joking? Believe me, I wouldn’t, we’re all too invested in your shit, it’s not healthy.”

Jimin can’t believe this. He wants to, desperately, but what if it’s not real? What then?

“I…” he swallows his nerves, “She really has feelings for me?” he asks, not unlike a hopeful child. God, his heart is about to burst.

“Yeah, buddy, I know it’s hard to believe when I exist!” Seokjin tries to lighten up the mood with a joke.

Jimin doesn’t laugh.

“...Too soon? Sorry, anyway, I thought you should also know Y/N really feels awful for everything and if there’s one thing that can confirm that, is the fact she apologized to Dinah,” Seokjin concludes carefully.

Jimin doesn’t know how to respond.

“But if you don’t believe me… Ask Y/N herself.”

But he knows what to do.

.

.

{Y/N’s POV}

You’re washing the dishes, alone at home for another hour at the very least as Jimin’s classes end in one hour.

Should you go to Ana’s? Ugh, but Hoseok is there.

Maybe you should just hole yourself up in your room for the scarce time Jimin will be here before he’s off to Dinah’s.

Which reminds you of earlier today.

In Dinah’s defence, she handled your apology quite gracefully, in contrast with you. You were a babbling mess, trying to put your thoughts into place and at first, she was suspicious of you, but once your visit made sense, she seemed to understand. Something even you couldn’t at times.

She accepted your apology with a calm smile, confusing you even more as she said she appreciated your effort to put all of this behind you.

You were glad she seemed to not hold it against you although, honestly… you don’t think you deserve it.

You have no idea if she’s planning on telling Jimin or not and quite frankly you’re terrified of what he’ll say if he finds out.

Once you’re done with the dishes and close the tap, you hear the front door open and close, assuming it’s Hoseok back from Ana’s.

“Hobi, is that you?” you ask before turning around, only to almost choke on your own breath when you see Jimin instead.

He’s standing just in front of the door, not going forwards or backwards, as his eyes stare at you. Serious, careful but calm. No anger residing in them. Just awkwardness as he seems to not know what to do with himself, as he simply rests in place and somehow a tiny drop of hope begins to bloom.

“I… Don’t you have classes?” is the first thing you manage to get out of your mouth and he takes a breath.

“I had to get out early…” he responds and you can’t help but focus on the “had to”. Did Dinah talk to him after all?

“...Why?” is your careful question, when in reality your mind is in a state of disarray. Is this a good sign? A bad one? Is he here to restore your friendship to what it used to be or finally cut ties with you and move out?

Your mind is gonna short-circuit.

“I…” he begins, eyes falling to the floor. Then he takes another breath. “I had to talk to you,” he says.

Oh god. This is it. You’re done.

Your throat closes up as you blink quickly trying to stop your eyes from welling up. Damnit, you already cried so much about this, you shouldn’t have any more tears left!

He takes a tentative step forward, eyes finding yours once again. But they look… soft, tender. Apologetic.

“I… I’m sorry. For the way I acted,” he breathes out and your eyes widen, having to do a double-take to make sure you heard right. “I was too harsh on you, basically taking out my nerves on you and even though what you did was awful, I shouldn’t have taken such drastic measures. I took it too far by saying we shouldn’t be friends and I’d like to take it back if you want to…” he concludes, observing you cautiously.

You’re left staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Is he serious? Did he just apologize to you like he was the one at fault?

“Jimin, oh my god, you shouldn’t have to apologize, I should!” you rush to say, instinctively grabbing his hands to soothe him, completely missing the taken aback turned loving look in his eyes.

“I acted way out of line and truth be told I think I needed that as a wake-up call. You were right, what kind of friend am I if I don’t try to get along with the girl you’re dating?” you continue, too self-conscious to be able to look Jimin in the eye, instead staring at your joined hands with a new kind joy.

You got your best friend back. And if keeping him means you have to bury your feelings for him, then you’ll do it. For real this time. Whatever it takes to not lose him again.

Jimin chuckles in response. “Used to date,” he corrects you.

This time though you can’t help it when your eyes snap back at him. “What? What do you mean?”

Where you expected to be a sorrowful expression, there is none. Instead, Jimin is looking at you with a soft smile, a serene one, one that matches the peace in his eyes. “We broke up,” he says and you can’t find the proper words to react to this.

“Oh… H-how so?” you say instead, unwillingly holding your breath.

Jimin’s eyes rest on your face for a moment, that damned smile still gracing his lips, before his eyes fall to your hands. “I guess you helped me realise some things with what you did,” is his cryptic response.

But before you get to question his answer his eyes turn stern, with a note of mischief hiding in their corners. “That does not mean what you did was okay, though,” he says, pointing his finger at you like a teacher disciplining a child and you chuckle at his attempt of lightening up the mood.

“Believe me, I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself…” you respond, rubbing a hand awkwardly at the base of your neck, still awfully aware of your other hand still connected to Jimin’s.

“Well…” he says quietly, his eyes on your joined hands, “Good thing I did then…” he mutters, his thumb running over the back of your palm soothingly and once your eyes meet his, you know you’ll be okay.

.

.

After that talk with Jimin, -that ended with the both of you watching Space Jam and cuddling to sleep-, everything is once again back to normal. The past week has been amazing compared to the one before it. You find yourself smiling all the time as your friendship with Jimin is back to its prime, laughter and joy returning to your shared apartment.

Your group returns back to its routine, hanging out together in front of the TV, roasting Hoseok for his abundant sexual energy, you know, the usual.

And yet you feel like something’s changed. More particularly, with Jimin.

You catch his eyes on you more than once, more than what could be considered normal but ever since you made up the two of you haven’t been left alone once. The guys are always around and, really, it’s not like you don’t want them to be but there’s always something hanging from Jimin’s mouth, something he wants to say but never does due to their presence. It’s slightly unnerving, reminding you of that night outside your bedrooms when he wanted to say something but didn't.

You can’t tell if it’s good or bad. All you know is suddenly your knees shake when he looks at you for too long and you have goosebumps whenever his skin touches yours.

So that’s why tonight you chose to sit on the lone armchair as he sits next to Hoseok on the big couch and Ana is placed next to Seokjin on the small one.

Somehow the conversation managed to go on that New Year’s party and Seokjin ended up spilling about your kiss.

“You said “we take this to the grave”!” you respond with a low voice, trying to mimic him unsuccessfully as Ana and Hoseok stare at you with eyes wide as saucers. Jimin, for some reason, looks unresponsive to the news yet he laughs at your bad impression of Seokjin.

Seokjin at least has the decency to look guilty as Ana’s scandalized eyes turn to you. “You kissed?!”

You raise your hands in defence, for some reason avoiding to look over at Jimin. “I didn’t do it on purpose! Well… I kinda did but not with the motive you’d assume,” you rush to explain, though Ana is less than satisfied.

“Oh then with what motive? Please amuse me, hoe,” she responds, crossing her hands on her chest and you huff out in annoyance.

Seokjin answers her. “Well, obviously, she wanted a piece of all that. I’m pretty irresistible to all humankind,” he jokes lightly and you suppress a snort.

“Yeah, no, this ain’t it, chief,” you rush to say, suddenly nervous, not wanting anyone to think you’re still into Seokjin.

Actually, replace “anyone” with just “Jimin”.

Seokjin gasps in offence. “What in the world do you even mean?! You’re lucky I kissed you and not just because you got rid of that dude! I’m a pretty good kisser, no scratch that, I’m an excellent kisser, a connoisseur of kissing if you will!”

“I think I won’t be able to kiss anyone after that…” Hoseok responds which makes Seokjin gasp once more before he looks over at you.

“Y/N, tell them the truth. How my kissing is so utterly magnificent, it could end world hunger!” he says before actually hearing what he just said then deciding against it, “Nope, can’t do that, sorry, that’s on me.”

You chuckle at his antics, although a bit reluctant to actually reveal the truth.

“Actually…” you start.

Another gasp resonates. “Don’t “actually” me! Just tell them!”

You turn to the other guys with a roll of your eyes.

“Look, it’s not like you were a bad kisser per se. It’s just that it was a bit… lackluster?” you finish, almost afraid to see Seokjin’s reaction to the reveal.

Jimin suppresses a chuckle, Hoseok oohs from the side and Ana’s eyes widen in surprise.

Seokjin looks at you with disbelief.

“Lackluster?”

You rush to make amends. “I mean it’s okay given I took you by surprise, but due to that crush I used to have on you, I had this notion of a kiss full of passion. And that one just… didn’t have it.” 

Seokjin pouts angrily at you before crossing his arms on his chest as Ana pats his shoulder soothingly. “I can’t believe you just said my kiss didn’t have any passion.”

You shrug. “Well, it didn’t,” you say as a matter of a fact before Ana jumps into the conversation.

“It’s probably a good thing your kiss didn’t have any passion, it just means your friends. No chemistry there so don’t beat yourself up too much, champ,” she says with an affectionate pinch on Seokjin’s cheek, who ponders on her input.

“Yeah, Ana is right!” you rush to agree. “It’s because we’re just friends! When you find someone you really like, believe me, it’ll be nothing like that,” you go off track a bit as certain memories reappear. “It’ll be full of passion and yearning and not getting enough of each other, you’re not sure if you can go on without kissing them!”

And somehow by the end of that, your eyes fall on Jimin’s and stay there.

Because he stares back.

“Okay, I think we heard enough about Seokjin’s kissing techniques,” Ana comments, breaking the spell and your eyes fall to your lap, fire residing in your cheeks.

“I just have one last comment on what I think Seokjin could’ve used but didn’t cause he’s a wuss,” Hoseok jumps in.

“Tongue.”

A round of gagging noises is heard around the apartment.

.

.

The hours pass by smoothly and soon everyone’s getting sleepy. Seokjin leaves early, having to go to the restaurant first thing in the morning, leaving the rest of you to clean up.

Once again Jimin picks up the trash with Ana as Hoseok helps you do the dishes. The apartment falls into a comfortable silence with the occasional chatter between the four of you while you clean up. Hoseok is to sleepover at Ana’s so when you’re all done the couple bids you goodbye, heading to Ana’s apartment.

Leaving you and Jimin totally alone.

Which is something that shouldn’t scare you but for some reason your nerves are going through the roof.

“Are you done with the kitchen?” Jimin asks from the living room, where he’s rearranging the pillows on the couch.

“Yeap! Just finished!” you call back, your voice a bit higher than usual and you cringe internally before clearing your throat.

“Good, I’m going to bed then,” he responds as you walk out of the kitchen.

“I’ll walk with you,” you respond with a smile, following him into the corridor.

You walk in comfortable silence, but still, you find yourself getting nervous as you walk side by side. It doesn’t make any sense.

Once you reach your bedrooms, both of you turn around to face each other, seemingly unwilling to depart just yet. Jimin looks at you with a soft smile as you grab at the opportunity to talk to him.

“Jimin, I just… I’m really happy we got past that and again I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused,” you say in what seems like the hundredth apology this week.

Jimin’s smile grows fonder as he shakes his head gently. “I told you, you should stop apologizing, I’m no longer mad at you,” is his quiet reply as he tilts his head, his eyes staring at you in a way it makes your heart race.

“I know I just… That week we spent not talking to each other was the worst week of my life and I…” you pause searching for the right words, but no words could ever describe the magnificence of what you’re feeling right now, the desperation of wanting to have him in your life. So you simply stare at him, out of breath, hoping he gets it.

His smile is one of the best things you’ve ever seen and you know he does.

You smile back. “Anyway, I’ve gotten too sentimental…” you chuckle, clearing your voice to sound more collected.

Jimin giggles softly. “Happens to the best of us…” he responds gently and you have to remind yourself to not stare. Even if he does and it makes you feel out of breath.

You nod with a smile. “Well…” you respond nervously, yearning for the moment you’re alone in your room, free of all this tension. “Goodnight,” you say simply, turning around to get to your door.

But a hand wraps itself around your wrist, turning you around suddenly. Your hands naturally fall to Jimin’s chest as his palms wrap around your waist and hair as his lips fall fervently on yours.

Your mind goes into overdrive and you can only kiss him back.

His plump lips wrap around your own softly but with an intense sense of urgency, a soft gasp falling from your lips as your hands are quick into grabbing his shirt to pull him unbelievably closer. You respond with just as much hunger, letting your mouth move fervently against his own, pushing more and more against him, aiding his hand that’s tangled in your hair, gripping the locks as if he can’t get enough. Then both of his palms are on the small of your back, holding you close as if fearing you’ll leave. But you never do and that makes him press more against you until your back hits the wall next to your door.

The impact makes Jimin lean back just enough to stop the kiss, but his eyes still remain glued to the image of your swollen lips, as you almost lean after his own.

Your heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise quiet corridor, his hands still on your waist, yours still on his open shirt as you try to wrap your mind around what just happened.

“Did you mean something like that?” comes out his gruff, deep voice that sends a shiver down your spine.

His question brings you back to the earlier conversation about a perfect kiss and you can’t control your breathing any more than your beating heart.

You nod quickly, eyes still on his lips. “Yes,” is your breathless answer.

Jimin’s still breathing heavily as his eyes land once again on your lips.

“Good.”

And then he’s kissing you again.

And, fuck, you can’t get enough.

Your palms land on his neck as you stand on your toes to reach him better and his hands wrap around your waist to keep you in place.

Fuck, you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him and he’s kissing you back. As if he’s a man starved of your kiss and he needs anything you can give him.

But then he stops again and you almost groan out loud.

“You need to stop doing that…” you exhale with an affected chuckle and he chuckles as well.

“I just… I need to talk to you before anything else happens….” he whispers and even though you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you can’t help but feel a pang of fear in your chest.

“I…” he says, eyes dazedly looking at your face before he takes an encouraging breath.

“I want you to know that this isn’t like last time. It’s more, it means more, I-” he stops once more, voice trembling as he refuses to look anywhere else but you.

His words give you hope but for the first time in weeks, you welcome that hope. You welcome that glorious feeling to settle deep in your chest because you recognize that warm glint deep in his eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” he reveals and you swear your heart will burst. There’s moisture in your eyes but you will it to go away.

“You are…?” you ask with a small voice and Jimin smiles at you, all happiness and comfort. There’s a fuzzy feeling in the middle of your chest and at this moment nothing makes any more sense than you two.

“Yes. And I spent the past year trying to run from it…” he admits carefully as he slightly crouches down to meet your eyes.

“I’m not running anymore…” he concludes, a spark in his eyes and you’ve never seen him more sure for anything in his life.

There’s a whirlwind of emotions in you. Relief, hope, undeniable joy. It makes your throat close and for a few seconds, you can’t answer him. You only stare back and hope he understands like so many times before.

“I-” you manage to choke out with a weak voice but he’s quick to shush you, before kissing the inside of your palm.

“I know…” he responds softly, still holding onto your palm as his eyes find yours. You can’t look away, couldn’t if you wanted to.

And then you can’t stop smiling, and he’s smiling back and before you know it you’re kissing again.

Happiness rolls like a current between, from all the places your bodies touch, you can’t contain it so you keep on kissing fervidly, hands touching whenever they can, mouths moving in tandem like it’s natural. Like it’s the way it’s supposed to be.

“God, I have so much I want to tell you…” he whispers against your lips before he’s diving back in, tongue reaching out to meet yours.

“Me too…” you reply after a few seconds, pushing him closer as your fingers tangle in his hair. “But not now…” you whisper sternly, pushing your chest against him, needing to feel more of him.

He curses under his breath, the sound sinful, licking his lips before he’s kissing you again and his hands fall lower down your back to rest over the swell of your ass.

You moan in appreciation when his hands grab at the tender flesh, making you arch out so he has better leverage. There’s a throbbing between your legs and you resist grinding on him just yet, to drag it out as long as you can.

Jimin’s lips move down the column of your throat as his body cages you against the wall, hands keeping your hips still as he wedges one leg between yours, so his thigh can press upright against your mound.

You moan again when he leaves a particularly deep hickey on your skin and your hips instinctively roll against his thigh, your hands holding on to his back afraid you might fall.

He chuckles darkly against your skin. “Still into thighs I see…” he mumbles before biting softly at your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine.

You bite your lip before, “Correction, still into your thighs…” you admit as you roll your hips slowly on top of his thigh, starting to feel that delicious warmth building up in your stomach, making you feel dizzy.

Jimin almost bucks into you with a low moan, as his hands are certain to leave marks on your hips as he struggles to remain sane.

“Fuck… Although I’m really tempted to just fuck you here, we should probably move…” he murmurs between kisses to your collarbone and you have half a sane mind to agree. The other half is already picturing him doing it either way.

But before you get to move, his arms are quicker, lunging under your thighs and you instinctively wrap them around his waist with a surprised yelp. His palms are resting right on top of your ass, subconsciously pushing you closer, making your insides burn in anticipation.

There’s a smirk on his lips as he licks them, eyes roaming your face to make sure you don’t have second doubts. Although your eyes are glued to the movement of his wet tongue.

When he realises this, he’s quick to move towards his room as you choose now as the perfect moment to lick and suck bruises on his neck, not able to deny yourself any longer.

“Shit… Y/N, if you keep this up I’m gonna drop you…” he mumbles with a stern but clearly-affected voice and you smile in victory before softly biting at his skin, savouring his taste on your tongue.

He kicks his door open before he carefully lays you on his bed, lips immediately after your own as you reach for his neck to desperately press more of him against you.

Your palms move down his chest, grabbing the edges of his flannel to push it off his shoulders, leaving him in his T-shirt and jeans.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes…?” you ask breathlessly, immediately reconnecting your lips like a woman starved and Jimin chuckles, grabbing the hem of your T-shirt instead and pushing it upwards. You sigh in relief as soon as your heated skin is free, yearning to feel more of his skin against yours.

“Just trying to keep myself warm,” he comments rushedly as he discards the piece of clothing somewhere behind him and his eyes fall to your covered breasts. He curses, lowering his face to kiss down your collarbones until his lips reach the bare top of your tits. His mouth leaves a wet trail behind that’s making you gasp as your thighs rub together to gain some relief.

Jimin notices and chuckles darkly before biting your bottom lip. “You want any help there?” he teases and you groan out loud with a pout.

“Yes, but please take your clothes off a little bit faster. It’s making my dick soft,” you whine, bucking your hips towards him.

He pins them down between his own legs, forcing them to stay still. His fingers toy with the waistband of your leggings as your breaths turn heavier while only looking at his eyes.

“Aw, so I won’t have my ass rawed by your dick? Such a shame baby…” he teases once more with a sinful smirk and the last word has your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Fuck, say that again…” you murmur, arching your chest upwards as you feel moisture gather between your legs, just by the single mention of a nickname.

Jimin laughs out loud as he moves to get your leggings off and you’re quick to aid him. “Is this really what turns you on?” he comments playfully as he leans in, lips kissing the underside of your jaw.

“No, I meant…” you stop, suddenly self-conscious, “... the other part…” you mumble quietly, turning your face to the side, knowing a deep red has taken over your cheeks. It’s not simply about the nickname or the tenderness in his voice as he said it. It’s about what it represents, what you already heard from his lips but you simply can’t have enough of. It makes everything real.

Jimin regards you for a second before, “What? Baby?” he asks, rather innocently and yet you still can’t look at him, too embarrassed as you nod.

Jimin’s eyes turn softer as he bites his lip to contain his smile. Fuck, he’s so in love.

He moves to press a tender kiss to your jaw. “Baby,” he repeats slowly, before resting his lips on your collarbones and you sigh in content. “Baby…” he says again, leaving a kiss in the valley between your breasts, making your breath hitch. “Baby…” he moves lower, dragging his plump lips down your torso as your breaths quicken, the sound of the nickname having your heart making somersaults.

“Baby…” he whispers lowly one last time, the tone completely different, darker, more promising. His eyes rest on you as his face now lays above your panties. Then his hands are hooking behind the waistband, dragging the material down your legs and he bites his lips at the sight of your glistening folds.

“God, I wanna taste you so bad…” he says almost to himself and before you get to react, he hooks your legs on top of his shoulders and his tongue lands with kittenish licks on your clit.

An involuntary groan escapes you, bucking your hips into his mouth for more. And yet he maintains his pace, sending waves of pleasure up your body but never enough to get you where you want to. You can’t help the movement of your hips as you crave for more friction, his movements delicious but never enough. Jimin pins your hips down, tsking you before he presses a kiss at the junction between your thigh and cunt.

“You’ll get what you want, baby, all in due time…” he says sternly, his voice low, sending shivers down your spine as his mouth returns to your clit, and you bite your lip to drown your moan.

Though now, he leaves aside the kittenish lick to wrap his mouth around the swollen nub and suck it between his lips.

A loud moan breaks free from your lips, heavy pants resonating as his plush lips envelop your clit, finally giving you more, moving expertly against your folds and your hands find purchase on Jimin’s locks to press him more against you.

He lets you do as you please while one of his hands travels up your torso, pushing your bra’s cups down to toy with one of your nipples.

The added pleasure has you cry his name in ecstasy, losing all control of your hips as they move against Jimin’s face, as if they have a mind of their own, chasing after your high like a madwoman.

And as one hand tugs at your erect nipples, the other finds this chance to move down your body and trace around your entrance, making your pussy clench in anticipation. Before finally pushing two digits inside your velvety walls.

“Jimin!” you almost sob, your hips furiously chasing after your high as you feel the warmth building up more and more inside your stomach. 

His fingers keep thrusting inside you, slowly at first to let you get used to the intrusion, before he picks up the pace, moving them quickly, roughly inside you. Knuckles deep as his fingertips find that little soft spot inside your walls that has your eyes roll to the back of your head.

And when you open your eyes and see Jimin staring you back with darkness and lust in his own from between your legs, the band snaps.

You come with a loud moan, riding your orgasm against Jimin’s tongue, as the pleasure seems too much, too intense. But then the feeling starts to fade away and Jimin lets you relax as he leaves butterfly kisses against your thighs.

You try to catch your breath as Jimin’s kisses move upwards, up your stomach, to your breasts until he’s kissing you again. Your hands move to wrap around his neck, never having quite enough of him.

“This is not fair, you know…” you chastise him playfully, kissing his underjaw when a quiet moan rolls from his tongue.

“What’s not fair?” he asks, trying to keep up with the conversation but judging by the way his hip rut against you, you know he’s struggling.

“The fact I’m completely naked while you still have your clothes on…” you observe with a cock of your eyebrow and a smirk grazes his lips as his finger tugs at the elastic of your bra and lets it snap against your skin.

“Ah but you’re not completely naked…” he teases against your lips as his fingers move down your body in a sensual caress.

But being you, you take that as a challenge. So you push him slightly away just so you can move your hands behind your back and unclasp your bra with one movement.

Jimin’s eyes go wide as you flick the undergarment across the room, swallowing heavily before his eyes return to your bare chest.

“Now I am…” is your witty retort as you subtly arch your back just so he can have a better view. He stands there staring at you for a few seconds before he curses and moves quickly to get rid of his clothes.

You giggle at his impatience when he ends up stuck in his T-shirt, sporting an adorable pout. “Easy, baby, I’m not going anywhere…” you joke, sitting up to help him take off his t-shirt with a soft smile, one he reciprocates as he moves to unbuckle his pants.

“Well, it wasn’t me getting too impatient to- Wait…” he stops mid-sentence after taking his pants off. A spark of realization has entered his eyes before he turns to you to meet you with a teasing smile.

“Did you just call me baby?”

Your eyes widen in shock as a blush creeps into your cheeks and with a scoff you lightly shove him for daring to make fun of you.

“Y-you said it first, genius!” you try to justify yourself with a frown, but Jimin’s smirk only grows as he pushes aside his pants and crawls towards you.

“Yeah, but I’m not the one that spent more than half her life refusing to call her partners that because it’s cheesy…” he comments playfully as he traps you beneath his body once more.

“Even if the rule never applied to her…” he smiles teasingly at you, brushing his lips softly against your pout, reminding you that even if you never called your partners “baby”, you never stopped them from calling you that.

You purse your lips together as you look at your fidgeting hands, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “Well…” you begin, swallowing the lump in your throat, “...you’re different…” you mumble quietly, not really ready to look at him even if you know he feels the same.

That has him halting, and as he sees you too uncomfortable to go on, he doesn’t say anything else. He presses a soft kiss to your knee instead, wishing to convey everything he feels as well through that small kiss.

The movement of his lips on your skin is so tender that has your heart flutter and, while he looks back at you, his smile puts your embarrassment to rest. Because he’s here for you because he feels the same.

“I know it comes a little late but… Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, eyes stuck on your face, tracing your features as if he hasn’t really seen you before, not until now.

The question has your heartbeat quicken even though it’s completely unnecessary. Though your lips stretch out in a smile as you nod.

Jimin leans closer, eyes on your lips as if he’s under some spell. You suppose it’s the same you’re under.

You let his lips envelop yours gently, hands tangling in his hair as you both find yourselves moving back until you’re lying down with Jimin on top of you.

Your hands are greedy to explore his body, even though you’ve done so before. Though that time you’re main motive was to get off, so now gives you the perfect opportunity to get reacquainted with his body, to map out every little detail to memory, until he’s the only thing you see.

His lips move lower to kiss and bite at the column of your throat, eliciting the sweetest moan from your lips that sound like music to Jimin’s ears.

Your breaths get quicker, hands moving recklessly to get rid of the remaining piece of fabric that separates you. Jimin rushes to help you, throwing away his boxers, now standing in his complete naked glory.

There’s nothing else to say, not really when a single look can convey everything you feel without unnecessary words. And the way Jimin looks at you right now makes you feel like you’re in heaven. Like you’re cared for, safe and content right here in his arms.

His hand brushes a lock behind your ear and the motion is so tender, loving, it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Are you ready?” he whispers softly, eyes gentle, ready to back off if you say so, reminding you of yet another reason you’re so helplessly in love with him.

You simply nod, too afraid to talk but your smile is all it takes for Jimin to go forward.

He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes glued at that spot between your legs with anticipation. He moves forward, guiding his tip through your folds, going slowly in case it’s painful but the look of pure bliss on your face and the way your walls welcome his cock has him losing control and going the rest of the way in with a deep thrust.

Your nails claw into the skin of his back with a loud cry while Jimin breathes deeply against the skin of your neck, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Fuck, I-...” he exhales, lost in the feeling of your pussy wrapping around him like a grip. “... You okay?” he says breathless, eyes searching yours for anything that’s not okay.

A breathless chuckle escapes you as you press your lips on his jawline. “More than okay. But please move.”

“Oh, thank god….” he mumbles before pulling out and thrusting in again. His movements are slow, yet the perfect pace to help you build up slowly but surely towards a second high.

Jimin rolls his hips with the expertise only a dancer could possess, driving his cock deeper and deeper with each roll, hitting that spot again and you can’t help but close your eyes to savour this feeling.

Shallow breaths leave you as his pubic bone brushes against your clit with each motion, driving you crazy.

“Ugh, you feel… mm’ so good…” he mumbles between thrusts, letting his lips land on your breasts, to suck lovebites on your skin.

“Jimin, fuck…!” you cry out, high-pitched moans escaping you as your hands go to his ass, coaxing him to drive his cock even deeper.

He growls from above your chest before you feel his palm cupping your cheek. “Open your eyes for me, love…” he mumbles quietly and you have no choice but to comply.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Jimin’s piercing ones, staring at you intensely, burning with unspoken feelings that are too easy to recognize. After all, you feel them too.

You move to the side to kiss the inside of his palm before you smile at him.

He smiles back fondly at you before his hands move to lace his fingers with yours at each side.

“Keep your eyes on me, love…” he whispers before moving again.

This time around, his pace is slightly quicker, his cock hitting your sweet spot with renewed vigour and yet you can only concentrate on his eyes. His eyes that stare at you with such fondness and love it makes your eyes water.

You see the frown on his face before he stops moving in concern, yet you push your heels on his ass to keep him going.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay, keep going…” you say, almost choking with the emotions overwhelming you. “It’s just that… I can’t believe I’m so lucky…” you admit softly, an unbelievable chuckle escaping you as you stare at him with what you hope he sees as undeniable adoration.

He smiles at you again, -you think you’ll never get tired of that smile-, before he leans in to kiss away the stray tear that flowed free from your eyes.

He picks up the pace once more, resting his forehead on top of yours, as shallow moans roll off your tongue. Your high keeps approaching, you can feel it and still you’re only focused on his eyes. Soft grunts escape him as he drives his hips into you, getting closer to his high as well, his hands grasping yours as if they’re a lifeboat.

He brushes his lips gently against yours before “I love you…” he mutters against you and you think your heart is gonna burst.

You press another kiss on his lips before, “I love you too.”

And then you don’t say anything else as your high approaches and after a few more thrusts you both come entangled in one another, each other’s names on your lips.

You lay like this for a few moments, with Jimin’s body on top of yours as both of you struggle to catch your breaths. Then your eyes find each other again and everything seems so clear, so right.

You can’t stop smiling at each other like lovesick fools as you fall asleep next to each other, at last content.

.

.

When Jimin wakes up the next morning he thinks it was all a dream.

But as his eyes rest on your peaceful sleeping form he knows he could never dream something as perfect as this.

He can’t help the lovesick smile taking over his lips as he looks at you through sleep-ridden eyes. He shuffles closer, resting his face on his hands to get a better look while you sleep soundly next to him. He feels like he can never get enough of you. Not now, not ever.

Suddenly your body begins moving though your eyes remain closed and Jimin figures you’re still asleep.

“Stop being creepy…” you mumble with a sleepy smile and Jimin grins too, realising he was wrong.

“I’m not being creepy…” he argues softly, still smiling. You pop open one eye to look at him unimpressed before you yawn and open both your eyelids.

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause it’s super romantic staring at me while I’m asleep, where can I find another man like that…” you tease him with a drowsy smile as your eyes find his.

He groans dramatically though his smile still remains. “You’re unbelievable…” he mumbles, his voice still gruff from sleep and you have to suppress a shiver before shuffling closer.

“I know but you love me…” you mumble against him before kissing his lips slowly. He lets himself get lost on the kiss before you lean back and he licks his lips to savour your taste.

“And now you can’t take it back!” you exclaim out loud before smiling mischievously at him.

Another groan breaks free from his lips. “Already regretting it…” he comments, checking your reaction from the corner of his eyes.

You gasp as if offended by his quip. “Well, maybe then I’ll just leave so you won’t regret it anymore!” you respond, gathering his sheet on your chest as you make a move to leave his bed.

But Jimin is faster, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you back on the bed, crawling on top of you with a predatory smile.

“Now, now, let’s not result in desperate measures…” he dives in for another kiss.

You can’t help but smile again as you kiss him, hands circling around his neck as he softly bites your bottom lip.

“Careful sir. You might trigger something dangerous here…” you whisper seductively, moving one leg so your thigh can rub against his already half-hard member.

Jimin’s smirk only grows. “Mmm, maybe I like danger…” he responds before his lips envelop yours once more. His hands travel beneath the sheet, tracing your skin before they move lower and-.

A loud bang echoes through the apartment, surprising both of you before a booming voice is heard through the walls, one that belongs to none other than Hoseok himself.

“Have you fucked yet or nah?!”

Your eyes widen, face immediately growing red. Jimin looks at you with an apologetic smile and before you get to ask why Hoseok is asking that, said man bursts into the room.

There’s a sudden explosion of sounds, you screaming as you hide beneath Jimin, Jimin cursing at Hoseok as he pulls the sheet to cover you both and Hoseok whistling at the image before him.

“Woah! You finally did it buds, I’m so happy for you!” he cheers you on as he steps inside to fist bump a very angry looking Jimin and a very visibly confused you.

“Hoseok, excuse my french, but what the fuck are you doing here?” Jimin is positively seething with his friends' interruption but as you see Hoseok basically beaming at the both of you, you can’t help but giggle at the absurd situation.

“I came to see if my buddies finally worked it out! And you did, finally! Can you imagine if you hadn’t and I’d burst through the door screaming that? That’d be awkwaaaaaaard!” he comments, too cheerful to notice Jimin’s deadly stare and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

“Right. That would’ve been awkward…” Jimin comments sarcastically though Hoseok still seems oblivious as he sits on top of the bed with a happy smile hanging from his lips.

You’re about to burst into giggles as you watch Jimin’s eyes growing wider in disbelief and you’re certain he’s gonna kill Hoseok any minute now.

“I’m so happy for you guys! My besties are finally dating!” he comments full of joy and Jimin is about to have smoke pouring out of his ears.

“Hobi, we’re happy too but I think it’d be better for you if you left…” you comment with a smile, pointing with your head at Jimin who’s about to lose it any second.

Hoseok’s eyes widen finally in realization. “Oh, whoops! Right, right, I’m leaving, keep going, stallion, show her how it’s done!” Hoseok throws finger guns at Jimin as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

As soon as Hoseok is out of earshot and you turn to look at Jimin you can’t help but burst into giggles by how absolutely mad he looks.

Though when you start laughing, Jimin’s incredulous stare turns to you. “Why are you even laughing?!”

Even though his ominous stare is directed at you, you can’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just too funny!” you say breathlessly through your giggles.

“Too funny?!” he asks incredulously before his gaze turns dark. His eyes have your laughter dying in your throat and instead another feeling rising up at the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll show you funny…” he whispers sinfully before he lunges forward and you forget what you were laughing at for the rest of the day.

There are more important matters to tend to.

[skampi835]

Hell of the Living

I just read about the Unloved Characters Month event, hosted by @the-moonlight-dreams a few days ago and I really wanted to give it a try (besides having a good idea which left me giggling). Caution though, my english isn’t the best. You’ve been warned!

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Language: english

Genre: dark

Warning: blood, angst

Prompt: Day 11 - The Tavern

Word Count: 1.150

This turned out way darker than I thought. Maybe it’s not the best example for an unloving character, writing some dark fiction about him, but let’s just say I show my affection for Motonari by appreciating his madness. Don’t we love him, just because of that? No? - Argh damn!

Still I hope you���re enjoying this, because I had so much fun writing something about Motonari (and a hard time with the research and grammar).

“Yer know, what I mean, aye?”

Toasting to himself, Motonari brings his glass he’s holding to his lips. The liquid burned his throat, drowning down into his stomach and leaves a refreshing warmth. It expelled the weariness that crept in his mind for some time by now. Why was he so tired?

Licking the drops, which had left on his lips, with his tongue away, he silently sat his glass down on the table he’s leaning. The crimson painted sky preludes the end of the day and welcomes the night with its raising shadows which were growing longer. The noises from afar jingles like music in his ears, accomplished to lift his spirits ever so joyfully, while leaving a rarely prickle on his skin.

Motonari weary and lazily searched the inside of the tavern with these unusual magenta coloured eyes of his. The dim lights of candles and lanterns reflected in them, leaving a shimmer, like gleaming rubies. But of course... he was aware since when he took seat on one of the stools at the counter. He knew all along that he was alone in here, besides of the innkeepers company of course.

“Bet ya knew at first sight, that I wasn’t in Sakai for a damn long time, eh?” Motonari asks with a wry smirk, leaning against the wooden table. Resting his head in a palm of his white-gloved hands, his eyes are watching the innkeeper. “Gotta say, a bunch has changed, don’t ya think?” He snickered almost gushing. “Lookin’ pretty vast, if yer ask me.”

The innkeeper doesn’t answer, his stoic expression plastering to the window, as if there was anything special to look at. But there was only the fading crimson light of the night. A soft sigh escapes Motonari’s mouth, ending in a hum. “Say, I’d some time to think.” He mutters, his eyes following the glance of the innkeeper. “Sakai is the front door to the whole country, aye? Like an entranceway.” He explains almost patiently. “Gotta feeling, this’ll be the best place to start, eh?”

Slowly Motonari spins the glass above the table, still leaning on his elbow, which is lazily cupping his cheek. “Better than rotten Aki. But... hell, everywhere’s better than Aki.” His phony laughter fills the air, which is soaked with the smell of iron. “Isn’t it ironic, the place, that’s still mine, I hate the most?” Motonari smirks, inclining his head slightly, facing the innkeeper. “Why, would yer ask? Sorry, but that’s a hell of a story to tell and I’ll not waste my time to some bloody landlubber.”

As fast as the dark clouds rose in Motonari’s mind, he sealed the thoughts of despair and sorrow deep in his heart back again, locking it firmly away. Aki carried a long span of his life, whereas he’d thrown into the depths of hell. The amount of unspoken things he’d done, desperately dragging him out of this hell, just to find himself in an even worse one. It was... anomalous painful. But this feeling lasted not for long, forged into blazing, consuming hatred, as he’d seen the truth on the edge of his own.

Motonari vacantly runs his fingers over his white-gloved hands, like they were armor, realizing a tiny spot of dotted red on the cloth. For a short time, the wounds behind this madman lay open, just beneath the surface. But he was all alone, besides the innkeepers company of course.

Lifting his head, Motonari gazes to the innkeeper. “Ya wanna say something?” He snarls. But the innkeeper remains silent. Suddenly the warlord’s laughing ill, nearly smashing the glass, as he raps one white-gloved hand, formed to a fist on the bar. “This festering cesspit of a world doesn’t deserve peace, aye? It can drown in its own filth.” His frigid magenta eyes were scowling at the innkeeper.

A wicked smile appearing on his face, Motonari slowly lifts his empty glass to the innkeeper. “Pour me another one.” He demands. But like before, the innkeeper remains silent, for he wasn’t the one who had spoken a word at all. His hollow eyes are still staring at the window, wherefrom the orange flicker of fire threw the shadows back.

With a heavy sigh, Motonari rose on his feet, sauntering behind the counter. With one white-gloved hand he takes the opened bottle of sake, pouring the liquor into his glass. “Disappointing.”, he grumbles. “Ya still don’t get it, eh? That might is right and life is war. If yer weak, you’re dirt. And if yer strong, you get to survive by eating the remains of the others. THAT’s the way it is.” Motonari takes a little sip of the glass, gazing resigned over the innkeeper, before filling his glass anew.

Strings of blood leaving the crushed body that lays halfway on the bar with its torso. Its lifeblood’s steadily running over the bar, dripping slowly onto the floor, blending to the amount of puddles and splatters, which had already painted the inside of the tavern red. The flames from the candles, lanterns and from the fire, spreading outside the tavern with cracking noises, are mirroring in the red of the pools, turning the atmosphere gloomy.

The air is thickening with the scent of smoke and iron. The music from afar keeps echoing in Motonari’s ears with the sound of terrified screams and dirty laughers from members of his crew.

After quietly placing the bottle back on its spot, Motonari takes his time, to drink. This is right, wasn’t it? Victory gives control over everything. The lives of the losers, even their deaths, their disgrace, their wealth and their worth...

“I don’t give a damn about it.”, Motonari disgruntled snarls, tossing the glass over his shoulders. With a splintering clang it shatters on the wooden floor, while he’s stepping over a pool of blood, to round the counter. His cloak waves lightly over his shoulder, although soaked with dried splatters of dotted red.

“Told ya.” Motonari draws his sword from its sheath with an metallic sound, looking over his shoulder to the dead bodies he’d leave behind, wearing a sick smirk. “Sakai’s the front door to the whole damn country. I started the party by setting fire in the entranceway for everybody to see.” His vicious smirk creeps among the bloody scene, before he's turning. “If yer all not willed to damn see I simply HAVE to put the hell of a show! And when the blood from your broken bodies turns to froth on the sea and this world shows its glory consumed by an ocean of fire, THEN you just have to realize, that we’re already living in hell!”

As he exits the tavern, Motonari’s maddening laughter echoed hauntingly in the night. It mixes with the raucous sounds of the crackling fire from the burning buildings around and the dreadful, eerie screams in the alleys from the people, while his crew mercilessly ravaged the village. The flickering crimson flaming lights are illuminating the night, while sparks of embers floating up into the dark sky.

[lost-andfound]

CARRY ON (How Supernatural Should Have Ended)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041390 

INT. VAMP NEST BARN. NIGHT.

A VAMPIRE has just impaled DEAN on a nail. It is suggested that he is about to die. There are two flickering light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The barn looks uncannily similar to the barn in which Dean and CASTIEL first met.

Dean chokes, blood pooling from his mouth. His eyes are glassy and fighting to stay open. SAM’s eyes are filled with tears--he can’t believe it.

DEAN (coughing, trying to speak through the pain) I thought— dammit, man, I thought this was our chance. A chance at a real life.

SAM (truly, genuinely, painfully) I’m sorry.

Sam’s hand hovers around the wound, as if trying to cure it. Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to die, but he’s past the point of no return.

DEAN (gently) Sammy— everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve lost— I’m glad it was with you.

SAM (starting to panic) No, Dean, no—

DEAN (breathing slower, but doing his best to look his brother in the eyes) I didn’t wanna die. I didn’t. Promise me you know that.

Sam nods. He can’t speak. He wishes— he prays— but no one comes. Dean’s head goes slack in Sam’s hand. His eyes are empty. He’s dead. The camera PANS slowly to Sam’s stunned face.

SAM Dean. (He waits for an answer, but none comes.) Dean, please.

Behind, there is a flutter of wings. The light bulbs blow out, glass shattering on the ground. Sam freezes, hoping against all odds—

CASTIEL (firmly, as if with all the power of Heaven on his side) No one dies today.

Without further ado, he grasps Dean’s body and pulls him off the nail. Sam winces at the sound, but Castiel does not flinch. He grips Dean by the shoulder and puts his hand over the wound. An unearthly blue light— the light of angelic Grace— flows from his hands, shines from his eyes. It is not the healing we’ve seen before— this power seems to come from the deepest part of Cas himself.

A beat. Sam stares, tense, hoping. Cas steps back, and Dean gasps.

SAM (with deep relief) Thank God.

DEAN (exhausted, yet still wise-cracking) That asshole ain’t to thank for this one, Sammy.

He sways, and Sam rushes to hold him up. Dean looks at Cas, who is, as usual, unreadable.

CAS Hello, Dean.

DEAN (softer) Cas. Jesus, you’re— you’re here.

CAS (with a slight smile, hardly believing it himself) Jack. He came for me.

Dean’s smile falters. He glances at Sam— they both feel guilty for leaving Cas behind. Castiel catches this look, and is about to speak, but winces. A curl of blue Grace floats from his mouth, winding into the air and vanishing like smoke.

SAM (concerned) Cas— are you okay?

Cas stumbles, falling to brace himself on the wall. Both Sam and Dean reach out to grab his arms on either side.

CAS (looking between them, suddenly weak) I think— I think I’m falling again.

BLACKOUT.

END OF ACT TWO

ACT THREE

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN - MORNING

With a WIDE SHOT, we see that Dean is making eggs this time, with less spirit than the last morning. He slices peppers and onions with precision, but we can tell that he is worried, his brow furrowing as he sprinkles them in the pan.

Sam sits at the table, flipping through a huge, ancient tome. A stack of books rests next to him, waiting to be studied. Cas is not at the table, a noted absence.

Dean flips the omelet off the pan and onto a plate, setting it in front of Sam, who barely looks up.

DEAN (demanding) So?

SAM (looking up apologetically) I don’t know. I think it’s something to do with The Empty— sapping his grace, somehow. Saving you probably took a lot of mojo.

DEAN (muttering sarcastically, as usual) Great.

INT. CASTIEL’S ROOM

Castiel sleeps, his face serene. Morning light spills in through the window, the drapes gently fluttering. It’s a beautiful scene, almost like a painting. The song “THANK YOU” by Led Zeppelin begins to PLAY. PAN TO Dean in the doorway, awkwardly holding a plate of eggs and mug of black coffee. Dean’s face is softer than we’ve seen it in a long time. He hesitates, not wanting to disturb his friend.

CAS (sleepily) Dean?

The music fades, but remains in the background of the scene.

DEAN (gruffly) Mornin’, sunshine.

Dean moves to sit on the bed, a respectful distance away from Castiel. He sets the plate and mug on the bedside table. Castiel shifts into a sitting position. Dean looks at Cas, and we think he is about to speak— he thinks he is about to speak— but he remains silent. Cas merely looks back at him, at the face he thought he’d never see again. The awkwardness is mostly on Dean’s side, which is not a surprise. Castiel seems content to merely look.

DEAN (eventually) So, are you… human now? For real this time?

CAS (eyes flickering briefly) Yes. I believe so.

DEAN (gearing himself up to be angry, to find a solution) Okay. Well— we’ll fix it. Find some spare grace, find a spell to restore your grace, whatever. We always do.

CAS (sighing) Dean—

DEAN (a little heat to his voice) Dammit, Cas, let us help you. You saved my skin at the cost of your own for the hundredth time and— and I won’t let you do that. Not again. No one dies this time, remember?

CAS Dean, you’re not gonna find anything. Not this time. And I’m— (he pauses, smiling slightly. He looks calm, at peace.) I’m happy. And I can say that now, without fear. I can feel. That’s all I’ve wanted, for so long.

There is a pause. Dean swipes a hand over his face and shifts closer on the bed. There is so much left unsaid, between these two, and it hangs heavy in the air.

Dean (voice ragged) Cas. What you said. Before the Empty took you.

CAS (steadily, without hesitation) I meant it.

DEAN I’ve wanted to say it back. For so long, Cas. But I— I didn’t think— I mean, you were an angel, and there was Lisa, then Purgatory, and the Mark, and Chuck, and everything against us— it was never right, and I never thought you felt— (he breaks off, swallowing.) I never thought you could. Love me, I mean.

Cas says nothing, but laces his fingers with Dean’s. Dean looks down, stunned, then back up at Castiel’s face.

CAS But I do. Against all odds, I do.

Dean kisses him. “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin resumes. Cas pulls him in, closer. It is a beautiful, tender kiss, a movie kiss. After a moment, they break apart, still holding hands.

DEAN (slightly embarrassed, yet as unguarded as we’ve ever seen him) I love you too, Cas. I always have— you’re family.

CAS (softly, as if this moment is one he could break) So what now?

DEAN (his voice opening, finally, into hope) The rest of our lives, man. Everything that comes after.

PAN OUT, as they move into a tight, intimate hug. They’re family. The camera moves from them to the window. The curtains. The soft light outside.

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN

Sam sits at the table, hands in his hair, still poring over the books. His plate is empty— Dean is a good cook. He is unaware of the conversation his brothers are having inside Castiel’s room. There is a CRASH. Sam sits instantly alert— there are those killer instincts. He grabs a gun and creeps slowly towards the entrance, where he finds… EILEEN. She stands at the entrance, confused, looking around. Sam keeps the gun trained on her, grief and rage and confusion flitting across his face.

EILEEN Sam?

SAM (speaking with certainty) You’re not her. You can’t be her. No one ever really comes back, no one that I— that I—

EILEEN Sam, it’s me. I promise.

She pulls out a silver knife, slashes it on her arm. She lets Sam pour some holy water on her hand. She goes through every test, staring at Sam’s face, willing him to believe her.

SAM (disbelieving) Holy crap. It’s you. It’s really you.

EILEEN (smiling) Duh.

Sam sweeps her into his arms, as if he’ll never let her go. She holds onto him just as tightly. In the same moment, they both realize how lucky they are to be here, together.

“CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON” begins to PLAY.

CUT TO MONTAGE:

Dean hunting with Charlie and Cas, watching their backs as they move through a dark tunnel.

Sam and Eileen sharing a beer as they watch a movie, the lights flickering on their faces.

Dean throwing popcorn and Monopoly pieces at Sam, chasing him around the living room as Sam raises his arms in protest.

Cas and Dean washing dishes together, bumping shoulders and hands, smiling.

Eileen holding a newborn child as Dean, Sam, and Cas all crowd around her— someone takes a picture.

PAN UP from that picture on a table to an older Sam, reading in the study while his son reads next to him, a picture of his father.

Cas playing catch in the yard with Claire, who is clearly indulging him. His brow furrows as he drops the ball again and again, Dean laughing from the porch.

An older Dean finally perfecting his pie recipe, passing the plate around the dinner table, looking pleased with himself. Contented.

Sam’s son goes off to college, and Dean takes a breath, and claps a hand on his shoulder. Smiles proudly at him.

Finally, Dean in a hospital bed, surrounded by his family. He grasps Sam’s hand, looks at Cas like he’s trying to memorize his face. They are all old. They are all satisfied with their lives. Dean smiles, closes his eyes.

BLACKOUT. Heart monitor FLATLINES.

ACT FOUR

EXT. BOBBY’S FARM - PORCH. LATE SUMMER.

The field is golden and beautiful, yet as ragged as Dean remembers it. BOBBY SINGER sits on his rocking chair, beer in hand. Dean walks up to the porch. He takes his time— he has all the time in the world, after all.

BOBBY (fondly) Took you long enough, boy.

DEAN (looking around, smiling slightly) Had a life to live.

Bobby grunts, motions for Dean to sit down next to him. He hands him a beer from the cooler.

DEAN Thought you’d be able to magic yourself one of those from thin air, up here. Service not working lately?

BOBBY More authentic this way. (pause) Heaven’s better now, actually. You saw the old version— it’s not like that up here anymore.

DEAN How’s that?

BOBBY That kid of yours: Jack. He made it so you’re not just trapped in old memories— you can go anywhere, see anyone. (another pause— he knows how much this means to Dean) Anyone.

DEAN (swallowing— this is difficult, painful) Even—

BOBBY (more gently) They’re just up the road. (He takes a sip of his beer.) You have a lot to talk out. Bad memories to work through. But you can do it, with time. Work it all out.

DEAN I hope so, Bobby. I think so.

Pause. Something catches Dean’s eye. PAN OUT to the road— to the IMPALA, shiny as the day she came off the line.

DEAN (reverently) They brought my Baby.

BOBBY (looking at him like a father looks at his son) Go. They’ll wait.

Dean smiles, as big as we’ve ever seen, like a kid on Christmas. Driving down an empty highway, with nothing to do, nowhere to go. His favorite.

Dean turns on the car, smiles nostalgically, and flips on the radio. “HEY JUDE” by The Beatles begins to PLAY.

As the song plays, Dean sees people standing by the road— old friends, old lovers, old rivals, old members of his family. There is CHARLIE, waving frantically, a grinning KEVIN by her side. There are JO and ELLEN and ASH in the Roadhouse, bickering among themselves. There are MARY and JOHN, young lovers again, looking at each other with hope in their eyes. There is PAMELA, there is JODY, LISA, JESS, countless others they’ve loved and lost. JACK even blips in to wave hello.

And then, as the song concludes, Dean pulls to a stop. At the end of the road is Cas, and Sam standing behind him, waiting. They stand on a bridge that stretches over a river. The sun is just beginning to set. Dean gets out of the car, closing Baby gently.

DEAN Miss me?

SAM (rolling his eyes fondly) Shut up.

DEAN (brief confusion) So? Where’s everyone else?

SAM They’ll be here soon.

CAS They have some more living to do.

Dean nods, and turns to gaze out over the bridge. Cas slips a hand into his, and they stand together, looking at the sunset, breaking gold and crimson rays over the water, finally calm, finally peaceful.

BLACKOUT.

CARRY ON WAYWARD SON begins to PLAY again as the credits roll.

THE END.

[harrysdimplles]

used to this

the one where crossing a definitive line is easier than both of you realize, and harry can’t wait to get used to it. 

AN: the smut in this was supposed to be pure filthy, but feelings somehow got in the way, so here we are. enjoy, and if you can, please,  buy me a coffee

He really should get out of bed soon. Technically, he should be out already, seeing he is supposed to be at an early interview, but Harry just... can't.

The bed is warm, you see. And he's too busy watching YN sleep, head pressed against his naked chest, one arm thrown around his waist, the other tucked under the pillow to be arsed to think rationally. It's kind of a thing. It happens, when she's around. He gets caught up, body and mind, like tunnel vision or something. It's her. All her.

Besides, he hasn't seen her for a while, so it's even worse this morning. Pretty bad last night too, when he sneaked out after a performance, jogging up the stairs of her building as fast as he could, heart on his throat when she opened the door.

She was on his arms before her sleepy brain could fully comprehend he was really there, a solid presence, his breathing raising goosebumps where it hit her skin.

He didn't want to let her go, so when she just pressed herself closer, he decided he wouldn't. He was fine, more than fine, standing there with the cold from the hallway hitting his back, the scent of YN's coconut shampoo making his head spin with the realization he missed her much more than he had let himself be aware of, voice muffled and full of surprise when the greeting came.

It had been over a year since they met, but the surprise had yet to fade: Harry could sense it, spot it in the first seconds of every late call, watch it whenever one of them came over with bags of take out and cheap spirits, the slimmer of doubt, the hesitant smile before he pulled her close like she was waiting for him to realize this, them, shouldn’t be a thing.

Harry felt the same. It scared him shitless, made him a trembling mess every time this sweet girl smiled at him, pushed him off of her way or told a joke that was as bad as the ones he had memorized over the years: all he could do was wonder if it was the last time, every time.

Maybe that was it. The fear of losing her, maybe that’s what had Styles biting his tongue every time he almost let her name slip when one of his other friends asked what kept him glued to his phone in every spare moment. There were at least a couple of people that would want his head if they knew the story anyway. Harry wasn’t supposed to go and give his number out to fans, for fucks sake, not even the ones that worked in a small restaurant he liked to escape to every now and then. Not even if they let him sit on the corner and just be when the nights seemed too long, making conversation about anything that weren't the things the world was convinced it already knew about him. Especially not if their smile made his heart rate increase, if it had him blurting out excuses to linger around just five minutes more...It was careless, could be dangerous, even.

He took the risk anyway. Fame had given him his wildest dreams, but it robbed him of so much at the same time...moments like the previous night, nestled in bed while YN's voice filled the room with words from the book she was trying to finish before he got there, were Harry stealing something back.

More than worth it, if you still had doubts.

Now, while his hand grabs at the black bedside table in search of his phone before the bloody alarm goes off, the musician wonders how he'll manage the day without her, how he'll focus on anything that isn't the memory of her lips on his just hours ago: he can still taste it, her along with the nerves that dissolved as the night went on,  bodies slowly relaxing in the moonlight, the words of a stranger and a hardcover the last barriers left standing.

He moved first, right when YN's voice got hoarse a couple of chapters in, his head on her pillow,  telling himself it was just so she didn't have to speak as loud, but he still came closer every time her eyes flickered into his in between paragraphs.

With his fingertips dancing up and down the arm she had resting on her hip, the book was over before they knew it, YN's hands tangled in his chocolate locks. Seconds slowly bled into minutes until Harry couldn't stand it, not kissing her: he leaned forward, just enough so his intentions were clear. Waiting.

First heartbeat: she didn't pull away.

Second heartbeat: her eyes fluttered closed, fingers curving on the back of his neck…

She was kissing him, then. Slow, barely-there drags of plump lips on his, tasting, grip on his hair growing stronger as the kisses started to linger.

It wasn’t long before their bodies started to intertwine, YN’s right leg swung over his hips, Harry’s rings bruising the inside of her thigh when he felt her lips graze his jawline before they were on his neck, nibbling at that soft spot that had his cock fattening up so fast he could swear he was seeing stars under his close eyelids…

The memory alone has the guy swearing under his breath, painfully aware he’s got a bad case of morning wood all of a sudden.

It didn’t happen the night before, both of them too busy trying to fit months of making out into a couple of hours to properly think about anything else, even if it was maybe taking things further, and now…

Harry has to go. 

YN stirs when the mattress shifts, loose limbs refusing to let go of his warmth just yet. 

“No” it’s a weak plea, Harry’s deep chuckle sounding close, but not as much as she’d like.

“ ‘s still early, sweetheart, ye don’t have to move” now he’s whispering, fingers caressing the shell of her ear, the fastest way to have YN asleep, he knows. “go back to sleep, promise I’ll lock up when it’s time to leave” a kiss to her forehead, another to her nose, then one on her exposed cheek...her arm tightens around him,  blinking so his angel face is more focused. “Hi”

“Don’t move" it’s a borderline pathetic whining sound, but she’s far too sleepy to care at the moment, pulling him back when he tries to roll over to the other side.

"Gonna make me late, angel" he's way stronger than her, so objectively, she can't hold him in bed all morning, YN knows that, but knowing won't stop her from trying: she's not sure what last night was about, but the longer he stays, the more time she has to not think about it. If he stays, perhaps he'll kiss her again. She'd like that, very much so. "YN, come on" his voice is wavering, but his body is a solid weight when he gets on top of her, pinning the girl to her bed so he can unwrap her arms from around himself, which...Yeah, she likes that.

"Sorry" his eyes are even prettier this close, head tilting to drop a chaste kiss to the palm of her hand before she can slide it from his neck. "You have to go, but I…" he shouldn't even be there, she's well aware of how full his public schedule is gonna be for the next days. Letting the enchantment wear off, remembering they belong to different worlds is harder now, tho.

They've crossed a dangerous line, truly messed up, she realizes.

I mean, it was just a late make-out session if she were to really think about it. A flicker of desire caused by some post-performance adrenaline rush on his part, nothing more.

Never more.

Right?

Looking away, YN breathes him in, once, twice…push him off. That's all she has to do now. Figuring out how to forget his taste is for when it's safe, once his job puts an ocean between them again.

"Baby, look at me" Harry is the one who breaks the silence clouding the room all of a sudden, body still pressed against hers. She's tensing up now, he can feel it happening "What's wrong?" 

Watery, doubtful eyes meet his, YN's small hand pressed to his chest, just resting there, like she hasn't decided what comes next just yet.

"Kiss me again" she whispers, after a moment "Kiss me so I know you want me too. Please, Harry"

There's nothing gentle about the contact this time around, no. When he kisses her now, Harry takes her mouth, claims it, smashing their lips together, tongue gliding against hers.

When he kisses her now, he feels her body tremble and heat up below his, hears the first soft moan rising from the back of her throat, biting into his lower lip to try and chase him when he pulls back so they  can breathe.

When he kisses her now, he can't stop his hands from wandering, spreading over the expanse of her soft hips, dick throbbing when he grazes the material of her panties. He's so hard now, even the feel of  the old pair of sweats  he went to bed in brushing against his tip makes the singer hiss into her mouth.

"Wanna feel you" he doesn't want to, but he wills  himself to pull away enough so there's actually some centimeters between them, eyes darting to the hem of YN's shirt, bundled up above her navel. Somewhere along the kissing he's fitted himself in between her legs, he realizes now, dragging his nails over the exposed skin "Can I?" she nods, gasping when he pulls his fingertips up and under her the fabric, all the way to where he can feel her pebbled nipple, rub his thumb over it slowly, watching her breath get caught, moving to the other side after some time, pulling at nub until she whines, then starting again. 

"Off. Take it off" YN's positively shaking when she speaks, rising from the mattress so he can pull the shirt over her head.

"Fuck, baby" Harry looked away for about two seconds when he threw it on the floor and now he's watching her rub herself over her panties, pupils blown with lust, defying gaze faltering as his mouth wraps around the mount of her left breast and starts descending.

"Harry….Please" YN is burning. Harry's mouth is going down her exposed skin torturously slow, and knowing what he's about to do is not making the wait any easier: he's gotten her so wet it's almost embarrassing, clit throbbing cause of the few seconds of friction her own hand provided before she lost the capacity to focus "Please" he smiles when she tries to push his head lower, letting the elastic of her panties snap back against the skin, once, twice.

"Ready to give me a taste, angel?" she's a mess, the sly grin plastered on his face says he can tell….YN's still trying to decide if he really wants an answer and if she can give him one that's not a heady moan caused by the feel of her underwear coming off when she feels his smart tongue lick it's way from the inside of her thighs to the apex of her legs, the bedframe hustling as he buries himself deeper into her cunt, nose rubbing at her swollen nub as he fucks her with his tongue.

"I want you, now" she can barely recognize her voice, the rest of the phrase dying down at the sight of Harry licking at his lips when their eyes meet again "Please, H" her mind is a mess of sleep, needing, and Harry, so she doesn't bite her tongue to avoid begging again.

He's teased her time and time again about it, but right now, while the guy reaches into the bedside table's drawer for a condom he knows she keeps there, his sculptured face is full of desire, lust blowing up in his pupils when she doesn't look away as he gets it on himself.

His touch is gentle, however. 

Styles is all taunted muscles when he drapes himself over her, close as he can be, hard tip nestling where she wants him most, but the hand that comes to the side of her face carries the faintest of touches:

"So beautiful, baby. Can't stop looking at yeh" it's a whispered confession, eyes never leaving hers as he goes forward, dropping open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin as YN's body melts into his with every inch his shaft takes.

He's claiming her and they both know it.

"Fuck" the curse sounds almost sweet, a reverence coming from his lips, Harry looking at her for what is the millionth time but feels like the first, lips crashing again.

He kisses YN, slowly, wills himself to relax and not just fuck her. Every thrust takes him deeper, the wet heat, the pleasure written over her, even the smell of their sweat mixing together making his mind and his hips rail faster, skin slapping sounds driving him crazy.

It was never this good before, he realizes, looking down to where YN's biting her lips, big teary eyes on him as he takes them closer, pussy throbbing around him with every move.

It might  just be the endorphins flooding his cortex, but in that moment, Harry could swear she was made for him. 

She cums suddenly, his name a whine and a warning as the man keeps going, the ink decorating his body swerving around her closed eyelids when wave after wave of pleasure sweeps every inch of her, the feeling of him the only thing that matters once he finds his own release, numb fingers still intertwined on his hair, praise words on a thick accent not even registering.

" 'morning, angel" the banter that's never too far when it comes to them sounds better when her bedsheets smell like him, YN decides, opening her eyes a few moments after he's pulled out, just to make sure he's still there. Her breathing is erratic, the raw feeling of her throbbing cunt radiating throughout her entire body as they stare at each other, Harry's warmth sipping onto her, as he stands there and look at her, eyes glinting like he's trying to make sure it was real too.

"For fucks sake, H" the whisper finds them snuggled close, her fingers scratching at his scalp, the man's confused expression turning upward when he notices YN is trying not to laugh "You're so late"

The rest of the morning is kind of a blur:  she watched from the bed as Harry rushed through a shower, cursing when the girl pointed out he had his shirt on backward, messily kissing her goodbye when his Uber ride got to the building. Apart from the delicious dull ache in between her legs, she tried not to think about him too much, not that it worked: the ghost of his touch had her flustered, heart beating on her throat when another text came  by lunch:

Dinner tonight? Want you to meet some of my friends. I'll try to keep my hands to myself, but note that it's not a promise. I miss you, angel.

When she hit sent on a simple four-word acceptance, her fingers trembled: no matter what came next, things between them would never be the same again.

[440mxs-wife]

Take the Shot

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You pulled your royal blue 1968 Chevy Nova into its parking spot in the bunker garage, then turned off the ignition. You walked around to the trunk and gathered up some of your grocery bags. You took the case of beer out of the trunk and set it on the garage floor. With your hands full, you kicked the bunker door, which was answered by Sam Winchester.

"Hey, you didn't have to get all this by yourself, I would've come out to help you," he remarked.

"Good thing you're here then, Sam, there's just a little more to bring in. You can carry the rest of the bags and the case of beer down the stairs if you want to help," you  suggested.

"Consider it done, milady," he replied with a dramatic bow.

You rolled your eyes but grinned at his exaggerated response, then continued on to the kitchen to put away your groceries. By this time, Dean had wandered into the kitchen as well, reaching into the fridge for something cold to drink.

"Where's the pie? I don't see any pie. How could you forget the pie?!?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Relax, Dean. I'm making the pie from scratch. As soon as I get done putting groceries away, I'll  start peeling the apples," you assured him.

"Aw, thank you, sweetheart," Dean replied as he beamed a smile at you brighter than the sun. He squeezed your shoulder as he left the kitchen. You ducked your head just in time for him to not see the blush creeping up on your cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was always doing things like that, calling you "sweetheart" or "honey", squeezing or rubbing your shoulder. You were certain he didn't mean anything by it, just a bit of harmless flirting. However, it was those little things that made your heart flutter and your cheeks grow warm. Dean didn't know it, but you had developed feelings for him. You tried to push them down, ignore them, talk yourself out of them, anything, but it was no use. You were falling in love with Dean Winchester.

You had first met the Winchesters on a vampire hunt assignment given to you by Bobby Singer. Bobby took you in when you were twelve and your parents were killed trying to take out a bunch of demons. He taught you about what each monster's weakness was and how to kill it, along with some basic self-defense and weapons tactics. Over time, your firearms skills grew  to expert marksman level and you were downright lethal with a blade.

There were a few times that you had come close to confessing your feelings for the elder Winchester. Then you saw him with his arm around some woman from the bar, and that was enough to change your mind. You turned your attention back to your drink, and counted the minutes until you were home, back in your bedroom, alone with your thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You finished dicing the apples for the pie, added the sugar and the cinnamon then mixed the ingredients together. You set the bowl aside and moved on to prepare the crust. While you were folding and rolling the crust, your mind wandered back to Dean. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't notice Sam had walked in.

Sam cleared his throat, which startled you and made you jump. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Everything okay?" he chuckled.

"Yeah, Sam, why not?" you mumbled, returning your attention to assembling the pie.

"You just seem a little distracted, that's all," Sam observed.

"No, I'm not," you replied defensively.

"You didn't even hear me come in, as you would usually say, 'lumbering like a moose'," he teased. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing, Sam. Nothing at all," you responded. "And you came in here for....what, exactly?" you prompted as you slid the pie onto the oven rack and set the timer.

"Oh, yeah, found us a case, around Ruthie's new hometown. Sounds like a simple salt-and-burn spirit kind of thing," he explained.

"Really? It's been months since I've seen her! Damn, I just put the pie in, and it won't be done for another hour or so. Can't let it burn," you replied.

"We can wait till it's done and then go. I'm sure Dean will approve, considering it's for a good reason," Sam added.

"Okay. I'll call Ruthie and get my bag packed. You can tell Dean about the change in the itinerary," I said as I left the kitchen.

Sam shook his head and chuckled. Dean walked in a short time after you left, so Sam told him about leaving a bit later than expected. He grumbled a little at first, then it was explained that the pie needed to finish baking first. As predicted, Dean changed his mind and was okay with the later departure time.

As you packed, you called your best friend, Ruthie, to let her know you would be up in her area, working a case. She was excited that you were going to be so close by and could visit, though she wasn't crazy about the reason you would be there. Before you hung up, she warned you to be careful and to watch out for yourself and the boys so that no one got hurt.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few hours later, another successful hunt was in the books. You all sat around Ruthie's kitchen table with her husband, Jim, laughing and swapping stories. She had a surprising amount of dirt on you, and she certainly didn't mind sharing it one bit.

Dean looked around and got up from his chair. "Well, not that this hasn't been fun, but I've been wanting to check out your bar, Ruthie. Sam, you in?" He put his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to turn and lock onto his flashing green eyes. "How about you, sweetheart? Want to come with us?" he asked.

You briefly lost the ability to form a coherent thought, but quickly recovered. "N-nah, I think I'll stay here and catch up with Ruthie. We haven't seen each other in so long, I don't want to miss an opportunity," you finally got out.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay, have fun you two. Don't wait up," he said waggling his eyebrows. Once he drove off in the Impala, you let out a frustrated groan.

"What was that all about?" she demanded. "Since when does he call you 'sweetheart' and make googly eyes at you? Are you two a 'thing' now?" she asked.

"There were no googly eyes, Ruthie. And no, we're not a 'thing' now, nor will we probably ever be one. It's just harmless flirting," you muttered.

"But, you wish he meant it, don't you?" she asked gently. You could only nod, as your voice would have betrayed the tears on your face.

"Then you have to tell him, honey. Otherwise, he'll never know and he'll keep doing the bar chick thing, slowly taking a piece of your heart each time," Ruthie finished.

"Ruthie, I've seen the type of woman he seems to prefer, and it's not me. Sure, it feels amazing when he calls me 'sweetheart' or when he touches my hand or my shoulder. But I know he doesn't mean anything by it. Let's face it, I'm not his type of woman. I'm good for going on hunts, doing the research and making pie. Friend, remember? Not the romance category," you choked on the last sentence.

"Do you really believe that?" Ruthie asked.

You nodded. "Yes, Ruthie, I do. However, I also believe that what we do is so important. So much, in fact, that I'm willing to continue pushing all of those feelings aside to focus on the mission. What if I told him how I feel and he didn't feel the same? I don't know how long I could stay in the bunker after that, seeing him every day after ruining a perfectly good friendship."

Suddenly Ruthie jumped to her feet. "Come on," she motioned for me to follow her.

"What? Where are we going?" you asked.

"We are going to get dressed up and we are going to walk into my bar, looking so amazingly HOT and sexy. Mr. Dean Winchester won't be able to keep his eyes--or anything else, for that matter--off your body, honey." she finished with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Hey, Jim? We're going into town to check on things at the bar, do you want to drive us there?" she called. He agreed, and you went with Ruthie to put yourselves together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"That about does it, don't you think?" Ruthie said as we stepped back from the mirror.

"I think this more than does it. Sis, we look GOOOOOD," you said. Ruthie held up her hand for you to high-five her, but you missed, causing you both to start giggling.

You were wearing a new pair of slightly faded blue jeans with star-studded back pockets that you had brought with you. A white spaghetti-strap tank top and a cropped denim jacket about the same color as the jeans completed your outfit. Ruthie lent you her tan knee-high boots with a wedge heel. Your curly brown hair was fluffed out a bit more and you kept your makeup and jewelry choices simple.

Ruthie was similarly dressed, but in darker colors. Black jeans where you wore blue, a red tank top instead of white, and black boots. You looked at each other, linked arms and got into the car.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam and Dean were sitting in a booth, each drinking their second beer of the night. "Hey, Sam? Do you think we should call the girls and ask them to come out?" Dean asked. Just then, a well-endowed blonde walked up to their table. She slid into the booth next to Dean, and looking straight at him, she asked, "Wanna dance?"

At that exact moment, you, Ruthie and Jim walked in, looking for Sam and Dean. When you saw the blonde sitting so close to Dean and practically kissing him, you froze. Ruthie's hand was at your elbow, propelling you forward. "Steady, you can do this. Just walk over to the table and tell them we're going to play some 8-ball. And that no, they can't play," she growled.

You gathered up your courage and walked over to their table. "Evening, boys," you drawled. "Ruthie and I are going to go play some 8-ball," you explained. As they started to get up, you held up your hand. "No, no, just us girls playing. Sorry boys," you said with a wink. You and Ruthie headed for the empty pool table, your heart pounding furiously in your chest.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Dean saw you and Ruthie walk in, he couldn't believe his eyes. He'd seen you in jeans and a tank top before, but these jeans hugged your curves like none he'd ever seen you wear before. You and Ruthie were dressed so alike, but the two of you couldn't have been more different. Ruthie wore dark, where you wore light, the yin and yang that perfectly explained your longtime friendship.

The blonde became bored at Dean's lack of attention and left the table in a huff. Dean watched as you and Ruthie played your game. He saw how happy and carefree you looked as you hung out with your best friend. It had been a long time since he'd seen you that way, and it brought a smile to his face.

Dean noticed how your eyes sparkled when you smiled and he thought about how he wouldn't mind seeing more of that. He wondered what you two were talking about between shots with your heads together. He desperately wanted to know what was just said that had made you throw your head back in laughter.

For one of your shots, you were leaned over the table rather low, trying to get lined up. Your studded back pockets were pointed in Dean's direction. His mouth ran dry as thoughts of a less than pure nature ran through his mind. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, catching Sam's attention. "Dude, you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's head over there to watch the girls. I see two empty barstools, why don't you snag those while I get us another beer," Dean suggested.

By the time Sam and Dean came over, you and Ruthie were into your second drinks and fourth game of pool. You both had also ditched your jackets, having left them on the barstools now occupied by the boys. You had gathered a good-sized crowd to watch the two of you play. There was a group of college boys, a bachelorette party, and some other random people were there to cheer you on.

It was your turn, and you had a difficult choice to make. You could bank the #13 and keep playing, or shoot the #11 and have a potentially difficult next shot. Bank shots were not your strong suit, but you decided to give it a go. Unfortunately, one of the college boys was in your way and didn't look like he wanted to move. "Excuse me, I need to take this shot and you're in my way," you explained.

"Tell you what, sweetheart. You make this shot and I'll buy you a shot. Then you can sit on my lap and I'll tell you about the great night we're going to have together," he smirked.

Dean heard what the kid had said, and something in him snapped. He bolted out of his seat, but Sam held him back. "Hold on, I think she's got this," he said.

"Tell you what. How about you move and let me make this shot? That way, I don't crack my cue stick over your skull for making such a sexist comment. Does that sound all right to you?" you asked innocently, batting your eyelids.

He grumbled, "Yeah, whatever," but got off of his barstool anyway to give you a clear shot. You leaned down to line up your shot. As you drew the cue stick back, you felt a hand grab your backside. You whirled around to see him high-fiving his drinking companions. You heard snippets of comments like "seriously sweet ass" and "like to hit that".

You pointed the heavier end of your cue stick at the kid, who was still laughing with his friends. You took advantage of his distraction to swing the heavy end right into his soft belly. With an audible "Oof!" he said as he fell, his ass landing hard on the floor.

With your cue stick raised above him ready to swing it again, you glared at him. "Get up. You and your friends had better get out of here before any real trouble starts. Don't even think about coming back in here ever again, at least not until you have more respect for a lady," you finished.

His friends helped him up and they headed for the door. As he passed you, he muttered, "'Lady' my ass, more like a bitch."

That was enough for Dean. He broke free from Sam and as he passed by, you could feel the anger radiating from him. You tried to grab his arm and pull him back but you were too late.

Next thing anyone knew, there was a scuffle in the parking lot between Dean and the kid. Punches were flying left and right until Sam finally pulled Dean away. The college boy was carried off by his buddies and Ruthie yelled that they were banned from her bar for good.

You walked over to Dean to check for damage. He had a cut above his left eye, a bloody nose and his knuckles were a bit scraped up. "Come on, Dean. Let's get you back to the motel and clean you up," you sighed.

Sam drove the Impala back to the motel in silence, with you in the back seat. Sam went to their room and got the first aid kit, then you walked to your room a few doors down. "You have your own room?" Dean asked.

"I didn't want to impose on Ruthie, so we booked this before we hit the bar," you explained. "Plus, depending on how tonight went, I thought I might want my own space." Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged, handed him the first aid kit and motioned for Dean to follow you to your room.

Once inside, Dean sat down on the bed and took off his outer shirt. You removed your denim jacket again and turned on the lights to better assess his injuries. His nose had stopped bleeding, so you took a washcloth and dipped it in the warm water contained in the ice bucket. "Are you okay?" Dean asked as you cleaned up the dried blood around his nose.

Being this close to Dean was enough to cause flutters in your heart. Not exactly trusting your voice at first, you nodded. "I'm fine, Dean. No harm done," you finally added.

Next, you moved on to address the injury above his left eye. "What did you mean by 'depending on how tonight went' you might want your own space?" Dean asked.

"Hmm?" you mumbled absently.

Dean reached up and stilled your hands, forcing you to gaze into his impossibly perfect green eyes. "What did you mean when you said that, about wanting your own space?" he repeated.

You stopped what you were doing to gather your thoughts, because once you answered his question, there would be no going back. "What I meant was, depending on whether or not you came back to the motel alone," you answered.

"Why would that matter to you?" Dean asked.

"Never mind. Let's get that cut above your eye stitched up," you said as you started to thread the needle.

"No, forget that for now. I want to know why that would matter to you," Dean persisted.

"And I said never mind!" you retorted. "You know what? Take this to Sam and let him sew you up. Goodnight, Dean," you replied as you held the door open.

Dean walked to the door as if to leave. Just before he would've crossed the threshold, he turned to you and said, "No. Not until we finish talking about this." you slammed the door and groaned loudly in frustration as he went to sit on the bed.

You walked over and stood in front of Dean. "You want to know why any of this matters to me? Fine, I'll tell you. All of these women you hook up with? None of them will ever know you like I do, Dean. None of them will ever love you the way that I do. It hurts me to see you with them, because I wish you were with me. I realize that to you, I'm nothing special. However, I know how you like your coffee, that you like to sing in the shower, which color of flannel is your favorite."

You knelt down between his knees, resting a hand on his left one. "I also know how to bring you back around after you've had a nightmare. And how you're so used to protecting others that maybe you feel like you have to build walls to protect yourself. I know about how scared you are that one day, everyone you love will leave you.

"But here's the thing, Dean. I will never leave you. And I will wait as long as it takes for you to bring down your walls. To let me in so I can be that source of strength for you when you need it the most."

As soon as you finished your speech, Dean leapt up from the bed and gathered you in his arms. His hands slid up to hold your face and he began to devour you with a series of hot, passionate kisses. Your lips, your cheeks, your neck, all of it was fair game for Dean. Your fingers threaded their way through his hair, paying particular attention to the ones at the base of his neck. Dean growled in appreciation, then you felt him smile against your lips.

When you finally broke apart, you were both trying to catch your breath. "That was amazing," you whispered.

"So was everything you said, sweetheart. Except one part," Dean replied.

"What? Which part?" you asked.

"The part where you said you realize that to me you're 'nothing special'," he said as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. "I can't think of anything that would be farther from the truth. I watched as you and Ruthie were playing pool.

"Your eyes sparkle when you smile, and when you laugh, you do so with your whole heart. Tonight, I saw a side of you that made me realize how special you are to me and to everyone around you. But most importantly, I have become very aware of how much I love you," he finished.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words from you, Dean. Almost thought I never would. I love you too," you replied softly.

You moved forward until your lips met again in a slow, passion-filled kiss. Your mouths moved together, yours opening slightly for Dean's tongue to slip inside. His fingers started threading through your hair, massaging as he went. Dean gently tugged on your curly locks, which tilted your head back and exposed your neck. "So beautiful...." he murmured against your skin as he dropped feather-light kisses up and down your neck.

"Stay with me tonight? Please?" you asked. Dean nodded, and while he stripped down to his boxers, you went into the bathroom to change into your pj's. He got into bed and held the covers back enough for you to slide in next to him. You turned to face him and placed your hand on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "I love you, you know," you said softly.

"I know. I love you too, sweetheart," Dean replied. He slipped his arm around you so that you could rest your head on his shoulder.

"Goodnight, my love," you whispered.

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 22: Deader is Better (Loki x OFC Pairing)

It was exactly one day before the greatest holiday of all time, and not just because I was the most powerful I'd ever be that year. The streets were packed with people, every parking lot was booked solid, every parking space even, residents were even renting out some of their spaces for pocket money. Loki and I helped out Zari with her little store in exchange for letting us crash at her place, Loki was both surprised and delighted by how accepting people were of him even after asking if he was who he was. I explained to him that while the country as a whole has a longass way before it can be completely progressive and welcoming, Salem, being one of the first historical places here that destroyed itself in fear and intolerance, was probably the first to turn that around. It went from burning, hanging, crushing, and torturing people that were considered different and therefore dangerous to welcoming the different and weird as one of their own. No one even cared he took over New York, what they saw was an alien army attacking the city and a god that brought a bunch of heroes together to stop them.

"If Asgard were still around, I wish it had a city like this, celebrating magic and welcoming the weird as you'd say," mused Loki.

"Isn't there a realm entirely like that? Where the Light Elves live?"

"Look at you, trying to learn my culture," he teased. "It was where my mother learned magic and passed it onto me, yes. But we didn't go there often enough for me to call it another home. Most of the time, if we went anywhere it was to beat the natives into submission thanks entirely to Thor."

"For all the advancements your people had on us, the technology, the magic, the fuckton more years in a lifespan, you're not that far off in some idealogies from us. Rarely does peaceful methods end a dispute between peoples. Oh sure, there's been tons of times we tried that, it rarely works in our favor though. Peaceful rallies or marches are usually ended with police brutality they claim is the right way even when they're throwing tear gas grenades at unarmed civilians, tazing random protesters they later claim as dangerous, or just blasting them with high pressured firemen hoses. It always ends badly, with injuries, false claims, and injustice. I'd seriously love to meet Odin just to tell him he ain't special."

Loki smiled at this and kissing the top of my head. "I shouldn't be proud of you despising him like I did, but I am anyway. I am glad you met my mother in some form though, I had a feeling she'd like you."

"She told me to trust you and that in doing so, you'd stay with me as no one else besides Thor if even that, has trusted you since you came here indefinitely. A lonely existence that is, everyone keeping you at arms length. I can understand that, outside of Salem, skin color alone is an excuse not to trust someone, people see someone that looks like they're past their expiration date like me and they go running. Hell, even hair color or skin ink can keep you from getting jobs here, we're still an extremely regressive country. Not worth saving anytime soon."

"Then why bother?"

"Because unfortunately I'm one of the idiots inhabiting it with no way to some place better."

"I asked Thor why he fought so hard to protect this speck of a planet once, don't recall him giving me a good answer but yours shall suffice, if nothing else, because you're part of it."

"Whoa, hold your eight legged horses, you really don't need to do that...at all. Just find a way out of here if we can't at least save this city, the Avengers can handle this planet and if they can't...well at least they tried right? We don't need to get involved when neither of us signed any kind of hero contract like they did."

"You sure?"

"I'm not just sure...I'm HIV positive."

"You'd have to be alive to contract that disease and I'm not quite sure it would transmit to something already dead."

I opened my mouth to retaliate but something else stayed my tongue for a moment, something felt wrong, unnatural even. "Listen...do you smell that?" I asked curiously. Loki didn't get a chance to answer as a great surge of necro-power struck me full force and I was sent flying back several feet away, breaking several trees of the park we were enjoying till then along the way before my back slammed against a particularly thick one and I stopped flying. A dull pain exploded from my chest mere inches from where the stone was protecting my important bits and cool black blood lightly dripped from my lips. I looked down at where the pain came from and blinked in surprise.

"Oh look I've been impaled," I mused before breaking off the branch sticking out of my body and stepped away from the tree behind me. I looked for the source of the power surge and glared as I spotted the culprit walking toward us.

"Are you hurt?" asked Loki warily.

"Just a flesh wound," I assured him, gathering power from behind into my arms and fists. "You might wanna sit this one out though."

"No no, let him try," the attacker taunted as he got closer to us.

"I knew I smelled something rotten in the wind," I muttered. "What is it this time? First the heart, now the brain rotting away, would make sense if it was you that sold us all out."

The man before us glowered at me then flashed rotting, blackened teeth, while for the most part he looked alive, he was essentially rotting from the inside out. "You aren't the only one with a stone organ, my head will remain just as much as your heart does till I rip that out of you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Lemme guess, one of your Hydra buddies was a brain surgeon or so he claims. They all think themselves doctors of something that organization, not one medical degree posted when I was with them though, kinda makes you wonder."

"They don't need doctors for corpses," he snapped.

"You sure you're not braindead? Cuz I'm sure coroners and morticians both require a medical degree to be licensed with the job."

"Have a few run-ins with those folks have you?" he sneered. "You know the best part about you was at the very least being a warm body at the end of the day, now you don't even have that."

I snorted at his attempt to insult me. "Oh hun, the best part of you ran down your mother's legs. You gonna bark all day, you little bitch, or are you gonna bite?"

He held his hands to his head and another ball of smoke and lightning came hurtling at us but this time it was aiming for Loki at breathtaking speed, he was essentially pulling an Azula on me thinking I'd either let Loki get hit or take it myself but I saw his Azula and raised him a Dumbledore, telling my guiding spirits to yank him away from the path of the ball as I wouldn't be fast enough to help myself. I waved my hand toward Loki and he was suddenly swept aside and away from the direct battle ahead. Loki scrambled to his feet, a dagger in each hand and returning to his battle armor swiftly, glancing at me in shock. I mouthed a sorry to him before focusing all my attention to the rotten necromancer in front of me.

"Targeting what's mine isn't your best move when you really don't need to give me more motives to decapitate you than you already have," I warned.

"I know he's your weakness though. I want to see just how weak he really makes you," he sneered. "If what doesn't kill you makes you strong, what about when you're already dead."

"You're well on your way to finding that out yourself, hun. I can help answer that for you though." I thrust out a hand and black lightning flew from my fingertips. My rival managed to shield some of it with his own magic but as he wasn't a demi god the impact of that much power still sent him flying back. I didn't wait for him to get up though as I charged at him with a ball of power around each fist.

He rolled away right before I could punch in his head and destroy the stone inside it and got to his feet as I stood up, charging at me as I straightened up so we were suddenly toe to toe trying to kill each other. For a solid few minutes it was just dodging and exchanging blows and balls of energy before he decided to get sneaky and tried to slash me with his ceremonial dagger hidden in his boot. I dodged it just enough to not actually cut me but it did do some damage to my hoodie which had me glaring at him as I loved my hoodies. From there, it was throwing either each other, balls of power, or punches at each other with him occasionally trying to throw power at Loki who quickly learned to keep an eye on his attacks as much as I was without interfering, this wasn't his fight anymore. The ground around us was starting to look barren and dead from the effects of our powers used against one another, the grass brittle and brown. We both paused for a moment, both battered and frustrated neither of us were getting the upper hand with what we were doing.

"Why won't you stay down?!" he demanded.

I scoffed. "What is dead can never die. What's your dilemma here? What did Hydra even offer you to make you switch sides?"

"A chance to be something greater than this, the other necromancer, to be a demigod."

"And how's that working out for you?" I asked in bemusement. "They aren't higher powers, they're hired powers, there's a difference. There's no cutting corners on that one, ask nicely or die trying. How did you know where to find me? On the plane?"

"I had a spook tail you, not all the spirits are on your side you know."

"The good ones are, the rest are usually locked or exorcised so kudos on finding one of the select few willing to help a brother out."

He narrowed his eyes at me, collecting powers as he did. "If I'm not given what I want, then I'll have to take it myself just like I did with the other necromancers that went against me."

"And that's why no matter where that stone is surgically implanted in you, you will never be one of us, going against your own kind for something you'll never get." I lowered one hand to the ground and reached into the earth with just death magic alone, calling for something very specific as I waited for him to make the first move this time. "Especially not from me."

"And what makes you so special?" he demanded.

"Come here and find out." He lunged forward, taking the bait and I dropped to one knee at the last second, dodging his power-fist at the same time a rotted hand burst from the ground with my own dagger I snatched up and sliced into my enemy's rotted guts. He stumbled back, his free hand going to his stomach as he was weakened but not done for, the stone keeping him barely alive inside him. "Almost seems pointless since you're already decaying inside."

He looked at the wound I gave him from my dagger and glared at me as it was already speeding up the process. "You little cunt."

"Let me guess, you're gonna kill me, right? Join the line of people with empty threats they never finish."

Black lightning danced around his head and down to his body, staving off the spreading death from reaching his neck but not healing the blade wound either. "Should I rip out your soul first or your stone?"

"You say that like you've actually gotten the upper hand in this fight but who here has the unhealed wound and who here has survived worse?" I retorted.

He sneered at me with his rotten teeth and lunged forward once more but being the slimy little bastard he was, pulled his dagger apart so there were actually two identical ones and threw one at my leg while making a bee line around me with the other dagger at Loki. I gritted my teeth as the dagger hit its mark in my thigh and not wasting time even to take it out of me, threw a power ball at him from behind so he couldn't dodge it and sent him off his course to my lover. I then took out the dagger in my leg and limped over to the bastard despite the agony burning through the entire limb. I didn't wait for him to get up and kicked him hard in the head right where I guessed the stone was before aiming for the wound I gave him with my blade. "Silly asshat, kicks are for ribs." His snapped under my leather boots. He tried to throw the other knife he still had at Loki but I caught it this time and dissolved the twin dagger like I did the one in my leg. I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up, and slamming into another park tree while holding him in place.

"You really wanna know why you can't kill me after all this time?" I challenged.

"You don't scare me, Nell," he choked out.

I recalled what the Wiccan seer had told me and let go of everything holding me back. "I can fix that. You can't kill a Horsemen." A different kind of power rippled throughout my body, not necromancy, but something stronger, eternal and deadly and incomparable. The entire arm and hand holding him up was skeletal as was half my face and that's when fear started to leak into his. He fought and wiggled in my grasp, trying to pry my bones off his neck but my finger bones just dug in deeper while he kicked at me. I raised my free hand, also all bones, and went for his head, aiming for the stone still managing to keep him alive when his throat was slowly being punctured and torn. And then the world seemed to pause, everything went silent and still, everything was frozen even including most of me as I couldn't seem to reach the stone in his head but was poised to grab it out of his forehead. And then something else happened, something that only happened to me when something very specific was coming. I got what Peter Parker would call the "the Peter tingle" and chills ran up and down my body despite the whole lack of nerves and feelings thing I had being a skeleton.

[cordonianqueenie]

My LoveLink Matches Ranked (so far!)

1. Stefan Silver

I know, I know. And as previously stated this makes me feel very basic but the heart wants what the heart wants. And the heart apparently wants a pixilated man with severe family trauma and an inability to trust people who gave me the hands down hottest date that lasted ALL NIGHT 🔥.

2. Austin Russo

So damn sweet. He takes time to warm up to you but when he does he is the loveliest. Also this storyline brings the Drama which I love. Only downfall is the lack of a proper date. I wanna wistfully lock eyes with my man through the bulletproof glass as we talk through those little phone things. 😆 🤣

3. William Crome

I never thought that single handedly tearing apart a pack of vampires to protect our love and then delaying our date so he could dispose of the bodies and clean up was what did it for me but it seems it is. I was initially worried we were getting Twilight vibes but no definitely more of a All Souls Trilogy vibe going on. And you know that picture where he's wearing the shirt with the lace up front and giving a little half smile? Love.It.

4. Albert Bishop

Albert is really nice, maybe too nice? I like him best when he's being flirty. I think the only thing holding him back on this list is my personal awful experience if military guys. Sorry Albert 😘.

5. Jamie Grant

Cute hacker who said he loves how I get flirty in dangerous situation. Which is good because its literally my only move. Hes a bit a a dummy for not realising who OZO was cos I felt it was pretty obvious but I will let him get away with it cos I do have a weakness for computer nerds.

6 Daniel Anderson

Love the slow build zombie storyline. Love that he names his lab rats after famous scientists. Love the hot chat about wearing labcoats and nothing underneath. I'm sad that when we went on our date I didnt want to spend any gems so I let him down with a rubbish date about cooking eggs. And he sent me this picture when our relationship status went up and I kinda wish my 'never leaves the lab' virologist didn't have quite just chiselled abs.

7. Jaden Bower

When he abandoned me in a pool after forgetting to mention we were breaking and entering i went for all the negative interaction options. I got so angry with him and like I still think the sad little rich boy who turns to petty crime is not the most attractive thing but he won me over with his passion for engineering and whats turning into a pretty interesting storyline. So definitely midtable.

8. Capt. Muffin

Also midtable because we haven't got very far into the story but I do like the idea of the guy with social anxiety so bad that he talks to his matches through his cat rather than just be himself until he feels comfortable with them. That is just all kinds of adorable.

9. Dominic Wright

He's super cute but his story is so dry and dull. Like dude crazy ex girlfriend? That's what we are going with here? Are you aware that other people on this app are fighting for their lives on death row or turning me into a vampire? Step your game up!!

10. Hugo Hornsby

Oh Hugo. I feel like they wanted it both ways. They wanted you to be a nice guy but they also wanted a forbidden love element. The result is just really messy where you come across as weak and ineffectual but also a guy willingly carry on an emotional affair behind the back of your fiancée of seven years. Pick a lane you can't be the nice guy and be creeping.

11. Rafael Becker

Rafael was actually my first match and I really got into the sci-fi cultist village stuff but it just started to fall a little flat for me after a while and I lost the romance. And the dream date was just too weird.

12. Noah Cruz

Cute dog really not much else of note in this story so far for me. I feel like we might be getting into it now I'm in Alaska but yet to be seen. Also not choosing diamond options turned me into this weak willed loser who couldn't commit to boarding a plane. Which pissed me right off.

13. Zayn Kassab

OK so this is going to make me sound awful but he is just way too nice. I literally walked off his set after agreeing to be the tree spirit and he didn't even get mad about it. So I frequently find myself forgetting about him.

14. Sam Knight

Too young and I feel like he's coming across as a bit of a narcissist and I'm really not here for that.

So that's my list. Sorry I've only been matching with guys so Ive got no opinions on the girl matches.

[fluffybunnybadass]

Worth More Than You Think

Fandom: Dragon Ball Xenoverse

Word count: 3300

Content warnings: brief flashback of a child being harmed, high emotions about past friendships, and uhhhh I don’t think there’s another but if there is, please hmu

Rating: uhhhh Teen?

Summary: It’s a restless night for the otherwise stoic Saiyan that had been deposited on Earth after two Time Patrollers found her. It’s clear to the human that has been trying to befriend her that something’s bothering them, but, as usual, they refuse to say anything. If only he could just get Chikori to talk...

This features two of my Xenoverse OCs, Chikori and Fallafal. Chikori is a she/they non-binary Saiyan, and Fallafal is an ordinary Human living with his family on their farm. This story takes place well before the events of Xenoverse 1, yet it is only one of the first ticks that the wheel of fate has taken in creating that tale.

---

Heyyyyy I had a high emotions and frustrations morning, a friend asked me to vent, and afterwards i just really felt like I could maybe work the remaining balance of feelings into a story. So this is, in the most vaguest way, based on actual events, but also twisted to fit within the framework of “canon”. 

I’m testing out how to work in flux/dual pronoun usage while writing. It is intentional if you see both used for Chikori within the same sentence, and not at all laziness. Enjoy! 

---------------------------

Chikori was restless tonight. The purple-haired Saiyan had found themselves a comfortable tree branch that oversaw a lake, with just enough clearing in the tree above it that she could see the stars and half-moon above. Her tail flicked and swished, irate, as thoughts surrounded them. A frustrated growl startled the nearby wildlife, before they resumed their nightly routine.

That was how Fallafal found them. He had gone looking when the Saiyan had disappeared after the meal they shared with his family, more quiet than usual. Sulky, almost. He came to stand under the tree, watching the brown tail above flick about like it was swatting flies. It reminded him of the farm's cat. He let out a sigh and ruffled his hair, not sure where to start with her.

“You know,” he began slowly, building up his courage to speak to the Saiyan. What if they didn't want to talk? What if they were somehow mad at him or his family, or felt like they were keeping her here because she had no where else to go in the galaxy? The Saiyan had been dumped on his family's property by some “Time Patrollers”, or whatever they called themselves, and the Saiyan was awfully quiet about its history. The Patrollers had said very little themselves, though he was certain the yellow one wanted to share with him everything that she? It? Could.

“You know,” he began again, swallowing his fears. “If sumthin's botherin' you, you could've just talk to me an' my family.” He paused. “Nuthin' good came of not telling anybody how you feel.”

The Saiyan didn't respond, but Fallafal could see her tail stop for a second, slowing down, with only the tip of it flicking in thoughtfulness.

“Aaaah.... I don't kno' how to help you if you're keepin' quiet. N-Not that you hafta talk!!!” he added in a panic. “I jus' know that, when my sis was feelin' bad growin' up, even when none of us had the answers to her problems, she felt much better sharin' than tryna hide it from us.”

There was a long pause. Fallafal sighed, about ready to turn in and go home, when the Saiyan finally spoke to him.

“......I'm not hiding anything,” they said in a level voice. “I'm thinking.”

Fallafal felt a sliver of relief that she was willing to talk to him, and sat under the tree to talk with her.

“That's great! Mind sharin' what's on yer mind?”

Another pause. There was a soft flicker in the tail, much like his cat when it was deciding something. Perhaps Saiyans were more like cats than monkeys...? But who was he to suggest that, when he didn't know anything about this alien species that had apparently gone extinct hundreds of years ago, the remnants of their bloodline so diluted amongst the humans and other species, that no one even knew about it.

“..... I'm remembering something.”

Fallafal fell silent. Chikori had barely shared any of her past with him. All he knew was that she was a member of some space army-- or had been--, and that she had no recollection of what happened to the ship she was aboard between being cryogenetically frozen and being picked up by the Patrollers. She had shown a few times her amazing, inhuman strength, and refused to go outside on certain nights, claiming it was for his and his family's safety. Whatever it was, if she was going to share it, it had to have been important.

“I'm listening, Chikori.”

The Saiyan kept quiet for a moment. Fallafal thought that maybe she had changed her mind about sharing. He watched her figure in the moonlight. Though it fell on her, he couldn't see her expression. But based on her tone and usual demeanor, he could hazard a guess that it was the same as always: placid.

“There was this... other Saiyan in my training unit on Planet Vegeta. This started before the Saiyan Army had been annexed into the Frieza Force.” She stopped.

Fallafal kept still, deciding to let Chikori speak at the pace she preferred.

The Saiyan looked down at the human sitting on the ground below her. His tousled brown hair, his green and brown clothes that almost blended into the planet's surface... She felt... uncertain about confiding in such a weak creature with such a low ki power, and yet... she was curious, as to what this low-leveled, hardly-worth-mentioning human could give her, if she told him this memory.

“I was upset with this new life we had created for ourselves. The planet had undergone what you would call a civil war. A selfish Saiyan had created an uprising, and slaughtered an entire race that I had known all my life to be peaceful. He declared himself King of the Saiyans when the battle was over, and many of the Saiyans left alive were of the sort to support him and agree.”

There was a lull as she carefully thought about her words. Fallafal half-wondered if that was it. Already that was a loaded history she had given him, but he sensed there was more to what they had been thinking about, so he kept quiet until they would tell him it was over.

“Any who opposed King Vegeta were left to work the mundane jobs or executed on the spot, per his orders.

“I had lost many Tuffle and Saiyan companions in that war that comprised my childhood. I was angry. I was hurt. But I wanted to live. So I kept silent, and bid my superiors the respect they demanded, and did not challenge anything. I knew I couldn't be the only Saiyan left alive who was struggling with this, but I did not seek them out. None of us could. It would only mean death if we had.”

The Saiyan wrapped their tail around themselves, the tip flicking softly against her body like a metronome.

“His name was Turnip. You would probably call him a friend; but I do not think any Saiyan left alive back then would have called each other that. He had commiserated with me initially about the training we were going under. It was difficult, moreso than the training during the war. Perhaps enough Saiyan lives had been lost that they were eager to fill in the space left behind with stronger ones. He seemed to enjoy my company, I think. I could tolerate him, out of all my peers.” There was a small exhale of air from her nose, as though what they had said was humorous. “I think he even preferred me over some of his companions, some days.

“I don't think he knew, but he helped me through a difficult transition. Perhaps we both did. I used to suspect that he was like me, but we never discussed it.” She let out a long exhale, sounding tired. “I apologize. I am not used to talking this much.”

Fallafal adjusted his seating for a more comfortable position.

“It's okay,” he said. “You're welcome to talk for as long as you want. I'm more than okay with it. I—” He cut himself off, catching what he was about to say, and cleared his throat. “I am more than willin' to listen, if you want to share.”

There was a pause.

“I don't, but I feel like a small part of me wants to. Is it unusual to want to indulge in that?”

“Not at all! Given where ya come from, I can understand a lot better why you're always so hesitant an' avoidant when it comes to talkin' 'bout yourself. A lot of army people are like that.”

Pause.

“I do not hesitate.”

“You do! You're hesitatin' right now!”

Chikori scowled at her human companion, wishing that there might be something she could throw at him from up here in this tree, but the branches of Earth's trees did not seem promising. And a ki blast would be far too much for such a low-level creature.

Fallafal fell over laughing, which only made her scowl more, until a soft growling could be heard coming from her.

“Okay, okay! I give! You're not hesitatin'! You're completely an' 100% eager to tell me this story.”

She frowned at him, recognizing the human dialect of sarcasm in his response. Her tail had unwound and began flicking in the air out of irritation.

“You do not need to be like that.”

“I'm sorry, I promise. I really do wanna hear your story, Chikori.”

The growing irritation in the Saiyan's spirit was hard to abate, but she had to remind herself that he was not her enemy; and that he would not take this information and use it against her. How could he? Unless he was a spy this entire time for the Frieza Force.... Capable of masking his ki and looking like a simple human being. No, she doubted that. He couldn't even see her moves when he had asked her to train him one day.

“Fine. I will continue.”

Fallafal sat back up and nodded, and the serious tone befell the both of them once more.

“He had been a good companion at first. But as time went on, and the Saiyan Army soon became part of the Frieza Force, I noticed a change in him. There was a change in the whole Army when Frieza happened. But I didn't notice it until I saw it in Turnip. He was enjoying the fighting a lot more. Those companions that he disliked, he grew to tolerate. And there was less time spent around me. I don't think he realized what had happened. I mentioned this to him, that there was a change once we became part of the Frieza Force, and that it felt far worse than what we went through on the whole from the Tuffle-Saiyan war.

“But he didn't think so.”

She fell silent. Her tail drooped over the edge of the branch, hands curled into fists as the frustration welled up once more.

“I wanted to punch him right then and there for that.”

Chikori let out a sudden guttural scream that had startled Fallafal, and she shot a ki blast at the moon. It went far away into the sky, dissipating into nothing as it reached the planet's atmosphere. She screamed again, beating her fist against the tree that she sat in. Leaves rustled, animals flew or skittered away. Those that were on the ground had scattered far away.

“I hated him so much for that!”

There was the sound of pain and anguish in her voice. Fallafal had stood up quickly, worried that Chikori might hurt someone, even herself. Beings with supernatural power, growing angry or getting hurt, was a recipe for concern in his mind. But more importantly-- he had never heard her have so much raw emotion in her voice in the short time that he knew her.

“Chikori!”

“What?!” she growled down at him. She felt the emotion well up again, the pain and resentment and hatred, yes, even hatred of this person that she had felt some level of comfort around. Hot moisture fell down her face, much like the sweat from the intense training she went through growing up, but it didn't taste like it. It almost felt like...

A flash went through her mind of her childhood. Of being seven, and seeing her Tuffle friend get taken away from her by the Saiyans that fought for King Vegeta. Her friend, dragged by the ankle as a soldier carelessly let their body scrape across the ground. Her friend's face as they screamed at her to help them, when she couldn't do anything herself.

She screamed again and shot a ki blast at the ground. It narrowly missed Fallafal. She quickly curled up into herself, her arms around her legs as she cried into her knees, tail wrapped warmly around her waist as though it was the only thing holding her in place.

Tears. She was crying tears again.

“Chikori, please... I hate sayin' this, but you need to calm down. You're goin' to hurt somethin', or sum'one, or even yourself. You got every right to be angry, but please don't destroy my planet or the forest for it.”

“I THOUGHT HE KNEW!!!” she screamed into her legs. “I THOUGH HE KNEW WHAT IT WAS LIKE!!!! I THOUGHT--!! I THOUGHT HE UNDERSTOOD!!!!” She felt so out of sorts that she didn't even know how to begin to explain herself, to put into words what she meant to say. It was all, just... so hopelessly helpless to her. That she had even given him a chance, only for him to turn around and become one of them...

“Chikori!” he shouted up at her. “Please...! I can't.... I can't help you from up there.”

At that, she stuck her head out, a nasty scowl on her face. “I never ASKED for your help!! Why?! Why do you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?! Aren't you better off, not knowing these things?”

“Chikori...” Fallafal let out a long sigh. He put his hands on his hips, looked at the tree, and ruffled his hair. “Look, I 'aven't done this in a while, so jus' give me a moment.”

He took a deep breath, and exhaled. He charged at the tree, jumping onto it. He grunted as he climbed up, until he was on the nearest branch to where Chikori had curled themselves up.

“What-- What are you doing?”

“Look, I don't like talkin' to people on diff'rent grounds. Whether that's up high or way down low, neither's gonna help us understand one 'nother if we ain't on same ground, right?”

“I.... I don't quite follow, but I suppose...?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head as he tried to think about the next part.

“Look, it's... It's hard, what you went through. Like, a lot of that. A LOT a lot. We might have to see 'bout getting' you to some psychatrist or sumthin',” he added in an aside.

Chikori had stopped her sniffling. She tilted her head, more confused than she needed to be. “What's-- what's that?”

“Uh, never you mind that. I, uh. I don't really know what to say, honestly. You been through a lot. An' you thought you had that with this Turnip guy, right? That you had a companion you could at least relate to, yea?” Chikori nodded slowly, unaware of where Fallafal was going with this. “Well. That's... That's tough. I ain't got anythin' else to say for it. But what can you do 'bout it? He's long bin dead, right?” Well, probably, he thought to himself. That whole Time Patrol kinda made it confusing for him. “So's he ain't gonna bother you anymore, right? You can't talk to him anymore. Yer just holdin' onto all of this anger, or you been doin' that, and I'm hopin' this helped ya figure some of that out or made it better, but I ain't got any tricks goin' forward to help you with it. I jus' know that talkin' about it makes it lighter. It doesn't make it go away, like my sister's always said, but it makes it easier and lighter sum'times, when that weight gits too heavy to carry.”

He looked over at Chikori, cautiously. She hadn't said anything while he spoke, and instead had been looking at him with intense interest. But the emotional state that she had worked herself up into seemed to be receding. Her breathing seemed calmer, and the tears that had fallen had become a trickle.

“A-are... are you good?” he asked cautiously. “'Cuz I mean, I don' mind carryin' that weight withya a bit longer.”

Chikori looked at him, slowly coming back to the calm state of mind that she had honed during her time in the two military forces that had plagued the universe. He didn't say anything to her, just watching her face for the tiniest chance that she might go one way or the other, and she didn't answer him immediately either. They both had kept quiet, until finally, she had found her calm.

“I think... I am fine, now,” she said slowly, as though her mouth was slowly getting the hang of words again.

“Whew, good. 'Cuz I didn' know what to do if you weren't.”

That had earned him a soft chuckle from the Saiyan.

“Wait-- Wait a min', did you-- did you jus' laugh?”

“I did no such thing.” There was the smallest hints of a smile at the corner of the Saiyan's lips. Fallafal leaned in a bit, squinting as the Saiyan looked back at him, concerned. He kept leaning over until he forgot that he was on a branch and nearly fell off, barely hanging by one hand. Without saying anything, Chikori got up and pulled him up so he could sit onto his branch again.

“Are you okay?”

“Who, me? Pfff. Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Happens all the time.” He waved off her concern. “But you? Are you fine, for sure?”

“For the second time, yes, Fallafal. I am fine.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Whew, okay. Good. I'm glad. I... I got worried, there, for a sec'. 'Cuz you an' me... well, I don't know you too well, an--”

“Stop.” The Saiyan looked away. Her face was starting to warm from shame. “I don't like showing such weakness--”

“Hey. It's not weakness. I mean, I don't know if it's the same for you as it is for me, but I think it's okay to be a little human an' have some emotions every now an' then. I don't think anyone's going to come here and hurt you.”

The Saiyan didn't say anything in response to that. Then... “Did you want me to continue?”

“There's more?!”

“Well.... Not too much more.”

“I'm supposin' so, if you wanna.”

“I stopped talking to him after that. I was mad, irate for days. I apparently did better during training sessions at the time. But he never said anything. He never talked to me unless we had to, unless I approached him. When we finished our basic training, and had been assigned to different squadrons, I never saw him again. I don't know what happened to him. Sometimes... I hope he reflected on the past, and held immense regret. Especially for someone who had favoured me so much, at one point. At other times, before I arrived here, I wanted to find him and defeat him with my own two fists. But that wouldn't have served any purpose except to make him stronger.” At this, she stopped, taking note of Fallafal's sudden confused stare. She mirrored it with one of her own. “Were you not aware? Saiyans get stronger whenever they're pushed to death. It's what turned the tide during the long war. We had eventually become stronger than their numbers and technology. This is most likely the reason why Frieza had wanted us added to his armies so much. ...We were the perfect weapon for an evil bastard like him.”

“Ah. I see... So you never saw Turnip again?”

“No. Though, as I said, there are times where I wish I did. No doubt he would have used it for his own gain, though I suppose someone like you might call it his loss.”

“Well, you're right. It is his loss.”

“I will never understand that.”

“You don't hafta just yet. Maybe we'll get to that another time.”

[another-stupid-writing-blog]

Area 5 – The Monster Queen’s Court

Ronan leads you through the village, and you see monsterfolk of various shape, size, and species, each running away as you turn to look at them.  

RONAN: Don’t worry about them. Let’s just focus on the trial for now.  

Eventually, he brings you to a large circle of humanoid trees rooted to the ground, each towering over you, and each with features of various animals. Ronan gestures for you to stay at the southernmost part, while he goes to the west. To the eastern corner, you see an ant-woman staring at you, with Xoknath behind her. In the northernmost part, you see the biggest of the dryads, bearing a face you find all too familiar.

Yitrie. You had met her before, when you fled from the city, and had talked with her after the whole incident. She, High Elder of the Monsters, is usually so kind in appearance, but right now she’s staring down at you with such contempt and disappointment.  

YITRIE: [Hello, Alexis.]  

…You say hello.  

YITRIE: [Is everyone ready to begin?]  

ANT: [The prosecution is ready, Your Wisdom.]  

RONAN: [The defense is ready, Your Wisdom.]  

YITRIE: [Well, then. Let us begin. Today marks the trial of Alexis, leader of the human rebels, who is accused of trespassing, assault of a guard, assault with a deadly weapon, and breaking of a signed treaty. How does the defense plea?]  

RONAN: [The defense pleads guilty, Your Wisdom.]  

YITRIE: [Interesting. The court acknowledges the defendant’s honesty as a show of good faith. Given her reputation, we had expected a fight.]  

Yitrie chuckles at her own joke, followed by all the dryads in the circle. The ant-woman also joins in, and you see Ronan pretend to laugh too, though he makes no sound, and you can sense the fear coming off of him. Yitrie raises a hand and the laughter stops.  

YITRIE: [Regardless, the court accepts this plea. Is there a bargain currently in place?]  

ANT: [No, Your Wisdom, there is not.]  

YITRIE: [Then let us discuss this situation, starting with the defendant’s motive.]  

RONAN: [Your Wisdom, my client was contacted by a human spirit, whose description matches that of the zombie that attacked our village just yesterday. He had told her, much like he told many of us a few days ago, that unless she made her way eastward to the tower of a wizard, said wizard would conquer the human kingdom, followed by our village. When Xoknath interfered, as per his duty, she did not believe she could communicate her reasons for passing through. The fact that Xoknath is new to the English language, and the fact that we’d remained neutral about this threat so far, may have contributed to this line of thought. In an act of desperation, she struggled against him using the tools she had on-hand, thinking it was in our best interest.]  

ANT: [With all due respect, Your Wisdom, this is a very weak motive. Even if we know now that the human spirit may have spoken the truth, there is no way she could have known this at the time. Mere speculation does not justify a crime this severe, nor does it explain how quickly she resorted to said crime. May I call Xoknath to the stand?]  

YITRIE: [You may.]  

Xoknath steps forward.  

ANT: [Xoknath, Guard of the Border, can you please describe what happened during the incident with Alexis?]  

XOKNATH: [OF COURSE. EARLY MORNING, I WAS PATROLING THE WESTERN EDGE OF THE FOREST, ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE. THEN, I SAW THE HUMAN CROSS INTO MONSTERFOLK TERRITORY. I DID NOT RECOGNIZE HER AS THE FOUNDER OF THE WESTERN CAMP, SO I STOPPED HER AND GAVE HER THE STANDARD LECTURE, AS BEST AS I KNEW IT… SAYING NOTHING, SHE IMMEDIATELY TOOK THE IRON SPEAR SHE HAD WITH HER, AND DROVE IT TOWARDS MY CHEST. I BELIEVE I WOULD HAVE BEEN SERIOUSLY MAIMED, OR EVEN KILLED, HAD I NOT BEEN WEARING ARMOR. I TOOK MY OWN SPIRIT CRYSTAL WEAPONS AND USED THEM TO DEFEND MYSELF, TRYING AS HARD AS I COULD TO GO MAINLY FOR THE LIMBS. EVENTUALLY, SHE WENT DOWN, AND I TOOK HER INTO CUSTODY.]  

ANT: [Thank you, Xoknath.]  

ANT: [You see, Your Wisdom? Immediately. Centre-mass. Bladed, iron weapon! A stable individual would not resort to such measures without at least attempting discussion or retreat, and yet she did. Clearly, she had come prepared to do something of this nature, and we should not overlook this in the slightest.]  

YITRIE: [Agreed. I personally believe she had reasonable things at stake to do what she did, but the way she conducted herself does give the impression that she had been waiting for an excuse to kill someone anyway, which is horrid. I personally have died many times before, and while it may not be permanent, one’s first few deaths can be extremely painful and frightening, to the point where they affect one’s outlook for all of eternity. This should not be ignored.]  

An uneasy atmosphere fills the room.  

YITRIE: [Even still, not many of our own populace willing to risk leaving the village to deal with this wizard issue, even though it affects all of us. She should definitely face punishment, but it does feel a tad wasteful to let her courage go unused. Perhaps if, during punishment, we got her to change her tactics to focus more on communication, and to use less lethal force when battle is unavoidable, she might be less of a threat. Then, perhaps, we could permit her to continue her quest.]

ANT: [Your wisdom, how could we possibly re-train her in such a way? She is a lunatic!]

YITRIE: [Well, since we are already killing two birds with one stone, why don’t we make it three birds? The goblins still need our assistance with the undead human, and we just so happen to have someone who’s shown willingness to approach danger. If we sentence Alexis to community service, I can send her to the goblin caves to retrieve the zombie, alive and bound. If she complies, we can send her on her way. If she kills him, or becomes infected, we’ll keep her in custody. In any case, at least it won’t be us.]  

ANT: [But how can we be sure she won’t attack the civilians?]

YITRIE: […We’ll send a chaperone to watch her every move, and we’ll only let her use less-than-lethal weapons. If she becomes a problem, the chaperone can step in and deal with her. If she is unable to complete the task, they can take care of the zombie as well. Otherwise, their main goal will be to watch from a distance. All in favor?] About three quarters of the dryads raise an arm-like branch.

DRYADS: [Aye!]  

The dryad next to Yitrie leans in towards her.

DRYAD: [Wait! Who should we appoint?]  

YITRIE: [That’s a good question. We need someone very attentive and cautious, who will watch her like a hawk, but they also need to be strong enough to intervene, should things go awry. With both his suspicion towards Alexis, and the strength of body and spirit he has proven recently, it seems Xoknath would be the ideal candidate.]

You see Xoknath lean forward and open his mouth as if to yell something, but then his posture sinks. He subtly clenches his fist and begins to speak through grit teeth.  

XOKNATH: [I WILL COMPLY WITH THESE ORDERS, YOUR WISDOM.]

YITRIE: [Perfect! Now, without any further ado, we sentence Alexis to community service, and mandate a follow-up trial for when she is finished!]

Yitrie claps once. The other dryads then each bring their hands together into one harmonious clap. The ant-woman exits to the south, while a weaselfolk man appears from the north, carrying a burlap sack.

WEASEL: [Here are your belongings, Miss Alexis. Uh, well, some of them, anyway. We had to throw out any food that had spoiled and confiscate any bladed weapons, so your spear is now a staff. We apologize for the inconvenience.]  

You recovered your LOST ITEMS!

The weasel-man exits as well. Xoknath approaches.  

*

Xoknath joins the party! You can now CRAFT and DECRAFT items, including animals, as well as speak Monster Pidgin and HOGSPEECH while Xoknath is alive.  

*  

XOKNATH: XOKNATH NO LIKE YOU, UNDERSTAND?  

Perfectly clear.

XOKNATH: XOKNATH WORK WITH YOU. YOU NO BE BAD.

You have no intention of getting sidetracked more than you have already.

RONAN: Well, uh, since Xoknath here already knows some English, will you be okay without me? I can take you through the village if you want, but I really don’t wanna leave this safe zone if possible.  

Yes, having him come with you will be helpful for now, (you’re not really thrilled to spend time alone with Xoknath), but you’ll be fine if he doesn’t want to leave the city. You thank him for his work defending you.  

RONAN: You’re welcome. I’m sorry things got as crazy as they did. If there’s anything more you’d like from me, just say so.  

You nod.

XOKNATH: UGH. [DOUBLE-CROSSING SHITFUCK! OKAY,] XOKNATH KNOW WAY, GO FIRST. YOU FOLLOW.  

With that, Xoknath begins leading the way back through the village, and you and Ronan follow.  

Area 6 - The Woods

Link to First Page

[echoise]

Super vague fictional illness made up for angst is the way this trope works right?? Well it does now. It’s Keith if you squint but I couldn’t bear to namedrop him. Also didn’t wanna namedrop the trope in text but the spirit is there!

Bad Things Happen Bingo #4: Definitely Just a Cold

it hurts, but maybe he was just made this way. (vague steelstep? m!sidestep. warning: spoilers.) 1,318 words

The first time it happens, he’s alone.

He wakes up on the cold warehouse floor, head pounding, body aching. Mouth tasting like metal and week-old coffee. Hazy memories and nightmares clinging to him like a wet cape.

He drags himself to the bathroom, vertigo threatening to topple him over again. He clings to the sink as he forces himself to look in the mirror: at the tired blue eyes, the pale face. The messy black hair slick with sweat, sticking to his forehead. Shit, he looks like he hasn’t slept for a week. Even more so than usual. Like he’s...

He wipes at his mouth and his hand comes away rust brown.

*

It happens again. And again. Usually when he’s alone. Usually when he can contain it, contain the damage: where no one can see the moments of weakness. But they keep coming, becoming more frequent. 

Well, he’s nothing if not a good actor.

The first time anyone notices - that anyone catches him, anyway - is three months after the first one. He wakes up on cold tiles: unfamiliar bathroom floor. Clean though, not disgusting, so probably not public. Aching, shivering, sweaty. No blood this time, that he can see. 

It takes him ten minutes to drag himself out of the stupor, remember where he is, what he’s supposed to be. Get off the floor, lean on the sink, wash his face. Try to get some color back to his pallid cheeks, put his hair in order, straighten his sweater. Pretend it’s alright. Pretend he’s alright.

He’s not prepared to run into Chen waiting right outside the door.

He flinches and evades backwards, almost losing his balance because no matter how good his act is, no matter how well he pretends, the lingering vertigo is there and almost knocks him out again. Chen notices, because of course he does, and there’s an arm around his waist, holding him up, keeping him from falling.

“Talk to me,“ is the only thing Chen says. He shakes his head and slips out of the grip, heading for the kitchen. Chen follows. “Please.“

“Nothing’s wrong,“ he snaps, voice too brittle, tone too sharp. Words too quick because that’s not what was asked and he walked right into that. Shit.

“I never said it was,“ Chen says, predictably. Folding his arms and leaning on the door frame, watching him wobble in and get coffee from the machine. Not even brewing a new pot, just get an instant, because he obviously needs to further broadcast how very much not okay he is.

“Well, I’m still fine.“ He gets defensive, because it’s the only thing he can do. Nausea churning in his stomach and he slams the paper cup on the table, spilling it, cursing as it splashes over his fingers. It’s too much. He can’t drink it. He stalks back to Chen, peering up at him, hoping he looks more annoyed than miserable. “And you’d do well to keep out of it.“

He slips out before Chen can answer, before another wave of dizziness can claim him.

*

Chen keeps a close watch on him after that.

He can feel the dark eyes drilling into the back of his head, feels his skin crawl the way it always does when he’s being watched. It becomes a game between them: Chen chasing, trying to reach him, and him avoiding, sidestepping. It’s nostalgic somehow, though it’s not something that ever happened between them. Just with him, with someone else, in another time. Another life.

And in the end, he loses. Like he always does.

He wakes up in Chen’s office, laid down on the small couch, a pillow under his head. Chen sitting in his chair behind the desk, sorting out papers and typing on a laptop.

He sits up. Infinitely less sore than waking up on cold floor, but no less miserable. He wonders how he collapsed. If Chen caught him before he hit the floor. If anyone else saw.

“You should see a doctor.“ Chen is looking at him over his work, expression pensive. Concerned. He closes his mind to shield against any onslaught.

“No.“ He grimaces, attempting to stand up. At least his legs hold. At least there isn’t blood on his shirt. “No hospitals.“

“I didn’t say that.“ Chen stands up as well, hovering as if to assist, but holding back. Knowing he would just be pushed back. “There are discreet doctors.“

“And what, you can give a referral?“ He scoffs, giving a warning glance to stop the hovering. It does nothing, but at least Chen doesn’t get closer. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not human anyway.“

“Yes you are, physiologically.“ Chen’s voice is tense, vowels short and consonants hard like every time he starts losing his patience. Which is always with him. It took him weeks to realize it wasn’t just a weird accent.

“I’m fine,“ he deflects, not even trying to sound convincing. Ending up tired and hopeless. The tone conveying the thoughts he won’t admit: that maybe this is better. Maybe he was just designed this way.

Maybe he deserves this.

Chen lets him go, against all expectations. He elects to just ignore the unspoken words between them, leaves them in the room and shuts the door behind him.

This isn’t over.

*

“Does Ortega know?“ Chen asks.

He’s on the sofa again, an arm slung over his eyes, willing the rising bile to stay in his stomach. Colorful fireworks dance in the darkness behind his eyes. “Of course not. And you’re not gonna tell him.“

“No, but you should.“ Chen’s mouth is set in a thin line of disapproval, watching him sprawled out on his back. Mind radiating concern and annoyance and about a dozen other things he really doesn’t need assaulting his shields now, brittle as they are. The attacks are getting worse.

“Screw that.“ He’s so tired. Too tired. It takes him a moment to realize Chen has reached out and is resting the back of his hand on his forehead. He can’t even be bothered to shake it off.

“You have a fever.“

There it is again, the concern. He jerks up into a sitting position, the world spinning and his eyes hurting from the sudden light. “Just mind your own business, Steel.“

“You’re making this my business.“ The annoyance surges over the others. That he can deal with.

He crosses his arms andswings his legs over the edge, putting his feet on the ground. “No, you’re making it your business, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.“

Chen gets up after him, bristling. “Now listen here--“

“Bye, Chen,“ he snaps, slamming the door behind him and hoping it hits Chen in the face.

Of course it doesn’t, but he was never anything if not too hopeful.

*

He’s curled up on the bathroom floor of his shitty apartment, tasting blood and bile and crying because of the pain. The phone next to him rings quietly, more vibration than sound. It’s a decision made in a moment of madness, hazy in the chill of the bathroom. It’s a mistake, a weakness, a delusion brought on by pain and fear, emotions he’s not even supposed to feel.

It’s a piece of reality that he doesn’t want, but needs. Desperately.

The ringing stops as the line picks up. He can’t hear the words spoken, can’t bring himself to hit the speaker button, but he leans in close to the microphone to have his voice heard.

“Help...“

There’s a solid three seconds of silence before the phone crackles again. “Where are you?“

He sobs in relief, pressing his forehead against the cold tiles. No questions asked. No accusations. Not yet. He manages to gasp out the address, pain overriding caution. Overriding self-preservation, the secrecy, the carefully cultivated paranoia and years of honed instincts. Letting the future him worry about keeping his cover.

If he’s still alive then.

[hellanoragami-blog]

Chapter 79.2 Thoughts

Heeeey guys. I’m up really early this morning, so I’ve decided to try to dissect the chapter. There is a lot of interesting things to cover, but overall I really liked it. It has a lot of pain and worry tied to it, though. A big thanks to @fast-moon for a speedy translation!

In the continuation of chapter 79, we’ve picked up directly where we left off. Hiyori has begun to read through her journal, only to find that almost all of them relate to Yato in some way or another. (It seamlessly ties into a discussion that Ami and Yama are having behind her, lol.)

But things take a serious turn, because Yama explains that Fujisaki has simply disappeared, and so has his father, apparently. Father is--we know--currently resting and recovering from the toll taken on his body. But what about Fujisaki’s father? Where did he go, and what are his concerns about his son’s injuries? Is that why he’s suddenly disappeared?

I wonder if perhaps we’ll see Father claiming another form, soon. With Bishamon now knowing his face, and the nuisance posed in further involving Fujisaki’s family, I feel as if Father wouldn’t want to gamble the risks of keeping his current body. (It’s confusing, because we’ve never actually seen Fujisaki’s father, nor do we know much about the relationship he has with his son. It makes it hard to pin down what exactly he’d be doing in this situation regarding his child’s injuries.)

Hey, look! Tenjin’s riding an Ox! Oh, wait. It’s just his regalia? Cool! We now know what forms two of his shinki take, as well as their alternate names. I don’t have much to say about that. But his conversation with Hiyori is different. As suspected, literally everyone know about Hiyori’s feelings but her--even Tenjin! She goes on to ask him, the one who would know most out of anyone, whether it’s true or not that Gods can love humans.

I kind of already figured his answer, and I was right in thinking that their way of loving is just different than human love. But it’s not inherently a good thing for a God to love a human. As he said, they get drawn more to the near shore.

The more attached Yato gets to Hiyori, the more he’d be willing to do to ensure her happiness and safety. This includes wreaking havoc upon whatever threat to her that he sees. (Think back to the Bishamon arc, where he was fully prepared to kill a fellow God under the false assumption that she had harmed Hiyori.)

Also- pg. 25, Amaterasu’s watching. ;)

Tenjin does have a valid point, regardless if we agree with it or not. Gods aren’t inherently the same as humans; they simply take the form of man. Just as Amaterasu is the sun, and Tsukuyomi is the moon. “Is pledging (romantic) love to something that isn’t a person a particularly logical act?”

In a non-biased context, the answer is of course, no.

Even with Tenjin urging her to cut ties with Yato, it’s simply out of her hands now. Yato is the only one who could do that, and with their fates tied, they’re stuck together. Maybe it’s inevitable that Hiyori will forget Yato, but it wouldn’t be permanent. That’s hinted in the fact that she’s able to recount this tale to us.

At the end of chapter 1, Hiyori uses the words, “Soon, Yato would meet me.” This implies that everything that is currently being told has already happened. The story already has an ending, and we’re being shown the story through her narrative. Already, this is kind of obvious by the small hints throughout the manga; the most popular one being when she isn’t able to recognize Yukine as a human spirit the way Yato can.

Hiyori’s description:

Yato’s description:

Again, notice Hiyori’s usage of past tense versus Yato’s use of present tense. Although we are also being shown what she’s telling us, we’re also shown things that she personally didn’t see, and this comes from Yato. Could he also be telling the story alongside her? I’m interested to find out. It may mean that they will in fact meet again. It certainly gives me hope!

Now! Onto some (mostly) lighthearted scenes!

We shift attention to Yukine and Nora, who are playing a game of badminton. But things go horribly wrong when Nora runs right into a trash bin, and ends up getting covered in rubbish. Yukine must have had the idea to take her back to Kofuku’s for a bath, conveniently able to do so because the Goddess of poverty is away in takamagahara to strike fear into the heart of Takemikazuchi for repair costs.

Nora is completely in awe of the place, exploring things she’s never seen before. It looks like a child’s wonderland, to her. (Notice she thinks almost everything in Kofuku’s house is a toy. ...To be fair, there are a LOT of toys in Kofuku’s bathroom.)

In fact, most of what we see of her in this chapter reminds me a lot of what we see in Yato: not a lot of experience in the way of doing things age-appropriately, and having a very naive approach to some things. (Seeing her with that shower shield around her face reminded me of a frilled dragon. Cute!) We also see two names on her, one on her hip, and the other on her arm. These were identified by fast-moon to be the names belonging to Ebisu and Take.

Clue One that things are not entirely as they seem. I don’t entirely distrust her just yet, though. She drops her hitaikakushi in the bath, and she gives it a look of what appears to be contempt. Does that mean that she’s growing more and more unhappy with who/what she was before? Or is it regret over her involvement in a possible plan executed by Father? She folds it not-so-neatly in her hands, and the scene changes to show Yukine attempting to cook.

It’s obvious that he’s still struggling with his feelings over the situation. But hopefully, it’s not enough to be hurting Yato. Next, Nora rejoins Yukine for dinner. (In a very cute outfit, nonetheless. Adachitoka, are you trying to kill me with cuteness?? Lol.) Yukine next suggests they study together, and Nora says something that really seems to hit a nerve with Yukine.

“Dead people, studying? It’s pointless.”

Ahh. So it’s hinted that Yukine isn’t entirely accepting of the way things are, after all. Whether he realizes it or not, the fact that those words bothered him to that extent just shows that he knows it’s true, deep down. Trying to emulate a life that a living person would is essentially pointless, and he knows it. But it’s what makes him feel happy and fulfilled with what he has.

That texture, though.

We know by now, that when this texture overlay is used, it either foreshadows a topic resurfacing in a Big, Negative way, or when a character realizes something that could end up leading to a key event of sorts.

In short, this page felt very serious and ominous, and it kind of worries me. The word ‘promise’ is also used quite a bit here, which feels a little suspicious in itself. It’s also kind of scary, because Yukine just unintentionally showed Nora one of his biggest weak points. I hope it’s not going to be used against him later.

Nora, please. I’m beggin u girl. Have a change of heart.

It does look like she’s having a change of heart regarding Yukine learning the God’s Greatest Secret, though. Before, she wanted to destroy him with it. But now she wants to make sure he doesn’t get near it. Which he agrees to... but we know it’s going to happen, eventually. Sad to say, he’s already been inflicted with liberation. So learning about his past is inevitable.

Yukine reveals his worries about stinging Yato, which is important; at least he realizes that it’s bad to be getting his emotions involved like this. But Yato’s not around for him to talk to, and that makes all the difference. And with Yato being hit by both Yukine and Kazuma’s shitty feelings, it’s bringing him great distress and discomfort.

(Also quick note, I’m curious as to why the name plate says Iki. Iki would be Takamasa’s last name, wouldn’t it? Unless he took Sayuri’s name instead. Uncommon, but some people do it here in the US. Do people do that in Japan as well? I’m going to assume it’s the case for now anyway, since it’s Hiyori’s maternal grandmother’s house.)

Alas... Father. What are you doing in front of Hiyori’s grandmother’s house? How did you even find out where it was? (If he followed her home, that’s just creepy.) What I wanna draw attention to, though, are the blank pages of her journal. Blank pages. Blank. I hope it’s just the newest pages that haven’t been written in yet!

But... I feel very certain that Father is influencing something here, just from Hiyori’s mention of her body feeling heavy. (Yes, I think it was Hiyori’s dialogue, despite it showing Yato; particularly with the way it follows up in her POV in the next box.) Part of me is worried that the page is implying that Father is leaving, and he’s already set something into motion. I hope I’m wrong.

Hiyori... please hold on to your memories.