#pit babe’s home makes me as happy as the stairs of death but with far less anxiety

[zimmbzon]

Team, it’s a bar. It’s a bar. That kitchen that has no stovetop, isn’t a kitchen. It’s a bar.

The cupboards under the bench -> they are not cupboards there’s no doors, they’re shelves where trays of pint glasses might have once lived. (They are also all empty - Babe please buy some plates or a blender or something)

Babe found himself a nightclub, thought I really like those holes in the walls and BAM, got myself a home.

Has anyone seen a fridge?

[joheun-saram]

Whenever, Wherever (jhs)

Summary- Hoseok is a time traveller but that’s not the strangest thing that has happened to him. The strangest thing is when he meets a girl he’s never seen and she tells him he’s her best friend.

word count- 6.7k

pairing- timetraveler!Hoseok x Reader 

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, smut

warnings- car accident, mention of parental death, mention of miscarriage, major character death, description of gun shot wound (but not gory), explicit smut (unprotected lovey dovey sex), hoseok pukes a lot (soz babe ily)

a.n- Ahhh I finally finished my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub! I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @baepsaetan‘s secret santa 🎅🏼Day did you guess I was your ss? Did you like me subtly asking you questions about this during our sprints? hehehe! Happy new year, love! 💕

For people who can guess, this was inspired by the Doctor, River relationship and is loosely based on the Time Traveller’s Wife (eventhough I straight up have never seen the movie and literally only read the wiki page 🥴)

A huge thank you to Bella @hobisbeautifulass​ for beta reading for me! I’m sorry I made you cry at work!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The day his mother passed away was when Hoseok discovered his gift. 

Stranded by himself in a large suburban park in the middle of the night, there was an eeriness surrounding the dark expanse of road. There were no cars, no streetlights, and no solace to be found on the edge of the wooded trail he stood before. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he remembered seeing the blinding lights of the trailer in front of him just moments ago, his mother’s voice ricocheting through his head. He didn’t understand how he got here, and how the loud honks and screeches of tires had fallen to give way to this deafening silence.In the distance, he hears footsteps. The crackle of crushed leaves echoing in the air as he sees a man with dark hair, dressed in a large black sweater and a pair of blue ripped jeans, step forward. In the eight years he had lived thus far he had never been as terrified. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out towards him, and Hoseok closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run away.

Before he knew what happened, he was lying in his bed under his warm, colorful duvet. He rubbed his eyes, his heart still pounding and feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. He thought it was a dream till his father entered with a tear-streaked face to let him know about his mother’s fatal accident.

That was the first time he time traveled, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t know why he could do it. He didn’t know how he could control it. All he knew was that he was drawn to certain places, certain times. It was never when he wanted, like the first time when he wished he could go back to a few hours and not be greedy for ice cream so his mother would not have to drive him. Or the time he wished he could go back to tell his grandmother he loved her. Or the time in university where he wished he had never got caught cheating and lost his scholarship.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her.

-----------

For most people time is linear. There is the past, the present, and the future. But for Hoseok, time is a tangled mess, a convoluted web of events that he can only watch unfold. Never having the power to control where he ends up, Hoseok felt helpless, like his life was a punchline for the universe. All through his life, he would wind up at weird places at weird times. He would never know how long he would be there before being zapped back to whenever he came from.

Hoseok was twenty-five, he was single, he was a music producer, but most of all, he was tired. Lately, his time jumps were too frequent, going from happening once a year or so to once every few weeks. He would find himself in odd places at odd times, sometimes it was a quaint suburban street at dawn, other times a posh private school at midnight. All to stay there for seconds before zapping in his bed, as usual, his entire day lost, nausea bitting at his throat.

“Hoseok? Oh my god! It’s really you!” The new barista at his favorite coffee shop squealed when he made it to the front of the line, jarring him from his thoughts as he aimlessly scrolled through his Instagram, trying to decipher if he missed out on anything important. He looked at her, dressed cutely in a yellow sundress with the establishment's blue and gold apron on her waist. Her hair was loose around her face, her smile brilliant, as she looked at him with excitement. She was beautiful and it took Hoseok a few moments to stop himself from his shameless ogling.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asked, confused. He would have remembered if he ever saw her. She looked pretty unforgettable. Maybe she was one of Yoongi's friends, although something tells him Yoongi would find her sunshine persona offputting.

“Yeah! You’re my best friend!” She pointed at him, as his mouth dropped. Okay, so she was crazy. Great...

“Uh…” Hoseok didn't really know how to answer that, so he decided to follow his gut and just ignore her comment. “I’m sorry. Can I just order?”

“Vanilla latte, no whip, half sugar coming right up!” She beamed as she wrote on the cup, leaving him dumbfounded.

“How did you…?”

“Told you! You’re my best friend!” She pranced away to make his drink, as he stood there confused. When she returned, she handed him a drink and Hoseok could do nothing more than smile half-heartedly as he walked away. Did he have a stalker?

He decided not to visit that coffee shop again. Better not give this crazy person any more ideas.

------------

Hoseok stood in someone's home, someone's living room, dark other than the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was a modest room, resembling one of those he would see on television. In the center of the room, there was a bright yellow rug flanked on three sides by a couch set facing a television hooked to the wall above a fireplace. It seemed cozy, somewhere he would have liked to live.

He had no idea where he was and he cursed his gift once again. This was getting ridiculous. This was the first time he had appeared inside someone's home. He shook his head as he looked at the clock placed on one of the small tables next to the big couch.

3 am. Great. He was trespassing in the middle of the night.

He decided to escape before the owners caught wind of him. As he made his way towards the door, a family portrait caught his eye. It hung right next to the front door, framed by a beautiful gold frame.

His mouth dropped. It was him. He looked a little older, the lines next to his eyes a little deeper as he sat smiling on a grassy field, his arms around a beautiful woman in a yellow sundress holding a small infant wrapped in green blankets.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He knew her. It was the random barista girl. The one who insisted she knew him. What the fuck?

Before Hoseok could spiral any further he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw her, dressed in flannel pajamas, walking down the stairs. She looked around her mid-thirties, nothing like the chipper twenty-something he'd seen last week.

He stood there blinking at her as she came closer, awe on her features that quickly morphed into sorrow. She touched his face gently as if in disbelief that he was there as her eyes glistened in the moonlight.

"Hobi?" She spoke, her voice was hoarse as a tear slipped down her cheek. Hoseok didn't know why but he felt his heart lurch at her tears. He had no idea who she was but he felt this innate pull towards her. He wanted to hold her, wipe her tears, and most fucked up of all, he wanted to kiss her.

"I- who are you?" He asked softly, his hand coming to hold hers as if he couldn't help himself, leaning slightly into her touch.

"We haven't met yet?" Her voice was wet with tears as she sniffled, moving closer to him. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to feel if he was really there. He stood silently as she squeezed him close, and wrapped his arms around her when she started sobbing into his chest. He held her tight as she cried, his eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

"I missed you so much Hoseok," she said as she looked up at him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Before he could think, he was leaning down to capture her lips with his own, his heart in his throat. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and he felt his head turn into a haze. Before he could deepen the kiss, he felt the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled apart as he saw her fade slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to her as she did the same.

All too soon, the familiar sight of his bedroom materialized as he stood there alone, her last words ringing in his head.

"No! Please! It's too soon!"

He didn't know when he started crying, but soon he was kneeling on his floor sobbing for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

-----------

Hoseok didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on the floor of his bedroom, his face puffy and back sore. Without a second thought, he rose from his position, grabbed his keys, and bolted out of his apartment. He had to find her.

It took him six days to meet her again. Six days of anxiety, amped up from the coffees he chugged as he visited the coffee shop at different hours. He couldn't even describe her properly, every time he went to the cashier to tell them how she looked they gave him an odd look. Maybe it was because by the third day he looked like a deranged stalker, describing her height and her build to anyone who worked there. He was surprised they hadn't banned him yet.

On the sixth day, she waltzed in and sat across from him, not a care in the world. Her smile was wide, a juxtaposition to the sad, older version of her he was fixated on. She wore a polka-dotted dress which hitched up a little as she crossed her legs. Hoseok was speechless as he almost choked on his coffee.

"You told me to meet you earlier but honestly, I just wanted to annoy you a little." She giggled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes lit with mirth, and the stress of finding her hit him like a ton of bricks. Hoseok jumped out of his seat, his arms around her shaking as he tried to control his breathing. His mind was fuzzy, he had no reason to react this way, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know her but he missed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he held her tighter.

"What took you so long?" He asked his voice a little hoarse from not speaking all day, his breath coming out in puffs against her neck. She hummed a little apology as her hand reached his hair, stroking his scalp in a way that made him instantly relax. He melted into her, her sweet floral scent a balm to his anxious nerves.

"Do you even know my name yet?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as he finally let go of her. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as the beanie atop his head. He settled back in his chair awkwardly staring at her, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants that laid on his thigh. He looked up at her smiling face, as she put her hand on top of his. "It's Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you, Hoseok."

Her words were simple but their effect was anything but. Hoseok felt like everything in his world made sense, that all those times he had puked after a shitty trip down the stitch of time was worth it. Her hand was so soft, skin so perfectly smooth as her thumb stroked his hand, that Hoseok had a hard time finding words to express how he was feeling.

He looked at her shyly, not knowing where his nerves were coming from, as he smiled, meeting her warm eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you too, Y/N."

----------

Hoseok sighed in annoyance as he walked down the path of the familiar suburban neighborhood. The sun shone brightly, and all he wanted to do was to be zapped out of here so he could end up in bed next to his girlfriend. It had been barely thirty seconds since he saw her, her soft skin molded against his as she slept next to him, her hair tickling his nose as he spooned her. He missed her already. This wasn't fair. Why did he have to walk around this stupid cul-de-sac when he could be wrapped in her warmth?

Ever since the coffee shop, things with her had progressed extremely fast. He couldn't help himself. He never felt as close to someone as instantly before. Granted, he knew they were going to get married and have a beautiful child together, but that didn't mean he knew how fast he was going to fall for her.

The day he first learned her name, he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face. She was different than any other woman he had met. She was outgoing and optimistic, and brave. Much braver than him. While he stuttered to ask her for her number, she leaned across the table grabbed his phone, unlocking it as if by magic, and added her phone number in. While he wrote and rewrote eighteen different texts, pacing in his living room, she beat him to it with a casual "Stop overthinking, dummy. It's only me!"

How could he stop overthinking? It was her. His dream girl gift-wrapped and sent to him by fate. He never thought his gift would be good for anything, but she was here and all his previous suffering finally made sense.

As he walked along the sidewalk, biding his time, he approached a bus stop. It was cute, and definitely not from his decade. A janky blue bus stopped, and out she walked, making Hoseok miss his step and almost trip. She was dressed in a school uniform, a crisp white shirt with a plaid skirt, a cute flower-shaped backpack on her shoulders, and her hands full of college pamphlets. Hoseok couldn't help the smile that overtook his features. He wanted to run up to her but he realized even if she was his girlfriend now, it was still a crime to approach a minor. His gift was so stupid.

He stood there, averting his stare and looking at his shoes instead, as she walked closer to him. He promised himself not to be a creep and try to talk to her but her voice makes him break his resolve.

"Ew. Can you not get a hint? Get away from me, you creep!" she yelled and Hoseok's head snapped up. He felt his face flare with rage as he watched a kid around her age try to put his arm around her as she tried to shove him off. The kid was relentless, throwing cheesy pickup lines her way as she continuously rejected him. He wanted to beat that little shit to a pulp.

Clearing his throat, he approached the two. "Dude, she said no. Get off her," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What's it to you, old man?" The boy rolled his eyes, his hand still wrapped around her as she pleaded at Hoseok with her eyes. Hoseok wasn't old! He wasn't even thirty yet! He hated this kid.

"It's not nice to forego consent, kid," he sneered, schooling his face into the coldest expression he could muster. It seemed to have worked because one look at Hoseok's face and the future sex offender had his hand to himself before he walked off with a huff. Hoseok glared at him as he disappeared in the opposite direction. Good riddance.

"Thank you so much!" Her voice was higher than it was now, a little spring to it that only comes from innocence as she looked at him with round eyes. "You're like my own personal superhero!"

Hoseok felt awkward. He never wanted to talk to her here. Running his hands through his hair, he smiled at her, throwing an awkward "Any time!" as he rushed away. The feeling in his gut was back and he had never been happier to want to throw up. The afternoon sun faded as he stood in his own room, blinded and running to where he knew his trash can was.

As he vomited into the plastic can, he felt a hand rub soothingly down his back. She handed him a water bottle when he sat up next to the bin, his head aching.

"Welcome back, babe. When did you go this time?" She giggled at her own joke. God, Hoseok loved that laugh.

----------

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a really long time. Surrounded by all his friends dressed in custom tuxedos, he fidgeted with his bowtie, and scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror he fixed the lapels of the blood-red jacket he was wearing. Who convinced him this gaudy suit was perfect for the occasion? Oh yeah, his bride.

Jung Hoseok thought he'd accomplish a lot of things by the time he was thirty-one. He thought he would have signed to a major label as an in-house producer (he did), he thought he would be living in a beautifully decorated apartment downtown (he does), he thought he would have a cute little dog to welcome him home (Mickey is adorable, in case you were wondering), but he never thought he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for someone who would want to share their life with him.

Ever since she came into his life, Hoseok felt like it was filled with sunshine. She brightened every aspect of it. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, it felt like happiness was resonating through his entire skeleton - like she was the one thing missing in his world. The first time he told her he loved her he almost threw up from the nerves knotting in his stomach.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he couldn't help himself as she walked in. She had foregone the usual white gown, quoting something about the patriarchy, as she walked towards him in a dress, equally as red as his suit.

Her smile was wide and he was in awe of her beauty. He sniffled through his vows and she winked at him through hers, a simple gesture that made him chuckle and relaxed the emotions brewing in him. She could always do that with the simplest of things, be it a touch or a look. He kissed her with passion as their friends and family cheered. He hoped she didn't mind how much he was blubbering. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Their wedding was one of the best moments of his entire life. Dancing to cheesy music, cheek to cheek, the couple in red stood out amongst others in black. Hoseok was so in love that he didn't even mind when at the end of the night he felt the familiar buzz in his ears. He was slightly upset that he abandoned his new wife on his wedding night, but is it abandonment when the hotel lobby fades into what he knows now is his future home?

He saw her there, sitting on the couch, a frown on her face as she seemingly stared into space, dressed in a set of comfy pajamas and he couldn't control himself. Whispering her name so as not to startle her, he moved towards her when she smiled up at him. Sitting next to her on the couch, he pulled her to him with a grin. She giggled as she settles herself on his lap, running her hands over his jacket, before soothingly scratching his scalp. Hoseok couldn't help but lean into her touch, a goofy grin on his face. He was sickeningly in love.

"If it isn't my handsome new husband. I've been waiting for my wedding night for years." She joked as she pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Hoseok's heart lurched in his chest as a little whine escaped him. She isn't surprised in the least to see him there, and why would she be? In the past five years, Hoseok has visited so many different versions of her. In a way, it's part of how he fell in love with her. She may only be thirty-one to him, but he'd seen her at every stage of her life.

As she deepened their kiss, his hands went around her waist squeezing her tight as she ground on him gently. He remembers the different versions of her as he feels his blood rush through his body, each touch sparking electricity under his skin. He remembered when he first laid eyes on her in that small cafe, his nerves on their first date, her tears when he proposed, the first time he had her under him after she invited him for a movie. But he also remembered her at six playing in the sandbox in the park, sixteen and humming to pop songs while she walked home, thirty-six as she cried in his arms, seventy when she looked frayed and weak but still beautiful. He had seen all of her life, moments that he was lucky enough to be brought to more often as he fell more in love with her. He had visited her hundreds of times, and he couldn't wait to do that for the rest of his life.

He kissed down her neck, leaving little bites that he soothed with his tongue as she undressed him, his jacket somewhere on the floor, his shirt mostly buttoned. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, a beautifully airy noise that set his heart on fire.

Soon the two were breathless and naked as he hovered above her on the couch. She arched into him as he entered her, her little whines encouraging him. He latched his lips on her hard nipples, nipping them how he knows she loves. She fit him so perfectly, always so perfect for him. His wife, his soulmate, his Y/N.

"I love you, wife," he whispered and placed his forehead on hers, his hips thrusting into her heat, as he relished the connection between them. He kissed her deep, almost overwhelmed by how perfectly their lips slotted together. He could kiss her forever.

"I love you, husband," she whispered into his mouth, and his pace increased, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. She writhed under him as he pushes her off the edge. Her legs shaking around him, her heels poking into his back, as he savored the way her walls pulled him in. He was panting when he came, filling her up and babbling a chant of her name.

He pecked her face about a thousand times as they both laid on the couch boneless and giggling. When he, inevitably, ends up back on his bedroom floor, he saw her smirking at his naked body on the floor, dressed in his t-shirt, her hair still wet from her shower. She squatted next to him.

"And where is your suit?" she chided, her lips lifting, even when she tries to pretend she's mad.

"We'll get it back in a few years." Hoseok shrugged as he pulled her into a kiss, missing her body next to him already.

----------

The bar Hoseok sat at is loud, too loud for the conversation Yoongi keeps trying to have with him, and that's precisely why he chose it. Next to their table is a bachelorette party, a gaggle of women dressed in feather boas and plastic tiaras, sloshing drinks on themselves as they excitedly laugh. It's an odd contrast to the way he's feeling, the atmosphere on his own table somber.

"So what? You're going to leave your wife at home and get wasted here? Is that what you do now, Hobi?" Yoongi scolded his friend but Hoseok was already too far gone, having had a few bottles of beers before even inviting Yoongi out. He knew he was an asshole, he didn't need Yoongi to remind him, but he needed to escape.

His once happy marriage was becoming tumultuous, and, no it wasn't because they didn't love each other anymore, but quite the opposite. The past two years had really shown him that even if they were fighting and yelling, they still loved each other. Even when they were mad they crawled into bed together at the end of the day and held each other, not being able to sleep otherwise.

Their marriage started off great. There were cuddles in the kitchen, dance parties in the living room, vacations in Rome, and a night where they both sat next to each other on the floor by the bathroom holding hands as they waited with a little blue stick. They made love on that floor when it showed two lines, but that wasn't a surprise - Hoseok had seen his child in that photo the first time he kissed her.

The surprise was when she woke him up in the middle of the night, thirteen weeks into the pregnancy clutching her stomach, tears running down her face. He had never felt as scared as he did at that moment, breaking all the traffic laws he could get away with to get her to the emergency room. He held her hand through the ultrasound, through the exam where she winced, and through the doctor solemnly telling them they had had a miscarriage. He didn't let himself cry in front of her, always wanting to be brave, but he sobbed when she slept, knowing that he had a child but gaining little solace from the fact as he mourned.

The second time the two lines showed up, they were careful. He waited on her hand and foot, working from home, ensuring she got the proper nutrients. The result was another trip to the emergency room and another night of tears holding each other. By the fourth time, they stopped being surprised, just two zombies driving calmly to the hospital, before returning home. She went to the bedroom, while Hoseok drank himself into a stupor, before asking Yoongi to meet him here.

Hoseok knew he had a child, but he felt hopeless, drowning in the undercurrent of hurt and apathy. He loved his wife, loved her more than anything in the world but he couldn't bear to look at her tonight, couldn't bear to convince her once again that he had seen their child. Maybe they adopted he thought bitterly as he switched from beer to shots.

He walked home in a drunken haze despite Yoongi's worried insistence that he take a cab. Somewhere during his walk, he had started crying, tears painting his face and sending shivers down his body as they cooled in the evening chill. He wished he could fix it for her, she was always so brave, always so supportive of his stupid ideas and moods. Every time they had a fight, she was the first to apologize, a smile on her face as she cracked a joke and tickled him till all his worries were forgotten.

Drowning in self-pity, he barely noticed the buzz in his ears as he entered his house. Stumbling into the living room he saw her sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. He stared at her as he realized he was in the future, her hair greying, and her skin wrinkled. He didn't know how to react, but the tears returned as he rushed to her falling on his knees as he held onto her legs.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He apologized again and again. He didn't care that this version of her wasn't the one that needed to hear him, but he felt like a terrible husband, a terrible partner, as he kissed her knees. She stroked his hair and shushed him with a soft smile.

"What happened, Hobi?" she asked, her voice gentle, and he felt all his walls come down as he told her things he was sure already knew. He felt exhausted, every cell in his body aching. He laid on the couch, head in her lap as she listened to him, consoling him with the wisdom of a life lived.

After he had fallen silent, sober, and unable to convey any more emotions, she spoke.

"Hobi. You have to be nicer to yourself. You were the perfect husband. The perfect soulmate." Her words were meant to be soothing, but as soon as he heard them he felt like ice was running through his veins. He sat up immediately, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Were?"

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She looked guilty, hurt crossing across her features, as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No! Y/N... I die?" His voice was small, almost timid towards the end of the sentence, as he held her hands to ground himself.

"I'm sorry, baby." Her eyes glistened as she cupped one of his cheeks, looking at him sadly.

"When?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll go insane." She was firm in her resolution, her tone taking cadence that she always used with him when declaring the end of a conversation. But Hoseok couldn't help himself. He was going to die, he was going to leave her. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"I'm already going insane! You have to tell me. What if I can stop it? We can be together. I don't want to leave you!" He pleaded, his eyes wide in panic.

"Hobi... You've never left me. You visit so often." She spoke with a small smile, seemingly reminiscing.

"Please! Please or else I'll go every day knowing it's my last with you. I - I can't do that. Please." He was almost whining at his point and he didn't care how desperate he sounded. He just wanted to know how much time he had with her. He was so stupid, how could he leave to get drunk while she waited for him at home. He didn't deserve the way this version of her was looking at him with such love.

"I barely even remember when it happened." He knew she was lying, could see it from the way her gaze averted his. Hesitantly she continued. "I'll... I'll just tell you. It's the day after you see yourself for the first time."

"See myself?" He repeated, his brain running through his memories. He would have remembered if he saw himself. It would be hard to forget, but he came up empty, tears of frustration lining his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise. I'll come back. As much as I can." He kissed her at that, repeatedly, her lips soft under his. She knew he couldn't control his ability, but she smiled at him anyway, agreeing with his promise, telling him she'll see him soon, even if she had no idea if that was true.

When he was transported back to his room, he couldn't help himself from heaving on the floor, the contents of his stomach painting the hardwood. As always, she rushed to him, wiping his tears and walking him to the bathroom. She helped him change, before cleaning up after him, despite his protests, as she glared at him every time he tried to sit up from the bed.

When she returned from putting the cleaning supplies away, she shut the door to their bedroom, and there, on the hook behind it, hung his wedding suit, the crimson a bright splash of color amongst the white. She followed his eyes, giggling a little.

"You already made up for being an ass, don't worry," she joked, fingers poking at his side to tickle him gently.

Hoseok had missed her laugh. Missed it so much. He cut her off before she could say anything else, whispering apologies against her lips. He was never going to leave her.

---------

He was in a park, the trees throwing looming shadows under the moonlight as he walked around. He recognized this park, it was the one near her childhood home. She had taken him there during their first Christmas together, and he still remembered the silly grin on her face as she showed him the sandbox where she used to spend all her days as a kid, making sandcastles. He smiled at the memory. It was the first time in a while that his time travels hadn't taken him straight to her and he missed not being able to see which part of her life he was visiting.

He walked about reminiscing about his day. It was his daughter's third birthday and he felt a little bad leaving his wife to clean up the mess. He couldn't believe Soojin was three already. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photographs as he waltzed down memory lane. He smiled softly at the photo from the day she was born. She was so tiny then, her little, pink heart-shaped lips in a pout as she stretched, her eyes almost disappearing beneath her chubby cheeks.

He kept his eyes glued to his phone, looking at photo after photo. There was one of her covered in mushed peas and he remembered how long it took him to get the mess out of the living room rug. There was one of her dressed as spiderman who she had declared her favorite recently after watching the cartoon on Netflix, doing the signature web-shooting pose. There was one of holding on to her mom as she walked for the first time. Hoseok's heart felt full, and he couldn't wait to get back home.

He decided to keep up with the tradition of seeing his wife every time he skipped through time and started walking towards her house, deciding to take the shortcut she had shown him. Humming a little, he placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, thinking about the delicious cake he had custom ordered for the party. He could probably eat the whole thing. Would it taste as good after it's been in the fridge?

His musings came to a quick stop however as he looked into the distance, just at the exit of the wooded path. There, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt with a giant dog on the front and jeans that didn't quite reach the ankles, was an eight-year-old boy. He walked closer and his heart stopped as he saw himself for the first time. He was crying, sniffling in the air, and as Hoseok approached his younger self, he vanished into the air.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled in his steps, falling on to the ground.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

No. It's too soon. He couldn't collect his thoughts as they rushed through his head barely leaving a trace. When he had that conversation four years ago he thought he had more time. Soojin was just three years old. He thought he would have years, that he would see graduations and intimidate boyfriends, and walk her down the aisle. It's too soon.

He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths short and his ears echoing with his heartbeat, as he tried to collect himself. He looked at his hands shaking in his lap and his eyes focused on his outfit. How could he have forgotten what the man in his memory was wearing? He put on these ripped jeans this morning, the same jeans that haunted him for the first sixteen years of his life. How could he have not realized that he was the creepy old man he had nightmares about as a kid?

Trying to control his breathing, he started to formulate a plan. He didn't want Y/N to know, he didn't want her to go through the emotions he was going through right now, because she would go through so much worse when he was gone. He sat in the park and let himself cry, hoping that he wouldn't have to leave soon because leaving meant saying goodbye and he was not ready yet. It's too soon.

---------

Hoseok awoke with a sinking feeling in his heart and a lump in his throat. It was the day he had been dreading since before he learned her name. He hated that he didn't have enough time. Enough time to hold her, enough time to watch his daughter grow up, enough time to build a bigger family.

He found the other side of the bed empty and standing up with a groan, he moved to the room next door. He stroked his daughter's cheek a tear spilling out his eye that he quickly wiped. Bending down, he kissed her little cheek, sniffing her calming scent.

"Daddy loves you, baby. Daddy will always love you. Please be good for your mommy okay?"

She only moved a little at his words, sighing before continuing to snooze. Hoseok ran his hands over his face, his heartbeat accelerating. He looked at the mirror in the corner and practiced his smile a few times. He had to be brave. He had to be brave for her, for both of them.

He walked into the kitchen, schooling his expression into one of bliss, as he saw her standing in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, and his heart felt hollow. He loved her so much. He hated that he had to leave this way, but that was his fate from the beginning, wasn't it? Their whole relationship, everything, started from and led to this moment. Padding over to her, he put his arms around her squeezing her tight, his chest molding perfectly to her back as it always did.

She giggled as she leaned into him, softly caressing his arms and making him nuzzle further into her neck. He took in her delicate scent and tried to control his breathing. He could not break.

"Someone's cuddly this morning," she commented, turning around with a grin.

"I just love you, that's all."

She cooed as he brought his lips to hers. What he intended to be a gently good morning kiss, turned into so much more as he lost control of his emotions. He kissed her like he would forget her taste, but it wasn't him who would be dwelling on this moment for years to come.

When the two broke apart, he cupped her cheek as he felt the familiar buzz in his ears.

"You know I love you more than anything in the world right?" He whispered before he started to see his kitchen fade away.

Her voice echoed as he was teleported into a dark room, momentarily blinded.

"Aww, I love you too, my Hobi!"

He fumbled around a little and then he heard it - a loud gunshot, shattering his eardrums. The sound hurt more than the sudden sharp pain in his chest, he thought, as he gasped for air, stumbling to the ground. The lights in the room turned on then and he saw the younger version of his father in law, demanding something, his voice inaudible.

She never told him details about this moment, but kind of fitting that it was in the hands of her father. He never did like Hoseok much anyway. His breaths felt shallow as he chuckled at the irony. Or was it justice? Karma? He didn't know. Nevermind, his chest hurt far more than his eardrums. Fuck, being shot is a bitch.

He felt the nauseous pull for the last time as he dropped into his bedroom. The last thing he saw was his wife  rushing over to him. Oh, she was so beautiful, he was so lucky she chose him.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her, even if that was the reason he lost her.

—

I hope you liked this super sad angst piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Chapter 77

A/N: Sorry, not sorry. 

Previously:

“I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all!”

Jensen’s outburst has all our heads turning toward him.

“What don’t you like about it?” Gen asks, calmly.

Jensen huffs and sits back, indignant. “You two telling us we can’t have sex. I can’t make love to my girlfriend, all because my best friends wants to use her as a breeder. You guys want to dictate to us what we can and can’t do and I won’t stand for it. If I want to fuck Drea until we both can’t walk straight, I will!”

I feel sorry for Jensen because he has apparently not been paying attention to what Jared had explained at all.

“Babe,” I say, putting my hand over top of his. “That is not what they are doing. If you just calm down and listen.”

“I listened. I heard. We can’t make love so that when you do get pregnant, you can be sure it’s his. I told you from the beginning I didn’t like this idea! And it just keeps getting worse and worse.”

“Dude, I never said you couldn’t sleep with Drea,” Jared tries to get through to his co-worker. “Hell, after being with her myself, I can see why you love her. All we are saying is use a condom. Please? Screw her brains out, fuck her until the cows come home. We don’t care. Just be safe.”

I can feel my cheeks redden at Jared’s words and I keep my gaze on the table; too embarrassed to look up and see who might have heard Jared’s speech. I really wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. It’d be less humiliating than being here, right now.  

“Oh,” Jensen says and I can see him relax in my peripheral vision. “Well why didn’t you say that anyway?”

“I did!” Jared exclaims with a laugh.

Jensen is still grumbling on the drive home, with a pit stop at the local pharmacy not making matters any better.

“I still don’t like that they have control over this,” he mumbles as we pull into the driveway and wait for the garage door to open. “Do we have to tell them every time we fuck too?”

“I’m sure we don’t.”

“See,” he states, turning his head toward me. “You aren’t positive. I tell you I am hating this idea the more I think about it. If you didn’t get pregnant last night, no more. They can find another way to have a kid or just be happy with the two healthy ones they have.”

“Are you telling me I can’t help our friends? Do I need permission now if I want to even talk to Gen or Jared?” I ask, getting pissed at his attitude.

As soon as the truck is in the garage, I open the door and hop out, being sure to slam it to inform him that I am not liking his opinion.

I hear him groan and grumble as he steps out of the driver’s side and instead of waiting for him, I enter the house to relieve Kayla of her babysitting duties.

Kayla Hostettler had been highly recommended by Gen. Apparently, before they hired Hannah as a full-time babysitter after Shep was born, Gen employed Kayla on an ‘as needed’ basis. 

Gen had explained that if it had not been for Kayla living with a boyfriend and going to college, she would’ve easily offered the position to her when they decided to hire a live-in. Kayla understood and kept her babysitting gigs as a side business.

Jackson had taken up with the young girl easily. She could make him laugh and giggle almost as well as Jensen could.

When I had asked Kayla to babysit Jackson the week before, I had informed her it was for overnight and she had had no problems with it. Her boyfriend was out of town on a job anyway.

“Good morning!” I greet Kayla as I walk into the kitchen. She is sitting at the table, feeding my son his mashed fruit medley and babbling.

“Good morning Drea,” Kayla says, looking over her shoulder and then back to Jackson. “Look who it is sweet boy. It’s your Mommy.”

I smile as I listen to her talk to Jackson and him coo in response. The garage door opens and a petulant Jensen walks in. He nods to our babysitter and then turns and climbs the stairs, probably going to his study to grumble and bitch some more about the predicament I’ve put us in.

By the afternoon I had paid Kayla for her services, changed out of my clothes from last night and put Jackson down for his nap. I have yet to see or hear anything from Jensen and that is fine by me. I’m still agitated as hell with him!

How can he think that Gen and Jared would go so far as to try and manage when Jensen and I sleep together? They wouldn’t do that….would they? I begin to think about it all; about how well and easy Genevieve Padalecki slips into the dominatrix persona, how it’s just like another part of her and wonder if she is really actually trying to dominate us. Is she so anticipating the third child that she feels the need to make sure Jared is the only one who gets to sleep with me?

‘No,’ I think to myself and shake those thoughts out of my head. ‘Gen and I had agreed to being completely honest and open during this whole ordeal. She wouldn’t try to prevent Jensen and I from doing shit just to get her way. She promised.’ But just to put myself at ease I decide to call her.

I pick up my phone and begin to dial the number when Jensen walks in.

“Drea, I’m sorry.”

I click the phone off, or so I think,  and look at him.

“For what?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

“For getting so upset. For trying to boss you around. You are a grown woman. No one can tell you what you can and cannot do. I just--when they told us that we had to talk and Gen had shouted as we were making out, I lost it. Okay,” Jensen explains as he slowly approaches me. “I love you baby. I love making love to you. I love how it makes me feel, how it feels, how connected we are.”

I relax my stance as I listen to his apology. “Can I still be friends with Gen?”

“Of course baby,” he says, with a smile as he reaches out and grabs my hands, holding them in between us. “You can be friends with whomever you want. You can do whatever you want. With whoever you want. I’ll be the perfect boyfriend and if my best friend impregnates you I will wait on you hand and foot and  make sure you give him a healthy baby.”

“Guys? Guys?” I hear Gen’s voice coming from the counter where I laid my phone and realize that I hadn’t ended the call like I thought I had. Picking the device up I put it to my ear.

“Gen?”

“Oh my god! Have you two been arguing this whole time?”

“Uh….” I seriously don’t know what to say. She heard us talking, she had deduced that we had a disagreement. 

“Listen, Jared and I are sorry that we caused you to fight. We didn’t intend for that to happen. At all!”

“I know, Gen.”

“Can I talk to Jay?” she asks, almost shyly. 

“Sure,” I tell her and hand my phone to him. “Gen wants to talk to you.”

I watch as he listens to whatever she is telling him. I can’t tell if she is helping the situation or making it worse; Jay’s face is neutral.

“Yea okay,” he says and then bids her a goodbye. He makes sure the phone is off and lays it back on the counter.

“What did she say?” I ask. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @carryonmywaywardcaptain @darlingpeanut @sunskittlex @sis-tafics  @sea040561 @pretty-fortune @squirrelnotsam  @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44  @internationalmusicteacher @kricketc29 @natura1phenomenon @mannls  @nickie-amore @spn-tw-37 @frozenhuntress67 @blacktithe7 @supernaturallymarvellous @thetardishasaquidditchpitch @sirod-30  @heyitscam99 @smoothdogsgirl  @i-just-wanna-run-hell @paintballkid711 @closetspngirl @starfirerules @vickiq9761  @rainflowermoon  @spnbaby-67 @drakelover78 @jessieray98 @81mysteriouslyme @travelingriversideblues-x @akshi8278 @keymology @topthis808 @lilulo-12 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @tftumblin @markofdean79 @thevelvetseries @larajadeschmidt13 @delightfullykrispypeach @deanmonandnegansbitch

[sophisticated-angel]

It Felt Like a Dream - Part One

Character: Dean Winchester

Warning: Mention of parent death

Pairing: Dean x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 1,978

Request: 

Can I request a daddy!dean one shot where the reader is his teenaged daughter but the mom died a while ago, but the reader gets kidnapped by a djinn on a hunt and has a dream about living the apple pie life with both parents and Dean feels guilty that he can't give that to her

Story:

    Your mother is dead. She died when you were nine, a casualty of her lifestyle, and left your father to raise you in the years since. There are still nights when you dream of her or see her in the corner of your eye. Sometimes you can't bear it and crawl into your father's bed, into the space your mother used to occupy each night. Sometimes you cry, sometimes he cries with you. Your mother is dead, so how can she be here, above you, with a concerned frown and hair framing her face?

    “Mom?” you mumble.

    “Yeah. Bad dream?” she asks gently.

    “What?”

    “Did you have a bad dream? You were talking in your sleep and squirming. Took me a full minute to wake you up.”

    “To wake me . . .” Suddenly coming around, you push yourself to a sitting position, noting the bed you're in and the sunny, furnished bedroom. “It wasn't a dream. There was a djinn, and I was in a motel room, and it found me, and I went after it with a knife, but it was faster, and its face glowed, and it told me to sleep . . .”

    “Sounds like quite the dream,” says your mother.

    But it wasn't, you want to argue. It was real, the djinn was real.

    Smiling, your mother cups your cheek. Even in the summer, her hands were always cool but never cold. This touch, cool on the outside, warms your heart and brings to mind the time when she was still alive. She always woke you up like this, was always pleasant even when you grumped at her for disrupting your sleep.

    “How about we go downstairs and have some breakfast?”

    Too stunned to do anything else, you nod. Your mother stands and leaves the bedroom, and it aches to see her go. You're compelled to follow her, barely noticing the details of the room as you trail behind her. You do notice your outfit: summery cotton pajamas, definitely not what you had on the last time you looked at yourself. This can't be real, not any of it. Something happened with that djinn, but what?

    A flight of stairs leads down to a living room, sunny and airy and open, faded white carpet clashing with a big brown leather couch facing a big flat screen television. On the far wall, a yawning fireplace sits cold; the mantle is decorated with a row of framed photographs. Curious, you walk to the fireplace and inspect the pictures. The one in the center is a family portrait and appears to be recent and formally done, the one on the far left is your parents' wedding, and the one to the right of that is a picture of a sleeping, red-faced infant- you assume that it's you.

    From around the corner comes a startled yelp and a giggle. Following it leads you to the kitchen, and by the fridge your father has his arms snaked around your mother's waist. She wriggles in his grasp, trying to escape his kisses.

    “Dean!” she laughs. “Stop it!”

    At last he lets her go and turns to digging around in a cabinet. This was their morning routine. Most days, your dad greeted your mother with childish kisses and didn't stop until you 'rescued' her by tackling him. Watching them now, you feel a small pang inside. You'd almost forgotten about this.

    Upon noticing you, your dad holds up a box of sugary cereal. “Big bowl, right?”

    You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

    “Big bowl?”

    “No, small bowl,” your mother interrupts.

    “Babe, it's Saturday, a day for crap food and cartoons. Nag us about sugar and carbs another day, but Saturday is all about consuming enough junk food to get you through the rest of the week.” Even as he says this, he pours a generous serving into an oversized bowl.

    Rolling her eyes, you mother throws up her hands and lets the matte drop, heading into the living room. Once she's gone, you join your father, leaning in to talk to him discreetly.

    “What's going on? What is this?”

    “Well, this is the kitchen.”

    “No, not the room, this.” You gesture around you. “How did I get here?”

    “Um . . . we brought you home from the hospital, and you haven't moved out yet.”

    “No.”

    “Yes.” After filling a second bowl, he takes a jug of milk from the fridge and pours it over the cereal.

    Sighing, you start over. “You and me and Uncle Sam were hunting a djinn. The last thing I remember is coming back to our motel room, getting jumped, and then I woke up here.”

    “Sounds like you had a crazy dream.”

    “That's just it! It wasn't a dream! This has to be the dream! We have never lived in a house! We hunt monsters, and we haven't watched cartoons since . . .” You trail off, not only because of the look your dad gives you, but also because of how that sentence ends. You haven't watched cartoons since your mother died.

    “Hey,” your father says gently. “I'm sorry I don't know what you're talking about. As far as I know, we don't hunt monsters. How about we eat crap cereal and watch TV in our PJ's?” Smiling apologetically, he hands you one of the bowls and carries the other to the living room.

    That's it, then. You're all alone in your delusion, this perfect delusion where nobody hunts and your mother is alive. Perfect – the sort of life you fantasized about, a wish granted. A wish granted . . . What was it your uncle said about djinns? Something about wish granting and fantasies becoming real for their victims. It's a merciful way to be killed, living out your most fervent wish in a dream while you bleed to death. Light bulb. The djinn found you, and it must have taken you to its hideout to feed. So this is a dream.

    You should figure out how to escape. Maybe if you deny this dream, it will fade, and you will return to the real world. Maybe something more drastic is necessary. And yet even with this knowledge, you can't mutter words of denial. You can't bring yourself to demand that this dream end. You don't want to leave your mother. You've missed her so badly, and now that she's here with you, you can't give her up. Still, you know you'll die if you stay. In here it will feel like a lifetime, but on the outside you'll be dead in days. One day, you decide. One day here, and then you'll leave.

    One day feels like no time at all. You spend the day in your pajamas, eat nothing but crap, and discover that your best friend lives down the street. The world flickers around four in the afternoon, changing to what must be the real version, and it brings a soreness to your shoulders. A tattoo-decorated head comes into view, eyes glowing blue, and shushes you when you whimper. In moments the dream comes back, and you shake off the experience.

    The days ends with your mother tucking you in to bed. She turns off the light, presses a kiss to your forehead, and bids you goodnight. Watching her go, you run through the day and replay every moment with your mom like they'll be undone if you stop thinking about them. And what your dad said about not hunting, he seemed so honest, but he can't have never hunted. There's a scar below his left ear where a werewolf hooked him with a claw when you were three. Even in this dream world, that scar and many others – the bullet wound above is ankle, a circular scar on the inside of his elbow – exist as vividly as ever. The same goes for your mom. They can't have never hunted.

    There's one sure way to check. Wherever you went as a child, your father marked something you carried with an anti-possession symbol to keep you safe. When you were fifteen, he tracked down a tattoo artist willing to ink a minor with that symbol. That tattoo isn't on your skin in this dream, but perhaps something else carries that mark. Rolling out of bed, you comb the room in search of it. The last place you check is your bed. Squeezing yourself between the frame and the floor, you run your hands along the wooden beams supporting the mattress until you find it. Your fingers are sensitive to the lines marring the wood. You smile. The truth has been revealed. They hunted, but they must have quit when you were young so they could give you this dream life.

    All at once, you get a sour feeling in the pit of your stomach. You father cares about you so much that your dream world features his protective gestures. He's out there in reality. He's looking for you, panicking, wondering if he'll ever get his little girl back. You and Sam are all he has left, and he's made it abundantly clear that you matter to him more than his own brother. He's worked so hard to keep you safe and happy. Losing you would break him.

    You have to get back to him.

    Crawling out from beneath the bed, you sit up and rest on your knees. Your parents' voices float up from downstairs, muted but pleasant. In the darkness you bite your lip and think about how nice this dream is, how wonderful it would be to stay here and live out a life where both of your parents are alive. But your real father is searching for you in the real world, and that pull is greater than the one keeping you here. It's time to say goodbye.

    You shuffle out into the hall and make it halfway down the stairs before you can see your parents. They're seated side by side on the leather couch just talking, your father's arm across your mother's shoulders, his fingers stroking her neck. It's a full minute before they turn and see you frozen on the middle step.

    “You okay?” your mom asks, frowning.

    Bringing a hand to your face, you brush away tears you didn't know were falling. Somehow, noticing them makes you cry consciously, and you sink down on the step with a sob. The next thing you know, your parents are sitting beside you. Your mother clutches you to her chest and wipes your tears away with the hem of her shirt, and your father rests a hand on the small of your back.

    “What's the matter, baby?” your mom soothes. “Tell me what's wrong.”

    “Nothing,” you manage. “Everything's perfect.”

    “It's not perfect if you're upset. Come on. Tell me.”

    It takes a moment for you to be able to speak again. The familiar scent of your mother and the warmth of her body against yours calms you, and when you finally speak, your voice is a mere quiver. “I can't stay.”

    “Can't stay where, baby?”

    “It's not real.”

    “Not real? What are you talking about?”

    “It's not real, Mom.”

    “Oh, baby.” She holds you tighter, kissing your hair.

    The world catches and skips like a scratched CD, becomes distorted for a moment like television static. The dream is ending, and this time you know you have to fight to stay awake. You have to resist the djinn. But for now you bury your face in your mother's shirt and focus on her: her smell, her touch, her kisses.

    “Mom,” you mutter, the word mournfully sweet on your tongue. “Mom, mom, mom . . .”

READ THE FINAL PART HERE