#he may be one of the saddest ocs i ever had

[strigital]

just a small bunch of Alek because he is the babiest of girls 😔

think it's about time i explained who tf he is and why i'm always sad about him so here are a few fun facts about the boi!:

saw his parents get brutaly unalived by Arasaka aged 16 and had to delta the fuck outta there with a toddler sister in his arms

got stranded in the desert outside Night City with nothing to his name but dad's old jacket, enough eddies to buy like one burger and a hungry child to care for

came across some Nomads (the Bakkers) and for a year or two Selita Bakker took the babes under her wing (then she fucken died and he had to leave again)

was forced into a life of crime just to make sure his sis didn't starve

he'd disappear for days or weeks doing gig after gig while Jaxine stayed with Mama Welles, Padre, Dr. Vik or Mama Fabienne (a kind-hearted haitian proprietress of The Birdhouse, an orphanage set up in the ruins of a small theatre tucked away somewhere between Dogtown and GIM) more about her sometime later

because of that Jax basically raised herself and Alek forever hated himself for not being there for her when she needed him most

he called her Jacket all the time and only used her name when she done fucked up and needed an ass woopin' (she was a hooligan who'd get locked up on possession charges aged 14...)

the nickname came from the fact that after they became orphans Jax would only ever shut up and stop crying while swaddled into her dad's giant jacket; she'd even wobble around like a penguin wearing it like a giant ass cape. and so it stuck. Jacket (sometimes it was JJ when Alek was in a hurry)

back in the world of edgerunning he was known as Vulture or V for short. his selling pitch was "got a bone to pick with somebody? Vulture's your man!"

as a side job he also ran an indie rock group "The Vultures". music helped him cope with day-to-day traumatic shit he had to endure. it's through the showbiz that he met Kerry Eurodyne and developed a hopeless crush on the celeb. feelings were mutual AF but both gonks were too shy to say anything. Kerry would only find out about it some years later from his sis when she became a walking floppy disk for Johnny_Silverhand.exe

at some point he utterly peaked in the merc world. every dog at the Afterlife knew his face and everybody wanted to work with him. even Rogue at some point advertised him to her clients as "the" man to do the job

at the pinnacle of his career Alek chipped in some mean mantis blades, top of the line Kiroshis, a Militech-made Sandevistan and a gazillion more enhancements that made him a fucken beast to be reckoned with. he also trained relentlessly and folks even mistook him for an ex-military, even though everything he knew was self-taught. he never stopped improving his body and mind and because of this (or maybe inspite of this?) he started showing the first symptoms of cyberpsychosis sometime around 2070. despite that, he'd keep his illness under control up until his death in 2074

it was also around this time that he klepped a pristine Type-66 Avenger off some corpo rat. he took the beaut to the Nomads to have it juiced up and after some work the wheels came out black as midnight, equipped with CrystalDome tech, guns upon guns, meanest freaking engine and tyres that could cling to walls if need be. don't ask how many people died staring down that bumper approaching them head-on at supersonic speeds, cause the answer is too many. Jax always felt like he loved that damned car more than her sometimes... and whenever she asked to take the beastie for a spin he'd always reply "over my dead body". who knew fucker meant it literally?!

Alek lied to Jaxine her whole life in a desperate bid to protect her from literally the entire world. the story of how they became orphans, what he did as a job, where he went off to for days on end... girl grew up knowing nothing about real Alek. only years later when with the help of a mutual friend she discovers his secret pad in the Glen that she'd start to piece together who he really was

Alek was afraid of his illness taking away his memory, so he scrolled damn near everything. birthday parties, hangouts at the shooting range, hikes into the badlands... every more or less important moment with Jaxie got recorded onto a BD shard and tucked away like a precious little slice of life that he was losing alongside his self-destructing neural links. later, Jaxie would spend hours rolling them over and over again, reliving the life that Arasaka took from them

throughout his career Alek's sole purpose in life (besides keeping his lil' sis alive) was revenge on Arasaka. specifically, he wanted to end Saburo himself with his own hands. any gig that involved messing with 'Saka or allowed him to gather crucial info was an automatic green light for him

he knew his dad didn't die in the assault and suspected he was Soulkilled like many other enemies of the corp (old man did in fact manage a anti-corpo group of vigilantes for like a decade before getting ratted out by somebody). at some point while on a gig to steal some 'Saka intel he got a hold of his dad's engram's copy. not like the Relic which would delete your personality, but the old gen - one that you plug in and talk to like your average hologram. of course, Alek never told Jax that he had their dead father on a shard slotted into his head at all times... and old man Bryce didn't want to traumatize his junior kid even further, either

dad wholeheartedly supported his son's mission to topple Arasaka, which was probably a bad idea... because history tends to repeat itself and eventually 'Saka discovered Alek's true identity and connected numerous crimes against them back to him. Adam Smasher was on his way to smash Alek...

too late did Alek realize that he done fucked up. he got all the crucial info locked away in his pad, the keys from it he left in his wheels and send that mf off into the sunset with a trusted fella. he recorded a sordid confession for Jaxie with a shitton of i'm-sorry's and i-love-you's and sent her away by... lying, again. he told her some drug dealers where coming to collect their due and he wanted her out of danger while he dealt with them. but the metal man Smasher showed up and the epic fight ensued. Alek knew he had no chance but he wasn't gonna make it easy for the dickwipe that zeroed his fam. the least he could do is hurt the bitch. and so as Jaxie was speeding away on Alek's bike - explosion. both Alek and his digitized dad were gone for good. Jaxie was left to fend for herself, not knowing that 'Saka now knew that they didn't wipe all of the Bryces and were looking for the one that got away

eventually she'd learn the whole tragic ass truth. and despite Alek's last wish for Jaxine to leave 'Saka be and just live her life, she made it her life goal to avenge her family. somehow, someway. one Johnny Silverhand would later come in extremely handy in this quest of hers

even though his life was hard and short, he did try to live to the fullest. he put his heart and soul into his music, he tried his damned best to show Jaxine that he loved her, and he looked out for his friends. Rogue would describe him as "the good villain" - a guy who despite having bloodied hands that never dried, always tried to do well by others. there was a short time when he was considered the deadliest motherfucker in town the mention of whose name sent shivers down gangoons' spines. and then he, like many before him and after, died

so if ya wanna honor the legendary Vulture whose flight was cut short, come down to the Afterlife and ask Claire for a shot of The Vulture: Armagnac Massy on the rocks with a splash of Cirrus Cola and a mint garnish. expensive, you say? if you knew him, you'd know he was worth every ennie

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cdpr #cd projekt red #male v #v #oc #alek takeshi bryce #long post #writing related #fanfic related #backstory #my art #sketch #traditional art #ballpoint art #marker art #he may be one of the saddest ocs i ever had #just a traumatized mf who just TRIES so damn HARD at everything #tries to be good brother a good merc a good musician a good human being #and life just spins him around like a hurricane does a cow #may he rest in pepperonis #i think in a alternate universe where jax dies and he lives johnny would feel right at home in Alek's anticorpo head #on the flip side they'd really REALLY hate each other and in the johnny would probably take over by force #dudes are just too similar #it'd be like trying to put out fire with fire and only turning a candle that's a bit out of control into a forest fire

[raccoonfallsharder]

Thinking about how Jolie would have reacted to the events in the Holiday Special and laughing 😂

so sorry for my delay holiday-nonnie but the truth is i was planning on writing a non-window one-shot about the holiday special and when i got this ask it kinda fucked me up. so i may not do that but what i will do is tell you this:

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ [new 12/5]

rocket x f!oc | casual minific | word count: ??

fluffy fluff. smut implied at the end but not explicit. casually written (headcanon-style) && not edited at all so probably riddled with bad autocorrects.

i suspect that in her younger years, the holidays were a very weird time for jo. i imagine that she and her sister each received one very nice, very serviceable gift every christmas, like a new wool coat or a maybe — if their parents were feeling particularly indulgent — some kind of educational game. if there was anything else — a special meal, a small tree or some lights — the girls would be expected to “help,” and not in a fun way.

it wasn’t that jo & gem’s parents didn’t have means. no. everything was very intentional — calculated. they always seemed to believe that their children had been born into the world already spoiled shitty, and it was their job to teach jo & gem not to ever believe they deserved anything.

but jo’s always been a sucker for wonder, for the kind of romance that a person can find in frost-flowers on a window pane, the tender curl of steam on a cup of warm tea, the glow of a million little multicolored lights — whether they’re studding a nighttime neighborhood street under snow, or a far-off planet. at some point early on, she learned that the other kids whose families celebrated christmas had all this excitement and glee around the holidays. she learned about christmas cookies and big family get-togethers and various holiday movies and stockings and santa.

my mom says some kids don’t celebrate Christmas but if you do and you’re good, santa comes, one classmate had confided. he only doesn’t come if you don’t do christmas.

or if you’re bad.

and jo had wanted that. wanted christmas. wanted magic and wonder and closeness.

for gemma.

because even if jolie knew she herself wasn’t always very good, she knew more certainly than anything else in the world that gemma was. and that gemma deserved magic.

so jo got some cheap felt and made like, the saddest ugliest most barely-functional little stocking in the world for her sister, and explained what it was, and they hid it under gemma’s bed. and since the girls shared a room, it was very easy for jo to keep herself awake and sneak out of bed and fill her sister’s stocking with whatever she could afford or make (which wasn’t much, but it was still magic, and the look on gemma’s face every christmas morning was worth jo selling off portions of her home-packed lunches to her classmates or drawing little comics of them for a dollar or two). making magic for her sister made the holidays magic for jo.

after gemma, christmas was never again anything close to merry.

but when kraglin brings it up — and mantis gets the idea to celebrate for pete and the people of knowhere — jolie is more in than she has been on anything since rocket first told her he wanted to fuck her. after all, she has a family now, and what’s more magical than giving magic to her family?

in some ways, it’s the only christmas tradition jolie’s ever had.

although, she promises herself, next time — when there’s more opportunity to prepare — she’s going to make sure they all have stockings.

in the meantime, she’s so fuckin excited to help rocket and cosmo and groot and nebula string up the lights. to prep the snow. she probably coordinates a fuckin last-minute knowhere neighborhood potluck. she listens to bzermikitokolok’s christmas song and she tells him not to change a goddamn thing because it’s perfect. privately, she revels in the fact that she’s pretty sure she can pinpoint exactly which parts were influenced by kraglin, cosmo, and her cranky boyfriend. she loves every word of it and she can’t stop singing it.

there’s really only one line she thinks needs to be clarified before the night’s over.

she also keeps asking where mantis and drax are because it was their idea and she knows mantis is worried about telling pete (i know it must be scary for you, mant, jo had told her, but for what it’s worth, i promise pete will be thrilled; there’s nothing more precious than a sister, i promise) but either nobody knows where they went, or nobody’s telling.

when kevin fucken bacon pops out of that box though, Jo’s like …oh. this fuckin’ makes sense. later she’ll ask them all, why the fuck did no-one ask me — the other resident terran — if this was a good idea?? and the other guardians will shuffle shame-facedly.

but for now, jo and kraglin eventually corner kevin and calm him down. and the truth is, jo knows that later tonight — after some boozy hot chocolate — she’s going to find it all hysterical.

and she does. she and rocket are in their apartment (they have a much more comfortable bed because there’s no way either of them are letting each other sleep on whatever-the-fuck bachelor-rocket has going on in volume three) and she’s lying on her tummy on the comforter, drunkenly giggling and kicking her feet while she watches cosmo and rocket convince a long-suffering groot to stand in as a christmas tree. the shadows are blue and purple velvet, and the multicolored lights are warm and shimmery. everything feels like champagne bubbles, but sweeter and brighter and better. all four of them are wrapped in a golden coziness for the moment, and she’s sure she couldn’t be more happy.

once their friend and their son leave for the night, rocket and jo lay on their back and stare up at the lights that he’s strung through the apartment rafters, because it’s true that rocket has always had a soft spot for pretty things, even if he doesn’t believe he deserves them. they’re lazy and languid and rosy and buttery and content: two little sugar cookies, still half-drunk on whatever was in that cocoa (plus the flask rocket kept swigging from throughout the night).

favorite part? she asks him.

he snickers. your face when kevin bacon happened.

a buzzy giggle escapes her.

yours? he asks.

she hums her data-processing noise. the lights, she says decisively. no, the snow. no, everybody just being together, giving gifts, having fun, sharing food. i’ll make you all stockings for next year, she tells him, and he’s clearly baffled by what she means.

which reminds her.

there’s only one thing she’d change, she tells rocket. one line in bzer’s song she feels the need to clarify.

what? he asks curiously. we got somethin’ wrong?

just one thing, she assures him, lying through her fucking teeth and totally at peace with it. she can’t stop the snorting laughter riding in her throat. you think santa’s gonna shoot missiles at your toes?

rocket shrugs. maybe he’s got some very precise firepower. bet mine’s still better.

it better be, she says dryly, because mistletoe is just a kind of terran plant. like, with berries.

you eat it? rocket asks curiously.

absolutely not, she tells him. you just decorate with it. it’s poisonous.

what the fuck, he deadpans. why the fuck would you decorate with a poisonous—

it’s an old tradition, she cuts in. old folklore and myths. but when two people are standing under it, they’re supposed to kiss.

that’s stupider than santa shooting missiles at your toes, he says flatly. you’re s’posed to make out under poison? how frickin’ romantic.

but jo’s already rolling over on top of him, her chest pressed against his thighs and her forearms planted on either side of his hips.

i’d take any chance i got to kiss you, she tells him. even under threat of poison.

he goes still beneath her, but she doesn’t stop.

i’d hang it all over this apartment.

his eyes get bigger, rounder, christmas-light-red in the dim, warm glow of twinkling colors.

i’d wear it in my hair.

she drops a kiss on his abdomen.

you wouldn’t be able to walk more than a step without me tackling you, she promises, her voice smoky with too much laughter and singing through the night, too much booze and happiness and lust right now. she presses another kiss against him, just a little further south than the first.

i’d kiss you all over —

he reaches out and laces his fingers into a fistful of her hair, letting his claws scrape delicately over her scalp, and tugs her upward.

i lied, he says. santa shooting missiles is way more stupid. you want mistletoe, sugardrop? i’ll get quill to send krags and cosmo to terra and we’ll get you so much fuckin’ mistletoe —

she smiles giddily.

maybe next time, she says. for now, let me just give you a merry christmas.

#rfh asks #window across the galaxy #gotg holiday special #rocket raccoon fanfiction #rocket x jolie #rfh fluff

[eoieopda]

Jade unnie, don’t kill me, but can you do “What Sarah Said” by Death Cab for Cutie with darksided!Yoongi? (I know, I know, I’m a monster but I feel like you can make something so haunting and beautiful with this!)

oh my gooooooood. how could you? ☠️ i love this song but FUCK. okay okay okay. this one may be shorter than others given the whole thing??

Darksided AU Masterlist

listen here

cw: ANGST, hospital, OC is terminally ill (brief reference but no detailed description or specific illness mentioned), discussion of death, just the saddest shit (but nobody dies in this story fwiw)

but i’m thinking about what sarah said / that love is watching someone die / so who’s gonna watch you die?

Nobody says the quiet part out loud.

When you stand in front of all your friends and promise to be with someone in sickness and in health, you don’t comprehend the former. It’s a hypothetical, statistically inevitable but impossible to fathom; and you’ll turn a blind eye to it for as long as you can. A promise you can’t feel the weight of until it’s sitting heavy on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees.

How fitting that his very first promise to you came the same way.

When Yoongi made his vows, he meant them. And when he said til death do us part, he said it with his eyes locked on yours; with his entire chest. All he ever wanted was to spend the rest of his life tied to you, loving you, growing with you.

It all seemed so simple back then, looking at you in that white dress.

It didn’t dawn on him until now that, sooner or later, the bill comes due. When you reach the last stop, one person has to get off first. Someone has to live a life built jointly, alone.

Yoongi didn’t know how to do that.

Sitting now at your bedside, your cold hand rested in his. You were smiling, though it burned up all your energy to do so. It was blinding and all-consuming, even under harsh fluorescents. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the cannula resting just above the curve of your lips.

This was the first time Yoongi had ever wanted to avert his eyes from you, and the realization made him feel sick. You had no business in a place like this and he couldn’t accept your presence here.

Effervescent. Magnetic, though that pull was steadily getting weaker.

He knew, of course, that the version of you in front of him was the same person he’d slept next to every single night for years. You were every perfect memory, locked in his heart forever. Laughing, crying, cooking, dancing, sitting quietly on the couch.

You, laying there now at half your weight, were the same person who loved him completely - even in his worst condition. The one who unknowingly helped him repair every cracked and dented piece of himself. Who had never once dropped him, scuffed him, shattered him.

He knew all of this - really, he did - but as he searched your face now, he couldn’t find you.

You were lightning in a bottle; and these sterile walls and muted, linoleum tiles didn’t reflect the way you inherently glowed. To the contrary, they absorbed it, took it hostage. They swallowed it whole and now Yoongi was sitting cold in the dark.

But he wore a black suit; slid that ring on your trembling, once-warm finger; and vowed to hold your hand for as long as you both shall live. Yoongi bore witness to your life. Now, he was going to have to watch you die.

And when it was his turn at the end of the line, he’d follow you into the dark.

#jade’s drabbles #jade’s requests #1k drabblepalooza #anon #bts #bts army #bts suga #bts yoongi #myg #bts angst #yoongi angst #bts drabble #bts imagine #bts scenarios #min yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #min yoongi drabble #bts min yoongi #bts min suga #death mention tw #illness tw #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #suga imagine #suga drabble #suga angst #re: darksided

[leggywillow]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @feralkwe

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

10 🙈

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

170,541

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

He Thought Her Unsinkable (50)

Never Free (41)

Failed Attempts at Simpler Lives (24)

Ashes (12)

Torture Of Your Own Design (10)

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! I really can’t overstate how much I love and value every comment and how they make my day and really keep me going when I worry that no one’s interested, lol. I want the commenters to know that, even if sometimes all I can say is “thanks!” Because I can’t grab them by the shoulders and just shriek right in their face.

People engaging with my characters and ships and little situations is like… the point for me. It’s the DREAM, for real.

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Technically it’s the short Ashes, since that ends with Hawke dead and Anders and Justice gone. The one that makes me the saddest, though, is Strange Bedfellows. That fic spends more time getting to know the characters before destroying them.

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Never Free ends the most hopefully, I feel.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nah.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, which is the good part of focusing on niche content with OCs, lol. I may not rack up numbers but I also don’t get attention from the meanies.

9. Do you write smut?

Not really, but god I want to. I’ve put a grand total of like 2.3 smut-esque scenes in my stories, because I just chicken the hell out. I get SO self-conscious, and it just feels so bad lmao. No idea how to overcome this.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, and I can’t imagine anyone has. Another benefit of creating niche content.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I’m aware of. That would be pretty cool though.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but it’s something I’d be open to if the right circumstances came up. It seems pretty unlikely at this point in my fandom life, but you never know.

13. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I feel like the Simpsons’ “SAY THE LINE, BART!” meme right now because it’s obviously Carver Hawke/my Surana. You know, the only ship I ever write and talk about.

The only other ship I’ve been both feral and inspired enough to write about is Hawke/Alistair, so that ship gets second place.

Mind you, this is strictly from a “writing fanfic” perspective. I love lots of different ships, including multishipping for the above characters.

14. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don’t post many things so the only unfinished WIP (besides the one I’m currently working on) is my Hawkistair fic, He Thought Her Unsinkable, that I last updated in 2016. Two years ago I would have said it would stay unfinished forever, but now I DO have intentions of coming back to it. (I got thoroughly stuck with progressing both the plot and the ship and I’ve since thought up solutions for both.)

I’ll probably rewrite the whole thing though. There was a lot of room for improvement, and I cringe looking back.

15. What are your writing strengths?

This is hard for me because I’m so riddled with imposter syndrome and anxiety, but I think I do character dialogue well. I can hear voices very clearly in my head and it’s one of the few things my memory holds onto, so I fiddle with my lines until I can hear the character saying them in their cadence.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with descriptions for sure. Knowing how much or little to include, yes, but I also find myself just blanking out on descriptive words when I need them.

Me, desperately, to my own brain: We’ve seen a house before! I need words to describe a house!

Brain: I have never seen one of those before in my life.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

This is something where I try to stay pretty firmly in my lane, because I know it can be done poorly if you don’t know what you’re doing. And I do not, lol. If a character is speaking in another language, I just say that. I try to keep my usage of other languages to exclamations and terms of endearment if they come up naturally.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I wrote Animorphs fanfic on an old typewriter at my dad’s office when I had to be there after school as a kid and then later on some little word processor software for kids that looked like you were typing in a little book. (I’ve been desperately trying to figure out what 1990s software this could have been to no avail, for nostalgia’s sake.) I made some kind of human/Hork-Bajir hybrid OC that was basically like Wolverine with the badass retracting blades in her skin.

19. What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I only like writing fic when I have BIG AND SPECIFIC IDEAS that grab me, and that only comes with being incredibly hyperfixated on the source material until I’m comfortable with the setting… so basically I’m very content in my Dragon Age sandbox and don’t have much desire to branch out. That said, I do love my Dark Urge from Baldur’s Gate 3 and am very tempted to write about her someday.

20. What's your favorite fic you've written?

I think I’ll have to go with Never Free. Failed Attempts at Simpler Lives has more character interactions that I deeply enjoyed writing, but I’m really proud of the plot I wove together in Never Free.

Tagging @theluckywizard @rakshadow @inquisimer @nirikeehan and anybody who thinks it looks fun!

#leggy writes #memes

[smolghostbot]

OC Intros: Patchwork Melody

(Remaking this since the OG post was really only accurate for their first meeting and I've had a lot of fun expanding their relationship beyond that point. Also the OG formatting sucked sorry I'm bad at this)

Patch (They/He/Any but It) is an extremely anxious, mute borrower, (by trade, not species) with the saddest wettest backstory possible, to maybe be told later. Their story starts when they find themself being "aided" (captured) by a human who thinks of them as the poorest, cutest little creature in need of a guardian. Since they can't vocalize, and their writing system is radically different from the one used by humans, communication is a problem. Over time, they begin to work through their trauma around humans, helped as their relationship with this newest human changes over the course of a few years, from captor to friend to partner.

Patch isn't their real name, but it's a nickname given to them since they can't exactly say their real one. Their true name is something of the big mystery of the story.

Melody, aka Mel (She/They) is a huge fan of the supernatural and paranormal who stumbles upon a weak and fearful little fae-looking creature one morning, and takes it upon herself to be their caretaker and guardian. Her sometimes off-putting and overbearing personality makes the start of this newfound friendship a bit strained. Over time, Melody takes a massive level in kindness as she learns to respect her new friend's boundaries, and starts to appreciate Patch as a person rather than a spectacle.

Five Fun Facts about each of them:

Patch:

They're allergic to citrus fruits but don't understand allergies (Doesn't everybody think oranges are spicy?)

Their favorite foods are strawberries and chocolate. Discovering Neapolitan ice cream was basically the highlight of their life.

Totally normal about television (It lets them see so much of the world… they've only ever lived within like three city blocks). Easily the best way to get their mind off things is to set them in front of a nature documentary.

Their backpack and scarf were gifts from their parents, and are their most prized possessions because of that. The backpack is actually made of denim, so it's (relatively) extremely durable.

Actually a skilled poet and wordsmith… not that it's readable to humans. Their specialty is a form of poem similar to a haiku that has the same number of characters on every line.

Melody:

The red eyes and iridescent hair are (obviously) contacts and dye, her natural eye color is a hazel and her hair is a very light brown. Seeing her without contacts confused the hell out of Patch the first time.

One of those kids who went hard for Halloween as a kid, they dressed as various fictional wizards every single year, and only stopped when they went to college.

Actively tries to follow fae rules and superstitions when talking to strangers, even before meeting Patch. One of those people who gets genuinely anxious when a customer service person says "May I have your name?"

She has a degree in classical mythology and folklore. Needless to say, it doesn't get much use other than putting them in debt.

Owns a Switch but only sometimes plays RPGs and strategy games. They'd be a massive Tabletop RPG buff if they had any friends to play with…

#oc tag: patch #oc tag: mel #patchwork melody #g/t ocs #g/t #giant/tiny

[loryn-art]

A Plague Tale : Fan fictions and other Projects main post :

AO3 page here !

Things have escalated quickly in my head about this fandom and I don’t know how long this is going on. I order to not get lost in my own chaotic ideas and plots, and to share them with you if you are interest in it, here is a my main list of all the upcoming projects I may or may not post with a short description.

I will try to keep this list updated as much as I can, (my brain being a lazy potato.)

DISCLAIMER : major spoils about the game in it, you’ve been warned.

Fanfictions :

A Plague Tale - Redemption : The Main story I’m actually working on. I said in a previous post I had a hard time choosing between two main stories, but I finally opted for the one with the more saddest/hurt/confort/angst potential (what a surprise). -> Lucas shot Hugo, seven years later Amicia and him have to work together again to protect a new Macula bearer. Ridiculous amount of OCs I can’t seriously halp - AmiciaxLucas - might never be finished because the more I think about it the more consistent and long the plot gets - Sophia is here of course and adulting like a boss. Rated M I guess for violence/explicit scenes. Lucas:endingverse. Read here !

A Flame Tale : Three parts fanfiction. I swore I wouldn’t write a sequel to this story because writing explicit scenes between teens sounds weird but I can’t get enough of those two idiots. Set in the Amicia:endingverse. Also it’s not just here for some silly romanced moments but also to share my idea of how and why Lucas left the house in the last part. COMPLETE

No name yet : Some short texts and one shots about an AU where the Plague was delayed for some years (I don’t know the reason yet, but I wanted the characters to be older, around +3 years- ) Amicia is 18 Lucas is 15 Hugo is 7. Guess who wants to write cheesy scenes between two characters secretly flirting when they’re not allowed to ? -> when a young noble girl, daughter of Lord De Rune falls in love with the town Alchemist’s apprentice, rumors spread like a plague.

No name yet : Modern story following the Ascendance main fict. Amicia is 17 year old high school teenager, Daughter of the town mayor and one of the most eminent scientist of the country. Her little brother she barely sees suffers from a mysterious illness, while more and more strange events are happening in the city, people disappear, laboratories are devastated, and her life will soon be tied with other characters, weirdly familiar... I don't know if I will ever write it but I'm really inspired for some comics/fanfarts. Not an AU, just kind reincarnation/ressemblance stuff.... not sure yet.

Comics/Fanarts :

- Some illustrations about the fan fictions above.

- A short comic setting in my main story, kind of a companion piece for it. Lucas is studying in an academy a few months after Amicia rejected him.(Lucas:ending) -> The other apprentices could bully him as much as they wanted, nothing was more painful than her furious eyes meeting his in his sleep or between the lines of his books, where he drew them during class lessons.

- Actually in a Modern-AU obsession, might draw some stuff about it too.

One Shot ficts : “The tales that don’t fit anywhere else”

2 - The lioness, the wolf and the raven, leaving the tower : Short scene right after Amicia and Lucas met Vaudin, on their way back. Is it possible for Vaudin to be even more detestable ?

3 - Setting while Amicia and Hugo are on their way to La Cuna, Beatrice/Lucas, because nothing can escape a mother eyes, mostly when she an alchemist.

1 - The vixen, the wolf and the burning city : What has been told in the narrow alleys of the city that night, stays in the narrow alleys of the city. - Lucas/Melie (Happens when Lucas and Melie are separated from the group at the end of Innocence)

4 - The boy and the arrow : When you have to pull an arrow out of your crush, while her little brother's been kidnapped by a crazy count, hunted by his soldiers right after your ship stranded, what a beautiful day. Happens right after the count attacked Sophia's ship. A dramatic reunion on the shore.

#A plague tale #amicia de rune #lucas the apprentice #hugo de rune #a plague tale spoilers #main post #plz halp #lumicia

[karimac]

Share 10 facts about an OC and their significant other

Thanks for asking, @arrthurpendragon! As always, this is long!

10 Facts about Kari and Bucky

Considering these two have not had a truly official start to their relationship as far as the modern MCU is concerned, this is going to be tricky. I've been writing out of sequence at points in their story, so I need to do a timeline to get things in the correct order.

The Brooklyn Boy and the Girl from Naas did not exactly hit it off right away back when they met in the 1940s. Like Steve, Bucky had his eyes firmly planted on Peggy Carter during their first meeting. It helped that Peggy was dressed to the nines and Kari was dressed more like a motor pool mechanic. Kari also thought Bucky was a tad full of himself where the ladies were concerned. And Bucky more than once said Kari was a bit pushy and loud.

Kari doesn’t talk much about it, but she vividly remembers when Bucky started to see her in a different light. The Howling Commandos had been in a bit of a rough fight, and a few of them were in the infirmary after being patched up. When the unit was asleep, Kari walked the ward healing the hurt soldiers until she ran smack into the Peggy, Steve and Bucky who had been watching her from a doorway. Peggy had seen her do it before, and she had tried to keep Steve and Bucky from walking in on Kari. It was kind of hard to miss a woman with glowing green hands in a darkened medical ward.

A few days before his fated fall from that train, Bucky had asked Kari if she would join him for a drink after the mission. A night to remember under the stars. A bit of conversation. Some likely very bad booze. How could she say no?

The night of the fall, Kari came clean to Peggy, Howard and Steve about some of her history because she wanted to go and search for Bucky. She chose not to explain everything in minute detail. They somehow managed to keep General Phillips in the dark. She never found Bucky but saw enough blood to convince her an animal had taken his remains.

Bucky and Kari almost killed each other several times during the years between the accident and their current lives in the modern MCU. She never knew it was him until their fight in November 1991 in Katowice, Poland.

In the flow of the main parts of the story, Bucky has no clue yet about the fact Kari has parts of herself scattered around the multiverse. She knows what they are doing at any given time, and they can reach back to her as well if needed. Bucky also has no idea that some of those parts are involved with his variants in other worlds. Kari does, and part of her is terrified for him to find out any of it yet.

Kari was the one who nudged Bucky to go adopt a cat after he kept playing with her cat Hickory all the time. He adopted Alpine the Christmas before their first kiss.

There are times Kari flinches if Bucky moves a certain way. He choked her during several of their fights, and the “muscle memory” kicks in more often than she wants to admit. She isn’t sure if he’s noticed yet, but she figures he probably has.

They have not been on an actual date in any of my posted stories or my WIPs. For some reason I am having a very hard time with that concept.

I think the saddest thing about these two right now is that I am not sure they will get their “happily ever after” in any story I write. They may have brief glimpses of what happiness is or at least what it is perceived to be by the world around them, but the nature of the MCU makes such a thing a long shot at times. I hope I can, one day, give them a reason to smile.

Tag list: @historygeekfics, @starryeyes2000, @chickensarentcheap

#oc character asks #mcu oc #bucky barnes x mcu oc #bucky barnes x kari macorish #thanks for asking!

[asheanon]

Eros: 3, Philia: 1, Storge: 4, Agape: 2, Ludus: 4, Pragma: 5, Philautia: 1 (for Sal.)

From: OC Questions on the Seven Forms of Love.

— For @vinjaryou

(Get ready for some rambling, as always... hahaha!)

Eros – Romantic, Passionate Love. 3. How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

This shows no discretion between characters, be it Kuja or another potential partner from another time or story. Sal simply isn't much of a PDA gal. She's private and dare I say a little shy there!

She might warm up to some aspects of it, depending on the partner and how they feel about it, though. As for kisses, it would really depend on the kiss... the cute and simple kisses, I could see her warming up to with time. Passionate ones? No way, Jose.

However, if she has been warmed up to some PDA, I'll admit... sometimes, she's mindful about the tension that can create and can be a little playful with it. It's subtle, as many things often are with Sal, but the nuance is there. Haha!

Philia – Affectionate, Platonic Love. 1. Does your OC have a Best Friend? If they do then how long have they known each other and how did they meet? If they don't then do they have a close group of friends they love equally? Or are they more of a loner?

Technically, there are three, but she maintains contact with only two nowadays. Tsuniah and Nat.

At the top of that list is: Tsuniah. A best friend of MANY years... at least 50+ years! (They're both Ethereals. They have the time. Hahaha!) I believe Sal and Tsuniah met at the bar he works at, one day. I'll preface this by saying Tsuniah, being buddies with Shiloh and having learned that the guy had a dearly beloved friend (Sal) from many years ago that he also seemed to have some feelings for, wishing to find her again, had his best interest in mind, in that regard. BUT... when Tsuniah first met Sal, names weren't the first things exchanged, so, naturally, Tsun got his flirt on for the pretty lady. He was then given her name one way or another, however, and was just like "oh... hey, about that!" 😆 Sharing Shiloh as a friend, they eventually grew to be buddies as well. And they've been buddies ever since then; growing even closer after Shiloh's disappearance.

Nat is a more recent one - I'm not entirely sure how recent at this time, but definitely newer! It isn't until the fourth/last story of the series that Sal and Nat meet. They may or may not have actually met through some lingering Aexena (Sal's past agency) affairs as well. That bit of story material is very much still a WIP at this time.

Shiloh is the one in which contact was lost (as was hinted at above.) However, he was the first friend Sal ever had - a childhood friend - who... well, she eventually shared more than just a friendship with many years later (as was also hinted at above, haha!) First friend, first love. 💙

Storge – Unconditional, Familial Love. 4. Does your OC have any siblings? If so then did their parents have a favourite growing up? Has their relationship with their sibling changed in adulthood? If they don't have any siblings then do they perhaps feel they have missed out on an important relationship? Do they have any especially close friends who go some way towards filling that role?

Nice. Saddest question, here we go…! 🫠

She did. An older brother named Kenneth - Ken, for short. They had a number of years between them, so Ken always came off as the more mature older brother who helped to look after her along with their adoptive mother, Shyra. Shyra gave as much of her love as she could to both of them, really. However, Ken was pretty much the sole recipient of their biological parents' love because... well, they actually had the chance to love him. Directly, anyway. They loved Sal too, but...

Sal's mother died while in labor (complications of a human carrying an Ethereal child) and her father - while he did have the chance to see her on occasion - went MIA (suspected governmental affairs, tied to Etherealism as well.) Sal's memories of her father are foggy, at best. Among her possessions are recordings of his lectures on astronomy as well as "his" ring - the Wayfarer's Ring - that she uses to traverse the Spiral. There are also sheets of music that her mother used to play. She still wonders what it could have been like to meet her.

This isn't actually a part of these series of questions, but I feel it apt to note that Sal's musicality carries partly as a promise to her mother (and adoptive mother) and the love for astronomy carries partly as a promise to her father (as well as her brother, who had hoped to pursue a similar study.)

As far as having friends who may, in a way, fill in for some familial roles, there is Amthyr. He was the head of Sal's group in Aexena and the same gentleman who introduced her to the agency (he's mentioned in her bio as well.) He also taught her how to best utilize and control her Etherealism. Though he and her father do not favor - he's more of a stoic and stern character - he gives off a paternal vibe, particularly towards her later in time.

Agape – Selfless, Universal Love. 2. Does your OC feel a spiritual connection to the world around them? Do they have a particular love for nature or living things?

In a way, yes. Very technically speaking, it's an Ethereal thing in general, however! Being that Ethereals are - to keep it simpler - very ghost-like, they're all about those frequencies and energies. They're conduits of fire, electricity and all that. If it produces light, heat or radiation, it's very likely they can consume and produce something similar from it. All of that being said...

It's very easy to feel like one is in tune with the waves and beats around them as an Ethereal. Or at least, as a "charged" Ethereal a.k.a an Ethereal with "active" Etherealism. I've mentioned this before with Sal - she pretty much stays on "low battery" to coexist with other corporeal entities. Think of it like... a vampire who refuses to feed, only it doesn't kill them, it just leaves them feeling weak and... well, with something pretty darn close to the human experience.

The whole Ethereal shtick aside, though, Sal as a person does have a love for the universe and all the interesting forms of life and nature it has to offer. I'd like to think it's part of the astronomy-loving, cosmic wayfaring thing she has going on; to be so fascinated by the cosmos is to be fascinated by many of the innumerable things it contains.

Ludus – Playful, Flirtatious Love. 4. Who was your OC's first crush? How do they feel about it now?

🥴 I accidentally already answered this just previously, but... Shiloh. Absolutely Shiloh.

I never talk about him (as I've been revamping his design a bit) but his presence is hinted at in her bio. He was her first childhood friend who was also close friends with Tsuniah! In fact, Tsuniah and Sal may have never met one another had it not been for Shiloh.

His presence is still significant to a point it affects Sal to this day. All these years that have passed… both she and Tsuniah have done their best to let him go, but Sal has struggled far more with it. She considers herself at relative peace with things nowadays, but... she still keeps an eye out for him to this day.

I even have some old (2017) art of the two as kids. 🥹💙

Pragma – Committed, Long-Lasting Love. 5. What importance or value does your OC attach to marriage? Do they believe that it is important to make a public statement of commitment to another person (or persons)? Or are they more concerned about inheritance rights and security for their family? Or do they not see marriage as a necessary signifier of commitment and loyalty?

Marriage isn't necessary to express loyalty or commitment, in her opinion. It's a great big "world" out there... one where marriage doesn't always exist, but forms of love and loyalty still do. In the same respect, marriage can exist without love and loyalty too.

Essentially, "marriage" isn't the first word that comes to her mind when given the words "loyalty" or "commitment." It's merely a possible word among many in this vast universe. 🌌

Philautia – Self Love. 1. Does your OC have a healthy sense of their own worth and value? Or do they see themselves as failing to live up to their original potential? Perhaps they are convinced of their own sinful or inadequate nature?

Yes and no. The whole having a past with family members who loved her, yet died because of her and some similarly-thematic echoes that seem to follow her into future years leave her with mixed feelings about herself.

On the good days, it gives her purpose - to live for those who loved her so dearly to the point they wished for her to live, and to live for those who care about her presently. She also has Chaku to care for (even though Tsun helps her look after him.) On the bad days, her being the reason those aforementioned family and friends are no longer alive on top of the nature of Etherealism continuing to bring that pattern to fruition when left unchecked makes her feel guilty for existing.

And despite her and all of her supernatural power - and how capable she can be when it comes to playing hero - she is still made to feel inadequate from not being able to save those who were lost to this inadequacy. "Shadows of the past" that she carries, whose weight can often be carried, but have their hours in which they become too heavy. It's needless to be said, but these "shadows of the past" lend themselves to the making of the notoriously bittersweet creature that Sal is today.

#Holy smokes #these questions brought up some Sal things #that I haven't thought about in a very long time #purely original story material #outside of all the Original x Canon fan fic stuff #It was neat to take that dive #even if some of said lore is rather sad... 🫠 #thank you for the questions! #💕 #vinjaryou #that's a good question ❔ #Sal 🌌🎹

[sparrowsage]

1 and 2 for the ask game! 👀

What's your saddest scene? The saddest scene I believe I've ever written would have to be the whole AU piece I made in 2019 roughly with my ocs. They're the same ocs roughly as the ones in my series The Warehouse, but they're from the original timeline I've made with them. This piece has Alex in the hospital with terminal cancer and him and the body are fading fast, so, as a last thing to leave for Felix, him and his two alters (Sparrow and Jayden) leave one last entry in their journal for Felix to read after they're gone. The last two paragraphs are under the cut. What's your most graphic scene? I had to go digging for this one because I wanted it to be good. It's not all that much, it's an rp response for a Sherlock fandom rp I had at one point in 2018. The reply is under the cut.

October 16th, 2018, 11:14pm 

As the other two have done, this will be my final entry in our journal. It’s scary, being this close to dying, despite wanting to die since I was 7 years old. It’s scary because I actually have someone to care about, someone who cares about me, and once I’m gone, I won’t be here for you to care about. I may be different from Alex and Sparrow, being fourteen and all, but meeting you, Felix, was a very important part of my life. Without you, I’d have tried to end my life more times than I could count because there wasn’t really a point for me to live except to protect Alex and Sparrow from potential harm. Taking care of you when you first came into the ward, spending time with you whenever you were here, visiting or not, all of our time spent together was important. It kept me going. I’m happy you became a part of our lives, Felix, because you didn’t just bring me out of the dark hole we were put it, but you brought Alex and Sparrow out as well. They may not show that they’re scared, but they are. They’re scared what’ll happen to you when we’re gone, what you’ll do. I’m scared too, because I want you to live out the best life you possibly can before you die. We’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see us. But with the friendship we’ve made, the friendship you’ve made with all three of us, we’ll never be apart. Not ever. So, stay strong, for all three of us. We all love you, and without you, we wouldn’t be the people we are today. 

Jayden Cresky. 

    Jayden did his best to wipe a few tears off his cheek as he closed his journal, telling one of the nurses he was ready to go back to his room. The nurse brought him back to his room and got him back into bed, again without waking Felix. All three of them would forever be in Felix’s debt with how much love he gave to them. How he managed to heal them more than any doctor could. How even he was able to get better despite what he went through as a kid. Jayden looked over to Felix, smiling as more tears fell as he watched his friend sleep. For the first time, he was glad that his mother abused him. Because without that, they’d never have met Felix, and their lives wouldn’t be complete. 

2. Severin smiled and dug the knife into Richards chest, cutting around his heart. When he removed the skin, he could see Richards heart beating and he sighed. He hadn't seen a beating heart is so long. He leaned forward once more and kissed Richard before grasping Richards heart in his hand. "You were wonderful, Richie. I'm going to miss you." He took the knife and cut the arteries and vessels connected to the heart and brought it up in front of Richards face and squeezed the heart as hard as he could with his one hand.

#ask game answer #first one i nearly cried while i wrote it #second one was the best i could find #hope this satisfied you!

[snobgoblin]

from my observations here's what your favourite Gorillaz character may say about you ^^

2-D- This can go one of a few different ways- either you really enjoy a good lovable dumbass or you're drawn to his trauma. Or you just like his design/sentimental attachment (but that can be said for literally any of them so yeah-) While 2-D isn't a dumbass all the time, nowadays he's sort of been flanderized and that's just how a lot of people know him. Anyway! If he's your favourite you're a softie in some way, even if you don't know it. You're very lovable and probably valued very deeply by your friends, they really love you and value your friendship despite your flaws. You might be a bit odd and you may even be bullied, but strangely it doesn't phase you much and if it does, it's all at once in a big breakdown once you really get to thinking about everything that's happened to you. You're definitely a creative type in a lot of ways, and you're probably an animal lover with a lot of different, intense interests. Maybe a bit spacey, but people take you for granted and you surprise them with your wisdom. Also, you really enjoy early 2000s fashion and grunge-esque aesthetics along with weirdcore and just, knives in general

Murdoc- You enjoy a good bastard. Just, an absolute piece of garbage. Yes. Or, you are drawn to his abusive tendencies due to your own trauma- OR you empathize with his trauma and actions because something similar has happened to you. You tend to be a bit more aggressive and sarcastic, but you're still very sensitive and you feel bad when you accidentally hurt your friends feelings, even if you won't admit that to them. You may be emotionally distant at times but you always feel your emotions very deeply. You may struggle with addiction, whether that's to hard drugs or even just your phone. You tend to have frequent mental breakdowns but hide this fact from your loved ones. (its okay to ask for help!) You may feel regret for a lot of things, but that's ok! it shows you're growing. I believe in you. ...Alternatively, you could just be drawn to his charisma and find comfort in his quirks

Russel- You're a great cook or you're a picky eater. You always notice when someone in the group is being ignored, and you're INCREDIBLY intuitive and empathic. You don't talk very much, but when you do, you always have an air of wisdom about you. People really love being around you and grow close to you abnormally quickly. You have a comfortable presence. You are incredibly loyal and will always stand up for your friends. You may struggle with paranoia or obsessive tendancies. You're the mom of the group and always make sure everyone's doing okay, constantly monitoring their moods and resolving conflicts.

Noodle- depending on the phase you either just really like kid characters or really love a good badass. You probably like Pokémon. You definitely had a neko oc at some point. You tend to hide your pain from others but it comes out eventually. You're annoyed by people who won't listen to what you tell them and hate being talked at. You really hate when things don't go your way. People see you as mature but you're still a kid inside and and never developed the best coping mechanisms because you had to suffer the worst of your trauma alone. You feel that nobody will ever understand what you've been through so you just keep quiet about it.

Cyborg Noodle- I dont know how to describe it but you have the saddest, happiest most broken and empathetic energy about you. You have abandonment issues and are likely nonbinary. People tend to view you as immature. You're very insecure.

Del- You're super bubbly and outgoing- and very impulsive. You get along with basically everyone despite pissing a bunch of people off. People just tend to forgive you super quickly because you're just so fun to be around. Although you're friends with everyone, you only have one very good friend, but they're your everything.

Ace- You grew up on the Powerpuff Girls and theres an 89% chance you had a crush on him as a kid. The bulk of your love for him is sentimental. You're a nostalgia nut and an absolute goblin. Your fav colour is def green and you've been a villain sympathizer as long as you can remember. A sense of humour is something you really value in a friendship. You like to keep things light because you grew up in a chaotic environment and you really just want to retire, emotionally. You're highly dependent, loyal, and appreciative of your friends.

Paula- You love a good underdog AND a bastard. You're an advocate and you're very defensive of her. You're emotionally mature and socially aware. Also, you love late 90s and early 2000s fashion. You're big brain, point blank, and probably a leader. People may see you as aggressive but in a positive way.

Sal- you're a liar, no, he's not your favourite

Was it accurate? Lemme know ^^

#gorillaz #long post #ace gorillaz #ace copular #2 d gorillaz #stuart pot #murdoc niccals #murdoc gorillaz #russel hobbs #russel gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #cyborg noodle #paula cracker #paula gorillaz #del gorillaz #del the ghost rapper #personality analysis #personality assessment

[yuzukult]

detours (m) || pjm & reader

title: detours, aka the extended version of drivers license pairing: park jimin x reader genre: idiots to lovers, brother’s best friend!au, college!au, angst, romance, smut word count: 13.8k prompt: in drivers license, you think park jimin is out of reach. in detours, jimin feels like he can’t reach you. warnings: um jm masturbates ig, oc got insecurities, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, 18+ stuff basically a/n: it only took about 3 months. hope i don’t disappoint you guys ♡ also i bolded angst bc it may be kinda sorta sad idk (also i don’t proofread my smut scenes so don’t come @ me)

Park Jimin was your first heartbreak. 

The yellowish tinge street light that shines on his car alone, parked on the side of the road by his home gives the perfect view of him. He still looks handsome under the mustard-like illumination; ugly saturated colors didn’t alter his beauty, leaving him remaining flawless as ever. But the lovely boy isn’t what your eyes are drawn to, no, it’s the Aphrodite that occupies the passenger seat that captures your attention.

Her smile gleams brighter than a sunny day, sparkling like the stars in the darkness of the night with honey blonde hair that cascades over her delicate and dainty shoulders. Her eyes glimmer with adoration for the boy in front of her, heart probably inflating as much as yours do. She’s easily resplendent that the mere sight of her has you stunned with a breath stuck in your throat.

If she was who you were up against for Jimin’s heart, you’ve already lost.

It’s a harsh reality trying to accept that Jimin wasn’t actually yours to begin with. Those dedicated years of manifesting the small actions he’d make had come off as more only dissipates into the air, along with the dreams that one day he’d reciprocate feelings for you.

The start of your engine roars, exhaust stuttering that your chest tightens at the prospect of it failing. You wanted to run, push the gear shift in drive and escape away from it all, including leaving behind the love you had for a guy who had your heart in the palm of his hands and didn’t know it. When the beat up Camry assents, you stomp your foot on the gas, immediately fleeting out of his block with a grip on the wheel, and your free hand wiping the tears that stream down your face.

Jimin was the first person that came to view the second you got your license. It’s a rectangular piece of plastic, full of unattractive colors and a hideous picture, yet it was the rite of passage into your true teenage years. The little card in your hand was ostensibly your way in, hopefully getting him to espy that you weren’t Johnny’s little sister anymore. It’s supposed to be your new beginning, your chance to convince him that you were mature now.

Or maybe you read all the signals wrong. That previous ride he’d given you the day after band practice was blissful, a pure ten minutes that felt like thirty, only confirming your reputed feelings for him. For a brief moment, it wasn’t a favor that he was doing for your brother. Perhaps Jimin doesn’t mean those unspoken comportments that night, maybe he said those things to show how proud he was that his best friend’s little sister, who had become a sibling of his own, developed into a woman.

However, not his woman. 

No, not even close. You were plainly a girl, nothing more. His best friend’s younger sister. The one with the pigtails and peony pink dress with a bow as big as your head tied around your waist. The one who can’t reach the top cabinets above your kitchen sink and needed a helping hand. The one who couldn’t tie her sneakers, so he had to pause in his routes to loop those little bunny ears, making sure you don’t trip. You weren’t ever going to be a woman in his eyes, and that’s the saddest part you’ve come to accept. 

That night, you wept silently in your bedroom. Within the darkness, the lamp posts outside peers through your sheer white curtains, radiating into your room. It’s a reminder of that spotlight upon his car, the one that showcases his enchanting features without ado, as if he’s an angel sent from heaven. You’d envisage being the passenger of his car, windows down and the sun beginning to set in the horizon, beaconing his smile with shades of yellows, oranges, and reds. Then, you’d pull up at a private spot, even if it’s just for a split second of having him to yourself, you’d talk endlessly like that one car ride home.

Drives at night would never be that, you learn brutally. This nonexistent relationship with Jimin is too real, and the fantasy will dwell as a only a fantasy.

He’d stay in your dreams for years consistently after that. You’d see him in passing, exchanging aphoristic greetings that has him speechless, confounded as to why there wasn’t more said. Space is good, you read somewhere in the comment section on an online forum where you post for advice. Space is needed for growth, for change, and an opening for you to become a better version of yourself. He’s unsure what he’s done, and he’s curious as to why you never told him about your accomplishment, how you obtained your driver's license without a word because he still has a keychain attached to his car fob that’s made specially for you.

But he was nervous. Hands perspiring more than they’d normally do, leg shaking unconsciously of the abundance of scenarios if he ever did confront you, and the periodic clenching of his jaw were uncontrollable. Jimin doesn’t know how this semi-friendship went reverse and back into acquaintances. All he knows is that he doesn’t want this. Jimin wants whatever the two of you had before—even if it meant that there wasn’t anything deeper than being your brother’s best friend. 

Jimin hasn’t seen you in a while. And the first time he does, it’s when you’re rushing out the house, nearly tripping over your untied laces, quickly yelling out a “bye!” before disappearing, hopping into an unknown friend’s car on route to who knows where. Jimin doesn’t know your friends, and he awfully wants to, just so he could be introduced as your boyfriend with his hand resting on your waist carefully, spoiling you the ways you deserve to be treated.

“Why do you keep looking at her like that?” Johnny asked, tossing another piece of popcorn in his mouth. He was lounging on the couch comfortably that day, snack bowl resting on his stomach with a remote in his free hand. Peering intently at his friend, it’s evident that Jimin has been acting offbeat lately, jittery even, and it only happens around you, like he’s got some secret he’s hiding. “You keep staring at her every time she’s home.”

“Has she seemed distant to you?” Jimin questions directly. It can’t be just him who sees this, right?

“No,” Johnny scoffs, chewing with his mouth open. It’s your pet peeve, watching your brother eat like such an animal and without you here, the room feels empty, missing your shrill screams to stop him. “She’s always acting like that. Rude especially, pretending that she doesn’t care to be involved in whatever I’m doing—“

“—Yeah, but she was never like that.” There’s an implied meaning when Jimin emphasizes the word in that way, and years of friendship with Johnny denotes without explanation that he understands the underlying message.

“True, then again, you do realize that she’s a teenager now, don’t you? She’s like… got her own issues going on to be following around her big brother and his best friend like some lost puppy. She’s got her own friends now, her own life.”

It’s something that Jimin doesn’t want to come to terms with. Sure, it was inevitable that you’d stop wanting to hang around your big brother—but what about him? Jimin wasn’t your brother. You couldn’t possibly see him in the same light… or did you?

If he could, it would just be the two of you hanging out. He deliberately takes the longer route that night he drives you home, because it’s one of those rare moments where Johnny isn’t around. Losing a date with Rosé didn’t have much of an impact on him as much as Johnny thinks, but losing the precious times with you hit hard.

It’s become a habit, bringing two soda cans from the kitchen whenever he’d come over. Johnny and you fought over a specific spot on the couch—the corner seat with the armrest that you both loved—and it’s a ritual that this happens before watching a movie. Eyes brimming with envy, Johnny always voices how upset he gets when Jimin doesn’t ever bring a drink for him. 

But today, when he brings both cans of Coca Cola, Johnny’s expression perks up. He’s happy that Jimin considers him this time, when really, it’s a reminder that you’re not here.

Jimin didn’t encounter ever being heart broken before. He thinks that it wasn’t an authentic heartbreak when you suddenly were playing a role in his life like you used to. But when you’re standing in your driveway, hair disheveled, stress written over your face with the hood propped open, something washes over him. He misses you. He badly misses you. You’re stunning, even when your white tank top has grease and dirt stains on it while attempting to fix your old car. Maybe you need help—this could be his shot in getting you to be more than acquaintances again. Somehow, your relationship is put on neutral, and it hasn’t moved from that gear since you put it in reverse. Just when Jimin is ready to leave Johnny’s room to lend you a hand, he notices another head pop out from under the hood.

Who the fuck was that?

The kid has a charming smile, Jimin owns up to that fact, with tattoos that start from his bicep and down to his hands, piercings that line his ears, and a body so built that his T-shirt is tight around his arms and pecs. He’s got a dingy rag in his grasp, wiping off his befouled palms while watching you speak with eyes corrupted with hearts. This guy was clearly into you and that didn’t sit well in Jimin’s stomach.

“Who’s that kid in your driveway?” 

Johnny peeks out the window where Jimin observes you from before looking back down into the magazine again. “Oh, that kid?” His friend doesn’t act surprised, which means the kid incontestably showed up before. “His name’s Jungkook. He stayed for dinner one of the days last week. Drives a motorcycle, a year older than her or something and is on the football team. Seems nice. I think he’s got a little crush on her.”

“Why didn’t I know that he stayed for dinner?”

Johnny shoots Jimin a strange stare. “Uh, ‘cause I thought it didn’t matter? What’s up with you?”

Then you laugh. It’s the most saccharine sound he hears, one that he wishes belonged to him solely, but when the tall kid, Jungkook, bashfully grins with his cheeks rosy at something you’ve said, Jimin’s jaw clenches in hatred.

“Sorry I asked you to come at such a weird time, Guk,” Guk?! Jimin’s blood is boiling. Even he hasn’t received a lovable nickname from you, and you’ve known him for years! “You’re the only person I know that has any type of understanding of cars. My brother is more of a bicycle guy than a car guy.”

“Don’t worry about it, pretty.” Jungkook says, the term of endearment bringing heat to your face. What gives Jungkook the right to have you flushing like this? “Thought we talked about this before. If you need anything, call me. I really mean it when I said I would give up this fuck boy life for you.”

You snort, rolling your eyes before pushing him back away from your car. Unlatching the car hood arm, you shut it harshly, confirming that it’s closed completely by pushing it down a couple times with your weight. “Yeah, whatever, Guk. I know how you guys work. We’re better as friends anyways.”

Jimin can’t believe it, but you invite Jungkook over for dinner tonight. He hasn’t had a meal with you in ages, and with your mom whipping up her special dishes, she practically begs for both Jimin and Jungkook to stay over.

“Ah, thanks Mrs. Suh for the lovely meal. And… also for letting me use your shower—I don’t know how much gunk she had in her car but it was all on me by the end of it.” He chuckles fetchingly, swooning your mother in seconds.

Ugh. This eyesore of a guy next to you that wasn’t him was bothersome. You’ll never know, but Jimin loathed Jungkook for being in that seat beside you—and it was then, when he saw you picking up some of the stir-fried veggies with your chopsticks from the shared dishes, placing some in Jungkook’s bowl, with a quiet, “eat up,” he could well-nigh hear the shattering of his heart.

You were Park Jimin’s first heartbreak.

And he blames it all on Jeon Jungkook.

Johnny snorts. He slams his locker with a thud, Chemistry textbook in hand that he’s never opened since the new school year. There’s disbelief spread across his face, uncertainty as to why Jimin is so willing to do a task that he finds such a chore, but if it meant one thing off his plate, he’s okay with it.

“I guess… it’s fine.” Johnny says hesitantly.

“I mean, you said you had that date tonight with the Son Naeun. If you have to grab your sister and drive her home from practice, you’ll end up missing it. Let me do it.”

Johnny sucks in his cheeks in thought. “But then you can’t go on your date.” He brings up, quirking a brow in confusion. “Why did she have to choose now to have her car broken down? Maybe I should just tell her to ask Jungkook—“

“No!” Jimin exclaims in interjection, and realizing how loud his voice had raised, he clears his throat. “I mean, no, I’d rather drive her. Forget the date. I’ll just cancel. Wasn’t feeling it anyways.”

“This is the second time I’m asking you to do it though.” Johnny frowns, a hand slipping into the front pocket of his jeans. It’s bizarre that Jimin didn’t want to go on another date with Rosé, especially with how much interest she had in Jimin, and there’s some eagerness in his tone at this. “I’ll be owing you.”

“No, I offered. Really. Let me do this for you.”

When Jimin approaches you to tell you the change of plans, Jungkook’s body is bolstered against the locker with that stupid, cheesy grin on his face. He’s so joyous to have your attention, cheeks probably burning and sore from how long he’s had this expression, and Jimin despises the guy to the core. That should be him feeling that way, not some jock with tattoos drawn on his arms like a kindergartener. 

“Hey,” Jimin greets, turning to Jungkook with a head nod and the latter reiterates. He’s doing his best to play it cool. “So, uh, Johnny can’t drive you today. I’ll drive you home instead. Just text me—“

“Oh, thanks, Jimin.” You smile softly, motioning your hand to gesture the male next to you. Jungkook does a little innocent wave, and Jimin feels like Jungkook knows something, teasing him with the action. “It’s alright. Jungkook is going to drive me home. He said he’s going to take another look at my car anyways, so I figured that it would be easier.” 

He’s fuming. Jimin swears if he said anything, his breath would burst into flames and he’s surprised when he responds, it doesn’t. “Oh, uh. Okay. Well, don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”

When Jimin walks away, he misses the way Jungkook looks at you longingly, a hint of sadness in his gaze. “You should’ve told him that you like him if you’re not going to date me.”

You roll your eyes. “What? You want me to tell my brother’s best friend that I’ve been in love with him since we were seven? Don’t be unreasonable, Guk. He’d never love me back.”

When Jimin’s own high school graduation rolls around, it’s a whiplash to reality. It’s a smack to the face, punch to the gut, and a storm of ponderous concrete into reality. He’s leaving this place called home, starting anew at a university that’s hours away, without his parents or his siblings. Stepping past the threshold into adulthood, it’s a thing that no one is ever prepared for, and pushing aside all the sweet toppings that coat the actuality of things, he had to swallow the truth.  

He was going to be alone. Sure, he had Johnny as a roommate, but he didn’t have his family a room away anymore. 

High school was a challenge in its own. He has expectations he was supposed to reach, a reputation to uphold, and Jimin didn’t want to do any of it. Cheerleaders were to be under his arm with him displaying a signature smile on his face with charming words spilling from his mouth endlessly. Sadly, he didn’t want any of that. What he wanted was a Thursday afternoon at the library, surprising you with a cup of iced coffee, and studying together until your mother called for dinner.

That never happens. 

Instead, he was met with spending time with Rosé, a girl he technically faked having feelings for. Anyone with a set of eyes knew how beautiful she was, and she had a heart of gold to pair it with, but she wasn’t you. Jimin couldn’t commit to her because she just… wasn’t you. He felt guilty when tears spilled from the girl’s eyes when he told her that he can’t return feelings, but she wasn’t you. She couldn’t be you.

Seeing you beside your brother, arms around each other while wearing his graduation cap for a picture, his heart sinks. There’s no excuse to see you anymore, there isn’t any “I’m gonna go see Johnny” and sneaking glimpses of you passing by. 

When he got to college, forgetting you was a task on his to-do list that required a checkmark in the completed box.

So, Jimin has aced by doing it all. He’s lost his V-card, slept with a plethora of girls (safely, of course), and partied all week long. He joined the college’s wrestling team, excelled in his courses, and made new friends with Johnny along the way. 

He remembers in freshman year when Johnny got a call to come back home, he glances over at Jimin after looking down at his phone. “My mom wants me back this weekend. Wanna come with?” Jimin doesn’t hesitate to say ‘yes,’ claiming that it’s because he’s missed home-cooked food when he really has you saturating his mind.

Jimin can replay the memory of the first instance he saw you since going back to college quite vividly. It was hard not to, since you’ve grown into those baby fat cheeks in just a mere couple months.  

Truthfully, Jimin has always had a tiny little crush on you. It’s harmless, so he thinks, because he never harbored anything stronger than ‘she’s adorable, and it’d be cute to hold her hand while pecking her forehead’ kind of feelings.  

“Wow,” He slips, unconsciously dropping his jaw open. “You look… gorgeous.” You’re elegantly comely, still cute but a mature kind of cute. The “best friend’s kid sister” look isn’t you anymore. You’re… you.  

Jimin forgot that this time of year was when dances happened at your high school. He always forgets because he’s never been interested in things like these but seeing you here, dressed so enchantingly, he wishes that could revert back to high school and be the Prince Charming that offers his arm to you.

Then it hits him. Do you have a date?

And if you do, he’s begging it’s those group dates people talk about nowadays instead of a specific guy.

“H-Hey,” You greet awkwardly, rubbing your nape. Hair looped perfectly in a low bun with two strands let loose to frame your face, it’s the cause of his heart lodged in his throat because he’s speechless at the sight. “Thank you.”

He’s met beautiful women before. But none of them have shriveled his confidence into thin air like this. 

“Hey,” He breathes, finally swallowing whatever it was that blocks his airways. “Is… the dance tonight?”

“Yeah,” You respond, nibbling on your bottom lip. The way he’s all flustered because of you has your stomach in knots. Is this what it feels like to be a girl that Jimin gives his undivided attention to? “I uh… I agreed to let Jungkook take me since he’s annoyingly persistent.” 

Jungkook. It’s that stupid name again. Jimin hates the guy, even though he hasn’t done anything to him personally, it’s the thought that Jungkook potentially had a better chance with you that grinds his gears. 

“Are you guys dating?” He blurts, mentally smacking himself across the face for asking so shamelessly.

Laughing, your eyes crinkle in unison so adorably as you wave him off. “Oh, god, no. I think I’d spend day and night wondering if he was out with another girl.” 

So… did you like him? Jimin wasn’t going to straight up ask that, though he knows that eventually living without an answer might eat him up inside. 

When Jungkook arrives, there’s a smile that widens from cheek to cheek on you.  

Jimin senses his chances slimming down to none. It’s like he’s witnessing the first time Jungkook realizes that he might actually love you, from the way his gawk is bursting with adoration.

If Jimin had been entirely honest, trying to date his best friend’s little sister at the age he found out he had a crush on you would’ve been inappropriate. He had listed the pros and cons—and although there were so many pros to dating you, he couldn’t be okay at the notion of being eighteen and you being sixteen. It didn’t sit right with him.

So, he’s always kept his distance respectfully, though there’s a consistent churning in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you with someone else.

Especially when that someone else now has claimed an image in his head.

Jeon Jungkook is shameless, Jimin learns, and he gets to know Jungkook better in the short weekend he stays back home. For one, Jungkook is a “cool-ride” guy, which means he’s got transportation that’s not only convenient, but drives in style. He doesn’t care if it’s a sports car or a motorcycle—if it gets girls attracted to him like magnets, he’s in for it. The strange thing is that he’s fond of you, and how you so confidently reject him without faltering, only luring him in more.

“Jennie thinks you’re cute,” Jimin overheard you say when Jungkook is yet again underneath the hood of your car, apparently changing your oil. “Why don’t you go for her?” 

“Because she’s not you?” Jungkook responds back matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know this. “She’s pretty and all, but she’s not you.”

Jimin can’t stand listening to the conversation anymore so he walks away to distract himself. He can feel his blood boiling, but the moment he steps out, he misses the way you sigh at Jungkook’s answer. “You know I’m not going to date you.”

“And I know that you’re never going to confess to him and he’s never going to do the same. So what are you waiting for? Just date me already. I’ll treat you well. Look! I even fixed your car up for you.”

You laugh at Jungkook, shaking your head in disapproval. “I’m not wasting my time dating guys unless I know I genuinely want to be with them, Guk. You’re sweet and all, but you’re just… too different.” 

It’s his turn to sigh heavily. “Is this what rejection feels like?” 

“Guk, this isn’t the first time I’ve turned you down.”

He whines. “I know, but still!”

Jimin doesn’t stop by often after that.

His chest aches every time he sees you, simply because you’re always more gorgeous than the last time he’s run into you, and he doesn’t understand how something he assumes to be impossible is… well, possible. You’ve grown into your features well, including improving your own basic makeup skills, making even your natural makeup days so effortlessly stunning. He doesn’t keep tabs on you, but he follows you on social media that you’re not active on, and can’t help but wonder who you hang out with lately, if you have a boyfriend, and if that boyfriend so happens to be Jungkook.  

He would know if Jungkook didn’t have his goddamn Instagram on private.

Howbeit, when Johnny announces during their sophomore year that you’ll be graduating high school, Jimin instantly jolts up from his bed at the words. “... so I was wondering if you wanted to come with, since well, the two of you used to be sort of close?”

“Uh, yeah yeah yeah, sure, of course,” Jimin says quickly, mouth full and head flooded with thoughts of seeing you again. 

Jimin grabs flowers. He doesn’t know which kinds you prefer, but he gets the prettiest ones he spots at the florists. The old lady who works there gifts him a warm smile, helping him decide which one was the best for a girl that he’s been fawning over for since his childhood, and he leaves the shop doused in confidence.

He remembers. He’ll never forget. 

In your high school graduation gown, the charming smile sits upon your lips. Your eyes practically disappear with how wide it is, pearly white teeth exposed and shining like the stars in the night sky. Posing for a picture, it’s kept as a memory, but what’s not caught is when you yell and slap Johnny’s arm for capturing such a bad shot. 

Jimin wants to frame this scene. The accomplishments you’ve made here; the plentiful tassels that decorate your shoulders, the amount of friends that come up and congratulate you—you’re the girl that everyone’s friends with. And he’s just another one of those people who stare at you admiringly, wishing that they were playing a more important role in your life.

When people finally disperse, he takes the opportunity in his grasp, striding his way to the girl that he finds so far, yet standing near him. “Hey,” He says, mirroring the expression on your face. “Congrats, kiddo.” You don’t know, and you might never, but he spent hours picking his attire. It’s just a denim jacket with a white tee, yes—but he probably went through eighteen different outfits before leaving the house. 

“Thanks,” you’re mumbling, however he hears you, and he basks in the reaction he gets. “I’m surprised you made it out here.” Heat begins to flood your cheeks, and he’s hoping that it’s not the summer’s weather that’s got you like this because Jimin wants nothing more than to be the reason you get recessive.  

“Of course,” He starts off, already giddy that you’re talking to him so casually. You haven’t in years; spending all your time avoiding him in any instance possible. But you’re here, plumb in front of him, and not running away. “How could I miss your graduation? Finishing high school is a big achievement. I’m proud of you. I’ll always be there for you during the big events…” 

He’d never miss your important events. Yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to transpire as if he’s coming on too strong so he adds, “...and the small ones, if I can make it, that is.” Jimin clears his throat. That should work.

“Well,” You begin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I hope you can come to the BBQ tonight then.” Your voice will always be gentle, gingerly brushing against his fragile heart that you previously hurt without even trying. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Jimin replies, and he really wouldn’t.  

Your mom does an amazing job of making your backyard look like a professional venue. She has streamers that stretch from one part of the lawn to the other, banners that have ‘congrats, grad,’ written across, matching the writing that’s on the plates and cups scattered around. 

When Johnny gets up to assist your dad at the grill, Jimin takes this as his opening. Basically diving for the seat, he’s praying that nobody would come and interrupt any available moment he has with you. 

“So…” He taps his fingers against the wooden picnic table anxiously. Talking to girls was never difficult for him, yet somehow with you, it becomes a struggle. “How are you enjoying the after high school life?” Jimin almost smacks himself across the face. That’s the best thing he could come up with?

You laugh. It’s bubbly and warm, like the feeling of home, the comfort of being wrapped in a blanket in front of a fireplace. “It’s only been two hours since, Jimin.” Even you know it’s a dumb question, yet you play along anyway. You were good at making people forget about their embarrassment. “But… it feels great. Like all those years of public school ended with something valuable. I grew up, hit puberty, and finally have a better relationship with Johnny. A couple months from now, we’d be going to the same University and a year after, maybe even share an apartment together.”

There’s a lot of development in the positive direction between you and Johnny. You’ve always fought, but now it’s harmless bantering. And truthfully, Jimin doesn’t need to have you as long as you have a good relationship with your brother. 

“Well, how about that.” He says, arms crossing against his chest. “I felt the same way though. I learned a lot through high school and it’s made me who I am today. I hated a lot of those years but without them… I wouldn’t be who I am now.”

The look on your face contorts into shock. This is a revelation, because you don’t notice how Jimin felt throughout his years. 

“I thought you loved high school.” 

“I did.” Jimin nods at his own statement. “Sometimes. Most of the time it was pressuring, having to live up to everyone’s standards of me. I wanted to live freely, do stupid things and stay up late at night watching movies or sitting at the park ‘til the sun came out. At a point, I had a crush on you but everyone told me to go for Rosé because she was just so fitting for me.”

You’re stuttering over your own words. “You.. what?”  

He shrugs. “High school just wasn’t for me.”

“No—“ You rapidly shake your head, completely caught off guard by the information. “Aft-After that. You said you had a crush on me? I… I thought you liked that blonde girl.”

He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he spills. Jimin finally tells you the feelings he’s holding back in all these years, the heartbreak he had to overcome, and his experiences back in high school that made him reluctant to decide on things.  

It’s why he was with Rosé in the first place. 

Before he could finish elaborating his perspective, you interpose by calling his name through your tempting lips. “I… thought you didn’t like me. I wanted to get over this stupid crush I’ve always had on you.” You gulp, and he’s never seen you this nervous before. “I’ve been in love with you since I was seven.” 

Was Jimin wasting all those years of dreaming about you from afar when he could’ve had you in his arms?

Despite your confession, you made it clear that night under the stars. When your family diffuses, making their way home after ending the party with goodbyes and congratulations, Jimin steals you away to lay underneath the night sky at your nearby park. 

“I don’t want to date,” You admit sadly, heart falling apart at the seams from your own words. But this was a big girl decision, one that you’re certain of. 

“Not that I don’t want to date you—I think… you’re amazing, Jimin. I just… don’t want to hold you back.” You concede, and each reason you say after that has him torn to pieces. “I don’t want to be the girl that you end up giving up things for. I don’t want you to suddenly stop attending wrestling practices because you want to spend time with me, and I pray that you don’t ruin your friendship with my brother. I’m not worth it. I’m not worth pausing all the great things happening to you in college because we were the ‘could’ve been’ couple. I don’t want to be someone you resent being with, Jimin.”

And that’s the start of how you and Jimin never came to be. You’re the reason for a relationship that you yearned for, with a guy that were pieces of perfection fitted into a person. Although he doesn’t agree, he thinks more than anything that you’re worth it, Jimin respects your choice. “Maybe... in the right time of our lives, we’ll be together.”

You’ve seen the paths that his eyes had wandered to. Admittingly so, you want to go too. And yet, overcoming the one obstacle that stops you from doing so is just too hard. That obstacle ends up being yourself.

When a milestone hits, Jimin is always here. He never fails to be of attendance, often carrying a bouquet of roses, beaming brightly with a heaven-sent grin plastered on his face, and while still dressed in casual attire that he manages to make it look like he’s wearing something out of this world. And, without a fail, you reciprocate the same things for him. 

Moving into your college dorm, Jimin tags along, lending a hand. He helps you unload the boxes, carry them into your new room, and gives you some pointers and suggestions based on his time of living in one himself. Johnny joins with, hitting on a couple girls in the hallway in passing, but Jimin never reiterates the same action. Jimin always has his eyes on you, exclusively onto you, and you never realize how appetencingly the gaze is.

Jimin doesn’t talk about it, but he hates this distance between you. He craves eminently that he could turn back time, confess to you just earlier than the moment of recognition that you had feelings for him, and convince you enough to stay with him, regardless of what the future holds. You’re the one person that fell out of his grasp, spilling from between his fingers. And Jimin repents watching you walk away.

Sadly, it’s the last time Jimin ever runs into you during college again.

Campus is huge. Incredibly huge. If you were part of a high school sweetheart duo and broke off on bad terms, already committing to this university, you didn’t need to worry about accidentally meeting them outside of your courses. Although you and Jimin weren’t ever a couple, he’s never seen you again after that. 

Johnny and you hang from time to time, but Jimin doesn’t interfere. He notices the shift in the dynamic of the relationship between the siblings—Johnny seems to have eased you into his heart, allowing you to finally have that brother-sister bond that you hadn't had before. Jimin figures that it would be best to admire from the distance, but because of this, he hasn’t seen you since.

When Jimin graduates, he finally gets to see that pretty face yet again.

In his cap and gown, it’s almost like a replication of his high school accomplishment. Except, this one is another four years with a degree that he’s passionate about, one that he can hopefully apply to real life situations and finally get him to start that job he has. Jimin feels lucky. Jimin feels bliss.

But he feels something else when he sees you in that cute floral dress that hugs your curves so well. 

It’s a bit embarrassing, he thinks, how he’s viewing his best friend’s little sister at this very second. The swell of your breasts are tightly shoved into the cups of your dress, and when you turn around, he swears the breath in his lungs were vacuumed out because—when the fuck did you get such a nice ass?

“Jimin!” You say his name gleefully, and he could listen to it on repeat. You’re bouncing on the tip of your toes, tits jiggling in that tiny piece of fabric and he’s about to choke on his own saliva. “Congrats! I can’t believe you’re done college!”

“Y-yeah,” Jimin responds back weakly, and he mentally smacks himself in the face for that. Why’s he sound like a bitch for in front of you? But god, how are you so hot? If Johnny had a sister that looked exactly like him, maybe Jimin wouldn’t feel this way. Then again, during your childhood, the most perennial comment you received was how different your features were from your brother. “Wow, you look… pretty. How’ve you been?”

“Great!” Hands behind your back, he finally notices how dubious you’re being. “I uhm… have something for you.”

“For me?” Jimin queries, pointing at himself. 

You pull out a bouquet of flowers from behind, shoving it into his face with both your hands. It’s an assortment of pinks, reds, and whites, shades that are more fitting for you than himself. “I… arranged them myself. I know your favorite colors are blue and black but… nature doesn’t produce flowers in those colors. I figured that it would be a sweeter gesture if I did it this way.”

Jimin stumbles while trying to grab your brother from the crowd to take a picture of the two of you with your gift, and another one of just the flowers itself for safekeeping. You know, for when the flowers die. He wants a picture to remember for the ages. 

That picture remains as his wallpaper for years to come.

When Jimin goes home that night, he hates himself. He hates that he’s immediately stripped out of his clothes the instant he passes the threshold of his bedroom in the shared apartment, completely bare, clicking the lock shut, and tossing his body onto his made bed.

Dinner had been a combination of both your family and his. There was a lot of chatter between the adults about how much Jimin and Johnny have grown, and how proud they were that the two boys were done with their higher education. Jimin had a job lined up afterwards, and Johnny was planning on working for three months overseas in the States before coming back and continuing his career. 

Johnny had his attention on some girl that was waitressing. 

Jimin, however, had his on you.

You talk his ear off, but he doesn’t care. There’s stories from your current college year, and how many friends you’ve made. You mention all the parties you’ve attended, how much you’ve drank and the amount of times you’ve vomited. 

Gross, yes. But why does Jimin still wish he was there by your side as you’re hunched over the toilet, makeshift ponytail in his hand while soothingly rubbing your back?

Then it got him thinking. What if he had a hand holding that makeshift ponytail while you’re on your knees, pretty pink lips wrapped around his erection? His thoughts are clouded of your head bobbing, tits bouncing with each movement in that tight dress, warm orbs hooded, gazing up at him.

Jimin muffles a moan. His eyes are closed, thumb brushing over the slit of his cock, spreading the beads of precum over his skin. Instead of your mouth, he settles for his own right hand but his head is fogged up with just you. 

He’s kept this image of you inscribed in his thoughts where you’re an innocent, beautiful girl that he’s been in love with. Yet seeing you again, as a woman this time, all he can think about is the plethora of dirty things he could be doing with you.

He feels like a teenager again like this—eager to cup your breasts into the palms of his hands, and he could only envision the soft and supple skin underneath his touch. 

Leaning up, Jimin props himself against the headboard of his bed, dipping forward before spitting into his hand. The grip around his cock tightens, just as he assumes your pussy would do the moment you’d sink down. The spread between his thumb and fingers attempt to mimic the way your slit would, ring of muscle embracing him with your warmth, walls dragging along the ridge of his throbbing dick. “Oh, fuck,” He gasps, head dropping back against the wooden frame, droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead. Hips bucking into his hold, the lewd moist sounds imitates how wet you’d be for him. 

Beginning to pant, his head is dizzy, swarmed by the vision of you crawling over him, breasts exposed directly in his face, hand pressed against his bare chest. God, he’s so weak for the way your lips upturn into a smile, face so pure despite your contradicting actions. His hand quickens its pace at the abstraction of you bouncing on his cock, chest jiggling with every time his dick enters you. What he’d do just to hear your lovely voice moan into his ears, whimpering over his lap, filled with him to the brim. 

He remembers your uncovered neck and collarbones, coveting to bite and suck on the velvety skin. And when you gulp, gasping when he hits that spot, Jimin feels crazy that his imagination could run this wild because he’s cumming in his palm, ropes of white decorating his abdomen.

Life is great. Yet sometimes, it feels like there’s a missing piece to it.

You’ve graduated, and Jimin is present on the day of your achievement. This time, however, he doesn’t stay long. He hands off the flowers like he’s always done, snap a photo with the two of you together, but this time around, he doesn’t wait for dinner. That trademark smile isn’t personal anymore, and the meeting is rushed. “I have to get back to the office,” he says apologetically, and although you respond that it’s all forgiven, it’s not. You don’t believe his words, lamentably, and it afflicts the previous wounds from loving him.

You move on. You even get an offer to your dream job, and in spite of the fact that Jimin crosses your mind when you get the letter, you don’t tell him. You start your new job, and you’ve even begun seeing new people, dating some of them too. He’s absent from your head for a while, but there’s no doubt that Jimin still pops up in your thoughts from time to time, seldom as a memory. You learn that first loves aren’t ones to be thrown in the back burner—they’re your firsts for a reason.

Johnny has a girlfriend now.

She’s great, and there’s honestly no complaints coming from you. The girl is everything you’d wish for your brother to have in a lover; beautiful, smart, and kind. She’s fun to be around, often siding with you during your playful banters with your brother, and in the end when he looks at her with a grouch, she giggles and pulls him into a loving embrace.

Would you ever have that? The guys you’ve met never make you feel the way that Johnny does when he looks at his girlfriend.

You feel like a third wheel when you’re trudging along behind, watching the way Johnny’s face brightens the moment he sees her, amenable to anything she desires, completely smitten. 

“She’s everything and more,” You reminisce him confess. Johnny’s isn’t the type to produce ardent declarations of love, but when it came to her, he’s willing. You want love like that—love that motivates you to be a better version of yourself, and continue to improve so you could grow with that person.

Maybe you’d have to be content with this loneliness.

You’re thrilled when Johnny announces that he’s proposed to his girlfriend. It’s the most certain he’s ever been on a decision, and you’re truly happy for him. Johnny’s progressed from an annoying brother to a respectable one. 

Then it hits you.

You’d see Jimin again. Jimin’s going to be his best man, without a doubt.

In the end, your hypothesis is proven correct. Johnny announces that Jimin is going to be his best man, and his now fiancé, Chorong, essentially has to beg you to be a bridesmaid. 

“Fine,” You mutter under your breath, arms interweaving athwart your chest. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll be your dumb bridesmaid.” Although you roll your eyes and pull your lips into a straight line, you’re feigning annoyance because you’re more than chuffed to be part of the celebration of their love.

There never seems to be a ‘right time.’ Whenever he forecasts the universe is giving him a signal, a hint even, that two of you could actually be together, it doesn’t happen. His prediction results in being disappointingly wrong. A hurdle, barricade, or an obstruction prevents it from going in the direction he wants. There’s always a sign that blocks the road to you, reading “detours” and an arrow in another direction. 

Today is one of those times.

When he stands in front of you, with another pretty girl by his side, it hurts seeing him with someone else; the pain that twinges your chest is somehow tolerable. It’s as if your heart has grown familiar with this ache, adapting to the fact that no matter what happens—you and Jimin aren’t a thing. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous of his new arm candy.

Maybe it’d been a mistake coming back home this weekend. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to run errands for your mom. Maybe spending time at home would’ve been a better option. But you know that none of these things mattered anyways because Johnny’s getting married soon. Whether you liked it or not, your chances of running into Jimin increases drastically, and with the wedding a month away, you may even see him on a daily basis now.

“Hey,” He accosts, in the middle of the bustling crowds at the mall, and he’ll never admit it to his current girlfriend, but when he sees you, it’s like there’s only you. The people around the two of you disappear within thin air and all he can see is that smile drawn on your face, with soft and pillowy lips that he wished he had an invitation to. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s always been awhile.” You reply playfully faintly, but you break away the eye contact. His warm orbs had remained alluring, hypnotizing you with those swirls of chocolate, sweet like the treat. If anything, you want to do your best in keeping your distance. Jimin has a girlfriend now, and obviously enough, she’s not you.

Jimin clears his throat, glancing over at the girl with the glamorous jet black hair. She’s breathtaking, just like the girl Rosé back in high school and it’s expected that Jimin interminably gets the ‘dream girl.’ Jimin gets the cool girls, and part of you hopes that you were eventually confident enough to be that cool girl. “This is... Johnny’s little sister. You’ve heard about her.”

“Right,” She confirms, her upturned lips showcasing disdain. Despite her beauty, the emotion behind the expression doesn’t demonstrate any genuinity in it. “Chaerin. But everyone calls me Cherry. Jimin’s girlfriend, but you knew that.”

You didn’t. Jimin doesn’t tell you about his girlfriends, he doesn’t tell you much about anything, and rightfully so. You’re the one who told him that there wasn’t an us anyways. “I did.” It’s a lie that slips through your teeth. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Cool.” She turns to her boyfriend, the boy who used to tend to your wounds back then, and pushes her hair away without a care, as if she doesn’t have a clue that the most solicitous guy belongs to her. “I’m going to that store we talked about. You coming?”

“Uh, yeah, after. Let me catch up with—“

Chaerin looks shocked. “You’re coming, now or never.”

Jimin sneaks a glimpse at you then at Chaerin. He desperately wants to pick you; he’d pick you over and over, each time again, but he belongs to Chaerin. “I—” Heaving out a heavy breath, his eyes shut to hold back all his emotions before fluttering them open. “Yeah. Okay.” His gaze is apologetic when it meets with yours, and the ache of heartbreak apparently doesn’t go away. “I’ll see you around.”

Tossing your keys in the front door bowl after entering your childhood home, you’re completely worn by the encounter alone. Why you decided to come back this weekend specifically is beyond you. Is this just how luck works?

Johnny lays on the couch, claiming the spot he usually does, forehead wrinkling in confusion at your reaction. “What’s up with you?”

“Jimin has a girlfriend?” You blurt, slightly agitated. 

Johnny sits up from his position, eying you strangely. “Currently, yeah. He’s always dated on and off though. Why?”

Honestly, you’re not sure what comes over you. It must’ve been this pent up frustration that accumulated throughout the years but you’re over it. You’re over this. No matter how hard you try, dating, meeting new people, and even avoiding Jimin, something in you perceives that he’s the one who got away. If you want something, you should go get it. Why are you hurting yourself when you could be happy? But what if that something is someone and he’s in a relationship? 

But is he happy? Does she make his heart flutter like he does to yours? Does she run through his mind even when he thinks he’s forgotten about her like he does for you?

“Because I wanted to be his girlfriend. I wanted to be the one who holds his hand, to be the one he confides to, to be—agh, I don’t know! I just wanted to be his and I’m not.” You reveal, and the moment you say it, there’s regret. If you could, you would devour back your words because Johnny isn’t supposed to know. What if he hates you after this? What if he resents you and thinks you’re absolutely out of your mind for crushing on his childhood best friend who stays ‘til this day?

Johnny freezes. He doesn’t move and it’s hard to decipher what's going through his mind because he’s silent the entire time. You exaggeratedly count years in your head until he finally speaks, face contorting to an empathetic one. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

You force Johnny to keep it a secret.

Thankfully, confessing to your brother that you’ve been in love with his best friend goes better than anticipated. He’s accepting. If anything, he’s remorseful. Johnny wallows in guilt because he’s the predator probing Jimin to start dating again, assuming that his friend was lonely the whole time when you’ve been waiting in the sidelines patiently.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Johnny repeats for the hundredth time that weekend, ruffling your hair gingerly. He agonizes the loss of his two favorite people ever dating, and the thought of going back in time to fix everything again gets entertained.

First loves are different from others. They’re the people that engrave themselves in your memory, even if you’re unwilling, and no matter how many wounds are made coming out of it, they’ll stay the first. They’re the lessons that help prepare you for the other loves to come, the ones who have you ready when you meet your last.

When you told him, “Maybe... in the right time of our lives, we’ll be together,” on the night of your graduation, there’s a lot of bitterness from the future version of yourself to your past. Why couldn’t you have just accepted his feelings then? Why were you such a coward, running away from something that could’ve been?

Would you and Jimin still be together today? Or would he stay just that—your first love?

But you’ll never know. Based off a stupid decision you made when you were eighteen.

“Why’d I wait so long?” It’s a rhetorical question because you know the answer but Johnny responds to it anyway. “Because you were a smart eighteen year old.”

You flinch, glaring at your older sibling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, put yourself in your shoes back then. Why did you make that decision in the first place? What made you come to the conclusion that you didn’t want to pursue a relationship with him? Don’t say it was me. I know that it wasn’t.”

Slouching in your seat on the couch of your parents’ living room, you huff. 

In a way, it makes sense. The kid back then who graduated high school still had the biggest crush on her brother’s best friend, the one who never failed to lend a hand whenever she needed, and the moment he professes his love for her, she bails. But she does it with a purpose.

Jimin is a dream.

Jimin is unattainable.

Jimin is your brother’s best friend.

He was put on a pedestal in your perspective during your younger years, incessantly considered as someone who wasn’t even in the same spectrum as you were. Park Jimin was out of your league. You’d view him as this guy who was popular, loved by all the girls (well, everyone), and talented in everything. Jimin checked off the boxes of the list of perfect qualities in a man, and to be fair, you’d been a bit intimidated. Him dating you was a box left unmarked; you would be Jimin’s mistake. You didn’t want to be the downfall of someone who was flawless.

Park Jimin could have any girl in the world. But he wanted you.

It seemed too surreal at the time, as if he was saying it to pull a prank on you. He’s altruistic, generally gracious and looked out for you during the span of your relationship with your brother that had been rocky. But that’s Jimin. Sweet likes the candies in your pumpkin bucket on Halloween, like the first time you try to discover the Starbucks Frappuccino in middle school and it tastes amazing. He has eyes that mimic the way half-moons look at night when he laughs, the sound similar to the thickness of honey. He had collected many superlatives in your head, everything except the position as your boyfriend.

“I didn’t want Jimin to give up all the things he earned in college for a girl who’s just starting university,” You affirm solemnly. “I felt like if we dated, all of those things would disappear.”

“They wouldn’t disappear. Knowing you, you’d probably make sure he didn’t quit because of you.”

“I get that now,” You sigh, head thrown back. “It’s too late now.”

“Because what? Jimin has a girlfriend? Fuck her.” 

“Johnny.” You say your brother’s name sternly. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that he doesn’t still have feelings for you. He’s been obvious since he met Jungkook for god’s sake. He hasn’t even really dated any girls.”

You tilt your head. “Jungkook?”

Johnny scoffs. “You’re not serious, right? There was probably smoke comin’ out of his ears when he met the kid. Jimin thought he was going to lose you to Jungkook.”

“He... liked me as far as back then?” Startled at the revelation, your eyes widened. “I didn’t know that.”

“He probably thought it was weird.”

“Well, did he tell you?”

Johnny hesitates. “No... not exactly. I kind of figured he had a thing for you when he rejected a date with Rosé just to drive you home. Then he was all grumpy when Jungkook said he’d take you instead.”

Johnny isn’t good with secrets. You should’ve known this, after all, he is your brother. In fact, you’re impressed that he’s kept it in this long.

That’s why when he suddenly asks to meet in public, Jimin isn’t quite sure what his friend’s motives are. Johnny chooses a local coffee shop, one nearby Jimin’s apartment. They decided to find their own places when Johnny met his first serious girlfriend, thinking she’d been his ‘the one.’ But he’d been wrong. She wasn’t, and Jimin was a good friend for staying by his side during it. This time, it’s Johnny’s turn.

“What do you mean she likes me?” Jimin says, exasperated. This has got to be a joke. 

Johnny fiddles around with the straw of his iced coffee, a penitent smile on his lips. He decides somewhere with people nearby, honestly afraid of how Jimin might react. They never fight, and when they did, they’d make up quickly. But something tells Johnny that this isn’t the same as it’s always been. He’s trudging on a fine line here, bringing up a girl Jimin had harbored feelings for, who unexpectedly reciprocated the equivalent ardor presently. 

And this happens after Johnny pressures him into dating Chaerin.

“My sister... she’s always had feelings for you and she still does.” Johnny begins, steering clear of Jimin’s piercing gaze. He wants to mend this, make it better on his friend, help his friend be happy, but he’s the one that dragged him into the current relationship in the first place. “I know you used to have feelings for her and—“

“—You knew.” He lets out a gust of air from his mouth, shaking his head in incredulity. “You knew the whole time that I liked her and you didn’t think to say anything to me? What am I supposed to do now? I’m with Chaerin.”

“I know but—“

“But what?”

“I don’t know.” Johnny divulges. It’s a lot of information to sink in at once, and he can’t possibly imagine how confused his friend must feel. “Do what you will with that. But she saw you with Chaerin the other day, and I’ve actually never seen her seem so...”

“So what?” Jimin snaps back, vertical wrinkles appearing between his brows. He’s furious, unsure what to think or say because it’s everything he wishes and can’t have at the same time. “What’d she seem like?” He speaks through his gritted teeth, and despite the evident anger his friend possesses, Johnny remains calm.

“Like she saw the guy she was in love with suddenly move on.”

In all seriousness, Jimin could never hate Johnny. Even in this scenario, where he’s put his own best friend in a position where he assumes that if he doesn’t make a decision fast enough, he’ll sink into the quicksand. His legs have been engulfed, and he’s not down to his chest and yet he’s suffocating. He doesn’t know what to do.

But what Jimin is assured of is that he doesn’t just have remnants of feelings for you, he still feels for you the same way he has before.

He ends up telling Chaerin that it wasn’t going to workout. Truthfully, she wasn’t his type to begin with—he’d only date her for the purpose that it would make Johnny feel better about the whole situation of getting engaged and Jimin being alone.

Either way, he wasn’t sure what to do now. It’s been years since your last true encounter, and you broke his heart.

Why is it that every time he sees you, the very same feeling of things churning in the pits of his stomach? As if he’s light on his feet, floating in midair, heart swelling and in unison filled with this inexplicable euphoria. Even when you’re across the room that’s overflowing with people, there’s just you. 

It’s a cliché, talking about how much of a delight it is to see that smile again but Jimin isn’t ashamed of it.

There’s nights like these, where the city lights don’t steal the spotlight from the glow of the stars and it’s just the midnight sky that allows those stars to shine. It brings him back to the days in high school, where responsibilities and problems seemed an amplitude larger, and he craves to tell the younger version of Jimin that it’d be one of the simpler times in life. 

He often thinks of that ‘could’ve been’ that you talked about before. However, it wasn’t similar to those dreams that you had for the two of you.

He imagines those late hour drives that ‘could’ve been.’ Relives the memory of himself daydreaming while on dates he spent with a stereotypical gorgeous blonde, mind submerged in you in that passenger seat, holding his hand as you listen attentively to the stories he shares. 

For the rest of the rehearsal dinner, he can barely hold up conversations with your close family members. They ask him a lot about his life, how he’s doing, and what he’s been up to, but he’s unsure if he’s formulating proper sentences with how much you’ve inundated his mind. He hoped to talk to Johnny and Chorong, but they’re so busy chatting up with guests that he figures it’d be best not to intervene.

Jimin needs a breather. The venue is spacious and wide, enough for people to spread out, but he feels the walls caving in and the air stuffy. Loosening his tie, he excuses himself from a discussion with one of your cousins who bats her long lashes at him, pushing the double doors out to the entrance of the place.

The brisk air hits hard but it’s just what he needs. He cools down within seconds, and when he turns, ready to go back in, there you are. Standing right beside him, and he gets a better view of you in that long dress that doesn’t do anything other than compliment your beauty. 

“Oh, uh... hey.” He addresses you apprehensively.

“Can I skip the formalities and ask you something?”

“When did we ever have to do formalities?” Jimin answers back skeptically. “We grew up together. You can be honest. I won’t be offended.” He talks ever so confidently when deep down, he’s nervous out of his mind. How are you so put together?

You chew on your bottom lip. The lipstick smears off the skin and yet you can’t care enough for your appearance when you’re occupied with rallying all your courage to speak out. “When’s the right time?”

Jimin quirks a brow. “I’m sorry? I’m not catching on.” He gets a whiff of your breath, and it’s laced with a bit of alcohol. He’s ready to halt you from saying anything else, in case you spill something you wouldn’t if you were sober, however, you beat him to it.

“When’s the right time for us to ever be together?”

Jimin doesn’t move. He’s rigid, scared if he makes any actions, he’d be waking up from a dream that you’re asking this.

Flabbergasted by your own boldness, you sigh, combing your fingers through your wavy locks that you’ve styled earlier. You’ve dolled yourself up for the night, in hopes of stealing his breath away, and you’re not even sure if it’s a success. “I just… I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s never a right time. And that’s totally fine—I get that there’s a chance that we may not even be a thing. Then it had me thinking… what if there isn’t one? What if… we’re supposed to just do this? Be together and defy what was presumed to be the odds?”

He wants this. There’s no doubt about it, and Jimin would never hesitate on an opportunity, an opening for there to be an us. But you’re drunk. He doesn’t want it to be this way, especially if there’s a contingent that you’re spitting nonsense. He doesn’t want to take advantage of a situation where you’re vulnerable, unlike your normal self.

“You’re wasted,” He states factually, hands on your arms to get a closer look at your bloodshot eyes. “Let me take you home. We can talk about this another time.”

“No.” You retort acutely. If alcohol is the only way to confess, then so be it. “I may be sort of inebriated, but I mean it. I wanna be your girlfriend, Jimin. And I know that you’re dating that girl, Chae...Cherr… Cherryin—“

“Chaerin,” He corrects.

“Chaerin!” Raising your hand up in accomplishment, you drop it immediately and continue with slur, all while presenting a frown on your face, “I know you’re dating Chaerin, but I really wanna be your girlfriend.”

“Kid, let’s get you back home.”

“Are you even listening to me?” You whine, stomping in your heels. Toes red with blisters on the back of your foot, evidently in pain, Jimin shakes his head at your tantrum, pushing down on your shoulder with a pointer finger so you’d sit on the curb. Angrily abiding by instruction, you settle on the concrete. “Jimin. I asked if you’re listening to me.”

“Of course I am, you know I’m always listening to you.” He counters, pulling the latch off of your shoes. Feet free, you plant them on the cool asphalt, cheeks flushing pink from both the drinks from earlier that night, and his caring gesture. “But I don’t want this to be something you’re blurting because you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

He laughs lightly. “You are most definitely drunk, kid. You even said so yourself. But that’s okay. You had fun tonight.”

Unbuttoning his suit blazer, he crouches down to meet your height with his bottle of water in hand that he brought out earlier. As he’s twisting the cap, you jut out your bottom lip when he offers you a sip. “Do you care about your girlfriend like this?”

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Jimin responds calmly, bringing the mouth of the bottle to your lips but your jaw slacks in shock.

“What?!”

Frustratedly, he clicks his tongue with an annoyed sigh of your name. “Why’d you do that? Now you have water all over your legs. Can you drink some of it at least?” He dabs the droplets with his sleeve.

“You… you and her broke up? Why?” It’s the first time your voice lowers and softens since the moment you get him alone that night, and your gentleness warms him. “I’m sorry, Jimin. I didn’t mean to push myself onto you. Are you okay?”

Quite frankly, he’s more than okay.

He didn’t tell Johnny, but after the words, “...she’s always had feelings for you and she still does,” was all he needed to hear to break off his current relationship. Keeping a comfortable distance from you right after was only for the safety of his heart, unprepared to reassemble it once again.

“It’s fine,” Jimin responds with a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t see it working out, so I let her go. Anyways, let me take you home, yeah? Before you drink any more, of course.”

Jimin concludes on driving you home. Opening the door for you, you discern that it’s not in the same car he had in high school, but it’s this new, sleek matte black Lexus that he’s earned from his well-paying job. Being in this particular passenger seat feels different, specifically because you catch him casting his worried eyes in your direction occasionally, making sure you’re okay. 

Is this what Rosé felt? 

He believes your judgement is impaired from the alcohol, but you perceive otherwise. It’s merely a hint of the liquid courage in your bloodstream that turns on your boldness, and without it, you would’ve never had the guts to tell him how you really feel.

“You good?”

“Mmm.”

“That’s not an answer, kid.”

“Do you always have to call me a kid?” You scrunch up your nose in discontent. “We’re only two years apart. And we’re not in high school anymore. I don’t want you to see me as a kid anymore.”

He chuckles, voice deep and hearty. Jimin doesn’t waste his breath to say much, hands gripping on his leather steering wheel while keeping his attention focused on the road.

“What’s so funny?” You jut out your bottom lip.

“Because I’ve never really seen you as a kid since you turned eighteen.”

Puffing your cheeks, you’re in no mood to get out of the car. Giving Jimin a hard time wasn’t really helping your case in solidifying that you weren’t a kid anymore, but you genuinely didn’t want to leave your seat. It meant the night would end, starting over once again without Jimin as yours. “No.”

“Come. We need to get you washed up and ready for bed. I’m sure your parents aren’t going to be happy to see their only daughter completely wasted after the wedding rehearsal. They’ll be home later. What happens at the wedding?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “Future me can worry about that.”

“Hey.” He says gravely, narrowing his eyes at you. In return, you roll yours.

“I don’t like when you’re talking to me like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like a kid being lectured and needs to learn a lesson!” You fire back, vexed with the way he speaks. “I’m older now. I have my own apartment. I hit puberty. Don’t you notice?”

Jimin keeps the door propped open with his body. “Of course I notice. You’re definitely not that seven year old that fell off a scooter. So, let’s take you inside, that way you’re all safe and sound, and you can be an adult as you’d like in the confines of your home.”

Frowning, you comply despite the dispute, pushing yourself out of the seat lazily, nearly toppling over the older male. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on,” his hand is wrapped around your wrist, another on your waist. “Take it easy. You’re drunk, remember?”

“No, I’m just clumsy.” You huff, ankles bending from slipping off the heel. “I got this.”

“Absolutely not.”

It takes some effort, but he finally gets you inside. He throws your shoes to the corner of your room, shuffling to get you into your bed. “I don’t wanna sleep.” You spout, sitting on the edge of your bedsheets. Jimin doesn’t respond, leaving the room and for a brief moment, you think he leaves, waiting to hear the sound of the front door shutting, but he comes back with a bottle of water.

“Drink some more water.” He says, pulling the covers out from under you. 

“Are you staying?” You ask dauntlessly, blinking blankly. Stunned, his mouth gapes open slightly, diffident about how to reply. “I-uh, probably not. Your parents are coming home soon and Johnny’s staying with Chorong. I don’t really have a place to sleep, and your couch isn’t really comfortable—”

“Sleep here.”

Jimin snorts. “What?”

You pat the empty spot beside you, motioning him to come closer. “Sleep here. Sleep with me.”

“Kid, you’re drunk.”

“I’m sober now,” you articulate, and Jimin finds this amusing. “I’m sober enough to know what I’m asking for, and what I’m requesting is for you to stay the night. It’s late, I don’t want you driving, and I don’t want to be alone.”

“I live like two blocks away—”

“Exactly! So you agree, it’s too late and too far.” He raises a brow at your take, but concedes regardless. Your parents wouldn’t be home for another couple hours, and he felt safer knowing that you had someone here. Maybe just a couple hours. He’d stay for a couple hours then drive himself back home. “Okay… fine. But just until your parents get home.”

He can’t sleep.

For one, he tries to pry you off, but you’re so adamant about snuggling up with Jimin. You’ve got your head laid on his chest, arm around his abdomen, and legs tangled with his own. He swears he’s on a tightrope, afraid of falling too quickly for you, but he’s got heart palpitations because of you. Despite wanting to be yours, he had to look out for himself too.

“Are you still awake?” You mumble, stirring. 

He inhales sharply, nodding as if you could see in the dark. “Yeah, I uh… I’m waiting for your parents to come home so I can head out.”

“Why?” Deflating, you want to sink in the feeling of being in Jimin’s embrace, but he won’t even hold you securely. He’s kept a wall built between you, and you’re desperately trying to demo it out. “Why can’t you just… stay?”

“Because you’re saying things while drunk.” Jimin states, “I can’t just… act upon my feelings when you’re intoxicated. You’re not in the right mind to make decisions.”

“But it’s been hours. I drank water, I washed up—Jimin, I know what I’m doing here.”

“Yeah but—” Suddenly, you sit up, hand against his chest. He swallows, the sight of you underneath the street lights that shine through the windows in the night is when he ascertains that you have him completely. “No buts for once, okay? Hear me out?”

Jimin slowly nods, zipping his lips shut.

“Do you think we’re idiots?” The space between his brows wrinkle in bafflement. “I think I was an idiot back then, thinking that I wasn’t good enough for you. That I wasn’t worth the battle, that me and you wouldn’t have worked out simply because I wasn’t… I wasn’t like girls like Rosé. And it’s embarrassing to bring up my insecurities years on, but I feel like an idiot. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so much regret for not dating. But I don't want that anymore. I’m over feeling sorry for myself, and since you said you’re single again… maybe now is the right time.”

Jimin stays silent, the balloon of stillness wadding your childhood bedroom. His eyes bore into yours, and you’re unable to decipher what runs through that mind of his. Did he still have feelings for you? Or was his break-up with Chaerin purely for the fact that he didn’t like her, none of it having to do with you?

“Before you overthink,” it’s like he reads your mind, “... I do still… see you more than just Johnny’s little sister, a kid, whatever you think it is. I haven’t seen you in that light in a long time, it just never seemed like the right time.”

“But now—”

“I know, but now I’m single and you’re ready. And that’s great, really. But what makes this time different from the last? You didn’t want this before, so why now?”

“Because… I’m not an insecure eighteen year old anymore. I realize I can’t keep pitying myself, and that if I want something, I have to get it for myself. That I deserve love, and yes, I still think you’re out of my league, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be loved by someone like you.”

With that, Jimin pulls you in, lips pressing against yours.

It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed Park Jimin, a boy that’s been out of reach for so long, one you thought you never could ever deserve. 

Floating on Cloud 9, is the best way you could describe it, like the feeling of freely roaming through a field of flowers, the breeze running through your hair, weaving through the skirt of your dress. His kisses leave you breathless, forget getting drunk off alcohol, you’re drunk off of Jimin. When you drag yourself away, a string of saliva follows suit, and a soft chuckle escapes from his chest. His thumb rubs your cheek reverently, and you can finally say that you understand how Johnny feels when he looks at Chorong.

Hungry for more, you bring him back in with a hand on his jaw, lips slotting against yours. It deepens, his tongue probing for entrance, and you allow him in with ease. This is not a dream, you have to chant in your head, and when your eyes flutter open momentarily, you’re bursting inside knowing that it’s not. The kiss gets hotter, his fingers enlacing through your locks, your own finding home on his shoulders. 

Trying to catch his breath, his licks and sucks trail down to your neck, his previous imaginations coming to life. You taste like honey on his tongue, and somehow, you find yourself straddling his hips, dress lifted up to expose your smooth, bare thighs. 

“Baby,” He gasps against your mouth when you grind yourself down onto him. It’s disparate from the nickname he gives you earlier in the night, being called baby seemingly fitting more. Confidence swells within you when he can’t keep his hands off you, wanting them everywhere and loving every part of you all at the same time. 

“Take it off.” You demand sternly. Jimin slips out of his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room, pants off in seconds from your demand. Most of the guys you’ve been with were attractive, but Jimin was on a different level, and you know this because you’re despondent to have your mouth on every part of his body. “Can I eat you out?” He requests guilelessly but you need to be on his cock right now, you need him inside you. 

“No,” You reply bluntly, and this startles him. “We have other times for that. I’ve been waiting years for this, imagining this very moment, and if I have to wait any longer to have you in me, I might go insane.”

You… dreamt this too? He wants to query for more but he saves it for another time. 

Grabbing a handful of the fabric of your dress, you raise it, and with Jimin’s help, you’re out of your panties in record time. He reaches underneath, fingers dancing along your slit when he feels your juices coat them. 

“Already this wet?” 

“Shut up,” You mutter, embarrassed. 

Jimin chuckles at your recoil, but you won’t have any of that. Quickly, you line yourself above his cock, shocking him with your abruptness because he hasn’t even prepped you yet. Before he could halt your actions, you’re already descending down his length, emitting a groan from the two of you in unison. He feels better than you ideate; he’s thick, splitting you open to the point that you have to pause to adjust to his size. “Fuck, I was going to stretch you before you did that.”

“I can’t wait,” You whine, hips eagerly rocking against his. You’re so needy, and the fact that you’re just as despairing as he is for this turns him on more. “Please?”

He taps your waist, gesturing you to move, and you comply willingly. Lifting your hips, you drop yourself back onto him immediately, repeating the motion continuously. His hands find purchase on your ass, guiding you at a tantalizing pace, with skin slapping and lewd noises that’s got you clenching around his cock.

The glide of your warm folds around his dick is an out-of-world bliss, and he’d even say that the sensation is better when you’re in love with the person. He can’t believe that he’s been missing on this for years, when you were right in front of him all along. All those other girls he met couldn’t be compared to you, simply because there was only one of you.

You tighten your puffy walls around him, nearly choking him up in the process because it feels too good, and he fears that he’ll cum too fast. Reaching down, he toys with your clit under his fingertips, and the stimulation from the bud has you panting.

“J-Jimin, oh, fuck,” 

Your skin glistens under the moonlight, and he’s never seen anyone as beautiful. Strands of hair are golden from the luminescence of the lights outside, the droplets of sweat streaming down your décolletage and into your cleavage twitches his cock. You’re so intoxicated from him, mind fuzzy and unable to think straight, the straps of your dress fall lazily, breasts spilling out.

“Oh god,” He groans hoarsely. You’re so close to release, and he can tell from the way your pussy tenses up. When Jimin can’t take your tortuous pace anymore, he flushes your body against his before the heels of his feet dig into your mattress before he begins pistoning into your heated core.

The coil in your stomach snaps, unable to hold in your moans. He feels so good, and you could tell without words that he has the same perspective because he’s following after you, cumming onto your spasmed walls, painting them white. 

“Wow,” He heaves, head dropped onto the pillow. Jimin’s barely catching his breath, and the only sounds in your room are the two of you panting. “That was… wow.”

“You’re telling me,” Sprawled on your sheets, endorphins radiate off your skin. When you finally come down from your highs and onto Earth again, your eyes meet his. “Jimin.”

“Hmm?”

“Does this mean you’re… mine now?”

“I mean… it is the right time, isn’t it?” 

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” 

“Ugh,” You groan, struggling to zip up your dress. You’ll never understand the purpose of sewing in a zipper in the back of a dress, when the majority of the time, people cloth themselves. Why don’t seamstresses put it on the side? “Hold on, mom, I’m almost done!”

“Need help?” At your doorway, Jimin stands there, leaning against the frame. He’s handsome like this; black suit and tie that fits him perfectly, and chestnut colored hair styled back for the event. Brown is your favorite shade on him, but you love the colors of the rainbow that he dyes his hair of.

“Please?” You respond, desperate. He chuckles, a smirk pulling on his lips as he walks over like he’s the Hero of the day, dragging the tab up before hooking the top of the back of your dress. When he finishes, you turn around with a twirl. “How do I look?”

Chorong chooses a peony pink as her wedding colors, and although it’s not your preference, you abide by the bride’s instruction. It’s an off-the-shoulder neckline, satin material cascading down your body, paired with heels that will without a doubt cause discomfort later on in the light.

“Beautiful,” Jimin says breathily, unable to take his gaze off you. 

Jimin jots this down as the moment he first realizes he doesn’t just like you anymore, he might be in love.

“Thanks, baby. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You two! Are you done yet?” Your mother hollers from the front of your house, and you grumble at the sound. “Fuck. Okay, uh… where’s my keys…”

Grabbing them off your desk, Jimin recognizes something familiar. “Oh? You attached it on already?”

Jiggling the keys in hand, his eyes are drawn specifically to the keychain that hangs on the ring. There it is, a razor scooter. When Jimin presents it to you, you question as to why he’s giving you a keychain of a scooter, and why was he gifting you something used?

But he confesses that he waited patiently for you that day you got your driver’s license. That he had been waiting patiently, hoping you’d run to him with open arms but you never do. Since then, he’s kept this hanging on his keys to remember the first girl that’s ever piqued his interest.

“Of course. It’s the gift you gave me.”

Jimin beams brightly at the comment. “Oh, speaking of. Don’t forget your license.”

You snatch your wallet off your dresser, waving it at him for evidence with a smile in reciprocation. “Got it.”

#jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #gyukultfics #park jimin #jimin #bangtan

[humansofriverdale]

First and foremost, welcome to Humans of Riverdale!

This blog is run by @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle, aka Vannah. This is a project that I decided to take on after I came across a ‘Humans of New York’ post. I’ve been looking for new ways to collab with/showcase my favorite OC creators, and I thought this would be a fun and interesting way to do so!

The premise is Bo Beckett, a seventeen year old junior at Riverdale High in 2021, is conducting interviews with the people of Riverdale, or people who used to live in Riverdale if they relocated after the time jump. He asks specific questions, and is looking for specific answers from the perspective of the character. The final product will be posted with a short description of Bo’s interview process and why he chose to interview the character.

Under the cut, you will find the form to submit your own OC post and the prompt questions, as well as an example post in order to see the formatting I’m looking for.

Feel free to submit as many OCs as you like, (or even duplicate questions for the same OC) and I appreciate you all for being patient with me as I try to get them all posted!

(Please do not send as asks, I am only accepting submissions. Submissions may be edited for formatting purposes.)

PROMPTS:

“Tell me your most embarrassing memory.”

“Tell me about someone who impacted your life, whether positively or negatively.”

“Tell me about a time where you thought you’d never recover.”

“Tell me about your first love.”

“Tell me about an important moment in your development.”

“Tell me the craziest thing that ever happened to you.”

“Tell me your most treasured memory.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“Tell me about what it was like to grow up in Riverdale.”

“Tell me about your childhood.”

“Tell me about your teen years.”

“Tell me about a time you were at peak happiness.”

“Tell me your saddest memory.”

“If you could tell your younger self anything, what would it be?”

“Give me some advice, whatever you think is important for people to know.”

“Tell me a story. Anything goes.” (free-for-all question)

FORM:

What blog to tag (optional - just in case you have a sideblog!):

OC’s Name:

OC’s Faceclaim:

OC’s Pronouns:

OC’s Occupation (if after time jump, if not please specify):

Color you associate with your OC:

Any other information you would like to include?:

Prompt:

Answer goes here (no text limit - make it as short or as long as you’d like!):

EXAMPLE: (using my own oc)

What blog to tag (optional - just in case you have a sideblog!): reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle

OC’s Name: Mabel Harlow

OC’s Faceclaim: Haley Lu Richardson

OC’s Pronouns: she/her

OC’s Occupation (after time jump): Film (actress/screenwriter/director)

Any other information you would like to include?: n/a

Prompt: “If you could tell your younger self anything, what would it be?”

Answer goes here (no text limit - make it as short or as long as you’d like!):

“That’s an easy one. If I was able to, I’d take little Mabel by the shoulders and tell her that family is not defined by blood. I’d say, ‘Mabel, you are going to find people that love you and would do anything for you, and you’re going to do the same for them, because that is what family does. It’s not about what you’re born into, it’s about who you find along the way.’

It took me a while to realize that. My dad had such a hold on me when I was younger that I felt, I guess, guilty for wanting to get away from him, because he was my blood.

You know what they say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

F- oh, sorry, can I curse?

Okay, cool, cool.

Anyway: fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

I look forward to your submissions!

[vennilavee]

The Countdown

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: you and bucky have a small fight before a mission during the holidays and you’re both irked at each other.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 2791

A/N: inspired by s1e14 of the oc titled ‘the countdown’. i only watched the first season, but i always thought the new year’s kiss moment was beautiful. i listened to dice by finley quaye a lot while writing this (also found this song on the same episode of the oc)

_______________________________________________________________________

“You were supposed to be home for the holidays! And for the new year!” You say, irritation stewing in your belly. You cross your arms and shift your weight to your right side.

“I was home for Christmas! Doesn’t that count for something?” Bucky retorts.

“Neither of us even celebrate Christmas like that…”

“So? I was still here!”

“We were supposed to ring in the new decade together!”

“So what would you have me do? Tell the world to pause just because you want a New Year’s kiss?”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to start the new year and the new decade with my boyfriend! I guess I’m asking for too much from you, huh?”

“I guess you are!”

You roll your eyes so far to the back of your head that you are certain you can see the whites of your skull. You look away from him, so he can’t see the hurt in your chest. Why is he so nonchalant about it? Doesn’t it mean as much to him as it does to you?

Evidently not.

“Whatever. Have fun. Be safe I guess. Don’t get too injured. I won’t help you with anything more than bruised knuckles.”

I love you, you stupid idiot.

Bucky lets out a chuckle despite himself. He’s already dressed in his tactical suit, buckles and velcro done and all. You knew he had to go, but damn, would it kill him to look a little sad about leaving you for over a week and missing New Year's Eve and New Year's Day with you?

You can hear Sam calling for him out in the kitchen of your apartment.

“Well, I guess you’ve gotta go,” You shrug, “Have fun on your trip. You guys are going to Bali, right?”

“Don’t be like that,” Bucky murmurs, a faint cloud forming in his normally clear eyes.

“Enjoy your beers and your Mai-Tais, Samuel,” You call out, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“Leave me outta it, baby girl,” Sam replies.

You hand Bucky his black duffel, trying to thrust it at him and failing because of how heavy it was. He quirks his lips in amusement but falters when you send him a searing glare.

“I’ll see ya when I see ya,” Bucky says. You’re about ready to bite his head off. Why can’t he see it? Why can’t he feel it the way you do?

“Yeah. See ya when I see ya,” You echo, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

***

“‘See ya when I see ya?’ That was the saddest string of words in the English language I’ve ever heard,” Sam says, thumping Bucky on the back of his head. 

“Oh really? Thanks for your opinion,” Bucky snarks, “She knew I had to go!”

“So? She’s allowed to not be happy about it.”

Bucky silences him with a glare and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y’all are both some idiots.”

***

Bucky hadn’t even kissed you goodbye or told you he was going to miss you. The thought that he wouldn’t miss you leaves you motionless and in tears.

Does he still love you? Does he even like you? How could he look at you like that, like you were annoying him? As if he didn’t love you more than life itself, as if he didn’t spend every night falling asleep to your soft, rhythmic breaths? As if his crevices didn’t match yours, as if his stormy blue didn’t seek your brown warmth?

Had he even looked at you like that? As if you were an annoyance to quell? 

He hadn’t kissed you. He hadn’t said goodbye to you.

You can’t help but wonder- is he thinking about you?

***

You haven’t sent Bucky a single text, emoji, meme or photo. It’s been four days since Bucky said ‘he’d see ya when he sees ya’, and the words (or lack thereof) rattle in his mind mercilessly.

They could replace Hydra’s trigger words, he thinks darkly.

But you hadn’t even kissed him goodbye or told him you would miss him. He can’t get your sad, brown eyes out of his mind or the way you had folded in on yourself with your arms twisted together like vines after you had handed him your duffle bag.

He’s half expecting you to dump his stuff out in front of your apartment, indicating that you’re through with him and the darkness and the missions and the waiting and just… all of it.

You deserve better, he tells Sam grimly as they are staking out a Hydra base in the middle of Mount Batur in Bali. Bucky can’t help but think that Hydra is incredibly stupid for building a new base in such a heavy tourist location. But maybe they needed a change in scenery.

Sam had sent Bucky a glare, as if to say ‘is this really the best time?’

Bucky sighs, “Why was that so dramatic? ‘I’ll see you when I see you? Seriously? God, I want to electrocute myself every time I remember that I said that.”

“Tell Zemo that. He’ll be more than happy to fulfill that wish of yours,” Sam snorts.

“I miss her,” Bucky whines, “I’m so stupid, Sam.”

“So tell her,” Sam says simply with a small smile, “Including that last part. Multiple times.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even kiss her or say goodbye. I’m the worst. But I wouldn’t blame her. If she wanted to go, I mean. I feel like I’m too much and not enough at the same time,” Bucky confesses softly, anxiety filling his voice.

“Sounds like you both need to sit down and talk. But before that, just call her-”

Bucky’s already calling you, eyes automatically searching for your name and the star emoji next to it. International fees be damned.

“I didn’t mean right now!”

***

You’re absent-mindedly scrolling on your phone, the blue light from the screen keeping your mind stimulated despite the fatigue behind your eyes. It’s 3:12 AM, you’re sleeping on Bucky’s side of the bed and you miss him. You wonder what he’s doing- is he safe? Is Sam safe? Is he protected? Does he know that you love him?

You can’t believe you let him go without saying goodbye, without a kiss, without telling him you loved him. You just said ‘you’d see him when you see him’. Well, in your defense, he said it first.

Hovering over his name, you contemplate calling him. Nah. He’s probably busy.

But he always told you he’d never be too busy for you. And that was true- you had called him a few times in the middle of anxiety attacks, or during a bout of insomnia- just to name a few instances. Despite the fact that he had been in the crux of a mission, fighting people off, dodging bullets left and right… He had tucked his cell phone in the crook of his neck and ear to calm you down in his low, comforting voice. You had been able to hear the rhythmic beats of his footsteps, with the occasional yell as he told you about his day, told you to follow his breaths, and listed the things he liked and loved about you. His voice was your favorite melody, a melody that fills you up with warmth and familiarity. 

You sigh and stare at the ceiling before feeling the buzz of a phone call in the palm of your hand.

Bucky’s name with a yellow heart emoji, along with a photo of both of you pops up on your phone and you accept the call quickly, butterflies strumming in your belly.

“Hi,” You say breathlessly.

“Hi,” Bucky says, sounding equally as breathless. You can hear Sam yelling at him for being distracted, you can hear commotion, glass breaking and doors slamming. But it’s all background noise.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “It’s like… 8 AM over there. Early morning Hydra base break in?” 

“Yeah. I haven’t even had a coffee yet, can you believe it?”

“Those Hydra guys won’t know what hit ‘em,” You chuckle.

There’s a beat of silence between both of you. 

“Hey… I’m sorry I left things so weird before I left. I’ll see ya when I see ya? Who the fuck says that,” Bucky mutters and smiles when you laugh, “I miss you, I’m sorry I won’t be there to start the new year with you, sweetheart. I’m such an idiot. And I’m sorry I made you feel so small.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you,” You whisper, “I miss you, I always do.”

“I know, honey. I always do, too,” Bucky murmurs, closely evading a punch to the stomach and a kick to the shins, “Save a kiss for me, will ya?” 

Bucky groans when he gets punched in the nose and you wince at the cracking sound.

“Ouch, that didn’t sound so good,” You remark, “Come back to me in one piece, will ya?” 

“I will,” Bucky promises, “I gotta bring you out here someday. You’d love it.”

“I think I would, too. Bali looks beautiful. We’d both get nice and tan on those pretty beaches.”

“You’re already tan,” Bucky snorts, “You’d get that nice, bronzed glow.”

“And don’t you forget it,” You yawn widely.

“Get some rest, honey,” Bucky murmurs. You hear a muffled explosion in the background and somehow you still yawn.

“Be careful out there, sweetheart,” You reply mildly and then after a second, “I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Bucky whines and you laugh.

“Goodnight, honey.”

***

Specks of gold sit on the walls of your friend’s apartment, glittering at every turn of your head. It’s simple, paired with a large balloon of a bottle of Moet champagne, with smaller balloons coming out of the opening of the bottle. Strings of pale yellow fairy lights line the ceilings of the apartment, casting a slight glow on everyone in attendance.

Your friends have outdone themselves this year. They had asked for your recommendations on decorations, which had been your duty. So truly, you had outdone yourself this year. There is a station for champagne bottles chilling in buckets of ice and champagne flutes. And another station of liquor, mixers and solo cups to drink out of, as well as finger foods and snacks. It had been a potluck style party and everyone brought different entrees to have for dinner.

You had objected to the red solo cups- “We can afford to drink out of something nicer than red solo cups!”

And the subsequent retort- “And who’s going to wash all the glasses, huh?”

So the red solo cups stayed and you tried your best to not think about how out of place they looked with all of the gold and glitter. Everyone was wearing a mix of black, silver, gold or burgundy. And you? You were wearing a silk, olive green camisole, black pants and a black blazer with a glittery finish to it. Golden teardrops hang on your earlobes, swishing with every turn of your head and a necklace that Bucky had bought you sits along on the column of your throat. You had left your chunky heels at the door- of course you wanted to show off your New Year’s manicure and pedicure to your friends.

Several rounds of games go by- Cards Against Humanity, What do you Meme, and of course, beer pong and flip cup and then more food and drink. It’s about thirty minutes to midnight and you haven’t heard from Bucky in a few hours. You had sent him photos of yourself getting ready, selfies with your friends and of the decorations. All of the texts say that they’ve been delivered. But maybe he’s busy.

You’re starting to feel the sting a little bit when couples start to get cozy with one another, some cuddling subtly and some cuddling not so subtly. You check your phone once more, wondering where in the world Bucky could be. At least you have the solace that he’s safe- he had told you that everything was okay, they had gotten the information they needed. Him and Sam were safe.

Sticking your phone in the back pocket of your pants and fixing yourself a mixed drink, you rally everyone together for toasts to end the decade off. With Bucky burning brightly in the back of your mind.

***

You call Bucky at 11:56 PM. You’re not sure where he is, if he’ll even have cell reception, but you do it anyway. He doesn’t answer and you go straight to voicemail. It’s 11:58 PM by the time you decide to leave him a voicemail.

“Hi,” You begin, “Um… It’s probably already next year where you are, right? Happy new year, honey. To many more new years, new adventures and new… everything. I’ll text you in the morning, miss you, love you.”

With your heart feeling a little lighter, you join your friends in the living room to watch the countdown live. You don’t notice that one of your friends has disappeared and another one has a sly look on her face when she glances over to you.

***

Bucky is sweating bullets. He’s been running around the city for the last hour, from one edge to another. Sam and Bucky had finished up their mission late on the day before New Year’s Eve and Bucky thought it would be cute to surprise you before midnight on New Year’s day.

But of course, their quinjet had had a few technical difficulties, they had run into some trouble, and it had taken them behind schedule a few hours. 

So now, Bucky is currently sprinting to Williamsburg from the subway station because the subway car going to Brooklyn is currently out of service for the next forty-five minutes.

Just his luck. This is the most stressed Bucky has probably ever been.

***

It’s 11:56 PM when Bucky feels his phone vibrating. He quickly checks who it is, silencing it when he sees that it’s you calling. Bucky is currently running up twelve flights of stairs to get to your friend’s apartment building. The elevator was taking far too long, and Bucky was far too impatient to wait.

To the twelfth floor he goes.

Bucky hears his phone buzzing again, but just for a second. It’s a voicemail and he’s certain it’s from you. His heart sputters for a moment at the thought of you missing him. As it always does.

Just two more floors to go. Sam would mock him for how long it’s taking him to get to the twelfth floor.

With wide eyes and his chest heaving, he sprints down the corridor to apartment number 12-303. He has to make it, he has to get to you before…

Ten!

Apartment 12-295 is on his right.

Nine!

Apartment 12-299…

Eight!

Apartment 12-301…

Much to his relief, the door to apartment 12-303 is unlocked. He had texted your friends hours ago, asking them to please leave the door unlocked. At least that had gone according to plan.

Your friends peek over to see him at the doorway and each give him a smug smile. Your back is facing away from him as you’re watching the countdown on the television screen. You turn your head a fraction, looking over your shoulder to call out for everyone to come watch the countdown, and then you see him.

You gasp loudly, hands over your mouth in complete surprise. Your heart is singing for him, begging you to to join him. You’re tethered to him, feet moving of their own accord.  Time stops for a moment, the faint sounds of the seconds counting down were nothing but static in your ears. All you can see is Bucky. Bucky who had done who knows what to make this special for you.

Bucky’s right in front of you with a small smile. He pulls you to him, not wasting a second before pressing his lips to yours just as the raucous cheers of happy new year go off around them. It’s just Bucky and you standing there with his hands cupping your cheeks and your hands light on his wrists. Glitter and confetti gently falls on his shoulders and your dark hair, giving you a crown of sparkles. Your soul is aflame, and you’re unable to keep yourself from smiling into the kiss.

He pulls away with bitten lips and rests his forehead against yours. He pulls a speck of confetti from your nose and kisses you once more.

“Happy new year’s, honey,” Bucky murmurs.

“Happy new year’s, baby,” You say, kissing his chin, “Thank you for doin’ this for me.”

“I told ya,” Bucky grins, lopsided and your favorite, “Told ya I’d see ya when I see ya.”

***

tags: @coal000 @hootyhoobuckaroo @buckyforbreakfast @lesqui @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @sergeantbarnescaptainrogers @whothehellisbucky

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fluff

[legobiwan]

Star Wars asks-- H. I. R.?

Good choices, anon!

H.  A Character You Used To Love But Don’t Care For Now?

Good question!! I don’t think I can go as extreme as saying that there’s a character that has totally betrayed me in such a fashion, but I will say that when I first got back into the Prequels and TCW, I spent a good, hot half-minute being very much enthralled with Anakin. And then Season 4 of TCW happened and I forever fell down the Obi-wan Kenobi Pit of Doom and it became more and more difficult for me to sympathize with Anakin as he had been written.

I still struggle with this - he is, by far, the hardest character for me to write, as a) it’s way too easy to portray him as “Hulking Out” with his Dark Side issues and b) I have a real, personal ax to grind vis-a-vis his relationship with Padmé. And the thing is, he has such a complicated backstory with the slavery, with his mother (who I still contend was a fucking saint), with Qui-gon just whooshing in and proclaiming him the Chosen One out of nowhere (have you not read a single psychology book, Jinn, I mean, REALLY did you HONESTLY think that was going to end well *damnit Qui-gon*), with the contentious relationship with Obi-wan and the Council, etc etc etc

And yet he makes So. Many. Horrible. decisions to a point where I find it difficult to empathize with him. So it’s less that I don’t care for Anakin than that I just can’t wrap my head around his thought process, which is mired in shame and that same shame reaction drives so much of his behavior, to a cataclysmic extreme.

To put it succinctly: I find writing Anakin difficult and therefore he has risen on my wholly illogical, subjective shitlist :D

I.   Best Clone?

Overall, I am very partial to Cody just because the man needs a damned pay raise, but Jesse and Fives are also fabulous. 

(And, if I may add an OC clone, my personal creation of Tuppet from Hung is one of my favorite clones ever. Oh, Tuppet. You absolute disaster. Ha!)

R.  Saddest Death?

There are...a lot, right? Hahahaa, Star Wars, such a kids’ piece of media oh wait a minute.... And unfortunately, I feel the saddest deaths in Star Wars are the ones directly related to Obi-wan. 

Qui-gon. Satine. Maul. 

Frankly, of all of these, I think Maul’s death might win the prize, I will never be over Twin Suns in a million years. At least Qui-gon died trying to protect the Republic, Anakin, and Obi-wan. Satine died trying to protect Mandalore and more so, Obi-wan from the Dark Side.

Maul died, forgotten, always out of reach of what should have been his, on an almost-suicide mission to come full circle with the man who set him on his path to vengeance, his last words still seasoned with that same hope of bloody justice as he lay in Obi-wan’s arms. 

Twin Suns, I mean...ugh. I won’t be over that. Like, ever. 

(Ask me things about Star Wars!)

#Anonymous #hello there #ask legobiwan #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #cody #fives #jesse #darth maul

[blissfulalchemist]

OC Mannerisms

Tagged by: @trialandseed @pd3 Thank you lovelies for the tag!

Tagging: @risenlucifer @fromathelastoveritaserum @coffeebucko @lobanhart @dieguzguz @smithandrogers @wewillryesagain and anyone else that wants too! 

Catlina Rojas

How they smile

Cat smiles a lot. Usually its a closed mouth smile, but she also does smile with her teeth very often.

She will smile for just about anything that brings about some happiness. 

She will blush while smiling which can look very cute especially because she is so small.

She really tries to smile at people because it make them happier and it’s warmer then a neutral face. 

What their “tell” is for lying

She tries to not lie but when she does she will do what she can to avoid the subject. When she knew her friend was getting proposed to she had to just constantly ask about plants and other things she could look at just to avoid the subject.

She can’t also look at a person.

But when she really tries to be sneaky with her lying she will let others assume her tells, she has little tics that people will see as lying tells, and just give them enough truth to avoid her tells. 

Posture

Catlina tries to stand up straight as much as possible. She’s already short and doesn’t want to be perceived as shorter.

When she’s scared or nervous she hunches over keeping her body closed off. 

Generally she likes to keep her body open and welcoming. She’s friendly and kind she wants the world to know that.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Cat can have a higher pitched voice and she really tries to watch how high it can get. The more excited the higher in octave it goes.

Her voice when sad does take on a lower tone and can sound more flat. It has been told to her that it sounds really unnerving to those that really know her. 

She’s also a lot quieter. She doesn’t like yelling and screaming. She also partially fears of being called the angry crazy Latina so she tries to keep her cool. 

Nervous tics

Pinching and twisting the tops of her fingers.

Biting her lower lip

Shorter sentences

Clenching her jaw

Digging her nails into her skin.

How much eye contact do they make

She makes a good amount of eye contact. 

She honestly doesn’t try to focus on it, sometimes looking people in the eye scares her and makes her uncomfortable. 

She will compensate for this by making sure her body language shows that you have her full attention.

In  a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off  to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right  next to people?

If she’s with people she knows very well she’s right up in the mix.

People that have similar interests that she can talk about she’s listening and observing and will speak now and then but still close to the group.

People she feels she has nothing in common with, she’s more trying to be off to the side listening. 

She’s trying to change and adapt because we all know John loves that spotlight and people will approach her more now in Eden’s Gate.

When  standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands,  cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Catlina for sure talks with her hands, especially when she’s up in a good mood or passionate. 

Generally standing in place she sways and keeps her hands close to her.

She tends to be fiddling with her hands just needing to do something with them.

The sound of their footsteps

She can be really light on her feet at times. Most of the time you can hear her walking though. 

She will avoid spots in houses where the floor makes the most sound.

In heels you can hear her near stomping around depending on the acoustics of the area she’s walking. She loves walking in the churches and the bunker in heels because the sound makes her feel powerful and badass.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Catlina is one to wave and smile when greeting people.

Once she knows you, she will go for a hug or whatever your preferred greeting is. 

People that she loves romantically she will greet with a hug and kiss in some way. 

She will do all this even on her saddest of days.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

She tries to be polite about it. So she will stand and wait for an opportunity to interject. 

She doesn’t like yelling and so it will come out softer trying to get attention from afar. 

Big crowd though she will yell out things like “Hey!” or “Can I have your attention please!”

Chance Ruicknar

How they smile

Chance’s smile is a staple for him. You can tell his mood by the smile he gives.

He will have this shit eating grin for people he doesn’t like. 

Smirks and lopsided smiles for when he’s joking around or just hanging out with people he likes.

Big smiles after doing something really fun or he’s proud of.

He tries to keep a smile on, he finds it reassures other people that everything is going to be okay. 

What their “tell” is for lying

He get’s real defensive and nonchalant about whatever it is. 

He will also cross his arms and wave things off a lot.

Usually he tries to lie by omission though.

Posture

Chance’s posture is relaxed most of the time. He lived by YOLO for the longest time. He doesn’t really fear much.

He stiffens when he feels threatened and will puff out his chest.

He tries to not show anyone when he’s sad and he hunches over hiding his face.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Chance can be loud! His laughter and good nature are loudest on him.

He’s got this slight mountain southern accent going for him too.

Chance tries to speak softly but his emotions flare up and will raise his volume. 

The angrier he gets, the deeper  and more hushed his voice gets. 

Nervous tics

Rubbing the back of his neck 

Blushing

Tapping of his fingers

Rubbing his chin

How much eye contact do they make

He makes a normal amount of eye contact. 

If he’s nervous and shy around you he won’t make so much. He’ll look away.

Deep conversations though he will make the most eye contact though

In  a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off  to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right  next to people?

Chance is all up in there. He’s not afraid to put himself out there. 

He’s always managed to find people that will engage with him and will talk to him. He may not declare you friends but he’s never fully alone in the sense of knowing people.

When  standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands,  cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

Chance likes to lean against walls and doorways. 

He used to try and practice casual poses to try and look cool. 

He can keep his hands in his pockets and doesn’t really talk with his hands very much. 

The sound of their footsteps

Chance can be heavy footed unless he’s outside then it can be lighter. 

He’s almost always wearing boots so it doesn’t help in trying to be quiet in buildings.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Chance will wave and sometimes come in for a bro hug or high five as a greeting. 

Boy will always try to have some kind of smile for you though when he greets you. 

When in a romantic relationship he will greet with a hug first and kiss on the cheek.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

He just asks for it. 

He’ll just yell out and wait for eyes to be on him.

He’s a stunt man and used to getting an audience. 

Lance Powell

How they smile

He doesn’t smile too much but when he does it’s soft and reassuring. 

He smiles when he laughs though.

The more he cares about you the more he smiles.

What their “tell” is for lying

He only has a slight eye twitch when he’s lying.

Normally he doesn’t lie

He has gotten a lot better at hiding his tell for lying though since becoming a mole within Eden’s Gate

Posture

Straight up right.

Doesn’t really relax his posture unless he’s around friends or people he cares about.

On a day off or off time he will relax also.

Got too used to standing in the military so it never really left.

Volume of speech, if they’re verbal

Quieter, rougher, gravely voice. 

He doesn’t get loud unless he has too. 

Also has a slight drawl to his voice. 

Nervous tics

He hides them now but he used to tap his fingers a lot.

Lightly taps his teeth together behind a closed mouth

How much eye contact do they make

He makes a lot of eye contact. 

He likes to see what you’re going to do next. Get a read on you.

In  a group conversation, how close do they stand to others? Are they off  to the side just listening and occasionally speaking or are they right  next to people?

He tends to be on the outskirts of conversation.

When he go together with his buddies he would be right in the group talking and having a good time.

He’s also more of a listener now than converser.

When  standing, what do they do with their hands? Talk with their hands,  cross their arms, put hands in pockets, prop up against the wall, etc

He stands at ease 

His hands are either holding his gun, behind his back, or at his sides. 

He’s gotten a lot smaller in his movements in recent years

The sound of their footsteps

He’s heavy footed when he wants to be. 

Other than that he’s quiet despite his size.

Nonverbal greetings: do they wave, nod, hug, glare, punch, high five, something else?

Curt nods

If he likes you and knows you well smiles and waves or what ever is situationally appropriate.

His daughter is the one that he will always greet with a hug.

How do they get others’ attention? Raise hand, clear throat, etc

Clears his throat

Start speaking 

If it’s a group he calls out “Hey!” or “Listen up!” he was a squad leader at one point and knows how to get people’s attention.

#catlina rojas oc #chance ruicknar oc #lance powell oc

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

December Deals - Supernatural Fic - Crowley x OC

The winds blew colder than usual on that gloomy December day. The waves crashed with ferocity and brought a luke-warm mess of water and sand to my bare feet. It had been three miserable years since I lost him, but on the anniversary of his death, I always visited our secret place. The little private beach off of Orange street and first avenue. It was our hide away from our parents, our problems, and our growing sense of dread. This stretch of land could protect us from the worst pains, the saddest truths, and the darkest lies. But like a set of keys, I lost him. He was gone, without a word, and it killed me every day. I always wondered if Jay was still around. If he could actually hear me talking to him. If he maybe came to visit me at my apartment, or tried to keep me safe in tough times. I could always feel him around me. I could smell his cologne, I could hear his laugh, see those bright, adorable blue eyes. But it never lasted long. I walked along the waters edge, chilling myself to the bone in my black wifebeater and fishnet arm warmers, and those ripped up dark blue skinny jeans. The only thing that was kept the slightest bit toasty were my feet, the sand was still a bit hot from the suns powerful rays. I carried my black boots and knee high black and red striped socks in my hand while I looked out far into sea. Jay was a big part of my life. He was like the older brother I never had. He could make me laugh, protect me, surprise me in so many ways. He always had my best interests at heart and no matter what I said, or did, he never judged me, never left my side. The thought of my heartless words and childish behavior still brings tears to my eyes. The last time I saw him, I was so self absorbed and selfish to even help him, and despite the over bearing sense of desperation and need, he listened to me wail about some guy who broke up with me before he went away to college. He held me all night on the eve of my eighteenth birthday. When I left, he told me he would be over at my house bright and early for a little celebration. But he never showed up. I waited all day, swearing at him for being late. I never once thought he could have been hurt or in trouble. It only started to hit me when I remembered how sad he looked before I left. He asked me to stay the night, that something felt wrong. But all I wanted to do was try and call my ex boyfriend, see if he could come over to talk. He just gave me this optimistic smile and said "things happen for a reason, you never know what the future holds". I thought it seemed so old world of him to say things like that, but in the future, he was right. I put on my socks and shoes and stood up, slapping the sand from my jeans, and turned to the long, tall hill that would lead me back to the deserted road. I put in my earbuds and let the music of my favorite bands take me away to another time and place. Mine and Jay's favorite Tool song, "Right in Two", blared in my ear drums as I walked. I finally reached the road and, as usual, was not paying attention. I walked right into a man with dark features and dressed in a nice tailored black suit. I fell backwards and when I looked up, he stared me down. He had this mischevious smile form across his lips, and he extended his hand to help me up. Cautiously, I let him hoist me to my feet and I looked at him. "How are you, Cassidy?" he asked. "How do you-" "I just know these things." he replied in a thick british accent. I thanked him for his help and apologized for my clumsiness before turning away and walking towards my car, which was parked down the road. When I turned to see if he was still standing there, he was gone. I made it to my car, to be startled at his prescence leaning against the hood of my prized '72 cherry red mustang. "How the hell did you get here before me?" I asked. "Just fast, I guess." he replied, coyly. "Seriously, you were behind me. I would have seen if you -" "Darling, that's not important. I have a message for you." he said, waving off my questions. We stood beside my ride, and I shivered. He was taking in the sights, and then he looked in to my eyes. For a man his age, he was pretty good looking. A few inches taller than my five feet, four inches. He had a cute, chubby face, and a bit of stubble. His hair wasn't too long, and a light brown. It kind of made me want to run my fingers through it. His eyes looked like a melted chocolate, and his smile was contagious. He had a pretty nice build, too. His style looked pricey, but it looked even better on him. I felt like I was getting sized up as he continued to look at me. I felt as if his eyes were burning a hole through me, into my damn soul. I couldn't stand the quiet and I was so cold I could barely feel my fingers or my face anymore, so I cleared my throat to get his attention. Upon seeing how icy I was, he offered me his jacket. It was big on me, but it was cozy and felt great wrapped around my shoulders. He asked if he could hitch a ride, and although I was scared, I was so attracted to him I couldn't muster up the courage to tell him no. We hopped in my baby, that I named  Candy, and we sped down the street and on to the main highway. He asked if he could be dropped off at a bar that was, surprisingly, right down the street from my house, and I agreed. Puscifer's "Conditions of my Parole" blasted through the speakers and I caught him mouthing the words to the song. When the song ended and we came to a traffic jam, I turned in my seat and asked him what this so called message was, and from whom. "You know anyone named Jay Barnes?" he asked. I felt an ice cold chill run up my spine. "That was my best friends name, but.. He's been dead for three years now." I whispered. "Oh, I know. Was tradgic, really. But Jay told me to tell you that you're not at fault and to stop blaming yourself." he replied, while looking me straight in the eyes. The traffic cleared and I began speeding down the road, the man in the suit was digging his nails into the arm rests and swearing when I nearly collided into on coming cars and light poles. I swerved into another lane and went down a deserted street, about two miles from the bar, and hit the breaks, causing both of us to slam our heads against the dashboard. I frantically got out of the car and walked away a few paces. I heard him get out and jog after me. "I told the damn boy you'd react this way but he didn't want to listen." he said, grabbing my wrist. I backhanded him, leaving a red mark on his cheek. He backed away and saw that my eyes went from their usual green-hazel to a darkish, forest green. He rubbed at his aching cheek and began to speak again, weary of my random movements and frequent wheezing breaths. "I mean no harm, darling. Was just passing on a message as a favor to the kid." he said. "I don't know who in the hell you are, but my best friend did not come to you with a message from the grave! Who are you! What is your name?" I snarled. "Oh! Pardon my poor socialization skills. The names Crowley, and I'm the King of Hell." he smirked, and his eyes went to a dark black. I came to on the ground with him standing above me. My whole body was shaking and I could feel tears of fear leaking from my eyes, threatening to smudge my nearly perfect eyeliner. I backed away and he still came forward, and again, he helped me to my feet. "I'm not going to hurt you, relax." he said. "You're a.. A fucking.. Fucking.." "Spit it out, doll, I don't have all day. Yes, I'm a demon. What? Demons can't have nice clothes and be polite?" "Get the fuck away from me, or I swear I'll.. I'll.." "Shoot? Hate to break it to you but guns will only bring a bit of pain, but not death." he smiled. I was on the brink of hysteria when I took off running. The good looking stranger that was nice enough to give me his jacket was a fucking demon? And all these years I thought it was bullshit tales and lies to keep people in line. When I turned I saw my car getting smaller and smaller, but again, when I looked in front of me, he stood there and grabbed me by my waist. I screamed and kicked and scratched but he didn't let go. The last thing I remembered was begging for help, and then I blacked out. I woke up on a king sized bed with canopy curtains pulled in around it. It was dark out and I couldn't remember much. I didn't know where I was and for a split second, I thought I was in a high end hotel. But when I saw him in the doorway through the canopy, I froze. He slowly inched closer with his hands raised, signaling that he had no weapons or intentions to hurt me. I pulled the curtain back but kept the comforter pulled up to my shoulders, it felt so cold in the room. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, with his back turned to me. An overbearing desire to kiss him took over my body, but common sense screamed at me to run like hell. "I came to you because, not only did the boy ask me, but because you need help." he said softly. "Help? From a demon? HA!" I laughed. "I know this may be a bit hard, but can you please SHUT your damn TRAP and LISTEN!?" he shouted. If this would have been any other man, and any other time, I would have jumped him and let him fuck me around every corner of the earth while yelling at me, but instead I did as I was told and let him speak. "Jay is still around. He's been watching you ever since he checked out. He knows that you think it's your fault, he hears you when you talk to him. He won't leave until you realize what he did was his own choosing and no one could have stopped him. He can't be in peace until you finally let go and move on. Following so far?" he asked. "Yes, uh, sir." I spoke quietly. "Good. Now, what I am going to do will hurt but help both you and the boy. Do you want my help? Or, here's a better question; do you want Jay to move on?" he asked. "Of course, he was my brother!" I replied. "Take my hand, and hold on then." he said. I opened my eyes and saw that I was in Jay's apartment. He was downing whiskey straight from the bottle and looked like the poster boy for hell. I walked over, as if in a trance, and tried to touch his cheek. I called his name, but my efforts had gone unnoticed. "He can't see or hear you, honey. This is just a memory, so to speak." Crowley said, standing behind me. I watched as Jay looked through photo albums; they were of the two of us, his family, and then one of him and his ex fiancee, Taria. He wept and traced his fingertips over her picture, asking God why she had to die. He had struggled for six months over her death, and he never let any sadness show, but behind closed doors, I saw the emotional side of him I only wished he could have shared with me. His and Taria's song, "We're in this Together" by Nine Inch Nails played on his stereo, and the look in his eyes showed anguish and defeat. I watched him write his suicide note, take one last look at a photo of the three of us; Taria, Jay, and I, and then go into the bathroom. I followed behind, tears and shrieks escaping from me. I watched him get in the tub, now filled with hot water, and I watched him electrocute himself with his hair straightener. I cried out for him and when Crowley decided that I had seen enough, he brought us back to present day. "How could you put me through that?" I choked. "I'm sorry, Cassidy. I had to." "Why? So I wouldn't feel guilty? Well newsflash, genius; I feel even worse." I snapped. "Damn it, girl, you saw with your own eyes the pain he was going through. You saw that it had nothing to do with you, and no matter what, you couldn't save him! No one could! For fucks sake just accept it!" he barked. I sat on the bed and turned away from him. It was bad enough I was in a strange house with a member of God's public enemy number one, but I'd be damned if I let him see me cry. I laid on my side, facing a wall, and I felt the burning hot tears sting my eyes. I kept my moans to a minimum and kept as far away from him as possible. I heard him sigh and then after several minutes, felt his arm slide around my waist and pulled my back up against his body. I turned to look at him, and I saw compassion in his eyes. I didn't know what to think at this point. "Is there anyway.. I could bring him back?" I asked. "I'm sorry kid, but no." he whispered in my ear. "Please, Crowley, I'd do anything. I'd even sacrifice my soul." I pleaded. "What a nice gesture, but, still, the answer is no." he replied. I shoved him away and he fell backwards off the bed. "Well fuck you! What kind of pansy ass demon are you!?" I shrieked. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what you have just started." he said as he placed me on my back and hovered over my body. I looked up at him with curiosity. For all I know, he was about to murder me and hide the body somewhere. But instead, I just gave in to him. He was free to do whatever he wanted to me. His fingertips traced down my jawline as he leaned down and kissed my lips. They were warm and moist and sent electricity throughout my entire body. I couldn't help but moan. As the kiss grew deeper, I felt him smile into it, and his hands explored my curves. My tongue entered his mouth and I felt him begin to suck on it, it was new and exciting and made me feel like a giddy middle school girl. I felt his hands cup both sides of my face, and his own tongue began to rub against mine. He nibbled on my bottom lip and I slid my hands slowly up and down his arms, but then the reality that I was making out with a demon came in to play. I shoved him off and did a back flip off the other side of the bed, quickly throwing on my socks and boots. As I got up and made my way to the door, he stood in my way, looking down at me with eyes filled with lust and dominance. I felt my heart lodge in my throat as he grabbed me by my hips and slam me into the wall, his body pinned against mine and whispering in my ear that I was in alot of trouble and my best bet would be to let him fuck me and it wouldn't hurt... too much. I pushed back against him, trying to free myself from his grasp, but all it did was make me groan and make him press his lips hard into mine, stifling any sounds I tried to make. He yanked my hair back from my neck and let his lips wander down from my jawline, to my neck, and right along my collarbone. His kisses were rough and hard, and my knees were growing weak with each and every powerful kiss. His hands pinned my wrists into the wall, and I began to feel pain as his nails dug into my moist flesh. I was taking in short, jagged breaths while peering up to look at him. His facial expression was determined, concentrating on areas he somehow knew would make me turn to putty in his hands, and he looked as if he was happy with himself for turning me into his whore. He nipped at the sensitive areas on my neck, the last love bite drew a little blood, which he slid his tongue over. I arched into him and let out a whimper, which caught his attention. He freed my aching wrists and I jumped up in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. As he kissed my lips again, he banged me into the wall, grinding against me, letting me feel every inch of his body melting into mine. He turned and threw me down on the bed, in which I half heartedly tried to sit up to see what he was doing. He smiled at me, clicking his tongue against his teeth, as if wondering what his next move should be. My mind was frazzled and I was more than turned on. I needed to feel every inch of him inside of me. He slowly walked over to the bed, bending down the slightest bit so he could lick my lips and bite down hard on my bottom lip. His hands were gliding through my hair, softly playing with every soft strand as he fell on top of me. Under him I felt like I was on ecstasy; my heart was racing at the speed of light, my mind was blacking out, and my body was shaking furiously. His hands, once again, trailed down my sides, his finger tips gliding down my rib cage, and slowly his fingers hooked into my jean loops, trying to yank my pants down a tad bit. I found the strength to take off his jacket and throw it on the leather desk chair behind him, and he locked eyes with me again. "Patience," he whispered in my ear, and his hot breath on my neck made a sharp breath stick in my throat, painfully. "When I'm through with you, I'll be carrying you around for awhile." I bit my lip as his last sentence played in my mind, like a broken record. He slowly pulled up my wifebeater, and with each inch he pulled up, he left a trail of kisses to my shaking form behind. I arched in to him again, and our bodies seemed to mould together perfectly. He rested one large, unwavering hand on the small of my back, holding me against him as he sucked and bit my neck. I went to work and began to unbutton his shirt. He ripped my wifebeater off, throwing the fabric on the other side of the bed. He muttered something about sloppy clothing pissing him off before kissing and licking the top of my breasts. I felt a slight film of sweat trickle down my forehead and along the sides of my face, with one hard, forceful move, he ripped my jeans off my legs without even unbuttoning them. I finally had his shirt fully unbuttoned, no thanks to my trembling fingers, and he quickly slid it off of his slightly muscular arms. He undid his tie painfully slow, and made a nice pile for his clothes on the nightstand, leaving me frustrated and snapping at him to finish what he started. "Oh, in due time, darling. Have a bit of patience." he would say, and then he pinned my wrists above my head and began to slide my bra straps off my shoulders using only his teeth. I bucked my hips against his, grinding my lower body in to his, letting him know I was more than ready for him to pound me in to the next century. He grunted, only once, and then stared me down. When my bra straps were down as far as they would go, he sat up, straddled over my body and yanked me up with one hand, and undid the bra hooks with ease. It went flying over his shoulder and he laid me down gently, smirking. He stood in front of the bed, staring at my nearly fully naked body. I felt as if I was being sized up, or as if he was taking a mental picture to add to his probable vast collection. I sat up, cautiously, and looked up at him. He nodded his head, as if giving me permission to undo his pants. With slow progression I had them unzipped and unbuttoned within a minute, and they fell to his ankles. He kicked them, along with his shoes, off and looked down at me. He shoved me hard into the bed and grabbed my legs, slowly pulling off my boots and socks. He threw them against the wall, looking disgusted at my now ruined attire. He leaned down, hooking his thumbs into the strings of my thong and ripped it off quickly. I sat up long enough to pull down his boxer briefs, and he kicked them off, placing his clothes on the nightstand. He stood in front of me, fully naked, and his length was something most girls only dream of having in a lover. I smiled up at him, ready for the most fierce sexual encounter I've had in my life, when he gently took my hand and helped me to my feet. "This will be the only time I'm careful with you" he groaned in my ear while he pulled me against him. "Bring it, black eyes." I choked out. He slammed me hard into the wall, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist. I felt him get situated and shove his full girth inside of my aching cunt. I swore at him as he began to forcefully penetrate me. He wasn't slow, he wasn't gentle, he was an animal. I held on to his shoulders, letting my nails dig in as he continued to make me squirm and scream. He grunted like an animal in my ear as he continued to slam into me, making me bounce back against the wall each and every time. My hips ached as his hit them with such a force I felt like they would break, and my eyes began to roll in the back of my head, making me feel dizzy and see stars. He nipped at the soft flesh on my neck, making me cry out, and as he pounded my cunt, he let his thumb play with my swelling clit. I bit down on his neck, surely drawing blood, and I arched in to him again. When he was tired of banging me into the wall, he threw me on the ground, landing on top of me. He looked into my eyes, out of his mind with hunger, and kissed my lips hard. My legs lifted into the air, giving him more clearance to penetrate me deeper. With each and every thrust, he hit my gspot and made it hurt so bad I was sure I was bleeding. He kissed down my sweaty body, nibbling on my collar bone, breasts, and back up to my lips. Our tongues locked in a passionate wage of war that no one would win. My nails raked down his back, making it burn as he continued to thrust in to me, making me scream his name. My throat was hurting and turning raw, but I couldn't stop the uncontrollable urge to scream and swear at him. I heard his seductive chuckle, and as I let out a stream of cum, I shoved him off, pinned his wrists down to his sides, and whispered that it was my turn to have some fun. I carefully kissed down his sweaty body, leaving gentle kisses to his chest, down to his stomach, and held one last kiss to his lower stomach, where his happy trail began. He groaned, trying to fight me off of him, but part of him was willing to be submissive, at least for a little while. I let him go, looking up at him and smirking as he bit his lip in anticipation. At first, I put quick, soft kisses to the head of his cock, down to his shaft and back up, I slowly let the tip enter my mouth, and I swirled my tongue inside and out of it, making him swear and call me his dirty little whore. With each curse word, I sucked on the tip while holding on to the shaft with one hand. I massaged the shaft with my fingertips as I began to slowly let it enter my mouth, inch by inch. He was trying to move, trying to force it all inside my mouth and down my throat, but it was as if he was paralyzed. I held on to the base as it was all in my mouth, and I showed him what was any guys favorite ability in a girl; I could deep throat. "Fucking Cassidy, you slut." he grunted as I let it all slide down my throat. I let him hardened, pulsing dick slide in and out of my mouth, and sucked it hard like a lollipop. Each time it slid down my throat quickly, the precum was leaking more and more, and then finally, when he couldn't take anymore, he let a wave of it release into my mouth. Looking up at him as I slowly let his cock slide out of my mouth, I swallowed every last drop, and smirked as he lay there, shaking and muttering to himself. "This isn't over, you fucking bitch." he gasped. "Oh, but I think it is." I laughed, slowly getting off my knees. "Guess again." he said, regaining balance on his feet and shoving me on my stomach on the bed. He entered me from behind, pounding my pussy while his fingernails raked down my back. As he entered me with force, I gripped the sheets and felt him grip on to my ass as he shoved in every inch into my now swollen cunt. I cried out for him to stop as I felt the familiar pulse rage inside of me, but all I heard was him grunting over and over again, and making my head spin and the little breaths I did have stick in my throat. He leaned down, over me, while he fucked me senseless and placed several sweet kisses to my neck. With one last push, the muscles in my cunt contracted around him and we soaked the bed with our burning hot cum. He placed me on my back and fell on top of me, his face buried in my hair. I slid my fingertips up and down his spine, and turned to kiss his cheek. Our hearts beat against each others, and when we finally caught our breath, I felt his arms slide around my waist and his lips gently kiss mine. "How does it feel to be fucked my a demon?" he whispered raggedly in my ear. "Sinfully spectacular. How does it feel to be completely worked by a human?" I asked in return. "Let's just say, it was a pleasure working with you." he chuckled before kissing my lips again.

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