#this past week has been a week... so sorry this year only 3 edits :(

[crabtreee]

Edit a Day — Count Down to Season 17, 3 Days (insp.)

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 10 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Words 3.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

It was a turn back to normal after the long conversation between the two of you. Tears sliding down your faces, majority yours but you saw a couple fall from his. It was a necessary conversation. He opened up about his quirk and apologized for ditching you. You apologize for the same.

Easily enough, the two of you moved on from it quickly. Talking about the past two months when all the overwhelming emotions passed. You blabbed about how many new offers you were getting and he talked about how he was hiring more and more people to his agency.

Despite not being able to ignore the last two months, it was easy to move past.

Growing past it within the night, having everything off your chest. It still didn't make things go back to normal.

You continued to share a bed, but changed your schedules around again to see more of each other. Flipping back into your old routine as much as possible. Not without a few changes though. Lunches would only be once a week rather than daily, and you'd be working for another hour or two after he got home. Since you wanted to sleep in still.

But it still improved your relationship again. Building it back up slowly. You were able to eat a late dinner together each night and share an off day. Sharing your off day made it easier for you anyway. After the break-in it was hard to be home without him, so the last two months were rough. Your therapist said you were doing great though, so that helped.

The first days of going back to normal was rough, having to adjust to seeing each other daily again. Conversations between the two of you felt awkward, mainly on your side. You grew so much in those two months, no longer relying on him. It shifted the dynamic.

"Y'good?" Katsuki's gruff voice broke your train of thought. Your eyes flickered up to him.

"Huh?"

"Been fuckin' playin' with your food," he points his fork at your plate, "Don't like it or some shit?"

"No, I like it," you looked back down. It was definitely not your favorite meal he made, but it was good.

His silverware claddered roughly against his plate, his arms crossing, "The fuck has been wrong with you?"

"Do you have to swear with every sentence?" you avoided, taking a bite of your food instead.

You could feel him roll his eyes along with his heavy sigh, "You've been off since."

"A relationship doesn't heal just like that," you pointed out.

"Will you look at me?" he asked annoyed. A glance up at his expression made you cut your attitude. He was trying, that much was obvious. And after all your talk of communication, you were doing nothing.

"Sorry," you set your fork down, engaging in the conversation, "I'm just lost? I guess. Hard to place it. I've changed a lot in the past two months-"

"How?"

You glared at him for interrupting you. "I've stopped prioritizing you. I'm more focused on myself now. It's hard to go back to normal when the 'normal,' was me running circles around you."

He shuffled in his seat, "That's fine. I'm glad you've moved on in that sense, done you good."

"You're not worried how it'll change us?" you asked softly, it's been all you were thinking of for the past few weeks.

"I'm always fuckin' worried," he admitted, eyes drifting to look at the wall instead of you, "But we'll work it out."

You were glad he still viewed the two of you as a 'we,' heart melting slightly as you reached your hand across the table. "I'm not going to tip-toe around you anymore, Kats."

"Good," he gruffed out, uncrossing his arms and grabbing onto your hand. Changing his focus onto that, "I don't want you to."

"Good," you agreed, smiling at how he let his thumb trace over your knuckles.

"You, um," he fumbled for a minute, eyebrows furrowing, "You're still okay with us not doing shit right?"

"I'd never push that," you confirmed, shocked he even thought you would complain about that.

"Don't get me wrong, I would, just-" he pulled his hands back wiping them on his pants before running them down his face, "my dumb fuckin' quirk."

"You love your quirk," you pointed out.

"Yeah and I'd fuckin' love to touch my girlfriend but no, I gotta be a horny virgin 'cause of it," he groaned, crossing his arms again.

Stifling a laugh was difficult, but you managed, "Maybe we can just work up to it? Get you used to the baseline first before, that."

His quirk went off suddenly, "Can't even fuckin' think of it," he groaned, standing up to go wash his hands off.

"It's cute." You followed behind him to place dishes in the skin, having cleared your plates a while ago.

"Fuck you."

"Hey," you laughed, "At least you can tell Denki and Sero that you beat them at No Nut November. And have for the past 19 years."

He shot you a glare from the sink, "The one challenge I wouldn't want to beat, great."

"It's what makes you number one to me, baby," you teased, kissing his shoulder as you moved past him, wanting to pester him while the mood was light and he was already flustered. It was nice how easy it was to move past something with him. But you wanted to test how much he'd react to you not tiptoeing around him anymore.

With success, his quirk popped off again.

"Fuck off."

You let out a crackle of laughter, "You're too easy."

"Die."

He finally stopped washing his hands, turning to dry them off. You watched from the counter, plotting. "Your back looks nice," you commented, his muscles have been more defined lately and you only got to appreciate it now. His tank top showcases his shoulders nicely.

He froze for a moment, side-eyeing you. "Do you want to get blown up or something?"

"No, do you want to get blown?" you asked back, letting Denki's crude humor influence you.

Like a charm, his quirk sparked off. "Quit it."

"Nah, it's too much fun," you smiled at him, kicking off the counter you were leaning on and moving to leave the kitchen. Hand squeezing his bicep when you walked by.

He didn't let you get even a step away before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. His hands grabbing at your hips and moving to push you into the counter. "Where do y'think you're goin'?" he smirked down at you.

Your face bloomed a deep shade, blushing harshly at how close he was. He hasn't been that close since you argued two months ago.

"Nothin' to say?"

You blinked up at him, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart with the way he was tracing circles onto your hips.

"Might like you but that doesn't mean I'll let you say shit and get away with it," he crowded you closer to the counter.

"What happened to your quirk?" you whispered, losing your voice at the proximity.

"You offered to work up to it, right?" he brushed his hands clean on his shirt briefly before going back to your hips.

"Yeah," you looked down at his hands, trying to make sure the watch was off.

"It's off," he confirmed, twisting his wrist so you could see. When you looked back up at him, he held his gaze deeply, "What happened to that smart mouth?"

"Want me to show you?" you placed your hands on his chest, running over the span of his shoulders. Your body was on fire, the two of you flirted, sure, but this was different. His quirk was fully there. He was fully there.

His eyes lidded slightly, zeroing in his focus on your lips, "Fuck yeah I do."

Your lips closed the gap between the two of you. It wasn't as soft and nervous as all the past kisses, it was something you just threw yourself in. Stomach crazy with butterflies as your mind started buzzing. His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he stepped even closer to you.

Bodies curled into each other to get closer. Your hands digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you deepened the kiss. Full of passion and sexual tension. There was hardly any innocence to the kiss, and if there was, it faded within seconds.

A sigh of relief falling from your lips when his hands slipped under your shirt, brushing over your skin roughly. Fingers being callused and dry from work.

As soon as his hands met your skin he pulled away frantically. Pulling his body from yours completely before his quirk started popping off.

"Fuck me," he groaned in frustration, grabbing a dish towel and wiping his hands off.

"I wish I could," you teased.

He shot you a glare, blush flaring all over his face and coating his neck with a red. "Stop," he grumbled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," he shied away, washing his hands in water for a moment.

You paused for a moment, considering how you looked. With how flushed his face was you could tell you were no better. Lips plumped and freshly kissed red as your shirt was ruffled up from his hands as you leaned back into the counter. "Why would I? You clearly like what you see?"

The confidence within you came from nowhere. There has been sexual tension between the two of you before, many times before. Even before he had the watch. But normally you had to be drunk as hell to make such obvious jokes towards him, especially ones about sex. Maybe it was the fact that it was on the table, when before it wasn't. You knew he wanted it as much as you did.

"Fuck off," he grumbled.

"Come on, Kats," you pushed your luck.

"I love you, but please stop whatever the fuck you're doing before we need a new apartment," he spoke without thought, freezing the second he realized what he said.

You barked out a laugh, he spoke so plainly. You didn't want him to get wrapped up in his head, so you ignored the rushing butterflies over his admissions. "Fine, fine," you gave in, smiling happily at him, "Hug?"

He looked at you, untrusting of you before he opened his arms, gesturing you near.

Taking the moment, you threw yourself in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his waist he pulled you in fully. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he rested his on yours.

Everything felt secure in your relationship, you'd move one step at a time together. With a lot of teasing between, but that was common between you and him, despite the lack of it lately.

"I love you too, by the way," you mumbled into his chest, having a happy feeling travel through your body at the small number of times he's actually said it.

"I know."

You moved slightly to look up at him, his eyes fell on yours before you spoke, "Are you hard?"

He glared sharply, embarrassment covering his features as you felt him grow hot. You were going to ignore the feeling of him pressing into your lower stomach, but decided you wanted the chance to rub it in his face that you have the upper hand here. He tried to pull away, only for you to keep your grip.

"Stop," he warned, his hands raised away from you.

"It's only a little spark, Kats," you tried to comfort.

With a roll of his eyes he smiled evilly down at you, "You asked for it," before you could protest, he wiped his sweaty hands on your face before rubbing the rest of it off on your sweater, down your chest.

"Katsuki! That's gross," you pulled away from him, using your sleeve to wipe away the damp residue of his sweat off your cheek before you pulled the bottom of your shirt out, seeing if he got sweat marks on it. "You just used that as an excuse to touch my tits," you glared at him, seeing the faint marks of his handprint on your shirt, right over your tits. It surprised you that he sweat enough to leave a mark.

He laughed sharply, walking out of the kitchen, "Got no proof, Brains."

"I literally have the proof of your hands on my tits," you called out to him.

He looked over you, "How do I know those are mine?"

"Really? Cause I'd let a random guy grope me and he'd be sweaty enough to leave a mark like you do," you snarked.

"No way to know," he shrugged.

"You're such an ass," you groaned.

His phone buzzing loudly cut off his laughter.

"This late?" you asked as you eyed his work phone.

"It's PR," he said as he furrowed his brows, answering the phone, "Dynamight."

You heard mumbling for a moment before he huffed and put his phone on speaker. "Can she hear me now?" the lady's voice rang through, the same manager you've spoken with before.

"Hello," you answered for him, "What can I do?"

"You've done quite enough," she spoke abruptly. It took a lot to get her mad, so to have pissed her off five words was a record. "People are spreading pictures of you crying in the middle of the street."

Katsuki's eyes shot to you, concerned.

"They also claim to of heard you talking to Deku, saying you said his name several times."

His concerned look turned to a glare quickly.

"I can explain that," you said quickly before Katsuki added his two cents, "I was having a rough time and decided to call a friend, simple."

She laughed, "It's not the simple. It was the night of your party. And with the lack of social outings between Dynamight and you, people are saying the two of you broken up."

"Why does this matter?" you asked annoyed. It was still a sore subject.

"It matters because bad things are being said about the two of you. It's not just Dynamight's image anymore, but yours too. They're saying he's abusive while also saying that you're sleeping your way to the top."

You've heard that said too many times to count. Both things. So filled with anger, you grabbed the phone from Katsuki's hand and hung up.

"The fuck?"

"I don't know! I'm annoyed," you huffed, tossing his phone onto the couch before pacing, "I'm sick of people talking."

"I get it's annoying but you're gonna hear it-"

"Not helping," you glared at him.

"PR helps get them to knock it off," he pushed.

"She hardly says anything but the obvious," you rolled your eyes, "We can just post a picture of us or something."

"How does that prove I don't hit you?"

You paused your pacing, "Under a truth quirk I said the worst thing about you was your socks. I think if you abused me I would have said that."

He gave up his fight with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch instead.

"Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that they say that. There is just no way to prove otherwise. Nothing is ever enough for them," you corrected, not wanting him to get the idea that you were only concerned for yourself.

"If you think that, why are you so pissed right now?" he crossed his arms.

You shook your eyes off the flex of his arms, throwing your hands up in frustration, "Because everyone says that, I hate hearing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone thinks you hit me or some bullshit," you huff.

"Everyone?"

"Like people that don't know you," you changed, "you're a softy and they ignore it.

"Who you callin soft?" he sat up straight.

You smiled at him, "Kats, you can't even look mad at me."

He glared at you, eyebrows being the only thing supporting it. His eyes were soft. "Die."

"Let's just forget about it," you sighed, not wanting to talk about the press or your relationship. Nothing stressful.

"Why were you even cryin' to Deku?"

"You," you admitted shamefully, looking away. Talking about this would be stressful.

When he said nothing, you turned back to him. He was staring out the window. The view was filled with city lights.

"I only called him 'cause I couldn't call you," you comforted, stepping closer to him.

"Could always call me," he spoke softly.

"Kats," at this point you were standing right in front of him

"Yeah?"

You swallowed quickly, "We don't need to do everything together."

He took a deep breath, "I know, just want you to know you can call me, no matter what."

"I already know that," you smiled fondly at him. It was one of the best things about him. No matter how mad he was at a friend or family, he would never ignore them if they needed anything, even a random call. He might ignore a stupid text, but he never missed a call from someone close to him.

"Good."

"Maybe," he looked up at you, "We don't do anything publically? If they think I'm dating you then good, if they think I'm not, I don't care."

"If you want," he shrugged.

"You don't mind?" you step closer to him, him making space for you by manspreading further.

"Not really, just don't go making 'em think you're dating that damn nerd."

"Okay."

"Want somethin'?" he looked at you with a brow up. His eyes flickering from your chest to your face.

"Seems like you do," you smiled, inviting yourself more into his personal space by straddling him, both knees by his side.

"What are you doing?" his hands were pushed outwards, far from you.

"It's fine," you hushed him, sitting your weight on his lap.

"We didn't even do this stuff with the watch," he hissed at you, face flushed.

"Yes we did," you looked at him confused, "I made you cum y-"

"Shut it," he huffed, hands popping with the sound of his quirk, "Get off."

"Look, if you really want to, I will, but I don't think you want me to," you didn't want to force him into anything.

"What even put you in this mood?" he glared at you.

"You looked at my tits," you shrugged.

"Cause you still have my handprint on em," he smirked proudly.

You looked down at them quickly, "Bakugo."

"What? It's how it should be."

"Will it stain?"

"Shouldn't."

"I hate you," you glared at him.

"Sure, cause one glance at your tits makes you wanna jump me, cause you hate me," he was too cocky.

"Shut up you can hardly kiss me without losing your mind," you fought back.

"Kissed ya earlier didn't I?"

"Barely, come on, kiss me like a man-"

Forgetting his prior reluctance, he pulled you into him. Connecting your lips in a messy kiss as his hand held you to him by the back of your neck. Slowly losing its grip before sliding down to your waist. Losing himself into the kiss just as you were.

You were shocked he was even kissing you, cherishing the win regardless. Moving more onto him. Wrapping your arms around him, scratching at his scalp as you pulled on his hair.

The groan that left his lips encouraged you to push down more in his lap, wanting something more. You could never get enough of him. Anything he'd give, you'd take.

A rough push of yourself onto him caused his quirk to go off, not just a small spark either.

It singed your top, burning your skin.

You jumped off his lap once he let go, holding your sides.

His hand was placed right over your old scar.

Posted late cause I forgot to finish the chapter, and the tag list is being a bitch rn. (phone is glitching and laptop is weird) if it's fucked up mb.

---

-Next Part-

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[oddinary4bts]

When the End Comes | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: fear of getting stood up, alcohol, pet names, curses, Jungkook's scars, angst, stubborn Jungkook, pessimism, depressive episode, cliffhanger at the end I'm sorry, explicit content: jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), Jungkook taking pictures of them during (I apologize, I have sinned), balls sucking/fondling, pain kink (Jungkook), deep throating, mouth fucking, unprotected sex, hickey, clit play, degradation, fingering, cum play (ish?)

☆word count: 14.3k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Rereading each chapter to edit is a challenge bc I just be sobbing the whole time :') I hope you enjoy this one, though it does really hurt oop

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, September 8th

                You clutch the gift bag in your hand. It feels strange to be meeting Jungkook again, after last weekend. And even after last weekend, you’re not sure where you’re standing.

Did he spend his whole week thinking about you the way that you were thinking about him?

You texted a little, over the week. Each time a notification from him popped up on your phone, you felt like you’d gone back in time. Like maybe, maybe you took a time machine to a past of better days last weekend. It’s bittersweet in a way, because you feel like there is still so much left unsaid between you and him.

But he’s willing to try. Even if you broke him, even if you’ve been wondering if there’s anything salvageable after all, he’s willing to try. Willing to meet you at a Korean barbecue restaurant halfway between his place and yours.

You check the time, anxiety flooding your veins. He’s running late, though he texted you to tell you he was almost there. A part of you wonders if he’s going to stand you up – you think you’d deserve it. Because you’re not sure you deserve this chance, yet you don’t want to lose it, don’t want to let it go.

You look down at the bag. You bought the gift on a whim this week, and you have no idea if he’ll still want it. It’s a lens he was looking to buy months ago, before he left for Paris, and there’s a high chance that he’ll have bought it for himself since then…

You just couldn’t think about anything other than that to gift him. Even though his work was your demise, you know Jungkook loves photography. Always will, no matter where you two will end up. And since it was his birthday last weekend – before you’d reconnected – you thought why not? Why not get a gift and show him that you still care, that you remember?

Because you’d never forget, when it comes to him. You think, if you had dementia, he’d be the last thing you’d lose, if at all.

You worry at your lip, glancing around. Luckily enough for you, there is a bench outside of the restaurant, though you can only sit on a corner of it as the rest is still wet from the rain earlier. It was raining when you left work, but it fortunately stopped as you were getting ready for the date.

You sigh, looking down at your phone again. Twenty minutes late seems like a long time, considering that Jungkook’s not one to be late usually. A sense of dread takes ahold of your heart, and you already feel tears forming in your eyes.

You were foolish, stupid. Idiotic, if you thought there was a way things could be set right.

You get up, looking towards the door of the restaurant. A couple are waiting in the hall, arms around each other as they hug with not a care in the world. It aches deeply, makes you crave the physical intimacy last Saturday held and you gulp as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Still you stay rooted in your spot. There’s a light tremor that starts taking a hold of you, and you regret not putting a jacket on even though it isn’t remotely freezing today. Your eyes fall to the gift bag, and you think about May. About the moment you’d let him go – has he gotten too far for you to reach him now?

A tear wins. Or perhaps it’s the gravity, growing ten times stronger as your heart breaks again. As the hope gets lost to you, replaced by that same deep sorrow you’ve become accustomed to. You sigh, the breath of air trembling on the way out.

And then you almost let out a scream as someone touches your arm.

Jungkook startles just as much as you, taking a step back, his big, doe eyes widening even more as he meets your gaze. Your mouth remains open, yet no words come out. You just take him in, take his appearance in – his piercings, the beanie he’s wearing, his flushed cheeks. He looks like he was running, and you think maybe he was.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you.

At that your eyes drop to the bright pink bouquet of flowers he’s holding, and something inside of you heals, as if you’ve found a cure to the disease.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you let out. You meet his gaze again. “You didn’t have to.”

He pulls at his piercings, shrugging sheepishly. “I wanted to.”

It’s warm. Whatever is blossoming in your chest is warm, a stark contrast to the winter you’ve been stuck in since the night you lost him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and you blink away the tears in your eyes.

You freeze when he wipes the one that’s already rolled on your cheek, frowning slightly at the sight.

“The florist I wanted to go to first was closed,” he says as an explanation. “I had to run around to find another one.”

You offer him a small smile, and his features immediately smooth out into a soft expression too.

“I was scared you were…” you trail off, wetting your lips as you refuse to voice your fear.

Refuse to admit you didn’t have faith in him.

“I thought you would,” he answers carefully. “Hence why I ran.”

You nod. “I…” You look down at the gift bag, holding it up. “I got you a birthday gift.”

His smile is teary when you look at it next, and you take a moment to delve into the depths of his gaze. There’s a small twinkle there, though it is faint, barely even noticeable. If you didn’t know him like the sun knows the moon, you wouldn’t recognize it.

He’s hopeful. It’s strange – there was no hope in Jungkook’s gaze last weekend. Or there had been, for a fraction of a moment, until it had been blown away by the wind. You can only hope that this time it will hold on strong.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, though the curve of his pink lips tells you he appreciates the thought.

He grabs the gift bag, not looking through it right away. Instead, he hands you the flowers, and you delicately take them, bringing them close to your nose so that you can inhale the fragrance. Your eyelids flutter shut, and a content smile moves on your lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you meet his gaze again. “And…” You motion towards the gift. “You deserved it. I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, as Jungkook looks down at the bag. He offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you cock an eyebrow.

“What?” he lets out.

“Aren’t you going to…” you vaguely answer. “Open it?”

“Oh, now?” He chuckles awkwardly, glancing around before pointing towards the restaurant. “Shouldn’t we go in to give our names?”

He’s got a point. Especially considering that it’s a Friday evening. So you do just that, giving your phone number to the hostess as she tells you there will be a thirty minutes wait. You and Jungkook move back outside after that, and he guides you towards his car, a few streets down.

“How was work this week?” he asks on the way.

“Better,” you admit, remembering how you’d told him that you didn’t like the new department in which you worked.

And it’s true – it has been better. Maybe because the excitement of receiving texts from him through the days made it easier to handle. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been so damned cold since last weekend. All in all, work has been easier, even if it isn’t as interesting as it used to be.

“I’m glad,” he says, offering you a smile.

Silence surrounds the two of you, only interrupted by a car honking in the street. You startle a little, and Jungkook chuckles.

You’re struck. His chuckles have healing properties, you’re convinced of it. They spark hope into you, so bright you think you’ll be blinded, retina forever burned. Yet your eyes don’t lose focus on him, even as his lips return to a neutral expression.

“What about you?” you ask as your heart picks up in your chest. “What were you up to this week?”

A small crease appears between his brows, but it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it. “I’ve been going to the gym,” he answers. “And looking around for some jobs.”

His last sentence turns the hope into a firework show inside of you. “Yeah? Any luck so far?”

You reach his car, and as he always does, he opens the door for you. You blush, something you haven’t really done with Jungkook in forever, and you’re struck thinking that this feels new.

Perhaps this will be a new chapter in your relationship with Jeon Jungkook after all.

“Thank you,” you mutter as your cheeks burn. You sit in, and he closes the door before moving around the car to get in. You watch him do so, and he sits next to you, turning the car on just long enough so that you can roll the windows down.

“Now,” he lets out, eyeing the bag. “What’s this?”

For some reason, it makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a dumb smile that makes you think you’ve delved right into the heat of summer, warmth spreading through you. It erases the winter, replaces it with blooming flowers and bright sun rays, golden sunsets and the feeling of a soft breeze threading through your hair.

Needless to say, you want to cling to it before winter comes again.

“Open and you’ll see,” you answer, your heart racing as you glance at the bag, before going back to his smile.

He nods, and he opens the bag, taking out the paper first. Your heartbeat increases tenfold because, what if he doesn’t like it?

What if he takes it as an affront that you’ve given him something photography related?

But then he sees it. Sees the lens you bought for him, and his features turn somber, but not in a bad way. They settle into a calm expression, with a softer smile that barely even tugs at the corners of his lips. He takes a deep breath, and then looks towards you again.

Teary eyes find yours, and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the end will find you. Lost in the swirling depth of his gaze, in the forgotten space of you and him.

He whispers your name, emotion making it heavier than the whole world. You nod once, as no sentences take shape in your mind to reply to him. You’re not sure you have to say something – he sees in your eyes the emotions you can’t quite voice.

“You really didn’t have to,” he adds, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Fuck.”

He looks down at the lens, takes it out of the bag so that he can examine it thoroughly. You observe him as he does so, as if you’re watching a show. And you think, maybe he is a show – a movie meant for you to admire on and on until you go old and blindness seeps into your gaze.

“I wanted to,” you reply.

He shoots you a quick look, just as teary as the initial one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then he laughs, a small vulnerable laugh that has you blinking back the wetness building up on your waterline. You echo it with one of yours, though it comes unexpectedly to you. But then again, you reckon you share the same feelings.

You always have, haven’t you? Your soul is in sync with his, has always been, no matter if distance put an end to the story of you and him. Or tried to, because he’s here today.

So are you, and if he allows it, you’ll never leave again.

“I’ve wanted this lens in forever,” he says, voice small as he turns it in his hands, looking at it in every possible angle. “You…” he trails off, meets your gaze and smiles again. “You remembered.”

You nod. “How could I forget?” You worry at your lips, shy away from his gaze to watch your wriggling fingers in your lap. “There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you.”

The revelation seems out of place, in a parked car on the side of a busy street. Yet it comes naturally to you, and meets him just as naturally. Because he nods, and then reaches for you. Grabs your jaw, gently, so that he can turn your head towards him. There’s a moment when you think the whole world holds his breath, and then he leans forward, brushes a soft kiss on your lips.

“I missed you,” he admits as he pulls away, letting go of your jaw reluctantly.

A tear slips on your cheek, and you quickly dry it. “I missed you too.”

And though the moment is heavy with emotion, you don’t want to run away from it. When you were younger, you would have fled like a deer hearing a branch crack in the woods. But today, today you want the weight of this emotion to rest upon you, like a weighted blanket that reminds you you’re alive.

The emotion lingers, past this moment and into the next. As you get the text that a table is ready for you and him, and you move back to the Korean restaurant. As you sit in front of him, watch him smile and laugh in time with you at the stupid jokes that you make.

You and him make more sense than you realized. Or maybe you forgot. Maybe the distance made you forget, but right now you think you know he’ll always be the one. And if you lose him again, he’ll be the one that got away, and you’ll search for him through every connection with temporary people.

Because there can’t be permanent people after him. He’s permanently inked into your heart, carved into your bones.

“How has your family been?” he asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, though you know he means your father, Isabel and Louis.

You know he’d never talk about your mother as part of your family.

“They’ve been great,” you answer. “Dad’s been looking to retire, or at least to have a lesser charge at work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, but says nothing as he puts some meat on the grill between you and him. You observe him as he does so, wincing when flames erupt and he pulls his hand away – quickly enough, thankfully.

“How old is he again?” Jungkook asks after that, meeting your gaze again.

“Fifty-nine,” you reply. “But I don’t think it’s about his age. He just wants to spend more time with Louis.”

The softness that takes over his doe eyes makes you want to curl up in him, against him. Makes you want to listen to his beating heart until the day that it ceases, decades away from now. It’s a strong feeling, and you’re forced to blink away tears again.

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook gently says, and he reaches to pat your cheek.

It makes you laugh. Of course it does, and he offers you a dumb smile again. For the first time that night, you notice that yes, it does reach his eyes. The smile lights up his gaze, though there’s wariness, etched in the lines of his face.

It’s not that you missed it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it. But right in this instant, it’s all you can see, and it makes his smile fall until his eyes follow, moving to the grill. He turns the meat as you busy yourself with eating japchae.

And you don’t like this silence. You don’t like the ache that it carries, so you force yourself to try. To try and fight for him and prove that, after everything, he really is where the end will be, when it comes for you.

“What about your family?” you ask, throwing him a lifeline in the storm you’re sure he’s been plagued with too.

“They’ve been great,” he answers. “My brother’s wife is pregnant again.”

For a moment you forget about the torment between you and him as your mind zeroes in on the fact. “That’s amazing!” you let out, and your smile comes easily. “They must be so happy.”

Jungkook looks at your smile, taking a deep breath. It seems he takes a decision then, because his lips curve up, and some of the wariness fades away. He looks softer like this, younger, and your heart shines under his light.

“It really is,” he says. “I was thinking on going to Korea to see the baby when Yuri gives birth.”

In another world, you would have said you’ll go with him, but right now you don’t think you can. So, instead, you reply, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

He nods, and then he puts some meat in your bowl, taking the two other stripes for himself. You mindlessly pick one of the pieces up, mixing it in ssamjang before eating it. You wince as you burn your tongue a little, and quickly eat the meat so that you can take a long gulp of water.

Jungkook must have expected you to burn yourself, because he laughs at your expense as he refills your glass. “You good?”

You nod. “Sorry, just burned myself.”

“Don’t apologize.”

So you don’t. For the rest of the evening, you try not to apologize. And you think you succeed – you both speak as if distance wasn’t a thing between you. As if time hasn’t come to pass between you too – as if you’ve never been apart. As if, seven years ago, the stars told the truth as they sparkled in the July night sky.

You finish eating while chatting like this, while sharing thoughts about movies you’ve seen. As he tells you about working out, about Bam and the songs he’s been listening to. He drinks a beer as you speak, and you once again take a moment to admire him.

You’d never admit it, but the beanie makes him look good. Comfortable and soft – as does the jean jacket, you reckon. But then again you know Jungkook would look good in anything, one of the advantages of him being gifted with pretty privilege.

And when he clinks his glass with yours, claiming you have to finish drinking even though you’ve only been drinking water, you still laugh with him, still down your glass as he chugs the beer. And you wonder, how long will it take to erase the distance?

Will it take more than this moment in time, to undo the distance and rebuild the closeness?

And you think, maybe it just needs now. Because as you walk out, bellies full and minds buzzing with a slight tinge of alcohol, you accept Jungkook’s extended hand. You let him guide you to his car, even though yours is parked on the other side of the restaurant. He opens the door for you again, but you hesitate for a moment.

Long enough to step closer to him instead, and pull him down so you can peck his lips. He looks surprised, and his features fall serious as you share a long look.

“Can I come over tonight?” you whisper.

He nods. “I thought it was a given.”

Of course he would. And you’re not even mad that he would. You’re rather relieved, and you can’t help yourself. You can’t help pulling him down in a more heated kiss, even though you hate public displays of affection. There are just words your lips can’t say any other way than this, and he gets it. He’ll always get you. He always will, and he kisses you with the same intensity, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other presses on the small of your back, resting flat as he pulls you in. You hold his delicate waist, sighing in the kiss as your thumbs draw idle lines on his sides.

Jungkook pulls away to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a small eternity that leads to you wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets you do it, and you wonder if his soul has found yours. You hope it has, for there are things your soul can say even better than your mouth can.

Apologies don’t mean much when they are shaped in words. But you think your soul could show him, and maybe, maybe tonight he’ll allow you to show him.

“Are you parked somewhere you can leave your car overnight?” he asks softly, lips moving against your forehead.

You nod. “I am.”

“Then let’s go home.”

*****

                It comes as a surprise, when you realize Jungkook has moved in the same building as Kiko and Yoongi. Even more so as they run into you on the way in, knowing smiles on their lips as Jungkook holds your hand tight. They don’t really say a lot – both of them aren’t man and woman of words, except when they pour them into the lyrics of a song.

But Kiko does hug you. Does whisper in your ear that she wishes everything will be set right for the two of you, and when you pull away to meet Jungkook’s gaze, you think it already is. Especially as you’re clutching the flowers he got for you, and their sweet fragrance surrounds you.

And then they walk away, as they were leaving to go on a late walk, and you and Jungkook walk in the building, making your way to the elevator. Jungkook presses the call button, and then pulls you close to his chest so that he can press a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well, that was awkward,” he says.

You chuckle. “It wasn’t really.”

His grip tightens around you before he lets you go so that you can enter the elevator. He follows you in, and he intertwines your fingers as he presses on the fourth floor. As the elevator starts moving, you pull him closer, tilting your head back as you pout slightly.

“What?” he asks.

“Kiss me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He immediately dives in, and you’re surprised with the strength of the kiss. As if he’s pouring his entire soul in it, and you think maybe he is. After all, you kiss him back with all the fire in you, and it’s burning brighter than it ever has.

Unfortunately, the moment is short-lived as you reach his floor and the doors slide open. He pulls away, presses a kiss on your forehead as if he wasn’t sucking on your tongue a moment ago, and then he pulls you behind him as he walks towards his door.

It’s further down the hall, and you wait excitedly as he unlocks. Though you’re a little worried about seeing Bam again – what if he doesn’t recognize you?

Which, you reckon was a stupid thought, because the dog comes barging out, tail wagging wildly, when Jungkook manages to get the door open.

“Bamie!” you exclaim, and Jungkook carefully takes the bouquet of flowers from your hand to allow you to bend down and pet the dog.

He licks at your face, whimpering as if he thought he’d lost you. It brings tears to your eyes, and you giggle like a kid as you pet him, rubbing his short fur as he keeps running all around you.

“I think he’s happy to see you,” Jungkook deadpans, and you burst out laughing.

You look up to try and look at Jungkook, but Bam jumps in your vision, which makes you giggle again. And then, something magical happens. Something you didn’t think you’d hear again – Jungkook laughs that childish laugh of his, the one that usually only comes forth when he’s really happy.

You act by pure instinct. You stand up, wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck. His giggle dies against your lips, but he’s quick to kiss you back as he snakes his inked arm around your back. You let out a breathy sound, and then burst into a fit of giggles as Bam jumps on you.

“I think he demands attention,” you state and Jungkook nods as you part, though he keeps his arm close to you.

“We should take him on a walk,” he says, and you notice his cheeks are flushed red. You reckon yours probably are too, but there’s something about seeing the effect that you have on him, even after everything, that makes you come undone.

“I’m so happy to be with you right now,” you murmur.

He gulps, eyes shining suddenly. “Me too.” He adds your name softly, before repeating, “Me too.”

You walk in his apartment after that, to put the flowers in a large glass of water since Jungkook doesn’t own any vase. Meanwhile, he disappears in what you assume is the bedroom, only to reappear with his camera. To your surprise, he’s already fitted the new lens on it.

It’s endearing. There’s something so incredibly endearing at the thought that your gift is loved already, that Jungkook already wants to use it. It makes a line of silver appear in your eyes, and you don’t even blink it away as Jungkook angles the camera towards you to take a picture.

“Huh,” he lets out as he looks at the picture. He adjusts some settings, and before he’s had time to take another picture of you, Bam comes up to you, jumping up. His two paws rest on your waist as you laugh, and that’s when Jungkook snaps the picture.

You glance his way to see him smiling softly, and then he nods appreciatively. “I’m going to use this lens way too much,” he comments.

It makes you laugh. “I’m glad.”

And then you’re going outside with the dog. Jungkook brings the camera, and he snaps pictures of the surroundings, of you and Bam. He even takes one of the three of you, though you reckon the angle is clearly unflattering.

It doesn’t feel like it matters. Because you’re struck realizing that this, this moment matters. It matters enough for him to want to commit it to memory, and you wonder if he’s going to add it to all the frames you left behind.

But then again, did he even put them up in his new apartment? From what you could see when you were in, there was no picture visible.

It aches, but then he tells you to smile and you do. You immediately do, because there’s nothing easier than smiling when you’re with him like this. The wariness still clings to him, but it’s barely visible, like a mirage that’s about to fade in the distance.

“Stop taking pictures of me,” you say as he takes another one.

He lets out a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulder. “Why?”

You pout as blush creeps on your cheek. “You haven’t taken this many pictures of me since… Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “I took more pictures on our first trip to Korea.”

A beautiful trip, where you’d met his family for the first time. You had gotten along with everyone well, even though your Korean was poor. You got better through the years, but you still have a long way before you can speak in Korean without feeling like everyone is going to judge you.

“That’s beside the point,” you mumble. You motion towards Bam, who’s patiently sitting next to you. “I’m pretty sure he’s done.”

Jungkook pouts, and butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

You’re not quite sure why.

“I just…” he adds, and then shadows cloud over his features. They resemble the sorrow that was surrounding him last weekend, and just like that you think summer has ended. “I haven’t used my camera since…”

You don’t need for him to say it, because you know exactly what he was going to say. Still, it hurts, and your gaze drops to the ground.

“Gosh,” you whisper. You let out a strangled sound. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“We said we’d try,” he reminds you, or maybe he’s trying to remind himself. “Let’s try. For real. So no more apologies.”

“I feel like you deserve thousands of apologies and more,” you admit.

He kisses your forehead, and it’s against your skin that he whispers, “I just want us to move on from what happened.”

You nod, wrapping an arm around his waist to loosely hug him. Unfortunately, Bam pulls on his leash, and you have to let go of Jungkook far too quickly. Still, you meet his gaze, nodding your head again.

“I want to move on too,” you tell him. “If I could, I’d erase everything but…”

He holds out his hand for you to interlace your fingers with his. “But it’s in the past.”

He’s right, yet you see the wariness. It’s still there, though you think soon the mist will dissipate with the rays of the sun. So you follow him in, let him feed Bam before he shows you around his small apartment. It feels like him, in ways you can’t really describe, and you want to stay. You think, if he’d ask you’d never leave again.

“I like it,” you tell him as he finishes the tour in his bedroom, which is only occupied by an unmade bed with white sheet and a small night table with his pair of glasses on top. You notice the LED lights, and a smile moves to your lips. “Please tell me these still shine purple like they did at the house with the boys.”

Jungkook nods, offering you a grin. “Yeah. I thought it’d be great to have a… reminder of a simpler time.”

He turns them on, and you get it. You get it so much you grab the lapels of his jean jacket, pulling him closer to you. His lips are upon yours in an instant, hungry, insistent, ravishing a kiss that makes you light-headed. Especially as he grabs your face, holds on to it like it’s a life buoy in a storm. The piercings push into your bottom lip, their colder temperature making your tongue dart to them, as if to warm them.

Jungkook groans, and then kicks the door of his bedroom shut. He’s had to stop kissing you for that, but he’s kissing you again half a second later, and it’s even more intense, more desperate.

You let go of his jacket, hands blindly moving to his belt as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it, moan lightly when he groans again. You fumble with the buckle, but soon enough you get it undone, and you move on to the button of his jeans.

You just want him. Need to feel his body against you, in you. And clearly he needs the same thing, as he pulls away from the hug to take your shirt off. Right as you get the button undone, and then unzip his jeans. You slip your hand in, letting out a breathy sound as you find him already hard. He sits heavy in your hand, and you squeeze him unabashedly.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrown back as his eyes close. “Baby.”

The pet name has you drop to your knees, and you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you admire him for a time. Admire the brown base of his tip, the veins that run along his length. A bead of precum appears on his slit as you look, and you’re quick to lick it clean. The salty taste fills your mouth, and you look up at him, to see him watching down on you, strands of hair falling in his eyes where they’ve escaped the confines of his beanie.

“Suck it, mmh?” he says.

You grab him, jerking him off loosely. “Yeah?”

His eyes darken behind the strands of hair. He bites at his piercings, cocking his head to the side. And then he’s glancing away and to your surprise, he asks, “Can I take pictures of you while you suck my dick?”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, and he bucks his hips forward. In answer, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. “Right now?” He nods. “You want to take pictures of me while I suck your dick?”

“If you want to,” he answers. “If you don’t want to it’s fine.”

You close your lips around his tip, sucking once. “You’ll keep the pictures to yourself?”

You don’t know why you’re agreeing. Only know that the lust in Jungkook’s gaze is making you forget everything about common sense. But then again, you highly doubt that Jungkook would ever do anything to harm you.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open as he was about to answer, but when you take his dick as far as you can, he’s silenced. And he’s hard in your mouth, a rod of steel you’ve missed since last week.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out.

You sit back on your heels. “Then it’s fine.”

He smirks, nodding his head as he finishes taking off his jeans and underwear. “Wait here.”

You purse your lips as he walks away, and you watch him leaving his room to head to where he left his camera. You patiently wait, feeling shy even though you have nothing to be shy about. This is just Jungkook – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you half-naked and on your knees for him before.

It takes him a moment to come back, but when he does, it’s to sit on bed. He’s still hard, and he leans back on a hand as you move closer.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he gently says as you run a hand along his thighs.

You glance at his scar, the familiar knot of skin giving you more confidence than you expected. “You’re going to jerk off to these pictures, mmh?”             

He gulps, angling his camera towards you as you lean closer to his dick. You lick at it, and the shutter goes off.

It has you dripping in your panties, unexpectedly.

“So what if I do?” he asks as you grab his dick, stroking him.

The question is rhetorical, and your answer is to wrap your lips around his cock as your eyes flutter shut. You swirl your tongue around the tip and hollow your cheeks as you go down. You hold the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat, and you can’t help but moan as you hear his camera again.

You flick your tongue at his frenulum on the way out, and then you stroke his dick as you sit back. You move one hand to his balls, squeezing gently before thinking better of it and leaning forward, sucking on one. He grunts, and you keep your eyes locked on the camera as you jerk him off faster.

Another picture added to the list. And you’re dripping wet. Already you want to sink on his dick, want him to be so deep inside of you that you’re just one.

“Kook…” you murmur, and then you’re back to sucking on his dick, though this time you make sure to squeeze his balls too, the way that he likes it. Hard, but not too hard, and you’re choking around his dick in no time as he starts fucking up in your mouth, clearly forgetting about the pictures.

It goes like this for a while, with his dick growing impossibly hard. Your jaw aches by the time he pushes down on your head, hand lost in your hair. You gag, and he moans loudly. You think he’s coming, but he somehow manages to keep it in before pulling you off.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.” He breathes for a moment, as you wipe your mouth and chin from the drool.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. You glance at the camera. “Any good pics?”

That brings him back to the land of lust and passion, and he offers you a smirk. “We can look at them after. I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, because you know you’ve barely started. Know you’re likely to be unable to walk tomorrow. Because the lust in his gaze hasn’t shone so bright in years, yes, but also because you almost lost each other.

Or maybe you have, and this too is just a dip in the past.

You stand up, hands snaking to your back so that you can unclasp your bra. Jungkook watches you carefully, before taking a picture as you massage your breasts. It makes you bite at your lower lip, and you look at his hard dick where it rests on his stomach.

“Can I ride you?” you ask breathlessly.

He smirks. “You don’t want me to finger you first?”

Instead of replying, you finish undressing, taking off your pants and panties at the same time. You then push on his jean jacket, and he takes that as a cue to remove it. You motion to the shirt too as he was about to lean back on his hand and he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. When you nod, he takes it off too, and it makes his beanie fall.

His hair is a mess, and you can’t resist but step forward so that you can push it back, though you think the jet black strands are currently untamable. You give up after a few seconds, pushing on his chest so that he lies back.

His eyes are on you as you climb on his lap, and you grind along his length, coating it with your juices.

“Shit,” he lets out again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You nod, moving up just enough so that you can grab the base of his dick. His tip prods your entrance, and he pulls at his piercings as you wait there, teasing him with a corner smile on your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he growls.

It undoes something in you. Because yes, you wanted to tease him. You wanted him to beg you to fuck him, but now you sink down on him, until he reaches your cervix. Even the pain of him hitting the back of your pussy doesn’t make you move, and your walls clench around his dick as he grunts out a curse, followed by your name.

“Kook,” you purr. “Fuck me good.”

He chuckles as you circle your hips, and his free hand rests on your hip as he angles his camera to take a picture of you again. “You can’t do the work?”

He says it condescendingly, and you find enough challenge in you to start bouncing up and down. It shuts him up, and the following moment is spent with you fucking yourself on him as he groans under you, your breathy moans filling his room. Soon enough he stops taking pictures, putting his camera down next to him so that he can hold your hips with his two hands.

And then he’s fucking up in you, and you cry out as you lean forward, wrapping an arm around his neck while your other hand holds on to his shoulder.

You’re a mess, yet your heart clenches in your chest as he fucks you like this. As you remember a land of winter, that somehow doesn’t feel as distant as it should. Maybe because of Jungkook’s wariness tonight, or maybe because you know all good things come to an end.

The thought douses your arousal, until Jungkook stills deep inside of you and whispers, “I want to be with you, like this, forever.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck and suck a mark on his skin. “Me too.”

And then he’s fucking you again, hard and quick. He holds you close, grunts in your ear as you lick at his neck. It’s an abundance of sensation, and your brain focuses on the way he hits your clit whenever he pushes up. Whenever his hips snap against you, and soon there’s an orgasm in the distance.

It finds you when he lets you sit up so that you can fuck yourself on him again, and his thumb finds your clit to press expert circles on it. It finds you hard, and your pussy spasms repeatedly on his dick. He helps you through the high, and when you finally come down, a dumb smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Fuck,” you let out.

“Felt good?” he asks with a teasing tone to his voice, the one you know he only reserves for you.

To hear it right now makes you love him so much you think you’ll die on the spot. Because yes, tonight has been great. Yes, it’s almost been like before, but what if he doesn’t take you back?

What if, in the end, this was just an extended moment meant to be closure for you and him?

“Yes,” you still reply.

Because no matter how much your heart aches in your chest, you’ll never lie to him.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to yours.

You go in for the kiss. Meet him halfway, and you moan against him as he moves under you, albeit clumsily from the position.

His lips will make you drunk. Make you dumb, make you forget that there’s a world outside the door. That, in that world, you might not belong to him anymore. But then again, you think you do. To you, you always will.

“Lie on your side,” he says after a moment, lips moving against yours.

Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before you move, and then he kneels behind you. His dick prods your entrance again, and he grabs his camera to snap another picture.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises as he pushes the tip in, taking another picture. “Such a good little fucking slut.”

And then he pushes all the way in, until all of him is embedded in you. You grip the sheets as a broken moan escapes your lips. He holds your hip with one hand, fingers digging in the supple skin as he fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm.

He looks good doing it. Long hair sticking to the sweat on his face, eyes narrowed in pleasure, mouth open as soft grunts echo through the room. The purple light makes his honey skin glow somehow, and you feel another orgasm reaching for you, though it doesn’t hit right away. It just feels so good – as he always does – and you can’t help but clench your walls against him.

That’s what undoes him. He comes, ropes of white painting your insides, as he swears and says your name in a litany that almost makes you go over the edge too.

“Baby,” he says at the end.

It feels like a confirmation. Like a confirmation that, maybe, maybe you will work this time around. That maybe distance won’t destroy you again – maybe you’ll grow old and gray by his side.

“You came so much,” you say as you feel his hot cum sitting deep inside of you.

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. And then he pulls out, and he takes a picture of the cum dripping out of you. He decides to push it back in, curling a finger inside of you, and your walls clench as you moan.

“Touch your clit,” he tells you.

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly move your fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it as he pushes another digit inside of you, fingering you until the second orgasm finally finds you.

You cry out his name, a broken plea that doesn’t really make any sense as your vision turns white. And it stays that way for a long time, blinding you until ecstasy is swimming in your blood. And when you come down from the high, all that you can think is how much you missed him.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

“Baby…”

He puts the camera away, and then bends to press a kiss on your lips. It’s soft, and you grab his face to hold him in place, not even wincing as a bead of his sweat rolls on your cheek. You kiss him with a heart heavy with emotions, trying to show him that you’re never going to leave again. When he pulls away, you notice his teary gaze.

“Can we be together again?” he asks, and you watch in horror as a tear rolls on his cheek. You sit up, drying it with your thumb.

And you don’t care if it was too quick. Don’t care that there’s a high chance it won’t last. You still answer, “Yes, Kook. Yes we can.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Let’s take a shower. I want to hold you tonight.”

You want to cry from the statement, want to tell him that you wish he could hold you forever, but the words get lodged in your throat. Instead, you follow him as he gets up, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you to the bathroom, uncaring that his seed is rolling down your inner thighs.

He turns the shower on, and soon enough you’re standing under the hot water. He watches you carefully, presses a kiss on your forehead when you stand in front of him. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him as close as you physically can. Even then it’s not enough – you want him under your skin, or to be under his.

You don’t think you’d survive being parted from him again. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you again when you return to his room, slower this time, lips entwined in a never-ending embrace. Love flows between you and him, and it’s etched in the way your bodies move together, in the way you’ve been molded perfectly for him, and him for you.

You wonder if outside, the stars are shining. And you’re struck thinking that tonight, tonight they’ve aligned for you and him again, the universe agreeing for this second chance between you and him.

So you hold him close, and pray that this time around, forever is waiting for you.

Saturday, September 9th

                Jungkook wakes up slowly. Softly, the same way waves hit the shore at low tide. He’s unusually warm, and he frowns as he shifts, trying to turn on his side. Then, he realizes his arm is stuck under something. His very dead arm, and he cracks an eye open.

That’s when he remembers that it’s you. You’re the one sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape as you breathe softly. You’re also the one crushing his arm, and he tentatively clenches and unclenches his fist to try to get the blood circulation back on track. It doesn’t really work, so then he stops, figuring he’s going to have to make you move somehow.

But you look peaceful, in the light of the rising sun. Serene, like there’s never been anything wrong in this world. This morning, Jungkook wants to believe it. Wants to believe that happiness is all he’s ever known – that accidents, heartbreak and pain are all constructs of his imagination.

He’s too realistic for that. Or perhaps the breakup has made him pessimistic. Because the peace of the moment doesn’t really linger, and he’s stuck reliving the moment you left, that night in May. Stuck reliving the wait for you to come back, only you never did.

Or maybe you did, months later. Maybe you really are back, and this time you’ll stay.

You mumble something in your sleep, startling him. It takes him a few seconds to realize you’re still deep asleep, but when you move he quickly does too, pulling his arm from under your head. You frown, lick your lips, and then your features smooth out as you return to your peaceful slumber.

He turns on his side, watching you carefully. He’s aware that watching you sleep is creepy, but he can’t help it. Not when his bed has been empty for months.

He stays like this for a while, unable to fall back asleep. Because, what if you’re gone when he wakes up again? He doesn’t want to risk it.

Unable to help himself, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You sigh, and he’s afraid he’s woken you up. When a small smile appears on your lips, his heart skips a beat, yet you don’t show any other sign that you’re awake. He assumes you aren’t, and then decide to take a picture of this moment.

He feels like he’s going to need it. Like all the pictures he took yesterday – he was desperate to commit to memory as much of you as he possibly could. He feels bad – he said he’d give you a chance, he is giving you a chance, but some part of him is just waiting for it to blow up in his face.

Maybe if he expects it it will hurt less.

He carefully grabs his camera where he left it on his night table. He doesn’t dare take a look at the pictures you took yesterday, a little ashamed that he asked you to do that in the first place. Silently, he takes a picture of you, and then puts the camera away.

Only, the reminder of the kind of pictures he’d find in the camera was enough to make his blood stir, and he picks it back up almost immediately.

And then there you are, in all your glory. Beautiful as ever, pussy filled to the brim with his cum, with his cock. Tits squeezed in your hands, in his, and his dick goes rock hard as blood leaves his head.

He wants you again, and he wants you now. He doesn’t care that it’s early morning, that he never liked waking up early. All he can do is put the camera down and slide closer to you. He pulls you back into his embrace, and you sigh softly as he wraps his arms around you.

Jungkook holds you tighter, nuzzling his face in your hair. The inebriating scent of your shampoo fills his nose, and his dick twitches in his underwear.

You hum, and he holds you tighter. “Morning,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You make another sound that can pass as a hum, but you move against him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his middle. There’s a moment where silence reigns again, and Jungkook is afraid you’ve fallen back asleep, but then you say, “Morning.”

He smiles. “Slept well?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

He’s convinced you’re smiling against him as you say, “Want to sleep more.”

He whines, which earns him a chuckle from you that makes the wariness settle back in, even as his heart feels full in his chest.

It never felt full without you. Another reason why he needs to be ready for the blow, whenever it comes.

“I want you,” he admits. “Can’t sleep.”

You hum again, and your hand slides down his back. You squeeze his ass, and then move the hand back up. “You’re going to have to try.”

He whines, lips jutting out in a pout. “Boring.”

At that you laugh, pushing him slightly until you’re able to look him in the eye. He keeps the pout on, knowing that it always worked with you before.

“It’s not even morning,” you point out.

“The sun is up.”

You roll your eyes, though your lips are curved upwards, your gaze beaming as you hold his. “We fucked twice last night.”

He shrugs, rolling on his back so that he can stare up at the ceiling. He pulls at his piercing, the new one, and then turns his head towards you again. “Yeah, and?”

“Surely you don’t need to fuck right now,” you tease.

He frowns, looking away again. “Not my fault if I haven’t fucked since… May. Last weekend doesn’t count.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” you say, laughing lightly. You prop yourself up on an elbow, blinking away the tiredness as you meet his gaze again. “And besides,” you pause, features turning confused as a crease appears between your brows. “Haven’t you fucked while we were…” you trail off, motioning vaguely around you.

And then something occurs to Jungkook. Something bad – maybe the explosion was closer than he expected it to be. Maybe he’s been standing in the radius of impact, waiting for the bomb to go off. And maybe your sleep deprived brain forgot the measure of protection, maybe it forgot he was standing there.

Because your eyes go round with fear, right as a drop of lead solidifies in Jungkook’s stomach.

“What?” he lets out.

What a stupid question to ask. He wants to beat himself up, because he knows.

He knows now that you’ve been with someone else. Why else would you be surprised that he hasn’t?

“I’m just saying…” you try, but it’s too late.

The bomb has gone off, and all that’s left is rumbles.

“Get out,” Jungkook says, and somehow it’s lacking bite. It’s lacking anger, lacking any signs that he cares for you.

It surprises even himself – doesn’t he care? Or is there nothing left of him in the aftermath of the explosion?

“Kook.”

“You’ve fucked someone else,” he states. When you don’t say anything, just watch him in horror, he sits up in bed. “Get out.”

“Come on,” you let out this time, following him up. You wrap yourself in the blanket, his blanket, and he wants to rip it from your body. Doesn’t want anything that’s his to be in contact with you anymore. “It didn’t mean anything,” you say, and you’re suddenly blinking back tears. “It was just one-time.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to know,” Jungkook says, and he really doesn’t. Doesn’t want to think about another man’s hand on you, or he’ll break.

He’s done breaking for you.

You don’t fight the tears, as you understand that the end really has come. At least that’s what he thinks happens – you just sit there, gaze heavy with tears until they fall, little droplets that carry a world of regret.

After all, the distance really was enough to break you up, wasn’t it?

Jungkook watches you, surprised that his heart is not clenching in his chest. No, he feels nothing as he watches you – he’s already cried enough for you.

“We were broken up,” you murmur, holding his gaze. “It’s not like I cheated.”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. If you can’t understand that he’s done, that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, then he’ll do it the harsh way.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “I couldn’t be with someone else. I tried, and you were all I could think of. And…”

“You tried!” you interject. “You tried and you’re giving me shit for it?”

He gets up, trying to put distance between you and him, as if that’ll make the fight easier.

“I still chose not to do it,” he coldly states. “The girl was willing, she even kissed me and…”

“You kissed someone else?”

He laughs again, the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him. “Yeah? Tae set me up on a date, and the girl kissed me at the end and I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t fuck someone else.”

The way he’s throwing the blame at you feels selfish, especially as more tears join those already sliding down your cheeks.

“How is that fair, that you’re mad at me when you literally went on a date with someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob as you try to dry your cheeks. “Come on, Kook, it meant nothing.”

“Who did you fuck anyway?” he asks.

For a reason unknown, your tears stop. Entirely, there a moment and gone the next. “Why do you want to know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking want to know, and he scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Get out,” he says again, still as stern and void of emotion.

“It was Harrison,” you still say. “I switched departments because I didn’t want to see him again after that.”

Now, there’s an inkling of pain tickling the carcass of his dead heart. As if there was still more, for him to feel, even after everything. As if pain is but a constant of his life now, and he thinks maybe it is.

“Your colleague?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

He’s met Harrison a couple of times, throughout your relationship. He’s always thought the guy was decent, but now something very ugly settles deep in his core. Something that tells him, ‘Hey, maybe he’s only ever wanted to fuck her, maybe he was waiting for his chance’.

The words are on a loop in his head, and he doesn’t even think he can see you anymore. All that he sees is Harrison with his hands on you, in his ever-too creative mind.

He startles as you put a hand on his arm. He shrugs your grip off, steps away from you. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Kook, I swear, please listen to me,” you beg, and now you’re crying again.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” At that he shuts his eyes, runs a hand on his forehead and then through his hair. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want you to be here anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you say, an echo of something you said earlier. Though this time you say it differently, as if you too sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever want you to be around anymore. He was stupid to give you a chance after you broke his heart – you chose to break up, months ago. Why would it be different this time around?

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells you, as softly as he can. Because he knows you’ll break even more, and some dark, twisted part of him is satisfied that this time, this time he’s the one with all the power over you. “I’m done, Y/n.”

The words sound like thunder, in all their calmness. In all their softness – or maybe that was the sound of your heart breaking. Whatever it was, Jungkook really is done. He wants you gone, wants to be able to break in the quiet peace of his home.

A home you aren’t a part of anymore.

You nod. He expects you to fight more, but you nod. Choke out a sob, turn around, and start putting your clothes on. He figures he should dress too, so he does, picking up discarded items of clothing on the floor, not caring that they probably aren’t clean. All that he cares about is to get you out of his apartment, out of his sight.

And when you’re ready, he walks you to the front door. Lets you say goodbye to Bam, a crushing parallel to the time you’ve said goodbye in May. Bam still looks confused, and Jungkook feels bad, for a moment. Because you were the dog’s mother – he’s been looking for you ever since May. Jungkook can only hope that, this time around, Bam understands that it’s farewell.

When you straighten, you mutter an apology. Jungkook ignores it, holds your gaze expecting something to hurt, but he’s just empty. Empty and tired, and all he wants is to go back to sleep and to never wake up again.

“I can’t let you go,” you let out, voice stark with pain.

He shrugs. “You should have realized that in May.”

You close your eyes, and you look so fragile. Like glass – it never survives the shockwave of an explosion, doesn’t it?

“Please,” you beg. “Let me make it up to you.”

He laughs bitterly. “How? You’re going to go back in time and not get fucked by him? You’re going to go back in time and not break up?”

You look like you want to curse him, and he almost wants you to. He wants you to fight, wants you to make him feel something other than this emptiness. Instead, you shake even more, sobs racking through you.

“I wish I could.”

“Leave.”

“Jungkook, I swear,” you insist. “Let’s not lose each other over this.”

He wets his lips, tongue pushing in the inside of his cheek next. “We’ve lost each other already. It’s time we realize that we have.”

And that does it. You fall silent, defeat washing over you like a tsunami wave – there’s nothing left after its passage, and you look tired, sick, standing there right next to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again.

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. The past is the past.”

You look like you want to say something else, but somehow you remain silent. Somehow you look at him for a time, bloodshot eyes taking in his features as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see him again. He surprises himself by doing it too, mostly by instinct. Because right now, looking at you makes him want to be sick, but he knows that it won’t last.

He knows that the echo of pain in the distance is a good indicator that he still has it in him to break for you. That he’ll break for you forever, perhaps. Because he doesn’t think that there’s an end to you and him. It’s always going to be a cycle, and it’ll never end well.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you murmur.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “Goodbye.”

All he can do is hope you know it means farewell.

Thursday, October 5th

                You used to love fall. The cooler weather, the long walks that smell like soil and fallen leaves and pumpkins. Nowadays, you hate fall.

You hate it because he loved it, and every reminder of him is poison to you. And though the season is still early, the days are getting shorter, and the longer the night, the more you drown in thoughts.

You haven’t slept in weeks. Have barely eaten too, and you’ve been off from work for a week. It’s allowed you to stay in, to just sit and try to breathe, hoping that it’ll help.

That it’ll fix something that’s never going to be fixed.

You’re lost. Lost in a town that used to be your home, lost in memories that used to be beauty brought to life – now, you’re seeing the ugliness in beauty. Because beauty is temporary, and like all temporary things in life it doesn’t last long enough. Beauty, and the ending temporality of it, leaves nothing when it goes but a bitter taste in mouth.

Perhaps that’s why you haven’t been able to eat properly.

You haven’t spoken to anyone, since the early morning he asked you to leave. Yet for some reason, you’ve felt the need to go outside today. To walk around, aimlessly perhaps, but you couldn’t stay inside a second longer. Too many tears were shed in your apartment, and you hoped the cool weather would help you feel better.

It does, a little. Because you feel like you’re breathing him in every time you inhale, and then carry him out on an exhale. You feel close to him, in a distant way that’s bound to only make you break harder tonight, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. You do hate the reminders of him, but you need them. Viscerally, as he was the oxygen in your lungs for so long.

You’re going to have to learn how to live without him, one step at a time.

So you take another step, let your instinct carry you where you have to go. Maybe it knows how to heal.

The sun is descending in the sky, and the absence of clouds lead to a sea of azure you’d swim in if you could. You’d soar up high, so high that there isn’t oxygen anymore, and maybe then the pain would cease. You’d ride a sunray into the night, where you’d finally be able to fall into a well-deserved slumber.

As you look up, a tiny bird flies across the sky, a small speck of brown that goes so fast you think you imagine it. Like the years with him – they went by so quickly, the crushing wheel of time spinning down the slope towards the end.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, you kissed him on a hotel roof lost in Chicago, under clouds painted with fire. Who knew seven years later you’d be trying to live without him, clearly failing at it.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as you reach a crossing. You wait for the light to turn green, then follow the parallel white lines across the road. You avoid a pile of leaves, though a strong gust of wind makes some of them swirl around you, spinning like Mother Nature’s tiny dancers.

The foliage in the trees along the street is golden and red, bright colours that look out of place in the bleakness of your heart. You follow them, wonder if they know that they are about to die. The answer is one you’ll never have, and so you walk under the trees, the autumn breeze playing with your hair.

You don’t know where your steps have been carrying you. You’ve long gone past the places you usually go to, heading towards the middle of the city. The no man’s land between you and Jungkook, spread wide in a maze of streets you want to get lost in.

So you do. You press on, walk until the sun becomes a ball of melted gold nearing the horizon, and it’s on the corner of a street that a glint in a vitrine catches your eyes.

You eye the rings, crafted by an expert hand. Bands of gold, with diamonds and emeralds and gems you don’t know the name of. They look expensive, elegant, and you wonder if you would have had a ring on your finger one day, bought by him.

Recklessly, you walk into the shop, wishing to peruse its vitrines, hoping they’ll offer you dreams to survive the night. And you can almost see it – a ring on your finger, a proposal under a star-sprinkled sky, an intimate wedding for you and him. A dance, always and forever, of love shared like a secret in the night. Your secret, as the end would have one day come for you and him, an eternity of life later. You would have been old and grey, yet your love would have been young and eternal.

In this dream, he would have never taken the job overseas. You’d have stayed here, together, growing old by his side. You would have gotten more dogs, maybe even a cat, and you’d have lived happily ever after.

You wonder if, in a parallel universe to yours, the dream is unfolding. If parallel-universe you has the chance to experience it, and you think she does. You think she does, and the love is so strong it’s shaking through universes, picking you up like you’re just a leaf in an autumn wind.

Because why else, then, do you find yourself buying a gold band? Too big for you, masculine in its simplicity. Something you think he would have worn, had you been in that other universe.

You sit on a bench outside, after, as the last of the sunlight finally fades away, replaced by a blue dusk that matches your mood far better than the sun ever could. You have no idea where you are in the city, no will to brave the trek back home – you’ve been out for hours at this point.

You grab your phone, long forgotten in your purse. You haven’t touched it all day, and to your surprise you’ve received a couple of texts while you were walking, all by the same person.

[04:37 pm] Jimin: hey, this is going to sound crazy [04:37 pm] Jimin: and I’m really sorry to be telling u this [04:37 pm] Jimin: can u go check on JK? [04:38 pm] Jimin: he’s been unreachable for days and at this point I think he’ll only talk to u

You want to text him back to fuck off, to leave you alone, yet you hold on tighter to the velvety box in which the gold band hides. After all, even if you’ve received the texts hours ago, you’re realizing perhaps that that’s where your steps have been leading you anyway.

It’s stupid – he asked you to leave. Hasn’t contacted you once since then, and it’s like the wedding and the week after never happened. Like you’ve been broken up for months, like you barely know him anymore. He’s a stranger now, in your life, something you’d never thought he’d become someday.

And why would he talk to you? Why would he want you in his vicinity, when he made it clear as spring water that he was done, that the end had come to pass between you and him?

But if the end has come, why is that you’ve been feeling like you’re surrounded by him, today? Like you’ll always be – just a drop of water in the sea of him. Perhaps you are weak, to feel for him the way that you do, but seven years ago, the cataclysm that started you and him shook you, and its repercussions are still felt today. Will be felt until your dying breath, until all that’s left of you is stardust.

So you let your feet carry you, weightless in the way that you’re moving forward. Like you are once again but a leaf carried by the wind, and you can only hope that it’ll let you land in the right place.

You don’t really know how you make it to his building. Perhaps you were closer than you initially thought you were – all that you know is that you recognize the building, and that you sense his proximity through the walls.

Your heart reaches for him, longs for him in a way you can’t ignore anymore. Because you’ve been dead, without him. Just a shell of what you should be, of what you want to be. Because yes, you could learn to live without him. After everything that you’ve been through, you know well enough that you are strong enough to do it.

But you don’t want it. You want that dream you’ve found in the jewelry shop, want to make it possible. Want to prove that, no matter who would ever get close to you, he’ll always be the owner of your heart.

So you walk in. Reach the elevator, press on the call button. Then on the fourth floor, reminiscing the night you rode the elevator in his company, right before the fall. The new fall, a harshest one that made you reach those low levels of hell that living without him are consisted of.

You awaken when you are standing in front of his door. You think you can almost hear him inside, moving around through his home. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, where you’re standing. If he too can tell that you’re nearby once again, even though you shouldn’t have been.

Even though farewells have come to pass between you and him.

You don’t knock. You don’t have to. To your surprise, the door opens in front of you, slowly, before you’ve even managed to raise your arm to knock. Then his voice fills your ear, as he tells Bam to wait. You just stand there, dumbfounded, and then his eyes move from the floor to your face, and his mouth falls open.

Bam jumps on you, tail wagging wildly as you take a step back from the force of impact. You pet him on the head, pushing him back to the floor as you try to focus on Jungkook.

And then it dawns upon you that you have no clue what to tell him. You reckon you maybe should have prepared something in advance, because you’re wordless standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you eventually say, and you think the world has time to revolve around the sun three times before you manage to say something else. “How are you?”

His mouth slowly shuts, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pulls on Bam’s leash, tells the dog to sit, before he finally addresses you. Just your name, and the way he says it make it sound formal, like you’re just a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after another moment.

You look down at your hands. At the box you’re holding, and his eyes follow after you. “I was thinking of you, today,” you admit.

He sighs, and his eyes shut. “You were?”

You nod as he meets your gaze again. “When am I not?” Your comment doesn’t ask for a response, and he doesn’t offer you one either. “Jimin told me you’ve been unreachable.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.” You try to look behind him, as if you’ll find his reason to be busy there. “Can I talk to you?”

He says your name, this time like an apology. “I told you we were done.”

You shrug. “I know.” You gulp, fingers playing with the velvet box as if it’ll help ground you. “Can I walk Bam with you, then?”

He looks conflicted but he gives in. Says yes in a defeated way that rips your heart from your chest, in a way that makes you cling to the ring box even more, hoping that it’ll offer you salvation.

Being outside in the early fall evening with him feels like the Earth has finally returned to its normal axis. You don’t say anything, unable to find the words, and he remains silent too. You just enjoy his company, watching over Bam as he sniffs at plants before peeing on a pole.

Stars are twinkling in the sky up above. The breeze is still soft tonight, caressing your features in a gentle embrace that resembles the one he’d used to offer you, though it’s far colder than his. You spare a glance at him – he’s already looking, and he doesn’t look away as your gazes connect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You wet your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“How is that an explanation?” A shrug of your shoulders is all the answer he gets. He scoffs, shakes his head slightly, and then his head turns toward the door of his building. “I have hot chocolate inside,” he tells you, once again sounding defeated. “Do you want a cup?”

Turns out salvation wasn’t to be found in the velvet box you’re holding, but in the gentle angles of Jungkook’s features, behind his big doe eyes that will forever feel like home to you.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Then let’s talk over a cup of hot chocolate,” he says.

Which is what you do. You follow him in, feeling like you’re out of place in his life. Like he’s only giving this to you because of what you used to be to one another. Yet you don’t care. You’re slowly finding words, your brain shaping them into sentences to change an ending you can’t come to terms with.

Jungkook prepares the hot chocolate in silence, as you sit at his small dinner table. You play with Bam as he does so, a game of tug-of-war that you’re bound to lose as the dog is far stronger than you. Yet you still indulge, as you’ve missed Bam far more than you even thought possible.

The game is only interrupted when Jungkook rests a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table next to you. You let Bam go, and the dog trots away to go play somewhere else, you can only assume.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You’ve left the ring box on the table. You’ve noticed Jungkook glancing at it repeatedly since you’ve put it there, and you worry at your bottom lip.

“I wanted to apologize again, for what it’s worth,” you answer. “I felt horrible when it happened, and just wanted to forget all about it.”

His features turn harsh, and his eyes drop into the cup of hot chocolate he’s nursing for himself. It reminds you of a café, of a conversation you had years ago, that led to you opening up to him, and to him opening up to you.

“I love you,” you continue. “I haven’t stopped loving you, and if I’d known that breaking up would hurt so much, I would’ve fought harder. I wish I had, and I wish I’d never let you go.”

“But you did…” he says when you remain silent for a few seconds.

“But I did. And I understand if you hate me for it. If you don’t want to ever see me again. But shit, you’re the only thing that I’ve been able to think about. Just you, and everything that could have been, had I been stronger.”

You grab the cup of hot chocolate, the warmth of it slowly seeping through your cold fingers. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You just drink the hot chocolate, hoping you’ll find more words to say at the bottom of the cup.

“The distance was hard,” Jungkook eventually says. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things over it.”

It surprises you. Makes your brain go entirely empty, and you just watch him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

He shrugs as you don’t say anything. “What?” He looks down, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. “I’ve been thinking about everything too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I over-reacted, when you told me you had sex with Harrison,” he admits.

Totally not expecting the conversation to take this turn, you’re stunned silent.

“I was shocked, and needed time to process,” he continues. “You were right, the fact that I went on a full-on date is just as bad, differently. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything.”

As much as it pains you to agree, you still do, nodding your head. “We didn’t.”

He purses his lips, holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing down at his cup. The silence is more comfortable now, as you think maybe, maybe then the dream you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a distant mirage of what could have once been. It’s foolish, but you can’t help it.

You think your heart is beating for the first time since you left that morning weeks ago.

“Did you want to speak about anything else?” he asks after he’s taken a long sip of his hot chocolate.

You take a deep breath, and somehow courage finds you on the long exhale. “I don’t want us to be over.”

You think you hear him gulp. “You don’t?”

Blinking away a few tears, you shake your head no. “I really don’t. I walked around all day today, and all I could think about was you. All I could think of was all the years between us, from when we met to a few weeks ago. And I don’t know, I refuse to accept that the end has come.”

“When does it come, then?” he asks.

“When the end comes?”

He nods.

“After years and years,” you say, allowing yourself to voice your dream. “Hopefully after we’ve had years to live together. After we’ve gotten married, and maybe even after we’ve had kids. Not that I want some.” You pause, and you look down at the table, unable to carry the weight of his gaze anymore. “Or maybe after we’ve had plenty of dogs, a cat or two. After we’ve had a house with a white picket fence, after we’ve danced under a thousand different night skies.” A tear rolls on your cheek, and you do nothing to stop it. “After we’ve travelled the world together, after we’ve had a chance to live, together.”

“And what happens after we’ve lived together?” he presses.

You shrug. “Then we die together. Then we turn into stardust and memories. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what happens to me.”

Blurry behind the wall of tears in your eyes, you see Jungkook run a hand through his hair. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” you echo. “I just want to get to love you.”

At that you do cry. And not just a little bit. Your heart longs and yearns for him, reaching in the space between you, trying to find a beat to sync with. You wipe your cheeks dry with trembling hands, before pressing the heel of your palms on your eyes, hoping to stop the cascade at the source.

“It’s a nice dream,” Jungkook says after the few minutes it takes you to collect yourself, your hands falling to the table.

“Is it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we’d do a white picket fence though. I’ve always found cedar trees make a better fence.”

Something stirs inside of you, and you want to take a hold of him, and to never let go. “Yeah?”

He sits back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling as he blinks away the silver in his own gaze. You wonder if he’s crying because he saw you cry, as the sympathetic crier that he is, or because he shares the emotions in your heart.

“Where would you want to get married?” he asks then.

You push the velvet box towards him. “This is for you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this, instead repeating the question.

“Somewhere in the countryside,” you answer. “Maybe the cottage where it all started.” You think about Julys of a world ago. “Under the night sky.”

“People don’t usually get married when it’s already dark.”

“Right,” you let out. “Then we’d have a ceremony for just us two when it’s dark outside.”

At that he grabs the box, opening it. You reckon he must have known what the content was, because he doesn’t say anything as he takes it out. As he tries to put it on his finger, though it doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, and it makes him chuckle, a sad sound that almost kills you on the spot.

“Do you think we’d dance under the stars?” he asks as he turns the gold band in his fingers, and light glimmers on it.

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head. “We always would.”

“So you came all the way here to tell me this?”

He meets your gaze again, for the first time in a while. He looks struck with emotion, much like you feel – the depths of his eyes are swirling with love and ache and yearning. You fall forward, fall in his eyes, trying to find home again.

“I came here to ask you to marry me,” you finally say, as it dawns upon you that, yes, your steps were leading you to this all along. “Jungkook, will you marry me?”

He smiles, a world of sadness etched in the sweet curve of his lips. “Can it be this easy?”

You shut your eyes. “It can. Please. Let’s not lose what we have again.”

“When would you like to get married?” he asks.

“Are you saying yes?”

He plays with his piercing, takes a deep breath as he chases tears away from his gaze but to no avail. You watch the two drops as they slowly roll down his face. “When would you like to get married?”

“In July,” you answer easily.

“Next year?”

You nod.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds more, then looks at the gold band again. His fist closes around it, slowly, as if he’ll be able to crush it in his hold. For what you don’t know. All that you know is that his features grow tortured, pained. It doesn’t last long – another deep breath later the expression is gone.

“I need to tell you something,” he says then, his voice so small you can barely hear it.

You prepare yourself. As well as you can, expecting the blow before it comes. You sense it – in the eternity it takes for him to speak again, you see every moment of you and him before this day, your life flashing before your eyes as if you’re about to die.

And then he says it a first time. At first you don’t even understand the words, as if he’s speaking a foreign language. So you let out, “What?”, hoping that it will change the cruelty that this world holds.

But nothing can, after the end has come. Nothing, especially not as he repeats the words, softly, their meaning tainting the dream you’ve just painted with him, until all that’s left of it is a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I'm sorry for the angst, for the cliffhanger, for them to be so stubborn and for how life is working against them now. I hope you don't hate me too much after this :') let me know what you think of this chapter!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[theragethatisdesire]

"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

-

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release. 

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

[lordsukunas]

tldr: suguru as a child/early teenager and his journey as a sorcerer after he meets you, his new neighbor.

cw: mentions of vomiting, not in-depth. not edited, not beta-read, rushed, and possibly ooc suguru. gender neutral and sorcerer!reader.

a/n: sigh... i’m so tired. probably when i wake up i’ll actually edit it, but i just needed to get something out, so maybe consider this a lil teaser...? i might make a second part expanding on how he ends up going to jjt n then whenever he defects, but im absolutely exhausted rn. exams have been kicking my ass </3 + im going to a festival so this might not be edited for a lil while longer. sorry yall!

a part of me thinks suguru would live in some small, unknown little town. the people are closed-minded, content with the life they’ve built for themselves, and they don’t want it to change. if you’re born there, it’s hard to get out, especially with such few opportunities. it’s a town meant to keep aspiring little doves caged within its walls.

so imagine some six, maybe seven year-old boy going around saying he sees monsters sometimes. of course, the first conclusion any adult would reach is that the poor thing is having nightmares. he’ll grow out of it — all of them do.

but suguru doesn’t.

he’s afraid to sleep at night, and despite his parents’ pleas for him to sleep in their bed, he says that he can’t. “what if you get hurt too?”

they end up having to sneak melatonin in his dinner to get him to sleep at night.

when he turns eleven, he gets a grasp on his technique. he has to eat the monsters, consume them so that they don’t go out and hurt anyone else. that’s easy enough, right?

for the first few weeks, he vomits. they taste disgusting, like dried, crusty rags used to clean up puke and shit. but he has to do it, he has to! otherwise, who’s going to keep his innocent parents safe?

so he keeps going. exorcise, consume, puke. exorcise, consume, puke. exorcise, consume, puke.

exorcise and consume.

then, at age twelve, you come along.

you’re like the sun peeking through the dark clouds after days full of rain and thunder. a breath of fresh air, a sugary treat to balance out the saltiness of this shitty town.

you move into the once abandoned house right beside his, a radiant smile on your face and eyes twinkling with determination.

beautiful, perfect, normal.

the two of you click almost instantly, although suguru’s a little reluctant at first — what if you think he’s weird? his parents and teachers say he’s a bit troubled, nosy neighbors joke that he’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and bored grandmas claim he’s been touched by the devil. despite their rumors, despite suguru’s reputation, despite the fact you two are polar opposites, you don’t avoid him. in fact, it’s like those things just entice you even more.

“suguru.”

the fear in your voice catches him off-guard, and he stops walking. your hand grips the hem of his jacket, and your finger slowly raises to point towards the corner.

“what is that?”

it’s a crude thing. skin a dingy shade of purple, stubby limbs twisted and contorted into impossible angles, and jagged yellow teeth that poke past its thin, cracked lips.

that’s when he realizes it: you can see them too.

he’s not alone. finally, fucking finally, suguru geto is not alone.

by thirteen, you and suguru are attached at the hip. there’s not a day where the two of you don’t see each other, even when you get grounded for accidentally breaking a bathroom stall trying to exorcise a curse.

they’re so ungrateful.

he’s tainted your image. you were once normal, the cute neighbor nextdoor, but now you’re best friends with suguru, the pretty boy with the strange bangs and broken mind.

you don’t care though, and he loves that you never have.

nothing can separate you. you go to school together, take the same classes (thanks to suguru modifying his schedule), walk home together, exorcise curses together.

you’re all he needs, and he’s all you need. you’re the only ones who understand each other on a fundamental level, who know each other inside and out, down to the very last atom in your bodies.

with you, he’s sure that he can snap the chain and leave this place, to soar so high in the sky that there’s nothing and no one left but you and him.

you hand suguru his slushie, and he takes a long sip, letting the sugar-filled drink wash away the lingering taste of today’s curse.

“sometimes, i think we’re kinda like batman and superman.”

suguru can’t help but scoff. “us? you think we’re superheroes?” how unsurprisingly childish of you.

you nod, snapping your kit-kat bar in half and taking a bite out of it. “yeah, dude! we fight alien bad guys with our superpowers. pretty cool, right?”

he leans back, legs spread and an arm resting on the back of the bench. “sure, but they always get rewarded for saving the day. what do we get?” he doesn’t wait for your answer. “nothing.”

a small frown flits across your typically cheerful features, and suguru wishes he could shove his words back into his mouth and down his throat.

“mm... i think we get stuff. we get to see our parents safe, and even if no one else here really likes us, they’re safe thanks to us, too.” the toe of your shoe traces shapes into the pavement. “we’re the only ones that can do this, suguru. it’s our duty.”

right. duty.

suguru hums, but you can’t tell whether it’s in agreement or not. you decide that it doesn’t matter, that he’s just thinking like always.

“wish i was rich, though," you joke and pop the rest of your little kit-kat stick into your mouth.

after a moment, he shakes his head and takes a sip of his bright purple drink. “me too.”

[sunshinebingo]

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 3 - Confessions

Synopsis: Azriel is nervous about something important that he has to tell Gwyn.

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on Ao3

This is it. This is the day. Azriel is going to confess. Finally!

He has gone through a hundred different scenarios in his head and rehearsed a thousand different speeches. All of this in the hope for the best possible ending to this conversation. He isn’t even sure whether he is prepared enough for it. Anything can go wrong. But he can do it. Right?

Some may well think that it is no big deal. But for Azriel, and since it is Gwyn, it is the biggest of deals. He has felt the blood draining from his face the moment the realisation has hit him. Since then, a sense of dread has filled him every time he has thought of telling her. They have spent a lot of time together in the past week but the fear of her reaction has taken over every single time he had thought about admitting it to her.

Even now, he is still nervous despite being, as Gwyn likes to say, older than some of the rocks that have been used to build Velaris, and having been through much worse experiences in his life. But this is Gwyn. And he won’t be able to take it if he somehow ruins the precious thing that is their relationship. A few months aren’t nearly enough. He wants to spend years with his Gwyn. Centuries during which he intends to cherish her like she deserves and build a life with her.

“You know I care about you, right?” he mumbles to himself while pacing the length of his room. “No. You know that I care a lot about you, right?”

And on and on he goes until three knocks sound at the door of his bedroom and it opens without waiting for his response.

“Hi,” Gwyn’s sweet greeting soothes him as she walks in.

Azriel prays that her good mood will not be completely ruined by the upcoming conversation. He waits until she kisses his cheek – something that she always does when they meet, even if they are simply crossing paths and going about their business two seconds later – before he takes her hands and guides her to the bed. She sits down on the edge of the mattress with no question except for the silent one visible in her eyes and furrowed brows.

“I have something important to tell you,” he starts, squeezing her hand and kneeling down in front of her.

This is it. There is no going back now that he has her full attention. He has been holding onto this for long enough anyway. She deserves to know the truth.

“Is something wrong, Az?”

Azriel brings her hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles before placing their joined hands back on her lap.

“Gwyn.”

He takes a deep breath in. And on his exhale, he looks at her in the eyes and finally lets the truth come out.

“I lost your favourite book.”

Silence follows. Azriel’s eyes scan her face in search of a reaction so that he can know whether he should start running now or if he will have the time to give her an explanation and an apology. Gwyn’s face remains blank though her body has gone quite rigid since he uttered his last word. These could truly be his last words if she suddenly pulls out a dagger.

“Which one?”

A little relief washes over him at the calmness in her tone. It is short-lived however and disappears as soon as he notices her reaction at his following response.

“The one you lent me last week.”

Her eyes widen. Azriel feels her grip tightening on his hands.

“The first edition one?”

Azriel nods while internally debating if he should launch into the explanation and apology part now or if interrupting her interrogation will upset her more. So many questions and none leaving him feeling less guilty and nervous.

“The one that I tracked across Prythian for weeks?”

He nods again.

“And that by some miracle I managed to get the author to sign?”

He gulps. And nods again.

“HOW COULD YOU?” she shouts and harshly pulls her hands away as she stands up.

“I’m sorry, Gwyn,” he pleads. “I took it with me on my last mission so I could read it. It’s only when I got back home and looked for it that I realised my mistake.”

Gwyn crosses her arms and looks down at him with all the anger a female who has lost her most treasured possession can possess. It probably won’t take long before the dagger comes out.

“How could you be so careless? This isn’t meant to go promenading with. You know how much this means to me.”

Azriel abandons all the pretty speeches and decides to just go for the truth. He grabs Gwyn’s hand again and looks up at her from where he still kneels at her feet.

“It was extremely stupid of me. I’m so sorry. I’m already doing everything I can to find you another one.”

Gwyn stomps her foot down like a petulant child. “Yes. It was stupid of you,” she grits out.

She tries to withdraw her hand again but this time he holds on. She tugs harder, trying to turn away from him. Azriel holds onto her hand firmly even as she turns her back to him.

“Please don’t stay mad at me. I will make it up to you. I love you so much and I can’t stand when you’re cross with me.”

Gwyn suddenly stops trying to free her hand from his and slowly turns towards him.

“You... What?”

“I will make it up to you,” he promises.

He will do anything to avoid that Gwyn keeps her distance from him. He knows that she will be even more stubborn about it when he is the one at fault. The last time they had an argument, Gwyn, the petty minx, has done everything she could to be in his vicinity but not actually interact with him. It has been torture watching her act as though he wasn’t there at all.

“No. Not that. You said...”

“What? Don’t stay mad at me?”

“No, you idiot,” she says with an exasperated eye roll. “You...love me?”

Azriel frowns at her in confusion. “Of course I love you,” he answers matter-of-factly.

He watches as her expression morphs from shock after the anger to what he can only describes as wonder. A smile starts to brighten her face again and Azriel swears that tears start to line her ocean eyes. It only causes his confusion to grow.

“Wha- why are you smiling? Are you not mad anymore? Is it because I lo–”

He stops. And realises that it is the very first time that this confession has come out of his mouth.

“Oh!”

“Oh?”

Gwyn’s smile turns into a smirk while Azriel tries to process what he had just said. And why he didn’t say it sooner. Hasn’t he known for a while that he loves her? Hasn’t he been thinking earlier about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? Of course he loves her. And it has taken a stupid mistake for his mind to come to terms with what his heart already knows.

“I love you,” he whispers more to himself, as though testing the words on his tongue.

“I love you,” he says, louder, when he looks up at her.

Gwyn’s laughter prompts his own. At the first tear that rolls down her blushing cheek, Azriel stands on his feet, cups her face and kisses her as though he has been deprived of her lips for a long time. He pulls away after a while and lifts her up to twirl her around, barely avoiding that they crash into any furniture around the room.

“I love you too,” she says in between laughs after he finally allows her feet to touch the ground again. “And I forgive you for now.”

Azriel looks down at the one he is certain is the love of his life. She is it. Though right now he has no idea what he is being forgiven for.

[hauntedrain]

Part 1: For our own Sanity | Alex Turner x Fem! Reader |

social media AU Summary: Alex and reader's relationship turns public after a string of events.

✮▹A/N: So my first time doing a social media AU, so hopefully its okay <3

✰▹Warnings/Notices: Face claim is Sabrina Carpenter, mentions of age gap (Reader is about 25), I used Milo Manheim as an Ex of the reader. Potentially very bad cuz this is my first social media AU. Some old photos used, Not edited.

liked by: milomanheim, Y/Nupdates, & 31,052 others

@PeopleMagazine: Y/N L/N continues to amaze as she and fellow singer-songwriter are spotted together in New York, Only 8 months after her breakup with Milo Manheim with whom she spent 2 years together with. More on this couple and Y/N L/N's relationships and reputation.

View all 12,495 comments

user1: isnt she dating people left and right?

↪ user2: Yes, so for Alex's sake I would run. And look at that age gap!

↪ User3: You guys are actually crazy, Alex doesn't need to run, and her past relationships have ended because of her PARTNERS' stupid decisions.

User4: This girl can't catch a break can she? Yall are on her 24/7.

↪ User5: LITERALLY. They shamed her like a week ago for making an album, it's her job!

User6: Anyways, live laugh love Y/N and Alex.

liked by: milomanheim, Arctic Monkeys, TaylorSwift, & 12,4561,052 others

@Y/N L/N: I truly love coming and performing in New York and I can't wait for next time ❥ Thank you guys for being so kind and lovely. Now onto my UK tour!

View all 9,039,384 comments

User7: I fear... it's a serve.

User8: I need confirmation about the Alex photos or else I might die.

↪ user9: She doesn't need to confirm to anything, it's her private life.

↪ User10: You act as though she doesn't flaunt her relationship like crazy, she probably even knew about or called the paps to take those photos.

↪ User11: Exactly, she's always been the one to get a man and show him and their relationship off for a bit, then break up and make an album. It's giving clout chaser and a form of gold-digging.

↪ User 12: Milo has 2.4 million followers on Instagram. she has 32 million. i don't think she is the one clout chasing or being a gold digger.

liked by 2,059,456 others

@Y/Nupdates: Y/N and Alex Turner both have arrived at the Grammy's Award Show! Both arrived separately but sources say that both are hanging around each other for the most part.

View all 19,389 comments

User13: Both are GLOWING.

↪ User14: Exactly what I came here to say.

User15: So they are dating?

↪ User16: Nothing is confirmed and it's none of our business anyway.

↪ User17: let us have our fun. Both are big in the music industry, so we're bound to get excited. Like, imagine all the new music.

User18: I've seen some people say that they left together after the show.

↪ User19: I need to know if this is true RIGHT NOW.

Liked by TaylorSwift, Y/N L/N, & 1,598,543 others

@Arcticmonkeys: 2/14/24

View all 95,451 Comments

User19: IM SORRY WHAT?!

User20: what the fuck is that last slide.

↪ User 21: IF THATS Y/N IMMA SCREAM.

User 22: On valentines day?! THIS IS GONNA BE GOOD.

Y/N L/N: Cant wait.

↪ User 23: WHAT.

↪ User 24: I swear to god you need to tell us all the secrets or else we're going to go crazy.

⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope this is good and that you like it! Ill make part 2 soon. Sorry for being so inactive life is just getting busy. However, I'm really excited about this one and I'm also excited about other fics too. Other than that, thank you so much, and love you guys! PART 2 POSTED

[hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog]

Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.

@deans-spinster-witch thank you for this ask. Actually thank you all that submit asks or sent me story prompts, I am going to get to them all, but I thought this one would be a good place to start.

First let me start off with my disclaimers:

1) I haven't see the last few seasons of SPN, so I don't know how they addressed COVID, if they did at all. So think of it as alternative timeline, not really canon.

2) My COVID representation is probably not 100% accurate, either by the reader symptoms or that I don't mention Dean wearing a mask or that he was able to be in the hospital with the reader.

3) I just POV and I think I may have jump from 2nd to 3rd person writing? I did my best to correct it, but sometimes I can't seem to correct it. Also did my best with editing, but I am sure I missed something. Flashbacks are bold italic and internal thoughts are just italic.

4) I am not sure if this is 100% what you were looking for. It does end on a cliffhanger, so I will be posting a second part. It was getting hella long coming in at 7,500 words. 😬 sorry.

5) swearing, hints of past trauma that we may get more in the second part. Self doubt/hate. Angst heavy!

Okay think that's it. It's a Y/N x Dean focus story with Sam making an appearance via phone. Characters are not mine but the work is. So please don't post as your own.

Feel free to like, reblog, send me feedback in the comments. And if you have a story idea, send it my way via asks or message. Or if you want me to tag you on my work let me know.

Okay think I have stalled long enough. Here it is, my first story back from 3 year break.

JUST BREATHE-



"Excuse me, sir, you can't be up here." A female voice, strong, laced with exhaustion, mixes with the sounds of the hospital. Doctors are being paged, staff are going in and out of rooms, and machines are monitoring patients. All of it, white noise, too, Dean. Because he can't look away or tear his eyes from what is in front of him. Y/N is lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ventilator. What happened? How did it come on so strong and so fast? He had just seen you last week when he came through town on his way to his next hunt. Picking up research that you had done for him since Sam was working on another case in California. You were the best…no, are, you are the best researcher he knows…you have to get better; you can't…

"Sir! I will have to ask you to leave if you're not family. The ICU is only for families." The female voce, insistent on getting him to pay attention to her. Tired, she was just so damn tired of no one listing to her today; she had better things to do than police people about.

"How long has she been here?" Dean asks, his voice firm but slightly wavering. He can't look away, watching as the vent goes up and down, breathing for you. Y/N, come on, you have to pull through; I can't lose you, Dean thinks, trying his best not to break. He prayed to God if he thought it would help if he thought the ass would be listing.

"Sir, I can't give that information if you're not family." Dean looks away from you for a moment, noticing the nurse standing beside him. She is dressed in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back, and a mask on. He can tell she is on her last nerve with him, and he has to win her over. He can't leave you, not now. "So, are you family?" she asks again.

"Umm…" He knew he needed to lie. If he told her that you were just a friend, he would never get answers and would never get back to this floor again. It was dumb luck that he could get your room number out of the receptionist downstairs. He pulled himself together to give her his winning smile and wink. "She's my sister." Clearing his throat, he looked back to you.

The nurse looks down at the chart in her hand. "Miss. Moore didn't have a brother listed as next of kin, but then again, a neighbor brought her in." Looking back up to Dean, he doesn't respond. "How about we go somewhere a little more private to discuss your sister's condition?" She lightly grabs Dean by the shoulder and turns him away from the window and you.

********

Dean did his best to listen to the nurse, but all he really wanted to do was get back to you. It was driving him crazy that he couldn't do anything; this wasn't caused by a demon, monster, or anything in his wheelhouse. You were brought in about a day or two after he had seen you. Your neighbor had come over to borrow something and saw you in the window, passed out on the floor. COVID had hit you hard, and you just couldn't shake it; your lungs filled up so fast with fluids that you passed out.

That was a week ago; you had been in the hospital for a week and on a ventilator. The doctors feel that your body just needs time to fight off the infection.

"She seemed fine when I saw her last; how could this happen?" Dean questions, trying to be as respectful as possible without raising his voice and getting kicked out.

"COVID hits everyone differently; we really don't know why. Some people may never get it, and some…" Not finishing her statement, the nurse looks away from Dean.

"Can I go back and sit with her?" Dean asks, more like pleading with her. He just wants to ensure you're doing alright and stand watch until you wake up. He doesn't know what else to do.

"I am sorry, but no," the nurse replies as kindly as possible. Seeing that he will protest this, she quickly adds, "But, you can come back during visiting hours. You won't be able to go in the room; we have to keep it clean because of COVID, but you can see her from the window." Hoping this will be a compromise he can live with. She doesn't want him to get upset and have to call security and have him escorted out. She can tell he cares for her and is scared.

Dean will take it; he knows he has to. You're the strongest person he knows. You will get through this; you have to. "Alright, I guess I will come back then," Dean says, getting up from the table.

********

Walking out of the hospital, Dean calls Sam to tell him what is happening and that he wasn't leaving until you were back home. Screw the world, let the monsters run amuck, and let demons rain hell on earth; he had more important things to do. "I don't care, Sammy, I am not leaving again. This is the only number you can reach me at, and only you," he says, getting into the Impala and firing it up.

"Alright, Dean. I hear you. Do you want me to come? I am almost done here." Sam offers, knowing that Dean won't take him up on it.

"No, I am good, but thanks. You stay on the West Coast until the world calms itself down." Letting the engine run for a bit, Dean takes a second. This has been the longest they have been working apart. It's been hard on both of them, but at least Dean has you to talk to. He has been leaning on you more since Sam was in California. Could Dean have caused this? Was he asking too much of you?

"Dean, hey, you still there?" Sam breaks through his intrusive thoughts.

Clearing his voice, "Yeah."

"You know, she will get through this. She's going to be okay," Sam says, trying his best to reassure him and get him out of his head because even if they are miles apart, he knows his brother. Dean is blaming himself right now for something that he can't control.

“Yeah, I know… I just… what if I…..”

"No, don't think like that, and don't think you had anything to do with this happening." Sam quips back, knowing where his brother's thoughts are going, and he will not have him spiraling out.

"But I ask so much of her. You know she will never say no. Even when she has other things to do, she always drops everything when I ask for a favor. God, I am such a user…"

"No, you're not. Y/N is strong, and she said she would tell you if she didn't want to do something. She wants to help; she thrives on researching this stuff, and you know it." Sam states, "Come on, you know she would rather research lore or listen to one of your 'tales from the front lines,' as she likes to call them, any day of the week."

The thought of you saying these words to him as you patch him up, 'Alright, Dean, what tales to do we have this time?' or how your voice would be giddy when he called you about a case he found. "Yeah, you're right, Sam," Dean replies. Feeling a bit better after talking with Sam, he always knows how to keep him from spiraling too much.

"I know I am; now go get some rest. She's going to need you when she wakes up."

"Night brother"

After hanging up the phone, Dean didn't want to go to a hotel or bar, but he was now wired and needed to do something. Pulling out of the parking lot was second nature, and he found his way to your driveway.

Sitting there, looking at the modest, two-bedroom, two-bath house, he would consider a second home for as much time as he has spent there. It was odd to think about walking through that door and you not being there. When getting out of the car, the sound of the door opening and closing is the only noise that breaks up the silence of the night. Taking a few steps, Dean stops himself from knocking like he usually does. Habit, he thinks. Pulling his keys out, he flips until he finds the one for your house.

It was an argument you had won, not that he didn't want a key. Of course, he did, but he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands should something happen.

"No, I don't need a key, Y/N," Dean protest, not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Yes, you do; now take it." You say, holding out the key for him to take.

"I don't need it; you're always here. Why would I need to get into your place when you're not here?" he questions. Finishing off his beer, he gets up from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. "You want another one?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

You get up and follow him. "Don't change the subject, Winchester," you say, following him and sitting on a kitchen stool. What if I wasn't home tonight?"

Tossing the empty bottle in the recycle bin and turning to face her, he can tell by the severe look on your face that this is an argument that he won't win. But why make it easy on you. "But you were," giving you a smirk, he opens the fridge to pull out two more bottles. "Besides, where would you be on a Friday night? You have a hot date I don't know about?" he questions. Handing one of the bottles to you.

He struggles slightly to open the bottle with his left hand since his right is currently in a sling. After putting his shoulder back into place and stitching him up, you open the beer in your hand, hand it to him, and take the other one from him. "Maybe," you say cryptically, a twinkle in your eyes.

"Really? Didn't know you were dating anyone?" Dean is slightly put off by this. It's not that someone would want to date you; it's the opposite. You're beautiful, and he always wonders how you were still single after all this time. Intelligent and funny, any guy would be lucky to call you his. Heck, he would like to call you his.

"I am not," you say, putting him out of his misery and his slight spiral of another guy touching her, kissing her… But I could still be out. Do you want to be sitting out in your car waiting for me to get home?" you question, pushing the key towards him. "Just take the dam key. It's only a key. I am not asking you to move in with me."

If you asked him that, he would say yes in a heartbeat. But the reality of his life, what he and Sam do for a living, gives him pause to take the key. "I just don't want anyone else to get their hands on it."

"Who, like Sam? Of course, you can give a copy to Sam." You joke, knowing what he's getting at but trying your best to keep this conversation light.

"No, not Sam. I am thinking Crowley, another demon or monster, or worse, Lucifer. I would hate for anyone other than Sam or me to get their hands on this and come after you."

"Dean, that's not going to happen."

"But it could, you know it could."

Letting out a sigh, you decide to pull out the big guns to get him to take this damn key. "A key is not their first choice to get in. You have put up all the wards you could think of." You say, proving that you are as safe as possible. "Heck, you made me even get this thing." Snapping off your leather bracelet to show off the anti-possession tattoo. "and you know how much I hate needles." The black tattoo shows nicely against your light skin and hides the other barely visible scars.

"Yeah, I found out real quick that day. I think I still have scars on my arm from you digging your nails in," he jokes, bringing his hand up to his wrist to run his fingers around the tattoo and the scars he knows are there.

"Haha, that's real funny." You fake laugh. " Just take it, please. It will make me feel better if you have it." You do your best puppy dog eyes as you push the key closer to him.

Dean takes a moment before caving. "Alright, but I am only going to use it for emergencies." he conceits, taking his keys out and putting your house key on the ring with the rest.

Getting up from the stool, you smile at him, "Thank you, Dean," you say sweetly and hug him.

**

Dean shakes his head, trying to shake the thoughts from that night, as he shuts the door behind him. He stood in the entryway, just taking in the quietness of the house, holding his breath, waiting for you to come down the hallway, saying, ‘Dean, you look like shit; what were you up against this time? Let me get you patched up, and you can tell me all about it.’ Guiding him to the kitchen, you would pull the first aid kit and a beer from the fridge.

Watching these memories play out in front of him, it's not until he lets out a shaky breath that he had been holding that he feels the tears run down his face, "Fuck! Y/N, you got to get better, okay…." choking back, "I can't lose you." The thought of losing another important person in his life. Someone who should have a happy and long life and who, without them, Dean wouldn't be standing here today. He owes everything to you.

Dean can't bring himself to step past the entryway, feeling like an intruder. "I can't…" feeling pressure in his chest, he turns and walks out the door. Locking the door and making the short walk to his car, the pressure subsides once he is in the driving seat. Knowing he can't stay in the house. Too many memories of you and his dark thoughts will keep him up. He also can't put the car in drive and go to the motel just outside of town. It's like his body won't let him leave.

*******

Y/N POV

You were in the hospital for two weeks, and Dean was by your side, or somewhat outside your hospital room, every day, every hour he could be. At least that is what the nurse told you once you were awake. Your 'brother' Dean has been by your side. The first time they told you this, you looked confused, which caused concern from the staff.

"Your brother, Dean," the nurse says again, her voice laced with concern as she points to the window that looks into your room from the hallway.

You turn your head slightly, your body stiff from being in bed for so long, and the breathing tube just being taken out. There you see him, Dean Winchester, raising his hand to give you a short wave, and a look of relief washes over his face, which is covered with a slightly heavy five-clock shadow. You give him a smile and look back at the nurse. "Yeah, sorry, of course, he's my brother. Just didn't know anyone called him?" you reply, "Can I have some water?" you ask, you're throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Sure," the nurse says, filling a cup and handing it to you. "Well, the doctor will be in soon," she says, giving you a short smile and walking towards the door.

"Umm, can my brother come in?" you ask. Knowing that no matter what she says, Dean will make it in here one way or the other. The nurse hesitates. "It's just that I would like him to hear what the doctor says. I am still groggy, not sure I am going to remember everything he tells me," you add, hoping this will pull on her heartstrings just a bit.

Which does work, "Sure." she replies, giving you a smile and then walking out the door. She briefly talks to Dean before walking away, and Dean enters the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and walking towards you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. You try to sit up a bit more, but you struggle a bit.

Dean quickly gets to you. " Here, let me," he says, finding the remote for the bed, setting you upright, and then readjusting your pillows. "Good?" he asks once it looks like you're settled.

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this, you’re sure you're a mess, bed hair, hospital gowns, and oh man…your breath has got to stink by now, right? Trying your best not to breathe out, "Yeah, thanks." you quickly reply. Dean sits in the chair next to your bed but doesn't say anything. Okay, guess you will start. "So brother, hum?" you quip.

He smiles at this and looks away from you to the bedding. "Yeah, I had to say something; otherwise, they would never let me back in." Then, looking back at you, a slight panic sets in that you might be mad at him for this small lie. " You're not mad, are you?" he asks.

"No, of course not," you reply, wanting to reassure him that everything is fine. This does, as relief washes over him a second time. You hold out your hand for him to take. "Just wonder what Sam will say about having a little sister, that's all. I am sure he will hate being the middle child," you joke.

Dean gives a short laugh: "Oh, Sammy will be all right with it. He will be happy to hear you're awake, is all." Dean's fingers rubbing your hand back and forth are nice.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask, trying to remember the day before you were brought in, but it's all a blur. Was he coming to see you? Was he working on a case?

"I was coming back through, and you had helped me with the case in North Carolina…" lowering his voice, even though you're in a private room," that Dinji." Dean recounts, seeing you not remember. He continues, "I stopped by your place, and your neighbor was out and said you were in the hospital."

None of that is registering at all, like last month, which is a blank slate. Fuck, what else are you not remembering? "And you have been here this whole time?" you ask, wondering what the state of the world must be like if he has taken himself out of saving the world for two weeks! Is Sam okay?

Dean's eyes, bright green, lock with yours, cocking his head slightly to the side, with slight confusion at your shock that he was here the whole time. "Of course, where else would I be? I wasn't going to leave you alone here," he says, a matter of fact.

You're about to reply to this, ask more questions, ask how Sam is, but before you can, the doctor enters the room. "Miss. Moore, welcome back," he says, looking at your chart and then at you and Dean. And this must be your brother?" he asks, holding his hand for Dean to shake.

Dean does, letting go of yours, the loss of him, his touch is apparent. "Hey, doc, when can I take my sister home?" Dean asks.

The doctor starts to talk, but you're not listening; your mind drifts to Dean. He put his life on pause for you? Wow, that's something, but you're sure he would do it for Charlie, Jody, Claire, or Alex, right? Yeah, of course. Dean sees you as family, which is what you are to him; that's what you will always be. Yes, you were close. He and Sam saved you from the vampire nest, explained everything about their world, and gave you a purpose.

You feel a slight pressure in your chest. Now that you're awake, how long will he stay before he leaves again?

"So I will get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork, and you guys should be out of there in a few hours," the doctor says. Giving you a smile.

Not hearing anything but that, you just smile back and look towards the window. You hear Dean thank the doctor, and he leaves the room. "nice guy," Dean says, filling up the silence.

"Yeah," you reply. You’re not sure what you are feeling; it's almost like a weight on your chest, pressure. Maybe it is COVID; it will be better once you get home. It has to, right?

******

You didn't know Dean could fuss over you more if he tried. He insisted that he be the one to wheel you out of the hospital, only after he made sure the car was pulled up as close to the door as possible so you didn't have to walk too far. Then, when he pulled into your driveway, he insisted he carry you the short walk to the front door.

"No, Dean, I can walk. My legs aren't broken; I had COVID, that's all." you quip back as he comes over to your side of the car to pick you up.

"The doctor said you shouldn’t over-exaggerate yourself, that's all," he replies, trying again to wrap his arms around your waist and pick you up from standing against the closed car door.

You block his hands again. As much as you would like his arms around you, have him cradle you; where is this coming from? You also don't want him to hurt himself, or God forbid the neighbors see him carrying you bridle style. "Yeah, walking the three feet to my front door is not going to kill me." This comment is like a punch in the gut for Dean; it's written on his face. Shit, was my COVID scare that much of an effect on him? But why? Trying to write your wrong, you try to play it off. "Come on, man, I have been on my back for two weeks and must move a little bit." You quip back. Playfully pushing him aside and walking towards the door.

You get to the door but realize you don't have your keys, you didn't have those, or your phone when you were brought into the hospital. You wait for Dean to come up behind you. He doesn't say anything, pulling out his keys; he opens the door and lets you walk in first. You shuck off your jacket and shoes and go to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you try to hide the sigh of exhaustions that you feel from the small activities you just did; but it slips past your lips and is not lost on Dean.

"Want me to make you some tea? You hungry?" Dean asks.

"No, I want you to tell me what's happened since I was in the hospital. Did all the evil in the world decide to take a break while I was out, and that's how you got to have some time off?" you question, motioning him to sit next to you on the couch.

Dean shrugs at this, "No. I just told Sam I was taking myself off the board, is all." he says casually.

"Taking yourself off the board? Hum, I didn't know you guys could do that," you ask, Giving him an intuitive look.

Dean is giving you nothing back, shaking his head, looking around the room, and clapping his hands together. He points towards the kitchen, "I am going to make that tea for you." He walks away before you can stop him, leaving you to your thoughts. Something else is happening, and you know who to call to get the truth out.

******

Making that call seem more complicated than usual since Dean didn't leave your side for anything. Three days, three days of hovering and mothering you, and as much as you care for Dean, and possibly secretly loved him. Let's face it, those chest tightening pains at the hospital, the loss of his touch was not COVID symptoms, it was your heart telling you what you already knew. You were in love with Dean Winchester, and the fact that he dropped everything for you made your head spin and feel like the most important girl in the world. But you are a realist, and Dean Winchester is out of your league. He sees you as the little sister he got settled with, not the girl he wants to kiss and do other things with.

On top of that, you are sure his opinions of you drop a few points since you found out really quick that to pass the time while he waited for you to wake up, he decided to clean your house from top to bottom. The sheer embarrassment when you found out had you want the couch to swallow you up right there. "Excuse me, you did what?" you ask, thinking you didn't hear him right when you ask; the following day, a book you usually had on your coffee table was now on the bookshelf that it was never on.

"I did some cleaning while you were…" Dean says, not finishing that statement while he grabs the few dishes off the coffee table and heads towards the kitchen. He never finishes that statement. Whenever he says it, he never says 'when you were in the hospital' or 'when you were sick.' After three days of the hanging statement, you get frustrated over that.

But knowing he cleaned your house, how clean is clean? Did he do your laundry? Yep! Did he clean under your bed and put stuff away on your nightstand? God forbid he did a deep clean in your closet—oh, the embarrassment. "Why?" you ask, now following him, waiting for an answer that you sure won't come.

Dean has his back to you, rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. "What? It's not a big deal. I had time, plus the nurse thought it was a good idea for you to come home to a clean hose." He says while wiping down the counter.

You try your best to breathe and calm down. Yes, all that is true, a clean house to come home too make sense. But having him go through your personal and private things, fuck, him cleaning your underwear. He will never look at you as desirable again, not like he did before. You look up from the floor to see him watching you, waiting for a reply. "thanks, I guess," you say, defeated. "I am going to go take a shower." You say, needing just a few minutes by yourself, shake off this feeling of rejection you know he doesn't realize he caused.

"You need some help?" he asks, approaching you and walking a step behind you.

You take a second, knowing again that he just wants to help, but God treats you like an old woman. Because you know that his offer of 'helping you out' in the shower does not imply sexy times; it's he saying he thinks you are weak and that you're going to get tired, fall, and hurt yourself. You get to the bathroom door. "No, I got it, thanks," you say, opening the door and shutting it before he can say anything.

*****

Dean POV

I know I am being overprotective, maybe even going overboard with not letting her do anything, and perhaps the deep clean was an overreach. But in my defense, I thought I could lose her, and if she was going to, no, when she was going to come home, I wanted it to be in a clean, COVID-free house.

I turn away from the bathroom door and walk towards the living room. I start to clean up, picking up the discarded blanket from my makeshift bed; even though she has a spare room, it's on the second floor away from her, and I want to be close in case she needs me in the night.

The rigging of my phone pulls me from my thoughts of her. Picking up, I see it's Sam. "Hey, what's up?" I ask, dropping the blanket and myself onto the couch.

"Just checking in, how's Y/N?"

"Good, still low energy, but I am just happy she’s walking and talking, even if I am annoying her."

"You, annoying her, I can't believe it," Sam says, with fake shock. "You know she can take care of herself; she has been doing that for some time now." Sam reminds me. Knowing that my hovering is coming for a place of love for Y/N, but it could be doing more damage than good.

"I know, it's just…" I pause briefly, looking back to see the closed bathroom door. "Sam, she just looked so helpless there lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to those machines…and there was nothing I could do…nothing that could save her…I just had to wait."

Sam knows that's not my strong suit, "I know, I get it, but maybe just ease off a little. I am sure it's making her feel like a burden, you doing everything for her."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I will try."

"I know I am." He clears his throat and paused briefly before asking what he knew I would not want to answer: "So when are you heading back to the bunker?"

I pause momentarily; the idea of leaving you hadn't crossed his mind. "Umm…" Hearing the door open, he looks to see you walking out of the bathroom and down the hallway to your room, wrapped in your navy-blue plaid robe, hair slightly damp from the shower. "Not sure yet, but I will keep you posted. I got to go." I say quickly, hanging up the phone. I know that she can take care of herself, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her again; what if I do and something happens, and there is no one here to save her again. Sam's right, though; I have to back off, or I am liable to smother her.

*****

Y/N POV (about a week later)

Something seems to have changed in Dean in the last few days. It was like the old carefree Dean was back. He hovered less, not watching my every move, and even went on a quick day trip to the bunker to pick up more books for me to read since I had read everything in my place twice, and if I was going to be stuck inside I wanted to do something productive. Granted, I had to ride shotgun on this trip, so although we got out of the house, I was still under his protective eye. But he wasn't babying me anymore; he cracked jokes, smiled, and even complained when I made him watch the same movie repeatedly.

Dean was going on a food run, and this was one outing he didn't let me go on. Too many people, could possibly get sick again, so he didn't want to risk it. But he also hated doing it, leaving you alone. "You're sure you're going to be fine," he asks again, standing in the doorway, you on the other side, trying your best not to push him out and lock the door.

"Yes, Dean, you'll be gone for an hour. I think I can survive." you quip, pushing him playfully, "Go, I promise, no running around the house with scissors or jumping on the bed. I will keep my butt on the couch until you get back."

Dean's worried face slightly softens, knowing that you will be fine, but that pit in his stomach—the thought of him walking out that door again and not having you in his sight—will never go away. "Okay, but call me if you feel off," he reminds you again.

"Yes, now go." You reply with a smile. Yes, he was getting on your nerves slightly, but you still loved the guy for it.

You watch as he pulls out of the driveway and down the road before you head inside. Walking to your room, you find your cell phone charging, and you quickly make the call you've been waiting to make since you got home.

He picked up on the second ring: "Y/N, everything alright? Dean texted me to say he was going on a food run. Do you need him? Are you not feeling well?…" Sam blurts out, a lengthy, run-on statement that has you slightly spinning.

Trying your best not to laugh at him. "Sam, calm down; I am good. I just wanted to talk to my friend. How are you?" you ask, wanting to ease into this discussion. Plus, you really did want to know how he was doing; ever since you came home, you only talked to Sam when Dean would call him and have him on speakerphone. Even then, Sam was instructed not to speak about cases he was working on. Dean had a theory that possibly COVID was stress-induced, but you know it wasn't.

"I am good, making my way back to the bunker. I have a case in Wisconsin, so I'm in your area. I was thinking of seeing you guys once it's done."

"Oh yes, please do, Sam. It's been ages since we've hung out together. I feel like a movie marathon is needed."

"Yeah, if you're up for it. Dean tells me you get tired easily. Is anything else not the same?"

"Umm…brain fog for sure; I lost all memory of the week before I went into the hospital. Some things don't taste the same. But honestly, Sam, can we not talk about me for a bit. Tell me about the case in Wisconsin; what are you hunting this time." You inquire, done talking about yourself, need a distraction, and avoid asking Sam what you want to know.

Sam, being the best friend, a girl could ask for, knew that a distraction from your symptoms was what you needed, and although it would be breaking his promise to Dean, he could hear it in your voice, the need for some kind of normalcy, at least what normal is considered for us. Giving you all the details, you can come to the same conclusion that it was a vengeful spirit and a simple salt and burn job is in order.

Once Sam is done talking about Wisconsin, a lull in the conversation forms, and you look at the clock to see Dean should be home soon. "Sam, can I ask you something?" You feel slightly nervous and try to figure out how to phrase your question.

"Of course, you can ask me anything."

Taking a breath, you wait a second before asking, "How was Dean when he found out I was sick? He said he 'took himself off the board' and has been hovering since I got home. He's gotten better, but those first few days, it was like he was a different person."

Sam can tell by the last statement that you're trying to bring some levity to an otherwise heavy question, a question that he is surprised you have to ask. taking a breath, he thinks about how to say, ‘You idiot, he loves you! and you love him!'

"I am glad to hear that he's lost up the reins a bit," giving a chuckle, "but honestly, Y/N, he was devastated. I know he's my big brother, and he tries his best to hide his emotions, but I could tell that night when he called to tell me what happened, he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose you, scared that he might have caused this to happen to you."

"How could he have caused COVID? I mean, I get he sometimes can have a big ego, but, come on, he can't cause an infection."

"No, but he thinks he has been asking too much of you, wearing you down. I can't say whether he's right or wrong. You and I know you occasionally burn the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I am trying to get better at that. But Sam, he was treating me like I was 90 years old. He wouldn't let me do a thing around here. And did he tell you he cleaned my house—my whole house—before I got home? I mean everything."

"Oh man, I am sure you were not happy to hear about that."

"Your damn right. I wasn't."

"Look, it's not my place to say, but I will tell you this, remember that night when you and I got a little tipsy, and you might have let slip your feelings for a certain green eye hunter?"

Fuck, of course, he remembers that night; that was right after you had helped him and Dean take down a wraith, and Dean was out on a beer run. "Yeah, you asked me why I never seem to be dating anyone, and I said I can't be with the one guy I want, so why be with the wrong guy at all."

Sam waits for you to connect the dots, and although you're not sitting in front of him, Sam has a feeling you're making the connections: "Let's just say Dean has the same idea, and he has his eye on a hazel eye researcher that he thinks he can't have."

You're about to protest Sam's statement that Dean has no feelings for you other than sibling love, but before you can, you hear the front door open and Dean yelling, "Honey, I am home," sweetly.

"I've Got to go, Sam. Talk soon," you say, and hang up before he can reply.

*********

Sam's words kept rolling around in your mind all night, distracting you from Dean. During dinner, you were quiet, letting him lead the conversation and not making it known when he mentioned Sam might be stopping by in a day or two that you two had talked earlier. "Oh, okay, sounds good." you responded, still thinking, 'He has his eye on a hazel-eye researcher that he thinks he can't have.'

Dean went for girls that were the complete opposite of you, blonde, curves in all the right places without an ounce of fat to be seen, the girl that guys walk across fire for, not the girl that they run into fire to get away from. Not the girl who is socially awkward around strangers, who can put her foot in her mouth easier than anyone, and who has more of a backstory than is worth mentioning. No, Dean goes for simple, noncomplex girls, which makes sense, given his life is entirely of danger and complexity. Why go for a girl to add to it.

Dean can tell your mind is elsewhere, and he is slightly worried that you're lost in your head or that this might be another symptom. "Hey, space cadet, you with me? Because if you're not watching the movie, I will gladly turn it to something we haven't seen twice this week," he jokes, hoping to make fun of the situation.

His voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you look over at him; his eyes have just a hint of worry to them. The blanket across both of you, him in a simple white t-shirt and sleep bottoms, you in gray leggings, tank top, and open cardigan. Perfection, you and Dean cozy up on the couch, not a care in the world, him teasing you about your love of disaster movies, and you forcing him to watch the same one repeatedly, and he does; why? Because he loves you. He loves you like a sister, a friend, someone he cares for, just not someone he’s IN love with.

"yeah, sorry, I think I am just going to go to bed." You shake off that last statement: he's not IN love with you. God, you really know how to cut yourself deep, don't you? Getting up from the couch, you grab your water glass and head towards your room.

Dean gets up with you, "here, let me help you," he says, walking around the couch and placing a hand on your lower back.

This is the last straw, the final statement of his wanting to help you, again treating you like you're helpless. "Stop! Just stop!" you yell, feeling yourself boil with rage you knew you had been keeping at bay. You know his hovering is with the best intentions, but for you, it's blurring the lines between what you want from him and what you know he can give you. Your mind won't let it be accurate even after what Sam told you today.

Dean stops his hands from touching you, standing still like he is frozen in time. "Y/N, hey, I just want to help. You look tired, is all." His voice is soft and sweet.

He’s trying to placate you, like he would a child or grandparent, "Dean, I am fine; I can walk ten feet to my room on my own and not get lost or fall down, okay!" You lock eyes with him and see his face fall, and in that moment, you know that he's hurt; you've only ever yelled at him when you were injured and need him to find you. But that was screaming for him, not at him. You know that you should feel bad for your outburst, you do, but you know that this is not real, that this ideal version of him and you playing house can't last.

"What is wrong? Is this another symptom? Did something happen while I was out?" he asks, wanting to understand your sudden change since this morning. You start walking away from him, wanting to get into your room and away from him, knowing he will get the truth out of you. You don't want to hear his excuses or him placate you even more about why he and you will never be a thing.

You turn halfway down the hall to look back at him, standing there watching you. "No! It's not! I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. Stop treating me like I am dying, Dean! You saved me once; that should be enough for you." Turning back, you reach your door, hand on the handle to open it, when you hear Dean.

"What does that mean?" Dean questions, his footsteps pad against the hardwood floors, standing right behind you; you can feel his breath on your neck, "I know you are capable; you are the strongest woman I know." his voice low, sending shivers down your body, you feel his hand on your arm, turning you around to face him. He sees your tear-stain cheek, "Fuck, Y/N, talk to me; what is going on? Why would you say saving you once was enough?"

Your eyes, trying and failing to hold back the tears, are now on the brink of spilling out. He needs to just let you go. You lean back against the door, knowing he took that little movement as exhaustion, and you are. You are exhausted by talking about this repeatedly, tired that he just can't let you leave, won't give up, and will go back to seeing you only when he needs something. He needs to go back to his life and let you put him back into the box of things that you don't let yourself have. Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face, wiping the tears and pushing them back inside. Putting on your brave face, "You know, Sam will be here in two days. I think you should go back with him. Go back to the bunker, and 'put yourself back on the board.'"

Throwing his line back at him, telling him he needed to return to work and that you would be fine without him. Will you, though? In time, maybe? You turned the door handle and stepped into the room, never breaking your eye contact with him. He shut the door in his face and flipped the lock, not giving him a chance to speak, knowing that he would not force his way in.

To be continued

[dracoxsworld]

hey I was wondering If you could do a harry x reader oneshot (takes place in ootp or hbp) where harry and reader are dating for a few months and reader is still not completely comfortable around harry because she isn’t used to physical contact and one day when harry wants to cuddle with her she just stiffens or flinches which causes harry to worry about her cause he doesn’t know if she has some trauma or something and you can make up the rest but make it extremely fluffy? only if you want to do it tho I just thought it’d be cute <3

A/N: Holy cow this is a really good idea. I feel like Harry is so clingy and like, cuddly, so this prompt is so perfect for him! I edited the timeline a bit to tie in GOF just for storyline purposes buuut I hope you still enjoy!

WARNINGS: Mentions of past trauma/abuse, but only briefly. The rest is fluff. <3 I’ll put a *** as a warning if you want to skip past it, and a *** at the end so you know it’s over.

“There they are! That’s who’s dating Harry Potter!” Hushed voices whispered throughout the castle walls as you walked to class.

You were used to hearing people talk. Both in a positive light– and in a negative one.

You and Harry began your relationship at the beginning of 4th year. Unknowingly, (and unintentionally) Harry became even more famous by being thrown into the Triwizard tournament against his will. With you already being relatively shy, and soft spoken; you and Harry decided it may be best to keep your relationship secret.

Harry knew people would bother you and pick at you to reveal if he purposely got himself into the tournament somehow–; even though you both knew that he didn’t.

After 4th year, you both finally announced your relationship. It was the first day of 5th year, you and Harry just celebrated your one year anniversary, and were both happy. However, given the secrecy of your relationship, and Rita Skeeter being an unregistered Animagus sneaking around Hogwarts, you and Harry weren’t able to behave like normal couples do.

Sure, there was sneaky hand holding, smiles and resting your head on his shoulder, etc. But no kisses, no cuddles, nothing that you would see other couples at Hogwarts would do.

You of course craved the intimacy, longed for the closeness of your boyfriend, but you hadn’t had affection in a long time anyway. You weren’t to used to a gentle, loving touch. Harry didn’t know much about your past, you’d never talked about it with anyone. Until one day.

You heard the hushed voices surround you in the hallway. It’s been two weeks since you and Harry announced your relationship, you had expected people to drop the subject and get h!bored of it, but you underestimated the obsession with the Harry Potter. Ginny Weasley have you the stink eye as you passed her in the hall. She very obviously had developed a huge crush on Harry since she had seen him for the first time. You gave her an apologetic look, even though it wasn’t your fault.

You turned around the corner and ran into someone.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I was in a rush and,” you began to say, before looking up to a familiar boy with messy raven hair. He smiled down at you, crouching down to your level.

“I haven’t seen you all day, my love, are your classes over?” Harry asked. You nodded, your face turning scarlet as he helped you up. “Are you?” you asked quietly. Harry nodded, taking your books out of your hands carrying them for you. “Shall we go to the common room? Everyone is going to Hogsmade but, I’m not really in the mood today.” Harry suggested, beginning to walk down the hall with you. “Sounds lovely, todays been really draining my social battery.” You chuckled, awkwardly clasping your hands together since Harry was carrying your books for you.

-

You and Harry sat in the common room, studying for your upcoming potions test. You always did better with potions than Harry did, so you tried your best to help.

“I just don’t understand,” Harry sighed, closing the potions book. You chuckled softly “Harry, you can’t give up! It just takes time.” You insisted, taking his hand in yours. His green eyes looked up from the closed book to your E/C eyes. A gentle smile formed on his face. “Thank you for trying to help, I promise I’ll keep working at it.” He replied. You nodded “As long as you keep trying.” You said gratefully.

“So, has anyone asked you questions about our relationship?” You asked Harry, fiddling with your quill. Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice from a mug Mrs. Weasley made for him with the letter “H” hand painted on it.

“Normal stuff, Hermione and Ron were kind of mad at first for not telling them, but they understood once I explained.” Harry said.

“Luna said we’re a match made in the stars.” You said, recalling what your friend had told you. Luna was the most supportive of your relationship, her eyes lit up when you told her.

Harry smiled, red forming in his cheeks. He shuffled closer to you on the couch you both were lounging on.

You watched Harry scoot closer to you, and you took a shaky breath he didn’t seem to notice. You and Harry had never cuddled, or kissed very much since you revealed your relationship. Quick pecks here and there, but nothing personal or very romantic.

Harry's hand slowly went towards your face to caress it. but before it could reach you, you flinched. Harry's calm expression quickly changed to concern. His eyebrows furrowed at you. "Love?" He said softly, but you couldn't look at him in the eye. You hated that your body still reacted the way it did.

"Did you think I was going to hurt you?" The boy asked.

"I would never think you would hurt me, I-" You began, beginning to choke. "I just, I'm sorry." your voice broke. Harry just watched you, his arm slowly and cautiously wrapped around you, you leaned into him. For the first time, and after a year of dating, you were in Harry's arms. It felt right, you felt complete.

"What's wrong, did I upset you?" Harry whispered, planting a kiss on your head.

You shook your head. "It's just me, I'm broken" You explained. "I've never opened up to you about it." You added about a moment of thinking.

"About what?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your back.

"My past relationship was extremely unhealthy." You murmured. "He watched every move, criticized every move, too."

Harry didn't interrupt. “I could tell when I’d piss him off, he would get really angry.” You explained.

***

Harry sat up and faced you, and you faced him. “Y/N, what would he do when he was angry?” Harry asked simply. You looked at him and you felt your ears go hot, and your eyes filled with tears. “He’d hit me, you know. Put his hands on me.”

Harry’s eyes now mirrored yours, filling with tears. He also looked angry, his fists were balled up. He was looking down at his fists, he was quiet, not saying a word. But you knew what he was thinking. You weren’t sure what to do, but you grabbed his hands and held them in yours and looked at him.

***

“I am never going to hurt you, Y/N.” Harry said quietly, and very softly. “I’m going to promise you a lot of things, one is that I will never hurt you.”

You smiled, and slowly snuggled into his arms. Your body was tense, but his fingers delicately rubbed up and down your back. He planted a soft kiss on your forehead. You both sat there for a moment, in silence. Just enjoying each others company.

“My other promise is that I’ll always love you.” Harry added.

“I’ll always love you too, Harry.”

[wishfuldivine]

Alright. This is for you @gaystappen!

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a character from the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare franchise.

He's a Sergeant and part of the Task Force 141 along with Captain Price, Ghost, and Soap. He's either the youngest or nearly same age as Soap, who happens to be another Sergeant. Quite frankly, it hasn't been established with accuracy.

Kyle Garrick enlisted in the British Army in 2008,  serving in the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, spending four years participating in test flights, jump competition and marksmanship before passing selection for Her Majesty's elite Special Air Service (SAS), where he is currently serving as a Sergeant for his sixth year. Tasked to Northern Ireland, Bosnia, Turkey, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. Garrick has spent the better part of his career hunting terrorist fighters. Kyle earned the U.S. Marine Corps Gold Parachute Wings at Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune in North Carolina whilst on an exchange attachment and routinely cross-loads on operations with the SAS' American counterparts, the Navy SEALs. Required to undergo resistance to interrogation (RTI) testing, Kyle was the only candidate in his class to escape the facility and evade capture. Routinely subjected to physically and mentally uncomfortable scenarios, Kyle prides himself on high tolerance and tactical awareness. "Everyone talks about the physical aspect of being in the SAS but my job is mostly mental. Give me a guy who's got his mindset right over a guy who's twice as fit any day of the week."

Sergeant Garrick was awarded the Queen's Gallantry Medal and the General Service Medal for both covert and overt counter-terrorism operations in the Middle East, disrupting opium supply lines and poppy production, a major source of terrorist financing. Kyle's last Middle Eastern tour was cut short due to an ever-changing political climate and a growing intolerance for full-throated unconventional warfare. Fading support for western backed guerrilla movements as well as growing regional tension complicated matters in the field, as men like Kyle are asked to do an imperfect job, perfectly well, without exception, no matter the cost.

With expertise in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance and VIP protection, Kyle currently serves on the SAS domestic counter-terror program, executing homefield missions with metropolitan police forces on European soil. Challenging duty, due to civilian and collateral damage issues, Kyle seeks the opportunity to serve abroad again, and make a real difference combating the threat of terror. (Had to copy and paste it for you to get a glance at his early days)

Therefore, he's a complete BADASS. The only problem when it comes to him is that, the majority of the COD fandom leave him out of stuff. It can go as far as fanart, fanfics, edits, and more. Basically, he's ridiculed for simply being POC. Even the official Call of Duty company by the name Activision often leave him out of things. Such as promos, skins on the game, etcetera.

His character development within the franchise is by far my favorite. He went from scared, insecure, doubtful, to determined, level-headed, and voice of reason.

Though, he can be such a damn brat. There's parts of the campaign in MW2 where he is a smartass and witty while speaking to Captain Price and Kate Laswell, the Station Chief and close friend of Price. Don't let his hard persona fool you. He'll be the first to join Soap in any mischief.

But overall, this is my baby. I can say so much more but that's what is on top of my head. He's my best boy. My baby girl. My precious pretty boy. My muse. He's so gorgeous. And beautiful. He belongs to the other 3, though. XD

Sorry if it's very long!

[apprenticestanheight]

hi!! i have a request :) would it be okay if you wrote a specs x transmasc reader where the reader gets specs to help him with a testosterone shot?? its totally okay if no tho!! have a good day :)

T - specs x transmasc! reader

hi nonnie!! I'm sorry this took a while--this one has been sitting in my drafts for a good few weeks now and I've had it written for just as long. My object permanence is the absolute fuckin' worst, however, and I, admittedly, forgot to edit this before today because of getting distracted by other projects and also getting so anxious I physically could not will myself to get out of bed multiple days in a row since you sent this one into my inbox.

HOWEVER, I did get my shit together today (started on medication for adhd because I told my dr I thought I had it and we're testing it out to see if it works for me to help with those symptoms + anxiety management wot wot) and so, here this is!! I am, once again, sorry for the delay, and I promise if you send another request in I will do my best to do it that week.

fic type - this is fluffy!!

warnings - there are mentions of needles in this

In the five years since you'd come out and the five and a half since you and Specs had started dating, you'd only asked him to help you with your weekly testosterone shot maybe twice in the three and a half years since you'd finally gotten through all of the necessary hoops and had been able to start taking it.

Normally, you could do it yourself without a hitch, sometimes a little squeamish at the sight of the needle, but that Friday you'd asked him to help because he did it a bit quicker than you did--even if by just a solid second or two--while the two of you were on a time crunch in a rush to meet Elise and Tucker. Also, somewhat, as a way to squeeze a bit more time with him out of your day because you had to work an eight hour shift from 3-11, and when you got home he'd either be reading a comic while half asleep or asleep on your side of the bed in your absence.

He agrees to your ask without questioning it, getting the shot ready while you talk to him about how work has been because you've worked a string of evening shifts for the past three weeks and have been too drained to talk about it the next day. He happily listens, occasionally commenting where it's appropriate to make a remark or agree with an opinion you hold about a coworker, though he also acknowledges that he only has your bias to base an opinion on and not his own.

"Thank you for this, by the way," you murmur as you're standing up to pull your pants down to your thighs. "I know I could've done it myself, but I've missed you a lot lately and wanted to squeeze in an extra few minutes."

That remark brings out a soft smile from Specs, given to you as you're sitting back down. A second later, you can see the debate as to whether or not he wants to give you a forehead kiss occur in his expressions before he pauses, presses a quick but somewhat lingering kiss to your forehead, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek.

"I've missed you too, for what it's worth," Specs says. "Elise has kept us busy with her clients and Tucker and I have kept ourselves busy with Spectral Sightings stuff, but we've not seen much of each other lately and it's been hard."

You've missed him so terribly that it hurts, and there have been multiple points in the lulls of your evening shifts wherein you've been tempted to just pick up the phone and call him. You haven't for fear of being judged and seeming co-dependent, but you're at a point where you don't care how co-dependent it makes you seem. You're allowed to miss him when you're working evenings and don't get much of a chance to see him except for in your easier mornings.

You're nodding your agreement with his sentiments as he finishes getting your shot ready. You watch the needle go in, unblinking and relatively unphased, grabbing a "fun" Band-Aid--one shaped like a ghost, one of many from a Band-Aid kit gifted to you by Tucker for your birthday that year--to place over it as the slight pain from the injection settles and the needle is removed.

You pull your pants back up and rake your hands through your hair as Specs discards the needle properly, ever the one to be cautious about how your injection needles are handled, and you're thanking him as you put your testosterone away as it's meant to be stored.

He does a bit of idle cleaning while you finish getting ready, and you wind up stealing one of his button downs to wear over a black shirt. You kiss his cheekbone as he tosses you your keys, and the two of you leave your shared house hand in hand, so full of contentment that you already know how happy you seem is bound to make Tucker fake a gag while he smiles.

[librarylexicon]

20 Questions for Writers

EDIT: Now with question 17!

Tagged by @cuephrase (ty bb!!)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

32 (that are attached to my account).

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

283,405. I very nearly posted 100,000 of them last year, and only noticed when I looked at my stats in January. If I'd known, I would have posted something else to get it over that line!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, just Batman, but in the past I've written for Harry Potter, Anne of Green Gables, Little Men, Tintin and a handful of other fandoms. I have a Road to Avonlea fic tentatively in the works, and might return to any of these fandoms if inspiration strikes.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All the Corners That Are Left is an outlier in my stats because it has more than three times as many kudos as the runner-up. It's an exchange fic that was my first foray into posting Batfam fics, and I liked writing it so much that it actually sparked a loose series of Post-Crisis oneshots, currently called Corners.

Family Crisis is my beloved canon divergence AU of War Games. It's the first fic I started writing for Batman, and I'm so happy that people are reading it. It's very comics-oriented, but still easy to follow without having touched a comic (imo).

Harry Potter and the Time-Turner is the first multichapter fic I ever wrote and completed, back when I was in my early teens. I won't reread it, lest I die of cringe, but I'm bemusedly grateful that it still gets hits and kudos.

Home Assignment is a Dick whump fic I drafted quite a while ago, and finally had an opportunity to finish and publish when I signed up for a Dick Grayson event. I had fun playing around with unreliable narration in this one!

In Retrospect is a HP fic that was written for a challenge where I was given five prompts and a week to produce five one-shots. I chose to make mine interconnected missing scenes set during and after Deathly Hallows, and particularly like how Painfully Abnormal turned out.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! It's a habit that's carried over from my fanfiction.net days, and I receive a manageable amount of comments, so I try to respond to every one. (The only reason I might not is when someone leaves a string of comments that are all very brief. In that instance, I tend to reply to the final comment only.) I adore reading and replying to comments! 🫶

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I've always been an angst lover. The Last Enemy, one of my oldest fics, ends with (canonical) apparent character death, and For the Sake of Our Son ends with both main characters (canonically) dying. How fun!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Other than a shipfic that's now anonymous, I don't know! I tend to go for uplifting or satisfying endings without necessarily aiming for happy ones (although I rarely have unhappy endings). Maybe You Know I Love You? I do also have a handful of Batman ficlets that I recently wrote for a zine, and there's definitely fluff among them.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think I got some on fanfiction.net back in the day, but the most hate I've received that I can remember is people being salty about a couple of fics I began when I was a teenager and never finished. I'm sorry, but it's been almost a decade! Yes, you can and should resist the urge to tell me that you don't respect authors who abandon fics!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers?

While I've toyed with quite a few crossover ideas over the years, I've only published one, which is a Rise of the Guardians and Peter Pan one-shot called Lost Boy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I can't recall any specific instances, but many of my fics have been on the internet for a long time, so they've definitely been scraped for knockoff sites, if nothing else.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, three times! Harry Potter and the Time-Turner has been translated into French, Shirley Not has been translated into German and At Home, They Call Me Tintin has been translated into Chinese. (Links to these translations are in my fanfic masterlist on Dreamwidth.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I'm open to the idea! I'd have to really know the other author and get over my control freak tendencies, though...

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I don't ship much (to the point where I have plenty of NOTPs), but I do love TimSteph, and I have soft spots for DickBabs and BatCat (Bruce/Selina) as well. All-time favourite, though? That would have to be Anne and Gilbert from the Anne of Green Gables series.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Before the War(drobe). Narnia fandom, I really want to return to you someday, but I have a couple things to do first!

16. What are your writing strengths?

My most positive comments almost always mention characterisation. I also think I write dialogue pretty well. In my mind, well-written dialogue is essential to good characterisation.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Even though I write about characters who are superheroes, I rarely write about them BEING superheroes, because I struggle with action scenes. Also description, but I like to think I've grown better at it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't like to use non-Latin characters in my fics for readability reasons, and I don't like to include dialogue in another language if I don't know the language. So, when my characters speak a language other than English, I either just use an English translation with a dialogue attribution (e.g. She said in Spanish) or just use the attribution without the dialogue, depending on whether or not the POV character understands the language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter! I wrote for it before I knew what fanfic was. I also joined the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum on fanfiction.net back in the day, which led to my most prolific ficwriting period.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

My favourite fics tend to be my most recent ones, because they're the ones I've spent the most time on and am most proud of. I can never pick one of anything (as you've probably noticed), so my current favourites are:

Family Crisis – longtime labour of love and Bruce character study

All the Corners That Are Left – Dick character study feat. Jason

Flight Mode – Tim character study feat. Bruce

Phew, that was a lot of questions! I think a lot of people have already been tagged 😅

Scrolling through my mutuals and no-pressure tagging @silverwhittlingknife @geevesthevieve @batrachised @freyafrida and @silent-silver-slip and any other fic writers who see this! 🫶

[benasabrina]

Could u write about Kakashi coming home from a long mission and see Anko sleeping with a tiny baby bump ty<3

ANON, MY DEAR FRIEND!! I am writing this fluff thanks to yooooou!

Edit: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!! I hit a writing funk for like two years 🥺🥺 But here’s the fic!!

Ficlet under read more~

Kakashi had always thought he'd be used to long missions away from Konoha. It gave him some quiet time, away from everyone, to reflect on his past and things he could do for his future.

But, this time around, he has someone waiting for him at home. Someone he's happy to call his significant other, despite them only doing so in private. Kakashi's still happy all the same, regardless.

It has been a long three and a half months and while the mission was successful, he just wanted to go home and embrace the woman he grew to love even more while being away.

"Anko..." he breathed and decided to pick up the pace to make it home by morning. A faint smile formed under his mask as he jumped from branch to branch. Hopefully, she'd be happy to see him too.

xXx

As the sun light broke over the horizon, Kakashi crossed the gate into Konoha. He skid to a stop, faint dust picking up behind him, and took a moment to catch his breath. The silver-haired Jonin glanced over to his left and saw the guardsmen. Nodding his head in hello, Kakashi took in one last breath and calmly walked the rest of the distance to see her... to see Anko Mitarashi.

While they both haven't been sending each other messages via hawk, snake, or hound, Kakashi knew that Anko was fine... right? At least, he hoped. Truth be told, not hearing anything for those three and half months made him a bit nervous. Things were fine between them. They had to be.

Soon enough, he saw her apartment coming up and jumped the rest of the distance to her door step. Since it was so early, he opted to using the key she gave him and slipped in quietly. Once entered, he took off his sandals, backpack, and discarded his flak jacket. Kakashi decided to say good morning to her before he decided to take a shower (thankfully he has some toiletries at her place) and removed his headband. Blinking to restore some sense of vision in his Sharingan eye, he sighed then made a beeline to Anko's room.

He cracked the door open and smiled at the sight of her. His eyes travelled along her body and came to rest on... "Huh?" he whispered and tiptoed to see her closer.

The blankets were resting at her hips and left a soft mound exposed on her abdomen. Had she put on some weight? he thought to himself. No where else seemed so… plump. Her face was still slender as were her arms and thighs.

But her belly? He shook his head. Even if she did put on some weight, he loved her all the same! Kakashi’s gaze traveled back up to her sleepy features and he smiled once again. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

This caused her to stir. An eye opened up blearily and suddenly both eyes shot open when she realized who was in her room. “‘Kashi?” she mumbled tiredly. “You’re home already?” Anko stretched and carefully contorted herself to sit up. She pulled the blanket up and ended up not bringing up her belly. “I thought you weren’t coming home til the end of the week?”

Kakashi shrugged and stretched as well. “Mission ended up ending earlier. So I made a beeline here.”

She smirked. “I can tell, go shower.”

He laughed and lowered his mask, then he felt the need to get serious. “Are you okay?” Kakashi asked gaze going towards her abdomen.

Anko blushed and looked away. “Yeah… I am. I’m perfectly healthy still,” she mumbled. “I’m just pregnant.”

“Ah.” Kakashi stood to head to the bathroom then stopped in his tracks. The Jonin immediately turned around, eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, pregnant?!”

“Yeah? I mean, we did do it right before you left on your mission.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Anko shuffled a bit uncomfortably. “Because I didn’t want to distract you from the mission..?” She felt like she was getting scolded and she groaned. “Plus I didn’t feel this would have been appropriate to, ya know, just send through hawk or dog mail.”

“Pregnant,” Kakashi trailed off and padded over to Anko once again. He looked to her for permission and once he received a nod from her, he lowered the blanket and placed a hand on her belly. “Woah.”

“Our baby is growing in there.” Anko looked to Kakashi to try and gauge his reaction. “Just letting you know, you’re not leaving me, ever. This is your kid too, and you’re stuck with the both of us.”

His gaze went to Anko’s chocolate brown irises. “I would never plan on it. You’re both stuck with me too.”

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #29 | 03.27.23

Hi everyone!

April is almost here, which terrifies me since the year is going by so fast. Before I get into game updates, I wanted to share a bit of a (somewhat) personal one.

This month, progress on Alaris was overall a bit slow---or at least, slower than usual. I noticed this month I was struggling a lot with working on basically anything, whether it was for school, work, Alaris, or just taking care of myself. And I realized basically a year late that I was feeling extremely burnt out.

For those who have been following Alaris for a long time, you may know that early 2022, I was struggling with a lot of personal circumstances. I had taken a week off back then to "take time for myself," but in actuality, I had continued working on Alaris and other things because sometimes when I have too much time on my hands, it's worse for my mental health. This was a recurring theme for basically all of 2022. Even during the holiday breaks (e.g., summer, November, December, etc.), I continued working on Alaris, partly because I love the project, partly because it helps me cope with irl things.

This past month, I think the break that I've desperately needed since the start of 2022 made itself Very Apparent and made progress slow on my end. I'm very sorry if the update this month is disappointing because of that! I tried to take a break this past week and am feeling a bit better now, so hopefully, things start to get back on track this upcoming month <3 With that, I'll get into actual updates!

Writing

I'm not going to lie to you all; writing was Slow this month LOL. Basically, the entire writing team got taken out by some sickness or another. I would say for 2-3 weeks of the month, there was no progress on editing or writing at all since everyone was sick at the same time <\3 We are starting to pick things back up, but please send your best wishes to the writing team since they were Going Through It this month!! Also, if you got sick this month and got whatever has been going around globally, I hope you are feeling better as well <333

I did update a good amount of the demo script---just rewriting things since my writing style has changed a little. Small things, but hopefully enjoyable changes nonetheless!

Art

As always, we have continued to make progress on BG art. This month, Vui finished the River BG and the Forest BG, both of which appear in Chapter 2 of the demo. We actually only have one more BG to finish, which is the Flower Field, and all the BGs for the demo will be complete (ahh!!!). It's been about 5 (?) months in the making to revamp all the BGs for the demo, but we are finally reaching the finish line, and everything is slowly getting ready for a revamped demo release ^^

preview of the forest BG

I also have a preview of the GUI for you all! There will be some small changes, like colors, before the final version. But a little crumb to feed you all since I didn't make much progress this month

I also mentioned in the last devlog how I might update the personality icons for Alaris, which were completed this month by the same item artist who did the affection point icons!

The overall vision for this was little potions to build on the "magical" setting of Alaris. I think they're much easier to differentiate and so cute <3

My focus was more on demo art assets for this month, so I finished up the individual CGs for each of the LI's introductions.

soft and fluffy updated Etza CG

I also started updating the sprites a bit---mostly small touches so the art looks a bit more cohesive since my style has changed a bit since the demo first came out. Aisa and Kuna'a are receiving outfit changes so that their clothing stands out from Central gang and looks more cohesive with the aesthetic that will be used for Fae.

Additional Notes

Something else I got to work on this month was finally reviewing the demo voiced lines in full. I hope you all are EXCITED to listen to them in the updated demo! A lot of the lines had me giggling (heehee!). I can't wait to see everything together once it's coded into the game ^^

I also opened applications for playtesters. They close at the end of this month, aka in a couple of days. So if you are interested, please don't forget to submit an application! Thank you already to everyone who has submitted something. The response was more than I expected, so as always, I appreciate the support you all provide wah <3

Market Research

Lastly, I actually got to do some "market research" this month (yay!). I finished up Piofiore finally.

the man, the legend: gilbert redford

Touchstarved also came out. I unfortunately haven't been able to play the demo yet since I was traveling when it was released, but I already know I'll love it and I drew Kuras even though I haven't even played the game yet LMAO

gender envy

Anyways, I think that's enough from me, so that is all for this month's update! Stay safe, and see you all next month <3

[jinxxangel13]

Ancient Enchantment

Chapter 3

Sorry it took me so long to get to this chapter! Work has been insane lately and honestly. It's been difficult for me to edit. But I'm going better and will catch back up again. Thank you for your patience!

~Masterlist~ ~Prev~ ~Next~

[Image is not mine; found it on pinterest!]

Recap:

“Better luck next time, Atlas!”

“Az! You’re lucky I’m not dressed yet or I’d have gotten you by now!” He yelled from their room as she slammed the door behind her. 

Azara could tell that Alistair was rushing to get dressed, so she took a deep breath and calmly strolled down the hallway towards the common room. 

“I suppose some introductions are in order.” Azara muttered to herself as she looked around. 

The room was absolutely gorgeous with high ceilings, murals across most of the walls, a few sculptures and statues throughout the few rooms she could see, and three floor-to-ceiling windows in the room to her right, which had small little nooks that seemed to encompass the chair in one of them. It looked like a place she could get lost in; the window seats would definitely be somewhere she would be commonly found during sleepless nights, she could guarantee. 

As she walked closer to those exact windows, she finally noticed it wasn't the sky reflecting the blue coloring, but water. They were underwater, and the thought of that both made her slightly panic and fill her with excitement. She remembered reading about the castle a few weeks prior to their transfer, but seeing it was a completely different story to the book.

“Must be the Black Lake.” Her voice was soft, drowned out by the chatter of the common room, ignoring the whispers about herself she knew were circling.

Azara got closer and stepped into the half dome of the middle window, running the back of her knuckles across the glass, relishing in the cool feeling as she placed her palm against it. She could feel the ripples of the water, and the light bumping of the fish in the surrounding area gently knocking against the window. 

A smile went across her face as she watched the creatures, excitement once again filling her at the thought of what it must be like above the surface if underneath it already looks this beautiful.

“I think I heard one!” 

Azara turned to her right, seeing a couple of younger students in the other window next to a blonde boy facing them.

“I doubt mermaids find us that interesting.” The blonde boy, now in front of her as she stepped closer, spoke in their direction.

As she approached cautiously, looking out the window the first years were at, the blonde boy turned towards her, seeming to look completely past her. 

Azara turned her head behind her slightly to see if he was looking at anyone else, but all she saw was her brother on the other side of the room talking to a tall dark haired boy by the fireplace across from the dorm hallway.

She looked back to the blonde, finding him much closer than expected, less than a foot away from her now. Her heart sped up from the closeness, but she steadied herself with a few deep breaths as she made eye contact with him.

He was quite a bit taller than herself, about the same height of her brother at 6 feet she would guess, his grown out blonde hair was partially slicked back with what looked to be natural brown-blonde highlights, and swirling sky-blue eyes, though they seemed almost clouded over. His jaw was chiseled, and he had freckles and beauty marks as well as a couple soft moles littering his face. She noticed he had no pupils and that he kept looking past her and not directly at her. Interesting.

It clicked then that he must have been blind. Interesting, as she had only met one other blind wizard, or person for that matter, and that was her own father.

“Ah, based on all the chatter from when you entered the common room a few moments ago, I’m guessing you’re the new fifth-year, or at least one of them. I’m Ominis, Ominis Gaunt.”

“It is nice to meet you, Ominis. I’m Azara Valentine. My brother is the other fifth-year, Alistair.” Azara smiled, though she knew he couldn't see it, he would most likely hear it in her voice.

Ominis chuckled, “Well, you certainly had a memorable arrival, if i do say so.”

Azara shook her head with a soft laugh, pushing her double fishtail braids over her shoulders.

"Well, if I'm going to make my own mark at this school, why not start right away?”

Ominis let out a nice laugh, one that made her slightly blush at the undertones of it.

“You’re definitely in the right house then, Azara. Do let me know if I can be of any help to you as you navigate your first days here.” He tilted his head towards her, as though he was actually looking directly in her eyes, causing her to freeze momentarily. “Though, I highly doubt you’ll need it.”

Azara looked back towards the first-years that finally left the window to leave the room.

“Did that student say he thought he saw a mermaid?”

Ominis chuckled again. “Yes, but I've never heard of one showing up outside our common room window. Though it is fun to play along. They’ve been known to keep some first-years on the lookout for hours at a time.”

She hummed a laugh, looking back at the window before asking him another question.

“Were you- uhm. Were you expecting to be sorted into Slytherin?” 

Ominis nodded to her question, albeit hesitantly, almost as if he wasn't expecting her to ask that.

“Most certainly.”

She tilted her head at him in confusion. “Why is that, Ominis?”

He smiled at her, eyes squinting for a moment as if trying to word things correctly.

“My family on my father’s side are direct descendents of Salazar Slytherin- one of the four founders of Hogwarts.”

“Woah.” She softly muttered, amazement and wonder flooding her thoughts and features, suddenly very glad no one else heard her, nor that he could see her face.

“It’s not something I'm especially proud of, mind you. He was obsessed with blood status; a pureblood maniac.”

Azara chuckled, coughing to try to cover it up but Ominis seemed to hear anyway and smirked at her.

“Unfortunately most of his descendents do not fall far from the tree.”

“I can understand the feeling.” was all she said, a slight shrug following her statement. “Though I doubt you’re anything like them.”

He shook his head. “I would hope not.”

Azara stepped back and slightly to the side finally, his unseeing eyes following her movements out of habit.

“Thank you, Ominis. It was very nice to meet you.”

“Trust me. Pleasure was all mine. Don’t be a stranger now, Azara.” Ominis nodded at her.

“Of course. Promise.” She waved gently in goodbye before turning away from him and heading towards her brother, who was still talking to the same boy.

As she approached, she heard the two of them laughing and joking.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence.” Alistair crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow, though his smile gave away to his teasing.

She hummed, leaning against the stone next to the fireplace between the two boys.

“Nice of you to finally wake up, Atlas. Was worried you had overslept again.” She teased back.

Alistair's eyes widened at her, while the other boy burst into laughter and clapped her brother on the back.

[mercedesfiction]

My brain: “We have a beautiful and fun Halloween fic idea!”

Me: “No way, we have way too many other fics to be working on, and we wrapped up our Halloween fic last year…”

My brain: “But it’s our magic creative hour of 2 AM! We must see what comes from it!”

Me: *Writes 1,000-word intro for a new Halloween fic.* “What have I done… and why would we start a project like this only a week til Halloween?!”

In case I don’t finish it in time or don’t come up with any more to add this year, here’s a fun little intro teaser to a random Halloween fic that I apparently just had to write out xD

If and when I do finish it, I'll be sure to add a link at the bottom :D

(EDIT: I did! Chapters 3 & 4 are this fic on the link. Happy Halloween!)

Witch Entertainment

(Jesse McCree x Female Reader 18+)

The chill autumn breeze blows through you in your Overwatch hoodie, jeans, and boots. You shiver at its presence, giving you goosebumps over your skin as your hoodie with a long sleeve underneath does little to defend against the colder evening air. You stay huddled up next to your boyfriend as the heels on both your boots and his, click on the stone pathway leading to a large stone castle. Along with the crunch of stepping on fall leaves every so often. Illuminated by lanterns along the path and candle-lit Jack’o lanterns. The sounds of bats overhead and an owl somewhere off in the trees along your path.

“Ya hangin’ in there?” Your boyfriend says with his smooth Southern drawl. His cowboy hat barely moves to the wind as it lightly blows now and then. His spurs jingle loudly and echo off the cobblestone path. He seems a lot more unfazed by the chilly breeze with his denim jacket and jeans. A plain black tee tucked in to show his “BAMF” belt buckle and holster on his hip. His iconic Peacekeeper revolver sits snuggly inside it, with the breeze spinning the spur on its handle now and then.

You slowly nod and try to control your shivering. “Yea…” You speak softly. “Sure is colder here than at the base…”

Jesse lightly chuckles, wrapping an arm around you, holding you tight against him. “Yea, sorry bout that.” He smiles, kissing your head. “I don’t think it should be as cold the rest of the time we’re here…” His tone is soft as you continue to walk.

‘Where is here?’ That is what you wanted to ask. Not knowing how exactly you got here, to begin with. Jesse mentioned it was a surprise and has been very vague on any details.

You try to process your day so far up until now. Remember being at Watchpoint Gibraltar in the early afternoon during a light rainstorm and Jesse telling you that we would leave for a couple of days and leading you to the med bay. A secret room in the med bay housing a teleporter that you hadn’t seen before and suddenly you’re teleported here, outside, and at night.

A forest area that seems secluded with a stone castle in the distance that appears like it would fit in well at Eichenwalde. Jesse had sprung this last-minute “trip” after you had mentioned how it was odd that you hadn’t felt the Halloween spirit yet this year. Especially with the holiday fast approaching and even decorating your quarters with Halloween decorations and lights. Making it cozy and matching the season perfectly, but the rest of the base lacks any celebration this year or decor.

“We’re almost there…” Jesse’s tone remains soft as he still holds you close. Sharing his body heat with you as you draw nearer to the castle.

You glance around more at your environment, barely seeing past the lanterns lighting the pathway, making the surrounding trees and forest dark and shadowy. “This place is a little spooky…” You speak softly while looking around.

“Ya ain’t scared,... Are ya?” Jesse grins.

You give him a gentle smile. “Not with you here.”

“Good answer.” He whispers, kissing your cheek softly.

You both finally reach the castle, approaching its large wooden doors with metal ring handles and door knockers. You give Jesse an unsure look while examining the large structure and its entrance. “Well after you…” He gestures to the door with a soft smile.

You swallow before slowly grabbing the cold metal ring of one of the knockers. Its weight becomes apparent as you move and lift it away from the door. The stiff metal ring moves with a grind before you drop it back against the door, knocking loudly.

You and Jesse stand in the cold breeze for a moment longer without words or movements, before one of the doors slowly opens with a chilling creaking sound. You keep an unsure look on your face as you glance at Jesse as he gestures to you to go ahead.

You slowly walk inside with Jesse right behind you. Leaning on and closing the heavy wooden door, silencing the wind from outside. You notice the temperature change when entering the castle, feeling much warmer with being enclosed and out of the wind.

The foyer of the castle is lined with candles and candelabras, keeping the space well-lit. Jesse causes your body to tense for a moment when he suddenly grabs your hand and slowly leads you down the hall into the main part of the castle.

You come to a sort of sitting room or living room with large windows looking out into the surrounding night forest. The interior of the room is warm and cozy and filled with witchy decorations and magical potions. Vintage furniture such as sofas and a couple of chairs along with wooden end tables and a coffee table. Centered around a lit fireplace, giving the space an added warmth.

Jesse leads you to sit on the couch, a soft velvet-like texture that’s warm from the fire. He removes his jacket and places it over your shoulders, giving you his heat for your hoodie to absorb. “Alright…” Jesse speaks quietly with a smile, kneeling in front of you. “Close yer eyes, Pumpkin.”

You hesitate for only a brief moment before slowly closing your eyes. The warmth relaxes you in the foreign space. You keep your eyes closed, listening to the crackling of the fire but not hearing any other sounds besides that, making you a little nervous but still calm with it being peaceful.

Your body tensed again at the feeling of a gloved hand gently grabbing and lifting your chin. You keep your eyes closed but notice a new aroma of different herbs and spices. Like hints of vanilla and pumpkin.

“Did someone call for a Witch?” The familiar female voice with a Swiss-German accent grabs your attention, making you open your eyes.

Your eyes widen with surprise with you seeing Witch Mercy leaning down to face you while holding your chin to look at her.

Continue on Chapter 3: