#remember that time i had a breakdown and dropped all of my familial issues on my mom and she said “well get you therapy after the holidays”

[skybristle]

this close to ending up on the news istfg I'm so overwhelmed with everything and I just realized I misread a project I've been doing for weeks that sets me back and I have a presentation and so much is happening and I feel like I'm hitting gifted kid burnout on top of general burnout and I can't even do 3 tasks a day becwyse of issues nobody wants to believe I have and. God. I want to rest let me rest let me rest please it's only February I want to fucking die

#/lh on that last part im not foing in that direction i just dont know how to articulate how upset and miserable i am #sky rambles #im so done #i wish i could get help #remember that time i had a breakdown and dropped all of my familial issues on my mom and she said “well get you therapy after the holidays” #of dec 2021 #i dont feel attachment to anyone in my family. i cant trust them with anything #i told my mom i thought i had adhd and she told me i was roo gifted #so wht even try #im doomed #delete later

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — it all falls down

jang wonyoung and kim jiwon's dorm. 3:47 pm.

WARNINGS; blood, graphic depictions of physical violence, slut shaming, threats, trust issues, implied mental breakdown, effects of gaslighting, victim blaming (towards self) (4.8k)

from an early age, naoi rei knew that love wasn't for her.

she saw the decorative hearts scattered all over her elementary school as her peers fawned over their crushes. the chocolates that hid behind heart-shaped boxes taunted the young naoi as she listened to her friends' relationship woes.

everywhere she turned, love seemed to consume all those who stood in its vicinity. her parents would mindlessly hum their wedding song under their breath. her music teacher's desk littered with all her students' drawings, except for a portrait of her husband.

love consumed everyone's time. everyone's effort.

it didn't consume rei, not directly.

rei knew her parents loved her. they would go out of their way to go to her recitals and take her shopping when she needed new clothes. they even funded all of rei's (very expensive) expenses when it came to art.

they were perfect on paper, and if rei was any other person, it would've been enough.

on her fifth birthday, they had spent one out of the twenty-four hours of the day with her. the one hour consisted of eating together, and a small, thirty-minute gift session where rei had opened about ten gifts or so.

later, they would leave to stay at a hotel on their one day off. they would drop the five-year-old at her grandma's flower shop, named after rei's mother.

on christmas when she was seven years old, rei woke up in a quiet house. the silence was deafening, and all the young naoi could remember that day was the pile of presents she opened by herself.

the seven-year-old would find out later that her parents had left her home to grab a christmas breakfast.

the day she had left to go to korea, rei had been asked one question during the entire car ride before her parents had rushed off. she then boarded the plane, first class, watching as her two check-in luggages were being brought onto the airplane.

she'd never tell them, but she wanted them to miss their reservation, just this once. just so they could hug her goodbye.

somehow, rei had become a side character in her own life, watching as everyone paid no attention to her. she knew that if she were to get erased from her own family, they wouldn't even notice. it hurt her that they wouldn't have cared.

(rei's family hadn't checked up on her since she landed.)

rei was bitter when it came to love.

she hated how she couldn't appreciate her parents' efforts because of it, and how she always questioned if she was alive out of coincidence and not want.

still, rei couldn't help but become fascinated with it.

she wondered why so many people would throw logic aside for someone who had the power to break them. she couldn't comprehend how love was able to blindside so many people.

love was an emotion. one that made her fade away.

her mind was made as soon as she stepped onto korean soil. she wouldn't bother with anything that came with the emotion, not even if her neighbor was clearly in love with one of her friends.

they weren't her friends anyway. why should she care?

"you're the girl my mom was talking about. the one that lives in the apartment across from us." rei could remember seeing the tall girl glare from behind her neighbor, almost trying to shoo her away. "i'm not sure if you saw me around before. i just staying here for the summer."

her hair was so long back then.

"my name's kim gaeul."

"i'm naoi rei."

rei had friends before.

they were all boy-crazy, hiding makeup in their drawers instead of pencils to impress their crush of the month. like her parents, they had never asked about her interests or hobbies, but rei knew almost everything about them. she could read them like the back of her hand.

she knew it was gonna be the same.

(it wasn't.)

"you like hawaiian pizza, right?" jang wonyoung, whom gaeul had introduced a month ago (alongside ahn yujin), scrolled through her phone as the other two were off somewhere in the kim residence. "i ordered some, but just so you know, yujin-unnie's gonna make fun of you."

rei had mentioned it once, offhandedly a week or two ago. she didn't know how wonyoung cared enough to remember. yujin, on the other hand, would've been too busy with gaeul to care. sometimes, rei wondered if yujin even noticed her presence.

it wouldn't have been the first time someone had forgotten about her.

"what the hell?" yujin said as she dug through the boxes. the aroma of freshly baked pizza wafted the entire house. "rei ordered these, didn't she?"

"leave her alone, yujin."

yujin laughed at the younger girl with an arm wrapped around gaeul. her cheeks were bright red, teasing the japanese for liking something so obscure (in her mind, at least). rei watched the three koreans closely, wonyoung and gaeul trying to defend her from the onslaught of yujin's comments.

each comment was directed at her. each smug grin, each teasing look. yujin had remembered, and so had gaeul, and so had wonyoung.

they could see her. they wanted to see her, despite the love that they held for someone else.

love was an emotion, not a blindfold.

for once, naoi rei didn't mind being the side character, and she would do everything in her power to make them happy, to make her family happy. she knew that one day, when the time came, they wouldn't forget her.

rei hated it, being forgotten (yet somehow, she hated the thought of ripping two people apart).

rei didn't understand love, but she knew that she wished her friends would find it.

(but somehow, it also found her.)

"who's trying to break down the door?"

wonyoung looked at the shaking door, partially terrified that whoever (read: rei) would somehow knock it wide open with just her fist.

as much as she loved rei, wonyoung refused to let the japanese girl anywhere near or inside her dorm when jiwon was around. rei had yet to give the true happenings of what went down that night with jiwon, but she could tell it was bad.

finding the young kim crying in her bed was a weird role reverse at first, but wonyoung knew how it felt like. she knew how painful it was to love someone but not have them.

"it's no one."

the banging continued, somehow getting harsher and louder with every passing second.

if there was one thing that naoi rei was good at, it was persistence.

"maybe it's yuri-unnie." jiwon muttered, rubbing her now scabbed knuckles. "she did text me this morning asking if i was okay... i think she wanted me to help her jump minjeong-unnie."

jiwon had gotten a phone call earlier that morning. from what she could tell, the sun was just starting to rise, and from the way yuri's voice had sounded, the older girl had stayed up all night.

("we don't have to tell minju. i'm sure she wouldn't mind anyways.")

jiwon could only hope that yuri hadn't gone through with her ten-step plan.

"why would yuri-unnie want to jump minjeong-sunbaenim?"

the two stared at each other, blank faces as gears turned in their heads.

"i'm gonna open the door now." jiwon stated, moving towards the entrance. she needed any way out of the conversation, even if she ended up trying to talk someone out of a potential assault charge.

the door continued to rattle under rei's fist, and she prayed that whatever happened to jiwon was minor. she hoped that the girl she hurt wasn't in pain.

the door swung open, a sense of relief washing over the japanese girl as the kim stood in front of her.

love wasn't for rei.

she was the side character, the girl who set up her friends with their exes, the mastermind behind everything. she was the girl everyone ran to, and everyone forgot when the time came. she was a plot device.

"rei?"

naoi rei didn't want to be a plot device anymore. she wanted love to want her, just like she wanted her parents to love her.

the japanese girl looked at jiwon in front of her, the latter cradling her hand. her knuckles were a blush red, forming uneven marks around the peaks. rei could see the small scabs starting to form at the tips of her first two knuckles, and the swollen bump on the back of jiwon's hand.

it looked like it hurt, and somehow, in some way, it upset rei.

rei ushered the taller girl onto her bed, ignoring the questioning stares that came from the others. she'd deal with them later. jiwon was hurt, and that was rei's priority.

wonyoung stood at the doorway, eyeing the two.

"you'd think she's the one with the wrist brace and first aid kit," yujin snickered.

she wondered if rei knew what she was doing, what she was feeling. she should've by now. the glint in her eye was enough for anyone to know.

gaeul rolled her eyes at her girlfriend. "i think it's nice that she's worried."

she just hoped rei could deal with the heartbreak that came with it.

sighing, wonyoung gestured for the two older girls to come inside. she pushed aside a foreboding feeling in her chest, disregarding all the signs that something was wrong. it was just the thermostat, anyway. jiwon always liked to turn it up when she felt overwhelmed.

as the volleyball player began to shut the door, her eyes focused on the sliver of light that peaked into the hallway.

a gray sweater. y/n's gray sweater.

wonyoung swung the door open almost immediately.

"y/n."

with a small nod, y/n smiled.

something was wrong.

y/n's eyes were bloodshot red, the thin red veins popping against the whites of her eyes. her cheeks were red from crying, wonyoung deducted. if she looked any harder, wonyoung was sure to see the dried streaks of tears on the older girl's cheeks. it was a normal site of a sad y/n, at least from what wonyoung could remember.

but there was something in her eyes. something that unsettled wonyoung.

why did it seem so familiar?

"is jiwon okay?" y/n's voice cracked out, clearing her throat in embarrassment.

wonyoung nodded lightly, stepping aside for the actress to enter. with light, but sluggish steps, the taller girl watched y/n walk passed her. it was heavy with the burden of something.

wonyoung closed the door behind her. she watched the love of her life almost morph into someone that wasn't there before, a soft smile appearing on her face as she stared at jiwon.

it was her y/n (but who was the y/n before?).

"gaeul-sunbae," y/n spoke, her voice shaking slightly. she could feel jiwon's worried gaze. "can you check her hand?"

gaeul nodded, sitting beside jiwon.

y/n could feel the guilt wracking inside her body as she stared at jiwon's injured hand. every wince that the younger girl made seemed to cut her deeply, and all y/n could do was blame herself.

it was her fault for not seeing the signs, and her fault for not wanting to. all she wanted was a friend, but never at the cost of another.

"do you want to sit down?" wonyoung's voice sounded like a melody, pulling her out of her trance.

y/n stared at the taller girl. she couldn't help but wonder if the volleyball player had ever held some type of grudge against her, a vendetta to ruin her life. maybe it was something more simple, like a hatred fueled from putting her through everything that was yoo jimin.

y/n took a breath. her wonyoung wouldn't do that.

but then again, her minjeong did.

"it's okay."

y/n didn't know what was what anymore. for all she knew, she could've been letters on a screen, strung together from the most painful parts of human life.

all y/n knew was that jiwon, minju, yuri (and yena), and her parents were real. they had to be. they needed to be.

if they were, then she'd be okay. she knew she'd be okay.

wonyoung grabbed her hand gently, the pad of her thumb tugging her back to reality. back to wonyoung.

y/n was back to wonyoung, her wonyoung. the one with big, doe eyes that cried at the movie 'UP' and hid a box of random pieces of lego in her closet back when they were dating. her wonyoung who was hyunseo's older sister, who carried the jang name with a burden that only showed in the darkest of nights.

she wanted to be wonyoung's y/n again. not minjeong's, not jimin's. wonyoung's.

"please?"

y/n hoped that wonyoung was real. she hoped that this was all real.

quietly, y/n sat down, interlacing her hand with the taller girl's. she watched as wonyoung followed, a small blush on her face as she stared at her with love.

love was consuming y/n.

"what happened anyway?" yujin hummed, not noticing the tension forming in the air.

gaeul could only sigh. her girlfriend was as dense as she was pretty, and at times like these, it was unfortunate that yujin was insanely beautiful.

"did jiwon go ballistic?" yujin's eyes sparkled at the thought of wonyoung's roommate beating someone up. "minju-sunbaenim always gave me crazy vibes, especially when you and wonyoung broke up. i guess the apple doesn't fall far from the - ow!"

gaeul smiled at wonyoung, sitting innocently as if she didn't kick yujin at full force. if rei hadn't been so worried, a snicker would've slipped passed her lips.

right now was jiwon. she'd deal with idiots later.

"don't listen to her." wonyoung smiled, and y/n could feel herself floating. "unnie's just like that sometimes."

unnie.

wonyoung had never called y/n that. not before them, not during them, not after. she called gaeul unnie. same with yujin. she even called jimin unnie at one point.

y/n swallowed.

maybe she did something wrong. maybe wonyoung saw her as lesser than them. maybe this was a sign that her wonyoung had been someone else this entire time.

y/n looked at the taller girl, grinning at her with shiny eyes.

no. wonyoung wasn't jimin or minjeong.

(but what if she was?)

"jiwon-ssi..." gaeul looked at the extent of the bruises. "how hard did you punch them?"

y/n and jiwon looked at each other, both thinking of the deep cut that the younger kim had somehow administered to minjeong.

"not that hard..."

gaeul sighed. her wrist brace wasn't going to be much use against a boxer's fracture. "you need to go to the doctor for this. i'm ninety percent sure you broke it."

rei could feel her stomach drop. she had never felt more anxious in her life, and it wasn't even about her. at times like these, she wished she had her license, just to be there with the kim at the hospital. rei knew that minju wasn't gonna let her near her sister.

rei wished she was invisible, just this once.

jiwon nodded, looking at y/n who seemed deep in her thoughts once more. something was going on inside her head, jiwon just couldn't place it. all she knew was that minjeong was the cause.

a loud banging erupted throughout the room, y/n jumping back slightly. it was harder than last time, the knocking. it sounded as if someone was ramming the door open and if any of the girls listened closer, they would hear the doorknob shaking against the frame.

y/n wondered what would've happened if she didn't see minjeong last night. she understood why, but all at the cost of her friends well being. it might've not been her decision, but she had a say.

she always had a say.

y/n felt stupid.

wonyoung gave y/n's hand a light squeeze before letting go. she headed towards the door, the pounding never stopping. if she didn't open it soon, her ra would definitely get her in trouble, especially the one on duty.

as the volleyball player began to open the door, her eyes focused on the sliver of light that peaked into the hallway.

black. specifically jimin's black jacket.

wonyoung found herself stumbling backwards as the door rammed open. she closed her eyes, waiting for the fall but all she felt was the tightening of her collar, and the graze of someone's kuckles against her collarbone.

her eyes opened, and all she saw were jimin's dark irises.

"you."

jimin was angry. she was livid. everything she did ended up back to wonyoung. if it was volleyball, wonyoung was there. if it was school, wonyoung's 'fans' were in the vicinity. even when she ate, wonyoung's face would be plastered on her water bottle.

there were some upsides though.

"where's aeri?"

yujin tensed, nearly pouncing on jimin if not for gaeul's disapproving look. she wouldn't hold back, not with her friends.

gaeul knew that, and she prayed that somehow, the situation would get diffused before it escalated.

"what the-" wonyoung tried to pry jimin's grip off of her, only for it to tighten even more. "sunbaenim, are you insane?"

y/n had never felt rage consume her. she didn't know how it felt like, in all honesty. she was used to the sadness that jimin had provided her, but somehow, it tripled. it overwhelmed her, like the love that minjeong had confessed to her the day prior, or the pressure that weighed wonyoung down.

she was free from jimin, but not her effect.

"jimin." y/n stood up, her voice hoarse. "stop it."

it felt familiar to wonyoung, in a painful way.

"you're protecting her?" the veins on jimin's head popped, her face an angry red as she stared at y/n. "you're fucking kidding me. yizhuo was right?"

y/n sighed. she was getting tired of this. of everything.

"what are you talking about?"

"you're fucking wonyoung again." jimin would always be second to wonyoung, to everyone. it didn't matter how hard she loved or how much she tried. she was her father's daughter, and she was getting his punishment. "god, you just open your legs up for anyone."

y/n wanted to scream. she wanted to yell at jimin, at minjeong to leave her alone. she wanted them to get out of her mind, and to move some place else where she would never have to think about them ever again.

all y/n could feel was red.

"i could say the same for you, jimin."

wonyoung frowned. her y/n was never angry, at least not outwardly. even if she was, y/n never stooped as low as jimin.

something was wrong. something was broken.

(wonyoung hoped she was okay, whatever it was.)

jimin tightened her grip, her eyebrows furrowing. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means what you think it means." it was like lava, pooling out of her mouth like an unstoppable wave. "let. wonyoung. go."

the room fell silent, and wonyoung was sure that jimin loosened her grip for a split second. the ace scanned y/n's eyes, dark and angry before jimin balled up more of wonyoung's shirt.

she could feel jimin's knuckles pressing against her neck, and wonyoung fought back an urge to cough.

"is this about minjeong?" jimin rolled her eyes. she didn't understand why it was such a big deal, especially since she loved y/n, not minjeong. "is that why you're acting all bitchy all of a sudden?"

y/n flinched back, the overwhelming sadness suddenly rendering her speechless. anger helped her forget it, and although it seemed like a plus side, it felt gross.

y/n looked at wonyoung, and guilt love began to consume her once more.

"minjeong came onto me." y/n fought back tears. she was tired of trying to figure out who's side was real, and who was there for her and not her body. "everyone comes to me eventually."

yujin tensed once more. she was sick of jimin. her hot-headedness made the team walk eggshells around her, blaming everyone but herself for all her failures.

for once, she wanted to put jimin in her place.

"now..." jimin glared at wonyoung. "where's aeri, jang?"

wonyoung didn't know. she didn't even know about the whole minjeong-jimin thing until jimin had pounced on her, but if jimin didn't know where aeri was, that meant that she was safe.

wonyoung kept her mouth sealed shut, returning an angry glare.

"where the fuck is she?" wonyoung could feel jimin tightening her grip once more, her balled up fists pressing against her trachea. she had never wanted to punch someone in her life, but jimin was making it difficult.

"answer my question!" jimin's voice boomed, and wonyoung was sure everyone could hear it.

gaeul bit her tongue. she forgot how annoying yeji's jimin was.

quietly, gaeul spoke, not wanting to anger the ace any further. "she doesn't know."

"i wasn't talking to you, you slut." jimin snapped at gaeul. y/n could feel yujin tense from beside her, wonyoung shaking her head at her captain. jimin gripped wonyoung tighter, her knuckles turning white. "where is she, wonyoung? where's aeri?"

"i don't know."

"don't bullshit me." jimin grumbled, her voice low and her eyes angry. "i know you're useless, but you aren't this useless."

jimin was like wonyoung's mother in every sense. not only was she conventionally pretty, she was demanding and negligent to those around her. she used her words as a weapon, and her authority as leverage.

but wonyoung was a jang, and she knew how to get a rise out of someone.

"i said i don't know, jimin."

jimin didn't call her father dad anymore. not only had he failed as a husband, he had failed as a person. jimin didn't need to call someone that an honorific when they didn't deserve it.

but jimin wasn't her dad. she couldn't be.

"i'm your sunbae."

she was, in everyone's eyes but her own.

"then act like it."

jimin liked the pain of punching someone.

she liked the way her hand stung, akin to a spike. she liked her knuckles bright red, a physical sight that she was doing something right. jimin didn't like to think about the pain it inflicted on others, unless they deserved it.

jang wonyoung did, however. she deserved all the pain.

jimin winded her hand back, and wonyoung was ready to take the punch head on. she needed proof that jimin had hurt someone once more, a teammate. if getting rid of jimin for the rest of her school year meant a bruised cheek, then wonyoung would absolutely tank it.

wonyoung closed her eyes and a thud could be heard reverberating throughout the room.

she felt nothing.

the volleyball player opened her eyes, only to feel herself getting pulled back as she watched gaeul and rei scramble to stop yujin. she shook them off, ignoring jimin trying to push her head away.

ahn yujin, in all her glory, landed punch after punch on the ace. she was tired of all the pent up anger that she felt towards yeji jimin. she was tired of the older girl in every sense.

yujin wasn't gonna let another version of yeji hurt her friends.

the stinging of her hands got worse and worse as her anger rose. puffs of air released out of her mouth as each strike seemed stronger than the last. eventually, jimin was gonna let her guard down, and then yujin could strike the way she wanted to.

wonyoung needed to stop this, but she couldn't get physical. her father would kill her, and her mother would send her off to america if she got suspended.

she rushed back in, her eyes wide as she tried to pull yujin off. yujin was gonna get suspended, she knew it. the amount of damage she already left was enough to down a grown man.

anger was terrifying.

she saw specks of blood fly everywhere, the captain muttering curses under her breath before getting flipped over.

jimin's blooded face glistened against the light of wonyoung's room, swelling and full of cuts. her covered arms were filled with bruises, but she didn't care. right now, she wanted yujin to pay.

wrapping one hand around yujin's neck to steady her, jimin raised her fist, slamming it down onto the younger girl's face. she could feel something splatter against her skin, and it only fueled the ace further.

despite gaeul and rei's best efforts, jimin was stronger than yujin, and there was no way they could get her off, especially without wonyoung's help.

it didn't matter anymore. if wonyoung didn't do something, yujin might die.

frantically, wonyoung wrapped her arm around jimin's neck, choking her out as she pulled the older girl off yujin. she could feel jimin clawing against her arm, and wonyoung gritted her teeth, feeling blood seep out.

yujin sat up, the left side of her face tattered into shreds. gaeul rushed to her side, the captain watching as jimin struggled to get wonyoung off.

"bitch."

wonyoung looked at y/n, her eyes wide as the older girl kept jiwon behind her. she shook her head, signaling wonyoung to let go. the taller girl nodded, her arm dropping to her side as jimin fell forward, eyes red as she coughed.

she was definitely gonna get sent to america.

as the room fell quiet, jimin's coughing and yujin's heaving seemed to get louder. wonyoung could see the specks of blood littering the floor, and could feel the stinging of her arm.

a cough took their attention away from the bloodied volleyball players.

shit. the ra woke up.

"yuqi-sunbaenim."

"the cops are on their way." she shut her eyes tightly, looking at jimin. at least the girl got a good beating. too bad the others had to face a similar punishment. "don't try to talk your way out of this."

wonyoung nodded, her head hanging low.

"can we go...?" y/n asked, jiwon wincing behind her as her hand became more painful by the minute. "her hand-"

"if you two didn't get involved, then you can go."

y/n nodded, bowing slightly as jimin finally stopped coughing, a bruise on her neck.

"wonyoung?"

y/n looked at the girl in front of her, red running down her arm.

worry encapsulated her entire being, eyebrows furrowing at the sight. wonyoung was hurt, just like jiwon. yujin was hurt, just like jiwon. somehow, y/n hurt two people in one sitting, two people who didn't deserve it.

she could've done something. she should've done something.

"we're okay."

wonyoung could always see right through her.

it terrified her.

carefully, y/n lifted the volleyball player's arm. she could see the marks deep, and an angry red.

she just wanted the pain to go away, hers and wonyoung.

"i'm okay." wonyoung whispered. y/n always got worried about things she didn't need to worry about. "i'll live."

"okay." her wonyoung was real. she was sincere, and familiar. her wonyoung wouldn't hurt her.

y/n loved jang wonyoung, bleeding or not.

"text me how it goes, okay?"

wonyoung's eyes hid the stinging with a smile, quietly admiring the girl in front of her as y/n took jiwon's hand. "i will."

y/n nodded. she trusted wonyoung, just like she trusted jimin and minjeong. it couldn't backfire, not again. not with her wonyoung.

wonyoung moved aside, ignoring jimin glaring at her (she wanted to mock the other girl, powerless against the ra of the building, but that would just cause more problems).

y/n came to a halt, turning to face wonyoung.

"oh, and," a kiss on the cheek. "for... for your arm."

wonyoung didn't care. it was worth it.

"oh!" she bit her tongue, yujin cackling in the corner as gaeul scolded her not to move too much. rei gave her a thumbs up, before giving jiwon a worried gaze. "yeah, of course."

y/n nodded awkwardly, tugging jiwon's free hand.

"jiwon," y/n ignored her stare. "let's go."

the two exited the room, jiwon wincing with every swing of her arm. y/n would have to call minju once they got to the hospital.

god, minju was gonna kill everyone in that room and then her.

"did you just kiss her?"

y/n blushed as the elevator opened.

"on her cheek, ji." y/n shook her head. "you need to stop hanging out with yuri-unnie."

as jiwon entered the elevator, y/n followed her inside. the younger girl faced away from her, cradling her hand and trying to stabilize it.

for a moment, y/n relaxed. no one was looking at her. no one had to see the turmoil she had gone through. she sighed quietly, her face dropping, eyes a void of anger and frustration, of pain and hurt.

everything was consuming her.

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#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on the master of fear, Scarecrow? Also, fave design, he has so many good ones (second BTAS, his trading card one, mistress of fear, Gaslight,, fear for sale, the Arkham Games etc)?

Hey so, do any of you remember Batman Live? It was this really fun, extravagant stage show that touched on a lot of Batman hallmarks and was generally a really fun time as far as I recall. I went to the São Paulo premiere with my family, and I was a little too young to really recall most of it now, but some things I definitely remember like the huge Joker hot air balloon made of performers in bodypaint, or the comedy sequences in the Iceberg Lounge. The one thing that stuck with me the most was when the Scarecrow showed up. Batman goes to Arkham Asylum and the entire comedy camp tone drops dead, as he walks in and finds all these bodies in straightjackets hanging from chains, and the doors open as The Scarecrow walks towards him in stilts, summoning loud smoke eruptions that are poisoning and weakening Batman as he leers over him. That part actually did scare me as a kid, and it was probably the first time I had any kind of feelings on Scarecrow imprinted in me.

I was introduced to The Scarecrow as this uniquely horrifying villain who could terrify through presentation alone. I didn't particularly understand what the fear gas was, I was too taken with that ungainly thing up there with the stilts and all those people turned into cadaverous decorations, lurking from the endless halls of the asylum, who towered over everyone and placed Batman into a writhing breakdown with a few gestures, and never appeared again until the cast roll, completely absent from the rogues gatherings after. Granted, of course that's because the stilts prevented him from joining the fight scenes, but that helped to reinforce his mystery. He wasn't someone Batman was going to punch back, no no, the Scarecrow simply vanished as soon as he was done with disarming Batman, and you'd just have to pray for that unfathomable creep to never show up again.

And I'd say this might be part of why I've never been too big on the fear gas, in part because I was first enraptured by a version of The Scarecrow who clearly didn't need it that much, or at least, could do much more besides it. The Scarecrow is, I'd say actually one of my top 10 DC characters, half of that on the basis of his designs, but he's a character who tends to really, really struggle under a lack of cohesion and being subordinate to his gimmick, much more so than the other rogues. The fear gas is a good gimmick, but it is just that, a gimmick, and one that's usually reliant on how far can the story push the horror and the visuals to at least make it effectively scary for us, otherwise it gets incredibly boring very fast, and it's not even a gimmick exclusive to him since so many other characters have similar mind control/illusion abilities/gadgetry at hand (and to say nothing of Hugo Strange, who first used fear gas and who quite frankly kicks the Scarecrow's ass in terms of quality storylines, although Hugo does that to most of the other Batman villains too)

The Scarecrow has become the go-to character for hallucination sequences / revisiting character traumas, which frequently makes him less of a character and more so a convenient plot device, a problem heightened by the larger issue here that is his inconsistent motivation, or lack thereof. He lacks the kind of "breakout" stories that his fellow major Batman villains have had that usually cement an ongoing characterization, and his most famous/celebrated appearences in mass media don't really do much to combat the assertion that he is shallow and weak and whose only asset is the gas (namely, his boss fights in Arkham Asylum, which are all about the fear gas hallucination scares, and his role in Nolan's Batman, which is very fun, but also purposefully plays him up for ridicule and lack of depth next to the other villains)

These days, the Scarecrow is a tedious pip-squeak. His schemes lack verve, his cruelties stir little in the way of frissons. Haunted by cliché to an even greater extent than the other rogues, he’s often brought low with a single sock to the jaw delivered by Batman, or by finding himself on the receiving end of his own fear-inducing concoctions. He often acts as a pawn in the hands of bigger, badder third parties. He’s ostensibly a stand-in for the figure of the reductive, smug and hypocritical psychologist, nicely bundled up for the audience to humiliate in effigy - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

In "Nothing to Fear" it is explained that Jonathan Crane has always had this "thing" for scaring people. (Just as Snidely Whiplash had his "thing" for tying women to railroad tracks, I suppose.) But this is a wan kind of motive. One senses sadly that the real motive for the Scarecrow's behavior lies in the writer's need for someone to do something reprehensible. At the root of the matter may be a difficulty in sorting out the Scarecrow's ends from his means, with a consequent confusion between the goals the Scarecrow intends to reach and the tactics he employs in reaching them.

As a psychologist specializing in phobic disorders, Crane knows how to induce fear and trembling in his victims. But this tells us nothing about what the Scarecrow wants to accomplish. And without a sense or statement of what those goals are, the writer will be tempted to substitute means for end and make the Scarecrow's goal simply the scaring of people. Usually his actions are woefully underexplained - Dreams in Darkness' review by Toonzone

You might think that I'd be advocating for the Scarecrow, then, to disregard a need for a motivation and become as unknowable and horrific as possible, to recapture the awe I felt at his Batman Live self, but no, not at all. For one, I don't think the best version of anything is necessarily the one that made the most impact on me as a kid. Two, there have been some attempts over the years to remove Scarecrow from the toxin or seriously amp him up as a threat, and frankly, most of those have only made the character dramatically worse and more boring (I don't remember the name, but there was a Batman story a while ago where he goes on a big scary killing spree with no toxin just to prove he can and it was fucking terrible). Three, and the big one here, is that this pretty much forces you to get rid of Dr. Jonathan Crane, and I think that does a disservice to the character's potential. I think that's giving up on trying to make him work as a character and I don't think you have to do that.

My preferred characterization for Crane is one that emphasizes his nature as a scholar turned supervillain. The cold and misanthropic and neurotic nerd professor who spent most of his salary on books and took to terrorizing the city as a costumed criminal in part because he wanted money to buy more books. Who takes off the costume mid-crime spree to school his henchmen on specifics of brain chemistry, who gets revenge on those that wrong his students or even employs them as henchmen, still the same guy who thinks there's nothing wrong with firing a loaded gun in a packed classroom as a demonstration. Far less interested in human connections than he is in human reactions, things that can surprise him or that he can catalogue or research or write about. Someone who's not a sadist for sadism's sake, but who doesn't really see you as a person so much as he sees a test subject. I like Crane as a snarky humorous heel who thinks of himself as amoral and mature while doing horribly immoral and childish things, the Herbert West or Rusty Venture of Batman villains (James Urbaniak is definitely the voice I'd pick for him).

My preferred kind of motivation for him is something along the lines of how he's portrayed in most of Kings of Fear, where he puts Batman through the wringer in part as an attempt to get to him and cure him once and for all, or issues #4-5 of The Batman Adventures where he induces city-wide illiteracy in part as a protest against the city's failing education. In Gothtopia he makes all of Gotham hallucinate their perfect ideal lives, eliminating the crime rate but causing the suicide rate to spike up in return, and yes it does turn out to be the set-up for a really generic "fear gas everyone with blimps and make everyone twice as scared" pay off when his involvement is revealed, but I always thought Scarecrow being able and willing to do that, to create these huge and even benevolent-seeming social experiments, as an idea with legs. Fear State was frustratingly halfway there, with the initial set-up of Scarecrow pursuing a theory for fear-based social upheaval, but on top of not being very good, it also wound up that he was just doing the same old thing again and had Batman call him out as someone who just wanted to gas the city and make everyone scared again and never changes and does anything different, which seemed like Tynion defeating his own purpose of trying to make a defining Scarecrow story and address his lack of one, completely failing to address the why the character has that kind of problem and upending itself for meta commentary before doing anything interesting.

Even Kings of Fear, easily the best Scarecrow story of the past decades if not outright ever, kinda ends in a bit of a cop-out where The Scarecrow has to be wrong ("Even when he's telling the truth, he's lying, and even when he's right, he's wrong", Gordon tells Batman to reassure him, to nullify the past 5 issues criticizing and tearing into Batman from every angle imaginable), and he has to be a sadist who just wanted to fuck with Batman and uncover his worst fears because it's what he does. Why does Scarecrow want to unravel people and wrench their worst fears into the surface? Because he's a sadist who gets off on it? I guess that's the canon answer most of the time, but it's such a boring, weak one. Because he wants revenge on the world / bullies? Still weak, done better by other villains even. Because of an unspeakably traumatic childhood that taught him the world was ruled by fear and therefore driving him to become it's master? Okay, but it still doesn't actually answer what he wants to get out of doing what he does.

We know that Jonathan Crane was a fragile youth routinely terrorized and abused by others and plainly traumatized by his experiences. We know that he is learned and brilliant and given to introspection and fantasy.

From this base it is not hard to imagine Crane turning into a man fiercely devoted to solitude and study and capable of a murderous rage when his privacy is violated. It is possible, in other words, to imagine him as a reactive force, in the mold of Freeze, systematically terrorizing and destroying anyone who crosses him but rarely wanting to start trouble himself.

Or we can imagine him as a mercenary, a specialist hired by others for nefarious purposes, but who is not himself strongly motivated by particular rages or desires.

But if the Scarecrow is going to remain a sadist and a sadist only—if he is going to be moved only by the psychotic desire to harm others—we ought to be made to feel the seductive power that sadism has over its practitioners; we should be made to feel and appreciate the hot and sour joy that comes from the purposeful humiliation of another - Dreams in Darkness review by Toonzone

It's kind of a frustrating pattern in a lot of his stories where he gives a reason for doing something, and it turns out to be a cover for yet another sadistic fear gas attack, but his cover reason was a more interesting motivation for him than what he actually was going for. A villain who mainly just gets a kick out of hurting people and concocts bullshit excuses and reasons to justify said hurting? The Joker does that already, but the Joker always clearly states what he wants and has all those ways to make cruelty for cruelty's sake entertaining. If that's all The Scarecrow is also, no wonder he's going to be so incredibly lacking most of the time (nevermind the fact that he's never going to be the guy most infamous for gassing Gotham City).

Yes, he may be sadistic and cruel, he may enjoy what he does too much, and maybe there really isn't any kind of realistic explanation as to why a man would dress up as a scarecrow to commit terrorism and spray innocent people with chemicals to make them terrified, but refer to the guy he's fighting. "Realistic" is the wrong term. The issue here is less "why" the Scarecrow does what he does, and more what is he hoping to get out of it. Granted, this is less of a concern if you're playing The Scarecrow as a figure of horror, someone who's not even really human underneath that outfit. But I think that locks away much of his versatility. The Scarecrow needs Jonathan Crane, and I think there's good stuff to like about that awful man.

I like Jonathan Crane the sardonic pragmatic scientist who still embraces his hopelessly ridiculous life, a guy who's not nearly as above it all as he'd like to be and has wants and needs moreso than he really likes to admit. I like him as a book lover, as a fan of horror, I like him as the kind of guy who'd send fan mail to Elvira and break out of Arkham just to catch a Halloween parade and guest star in a Scooby-Doo movie for a change. I like him as someone who'd have a decent working relationship with the other rogues and pal with the Legion of Doom and get into a physical spat with Riddler over a chess game. Someone who custom-makes his own outfits and equipment, who makes scythes out of animal bones to fight Batman with, who picked the scarecrow motif in part because it was a term of derision his colleagues used on him.

Who pours himself over his research as he records his theories in a tape recorder, the kind of guy who grouses at having to clean another cell because he's getting annoyed at his test subjects killing themselves, seriously guys the cleaning supplies for this batch were as fresh as they could be, and the iguana amygdalas I used should be stopping your neocortexes from overreacting this strongly. Subject #3 over there got over his fear of centipedes yesterday and he hasn't screamed all morning, I'm gonna need the rest of you to stop being such babies, okay?

It must be terribly liberating for Crane, to transcend mere ugliness and become inhuman. Of all the rogues, he’s easily the one who takes Batman’s “I need a disguise; I shall become a beast of the night” schtick and runs with it the farthest - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

And that's for Jonathan Crane, man of science. The Scarecrow, however, is not science, he is unreason incarnate, and to me what most makes The Scarecrow work as a Batman villain has nothing to do with "they both use fear as a weapon", I always thought that was a bit shallow of an angle to pursue (most, if not all, the villains rely on fear, it comes with the whole "crime" thing). The two have a stronger connection via the costume, the theatricality, the becoming a creature of the night angle. None of the other major Batman villains are going into their costumes the way The Scarecrow is. They have their personas and varying degrees of division between them and their "real selves", but few of them are wearing outright identity-separating Halloween Monster Costumes with separate names and personalities they can dip in and out of at their convenience.

And I'm gonna interrupt myself to answer your second question. I couldn't pick just one design, so counting the Batman Live one above, I picked 10. These are not in order and they're not necessarily how I'd design him, I'd say my actual favorite Scarecrow designs are fan-made, but if I was going to pick out of "official" material these are the ones I'd go for. It's time for:

(Left-to-right: George Pratt's Scarecrow pin-up, Phil Jimenez's Scarecrow design, Ed Natividad's concept art for Suicide Squad)

(Left-to-right: His TNBA design by Bruce Timm as drawn by Luciano Vecchio, Alex Ross's design for Justice, and Tim Sale's Scarecrow)

(Left-to-right: Kelley Jones' design for Kings of Fear, Jeremy Raapack's design for Legends of the Dark Knight #25, Scarecrow's design in Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!)

*cough*, anyway: Most of the other rogues with their signature suits or masks or body distortions don't tend to have closets full of different variant Batsuits and scarecrow costumes to choose and devote to their cause and ideal, that they sit at night tailoring on how to make scarier or more loaded with weapons, that they might even have conversations with, things that sit in their closets waiting because both of these brilliant men, men who have (or at least had) different civilian lives, men who could stop doing this at any time, who both decided that becoming a Halloween monster prowling the streets to inflict terror is a necessary, even productive use of their time.

And I think that's the key word I want to end here, productive. I think The Scarecrow needs to be more productive. Because even if he's not aware of it, he is achieving progress via his research, and there is one way he's proved his ideas: Batman walks out of every fight they have stronger. Every encounter they have is a test that Batman resists and walks out of more able to cope with his own traumas, or at least, better able to resist them being weaponized against him. I always wanted to explore the idea that Crane is genuinely convinced he's doing people a favor or at least achieving something via all these horrible Scarecrow campaigns, and one thing he has achieved is that Batman is never not prepared for chemical attacks or assaults on his mind, Batman resists ungodly trials of willpower and determination and courage, in part because he has to deal with the Scarecrow pumping terror juice in his brain semi-regularly.

The fact that Crane loses and gets beaten up and has to retry schemes again and again and kill people and join the costume parade just to lure Batman is fairly inconsequential to him, so long as it gets results. He's not interested in dissecting Batman's brain or being more like Batman, that's Hugo Strange's thing. Hugo Strange needs Batman to be fearless, allmighty and perfect, where as Jonathan Crane wants nothing more than to unearth and study the fears and kinks in the armor, the dead last thing he wants is a perfect man. Hugo Strange wants to crawl naked into the mask of the great and terrible fascist and never come out, where as The Scarecrow wants to crack open all the masks in the world and feast luridly on whatever seeps out.

Batman isn't just the ultimate trial against his fear-ruled worldview (or even affirmation), and he isn't just a breakthrough waiting to happen: he might be his greatest success as of yet. A case study on the success of exposure therapy, proof of potential medicinal applications for his formula, the greatest guinea pig of all time because he won't die no matter what you pump into him, you name it. So what if all those other people couldn't stomach the procedure, so what if those precious innocents are too weak and stupid and useless to not get in the way of research, it's clearly worked wonders for those who could take it.

And if the future belongs to men like Batman, if all of these superheroes and supervillains are the way things are going to be like forever, if the future is Bat-shaped and as vast and uncertain and horrible as the forces shaping it, the future needs to be prepared. The future needs to grapple with it's past and face it's greatest horrors and become stronger for it. There is no such thing as overcoming fear, there is only living with it, embracing it, bowing to the primordial instinct that knows the answer before you do. Mankind grew and developed it's intelligence and tools out of fear, fear of the bigger predators out there, fear of the other cavemen, fear of starvation and death and everything they couldn't understand and master until they learned to fear it. What better knowledge to pass along than fear? And who is better qualified to teach about fear?

Maybe Crane isn't just another monster with a grudge, maybe he isn't another costumed revenge killer, maybe he isn't just a power-tripping sadist bully out to torment others because he can, and maybe he isn't a hopeless traumatized madman who destroyed his professional and personal life in a monstrous quest to satisfy an obsession ruling his soul.

Maybe he is a sane response to an insane situation. Ever heard that one before?

#replies tag #superheroes #batman #dc comics #scarecrow #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #gotham city

[wri0thesley]

I am so sorry if this is invasive and weird, but may I ask what you work as? I'm at the stage where I have to build my future and I know you don't have an age specified but you seem to be doing really well (at least from the posts we've seen, again I really hope not to be invasive) for yourself and your partner and 25+ is still young! Again, I hope this isn't mean or weird, I'm just curious. (and severely nervous. First year of college is ruining me harder than any fictional man.)

ahh anon i'm afraid that the answer is probably not what you're looking for!

for the record, i am 27, i just find getting fandom older a little scary, especially having it listed right there!!!

i actually intended to be a performer and a singing teacher (my degree was going to be in music & musical theatre); unfortunately, due to a plethora of reasons (mostly my undiagnosed autism, unmedicated ocd/depression/anxiety combo, a nervous breakdown and my partner's physical health declining) i dropped out of my degree before the end of my first semester.

for about three years or so after that i was severely agoraphobic. talking 'can't answer the door' agoraphobic; 'never left the house alone, and even when with someone only went to the doctors and therapy' agoraphobic, 'rotted in my bedroom in an absolutely non romanticised way' agoraphobic. i was on the equivalent of disability because i literally could not function. meanwhile, my partner, who lived with me and my parents was getting physically worse whilst i was mentally struggling (since then haz has been diagnosed with ehlers danlos syndrome, fibromyalgia, lipoedema, thyroid issues and a lot of other things; they have a lot going on). i DID access several therapies, had . . . a couple of very bad relapses, went under crisis teams and all of that stuff (i had occupational therapy too which was HONESTLY i think one of the most useful things and helpful things for me in the long run; i cannot imagine what i would be like if i hadn't had the occupational therapist the crisis team found for me).

(coincidentally, if you are an og jojo follower you probably remember how bad it was; i've said it a hundred times, but running this silly little reader-insert blog probably helped save my life at a time when i had almost no contact with the outside world. i couldn't leave my bedroom, but i had my blog and i had my little internet friends and discord server).

i have gotten a lot better.

haz, unfortunately, has not gotten better physically and probably never will. they need help with a lot of things most people don't even realise disabled people might need help with. brushing their hair, fastening clothes . . . when haz first moved in, they were doing the same dance-intensive college course that i was. we danced maybe three or four hours a day. nowadays, haz needs me to hold their hand and keep them steady when they go from our bed to the bathroom (the room next door).

so i don't really 'work' as anything. well, my therapist would tell me off for saying that; the uk government classes me as an 'unpaid carer', which basically means i am on call for haz literally 24/7 and they pay me the pittance that is carer's allowance (carer's allowance assumes you care at least 35 hours a week, and pays you the privilege of about 45 pence per each of those hours. if, like me, you live with the person you care for and do more than those hours, it gets . . . yeah. oof. the government unfortuately know that most unpaid carers are loved ones and family members of the person who needs care and won't just stop doing it, and they'd be in the shit if we did because trained carers are expensive, so they can get away with that - FUCK the tories, honestly.

i am EXCEEDINGLY lucky that i live in a cheap area of the uk, that haz and i are internet savvy enough to be able to access carers/disability discounts, that we are in rent-controlled social housing (which my crisis team helped find for us because living with my parents was taking such a toll on us both, woo!!!!), and that we've been able to access services to help on the nhs. i got my autism assessment and diagnosis; haz is under several pain management teams.

all in all, i'm happy. i'm so much happier than i was seven years ago when i'd dropped out of university and felt like a huge failure, because all of my life i was a gifted overachiever and i thought my self-worth was tied to my academic achievements (and as an extension, what roles i got in what shows and when and who saw me and so on). i don't have a lot of money (i am a bargain shopped fgbnkjgjnfb) but i know what i like and because i'm Older Now (tm) i've amassed collections of it.

i am absolutely sure that you'll boss college, anon! that you will find that thing that works for you (one day i would LOVE to go back and get my degree! pre-covid i had an acceptance for a creative writing degree and i was getting ready to go back to uni as a mature student, but haz's health got bad again and then covid happens - and now ofc i have my autism diagnosis i can access so much more help!). but even if you don't, you can absolutely find happiness without 'traditional' success.

i don't have a lot in the grand scheme of things. but you're right in that i am doing pretty well, in terms of where i am, and where i've been. i have my own little home. i have my partner of ten years who is my soulmate in every conceivable way. i've had experiences that make me feel so happy i sometimes cry when i remember them. i have my own little cat now!!! things still stress me out. but i have come so so far and when i feel down i remember that.

good luck anon! i believe in you <3

#nat.txt

[dee-in-the-box]

having more thoughts about Peter, Steven, and Henry working together in that one location, because i can't stop thinking about it (and have two posts about it)

have some headcanons:

so. Henry and Peter already knew each other. i mean, How Could They Not? the thing is that Peter kinda Transed His Gender (transfem bigender) since they last saw each other, and the most she could express it at the time was by growing her hair out, wearing eyeliner, and painting his nails a bit. so y'know. a Lot happened.

Peter also sued Henry, but i'm sure that's nothing to worry about :)

Steven vaguely recognizes Henry, but he can't remember from where. he creeps Steven out, though, so he keeps interactions with Henry at a minimum.

Peter and Steven got along pretty well.

Peter had no issues being passive aggressive with Henry about the Jack stuff. like "How have you been doing these past several years?" "Oh just fine, except for the fact you, idk, Claimed My Brother Was A Murderer :) Because That Was A Thing You Did :)" Steven just stayed out of it. what the fuck was he even supposed to say to most of that?

Peter was like. passively suicidal at this point, as well as struggling heavily with depression. he'd try to joke about it to lighten the mood a bit, but it just worried the fuck out of Steven ("what are you looking for with this job?" "(deadpan) idk but a will to live would be nice. Also Cash")

she had a breakdown about her dead siblings in front of Henry, And I'm Sure That Henry's Definitely Not Gonna Use That Against Him Later Down The Line (eyes the Dsaf 3 Henry Fight nervously)

Peter kept in touch with Jack often during this time. Jack warned him about Henry, about the fact that tragedy followed that man wherever he went. Peter brushed it off at the time. she can take care of herself, after all.

Caroline would often drop Peter off at work since they only had one car at the time

Peter talked about Caroline a lot. she was very much a "world cold and hard, wife soft and warm" type of person. he loves his wife <3

Steven once asked if he was straight or a lesbian, and Peter just answered 'yes.' he doesn't know, and he's too tired to figure it out.

when he discovered Peter was dead, Steven. Did Not Take It Well. he almost instinctively knew that Henry did it, but. he didn't know how he knew. he just went to cry for a while because This Was The First Time (since he died) That He Had Gotten This Close To Someone And Lost Them Like That. It Was A Lot To Process

Caroline also had a hunch it was Henry. and it's part of the reason she didn't want to dig too much deeper into this whole mess than was necessary. Dee died at Henry's diner. Jack died (once) in Henry's diner and also got framed for child murder. and now Peter's missing. there's a saying, after all. "Once is chance, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern."

every place that her family has gone, where Henry also happens to be? tragedy has followed them all in some way soon afterwards.

and she'd like her son to grow up with at least one of his parents.

(yes, i am giving Peter a son again. because i can)

#dsaf #peter kennedy #dsaf henry #steven stevenson

[3raaaachachacha]

10:48 pm

Kim Seungmin x female reader / words / angst / fluff

Warnings: mentions of death of a friend, depressive feelings, cursing

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Life just wasn't treating you the best recently and you knew you were close to breaking point, but you just did everything and anything to avoid that from happening. It all started with your job and how you were being treated, then the passing of one of your close friends back home. In the meantime, money had been tight for a while and you were hating how you were living paycheck to paycheck, unable to do the things you enjoyed.

In the midst of all of this, there was constant drama with your family and one of your bestest friends decided that her boyfriend was more important than her friendships. Everything decided it wanted to happen at once and you were doing your best at pushing it all aside as if it never happened. It had been a few days and you still hadn't acknowledged the passing of your friend, you hadn't sat down and grieved like a normal person. Instead you worked and fucked around with an old friend which only made you hate yourself more.

You hadn't told anyone any of this, and only briefly mentioned the passing of your friend to one of your close guy friends. Seungmin wanted to see you, to get you to talk to him and find comfort in him but you avoided him at all costs, because that meant you had to actually talk about it and your problems.

You were in the midst of a mini breakdown when the code to your apartment went off and you saw a familiar face. Seungmin hadn't even said anything but by the time he got to your room, you had broken-down completely.

"Shit, Y/N," Seungmin cursed, dropping his bags on the floor before curling up to your side in the bed where you held onto him tightly, "Talk to me, what's going on?"

As much as you hated looking weak, in your broken state you couldn't help but to cry about everything. Your job, the passing of your friend, the sleepless nights, hooking up with a guy to try and distract yourself, money, your best friend forgetting you and the list goes on. Seungmin didn't interrupt you, he let you cry and hold him for hours until you finally calmed down.

"Why didn't you say anything? You know I'm always here for you," Seungmin whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"I hate showing this side of me," You mumbled against his hoodie, "I just look weak and as if I can't handle anything on my own."

"That's not true," He interrupted and got you to look at him, "You're so strong. The strongest person I know, but sometimes we can't handle things on our own and we need to confide in each other. You do that for me and I do that for you. Remember that."

You nodded in understanding before apologising a million times and falling asleep in the comfort of your best friend's arms.

You learnt your lesson, maybe it was best to talk about issues before getting to this post.

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- Admin 🌶️

#stray kids #kim Seungmin #kwritersworldnet #stray kids seungmin #stray kids masterlist #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids reactions #stray kids oneshot #stray kids timestamps #stray kids blurbs #stray kids drabbles #stray kids scenarios #bang chan #Lee Minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #yang jeongin

[haloburns]

a work i've been trying to get out for a few months now. with the way i've been enjoying writing early ghost light/mateo things, i figured i could get this one out without much issue! you also get to meet some more of Mateo's family, all of whom i'm very proud of

there's no way out (i gotta hold you somehow)

“Wha— Teo, it’s not that big a deal, it was just a hoodie—”

“Danny, you’re doing it again!” Mateo cried, dropping his head into his hand. “It wasn’t about the damn hoodie, not really! I was jealous, remember? I told you I didn’t want you kissing Tony in my hoodie because I wanted you to kiss me in my hoodie!”

The moment the words left his mouth, embarrassment swallowed him whole.

“I— I mean— What I mean is— I don’t— That’s— Not— Wait,” he finally gasped after he’d stuttered through the start of several sentences. There was only silence on the other line. Mateo decided he couldn’t bear it anymore and said, “Nevermind, have a good day,” and hung up. He flung his phone onto the table and buried his face in his hands completely.

“Oh my gods, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Said what?”

“Dios mio!” Mateo twisted in his chair to glare at his sister who had appeared in the doorway without his notice. “Meli, what the fuck?!”

“Atsia says you can’t talk to me like that,” she said, sticking her nose in the air as she stomped past him to the kitchen.

“Then don’t sneak up on me!” Without a second thought, he picked up the bagel Atsia had left on the table and launched it across the rooms. It smacked squarely into his sister’s arm with a satisfying swmack! It fell to the ground while she shrieked about being hit. Mateo rolled his eyes at her; he knew that didn’t hurt, she was just being thirteen and dramatic.

“Don’t have your breakdowns in the kitchen then, buttmunch!” She lobbed the bagel back at him. It hit the back of his head with the speed and accuracy of the city’s softball champion’s aim. He scowled at her and half stood from the chair.

“Buttmunch, really?!”

His phone ringing from the center of the table distracted them. Mateo stared at it like it might explode. Meli rolled her eyes and pulled another bagel from the bag on the table in the center of the kitchen.

“It won’t bite. It’s probably just your ~boyfriend~”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Meli! Gods, you’re annoying,” he mumbled as he swiped his phone from the table.

“Maybe you should’ve stayed at school then!” Meli shouted as he made his way to the back patio. He did the very mature thing and stuck his tongue out as he flipped her off, shutting the door behind him.

His phone was still ringing in his cradled hands, and Mateo just stared at it. Did he answer it and face Danny now, or hope he forgot it by the time he saw him in five days? He worried the corner of his lip as he debated with himself.

“Just answer the damn phone, simplón!” Meli shouted as she strolled past with her bagel. He scowled at her as she retreated back up the stairs, but when he returned to looking at his phone, he sighed. Unfortunately, his sister had a point.

Continue on AO3

#the world is having more fun than me tonight series #danny phantom #my au #ecto writes #ecto fics #really proud of this one

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. Sigh. Deep breaths.

Recently I had been scrolling through the social media and I found a post that upset me to the nth degree.

The post was from a dear friend who I absolutely adore and worship and as foolish as it sounds, I’ve been known to hang onto to her every word.

As I begin to share this story about my life and very much like Tina Turner once said, “I’m done with this and I’m just not going back to ancient history anymore because I’m done talking about it.”

The post talked about rape.

I was 13 years old when I was raped by a family friend. Without going through the process of getting my nerves worked, I was upstairs in the 4th floor and a raucous party was happening on the 3rd floor.

I remained silent about this for years until during a screening match with my mom, I blurted it out and then as I once told my lawyer, I was about to testify in a courtroom, “I can tell you that I am able to relive that experience with explicit detail.” His jaw dropped to the floor. However that’s a story for another time.

Back in 1974, apparently only women are able to be raped. Yet it was not spoken about as much as it is today. Almost 50 years later, I still get pissed off.

Little boys and men had never been sexually assaulted before or at least it had never been reported before.

I was raped in February 1974 and then I had moved to NYC in March 1974. I had a nervous breakdown because I was silent. I didn’t even mention it to the various shrinks I was going to at the time.

Years later, I found out about Tawana Brawley and Reverend Al Sharpton. I dare you to get on the Googler Schmoogler and look at what happened.

Now we have learned about E. Jean Carroll.

In between then and now, I had appeared in the audience of The Geraldo Rivera Show. The topic was about men who were survivors of sexual violence in their lives and in prison. I think that there just might be a video of me talking about it but I’m not gonna look.

I also remember a movie starring Jody Foster, it’s called “The Accused,” from 1991. To the best of my knowledge it is a true story that took place in New Bedford, Massachusetts.

Sigh. Deep breaths.

Over the years I learned how some people had lost their shit and screamed rape, and ultimately we came to learn that it was all a lie. One incident that was so shocking to me was the person who had said that they had been raped by person or persons known or unknown to them. The truth was ultimately revealed to the world. The person had been rejected, denied and dismissed but still had no moral compass. Yes, it does happen that people get it twisted and they feel some kind of way about being rejected and shit goes down.

Motherfucker, I’ve been rejected and I’ve cried and wondered why I couldn’t give it away. For fucks sake, I opened up the store and practically gave the goods away, I mean I’ve exposed myself in public and still was told, “No fucking way. It ain’t gonna happen.” I felt crushed like a cockroach.

Yet I have empathy for the survivors and my heart breaks for them and the luggage that they carry around with them over the years. Some like me have lost their luggage and have moved on with their lives but others haven’t. I’m not just going to shoo them away but I’m going to embrace them and hopefully offer them the tools to help them find peace on their journey.

The one of my many issues is that I personally have the tools in my toolbox to do things and I give a wide berth to those who are still working and struggling.

I certainly don’t judge et cetera because I’ve been there before and have people looking at me and questioning. I think about Tawana and in between to E. Jean. Like a dodecahedron, each one of these things have twelve distinct sides to look at and examine and then, in some cases, jump to conclusions. I don’t. I believe in the person who told the story and I believe it is up to me to decide yet I’m here for you regardless. I’ll be that pit-bull terrier with lipstick and I won’t let go.

Maybe I’m just not making sense here and I’m being pretentious probably and trying not to sound as if I’m projecting my male toxicity on you but in my head I’m able to tackle this subject and tell you that I’m in a better place now because the person who hurt me is dead. I have the knowledge that I know that he died. It was a slow painful death and he suffered greatly. I’m not sure if I was his only victim or had this been a pattern that was perpetrated on others. I’ll never know and I forgave myself first and I’m hoping that he at peace with himself and his family on the other side.

In conclusion, I feel horrible that I had to learn this about you. I want to hold you and let you know that I am here for you and if I had a magic wand to make it all better, I’d go >>poof!!<< I’d also help you plan your revenge in anyway shape or form or fashion.

Let me shut the fuck and go back to my little corner of the world where you can dismiss me for being a twit or a twat waffle but I’d like to invite you to listen to a song by Otep called, “Kisses and Kerosene”

If your opinion changes based on my experience and you don’t want to be bothered with me anymore, I will accept it and your wrath, but I won’t mention this subject ever again because I want to be able to say, I’m happy to be alive and be able to talk about it without losing my shit and that just might piss some people off.

That lonesome whistle has various connotations and I hear it now.

[thegreatstoryteller]

TF Therapy: Anzu

With one hefty grunt, Anzu dropped the weights as they clanged to the ground. All the other guys around him quickly scattered. No one wanted to be next to this guy when he was in a bad mood. The patrons of the gym noticed that every Monday after an incredibly intense session, the “big guy” of the gym would finish up and the shake the floor as he stormed out. Wherever he was going, no one wanted to get in the way.

-

“Oh no! I’m late! I hope Dr.  C won’t be mad.” Anzu mumbled to himself, his bass tones going unheard by the patrons of the gym as he passed them. Most assumed Anzu was grumbling something to himself, but in fact this big beast of a man was just a nervous wreck whenever he was late to his therapy appointments.

A few minutes later and a whole list of apologies to the receptionist for breaking the automatic doors, Anzu was greeted by Dr.  Eric Chang. 

“Only 5 minutes late this time,” the doctor teased. “Either you’re getting more punctual, or your legs are getting stronger.” 

The two laughed. They’d been at this for the last 4 years since Anzu’s change first happened. The rapport they’ve built up certainly allowed these kinds of jokes. 

“Thanks for always keeping your doors open Dr. C! I really did try not to be late this time. You know how it is when I get a good pump going. I hit a new PR today! All the guys at the gym were TOTALLY jealous.” Anzu giggled to himself. 

“Well congratulations. I have to say I’m still quite proud of the progress you’ve made, both physically and emotionally to your body. I know it wasn’t always easy to show off your cheery disposition initially, nor was your first journey into the gym your body was a regular at. But you’ve improved in spades in the last 4 years.” Dr. Chang assured the beaming brute of a man in front of him. 

Anzu was just smiling. Even before the events of his big  change Anzu was always found smiling. That fateful day where Anzu and her mom were walking home from her gymnastics performance, holding first place trophies would be a moment she’d never forget. She was just a petite teenage girl, happy to be the first Japanese American student at her school to bring home first place in their small town. 

“Well the last 4 years had been a rough one, but you really helped me through all of it Dr. C. I’ve come to terms with being a victim of that body swap bomb by that gym. And honestly? I know I said I hated it at first, but these days I absolutely LOVE my new body! Remember how much I was complaining back then? I was a total mess!” Anzu said recounting dramatically her many emotional breakdowns. Everything from the original freak out when she saw how huge she was to the eventual meeting reintroduction to her family.

Eric gave a wry smile at this as he remembered vividly exactly what she was talking about. “But I’m so hairy And smelly all the time!”, “I can’t even fit into my cute shoes anymore!”, and “What boy is going to want to date a 40 year old meat head!” with other such similar quotes came rushing back. Back then Anzu was not doing well. Going from a petite gymnast to an aspiring middle age bodybuilder was certainly one of the more drastic changes Dr. Chang had ever helped council an individual through. The memory of holding a man over a foot taller than his lean frame as he cried nearly the entire session would be a session he’d never forget. One of the only things Anzu liked about the new body at first was its massive height, which Eric soon learned to bring up to cheer her up occassionally.

“And remember that time I kept trying to shave my beard? I mean sure I’ve let it grow now! But oh boy, I had so many paper towels on my face! But anyway I’ve got a huge issue!!! I’m feeling all those old icky sensations I used to. Like me getting all self conscious and stuff... Can we talk about that today?” Anzu asked.

“Of course Anzu, the floor is yours. What would you like to talk about?”

“Well... you know how I decided to go back to school last year? Like I know I’m not getting any gymnastics scholarships anymore, but I like made enough money at the warehouse to start night classes! The guys over there think I’m only smart enough to lift, but I’m showing them! Anyway... there’s this really cute grad student that works with the professor. He’s like this really handsome and cute Korean guy. Think, all the members of BTS rolled into one handsome Teacher’s Assistant! The way he smiles at me when he helps me with assignments just melts my heart! He likes makes me so nervous though... like seeing him and thinking about like him asking me out makes me blush so much. And then when I get flustered I get nervous and I start to sweat! And I’ve gotten used to that smell and actually kinda like it but I’m not sure if he thinks I stink and-”

“Anzu... one step at a time. First breathe, then think about what you want to say, and then explain it to me.” After a few moments pass Dr. Change asks, “So given your excitement, I imagine you find this young man attractive and would like to date him after this semester ends, correct?”

With a slow nod, Anzu smiles again tentatively. “He’s like so dreamy! But you know... I’m scared about what he’s gonna think about me... like I know he like guys AND girls... I’ve uh.. seen him on all the dating apps saying as much... but I haven’t... you know... dated anyone since before the incident... and that was in high school. Like... I kinda hate it. I’ve been so good since then and the one man comes along and makes me feel like I’m not good enough all of a sudden. Like who does he think he is!?”

“Again, Anzu. I’m going to ask we not make assumptions about this person before you’ve even asked him out on a date.” Dr Chang said, sighing. It was exhausting at times to keep up with Anzu.

However, rather than the notorious combative energy Anzu had when he was wrong, the face and demeanor quickly shifted to reserved and scared. “I... like. I know that. It’s... just sometimes I want it like it could’ve been... I want the handsome TA to  reach out to me and ask me for coffee and comment on my clothes. I want people to look at us and say how cute!.. I know I’m different... but I still wish I could have the things I’d always dreamed about... and since he’s so perfect... and like actually might like me as a guy... I just... I thought I was over all of this stuff... but it doesn’t take much to make me feel like an old hairy man who no one will love.” With that the tears came pouring out. A well placed tissue box helped cover most of the damage, but Eric knew it would take a lot more to fully dry off Anzu’s beard once a full cry was complete.

“Whew... ok. Well Anzu, I know it’s been awhile since you’ve felt these insecurities. And I’m glad you reached out with this info rather than bottling it up. Now that we’ve calmed down a bit and knowing how you never give up on things even when its hard, tell me. What do you plan to do? Keep in mind our previous exercises and your own self worth.”

With a deep breath Anzu said, “I... am a beautiful man who is going to ask out Minh, the handsome T.A. If he says no, that is in no way a testament to my character or my personality. I am an awesome person who never gives up and has worked this body really well to get huge muscles!”

“Well then I think you know what you’ve got to do. I look forward to hearing how things go next week once classes are over. As usual Anzu you’ve done most of the heavy lifting in these sessions Anzu. Guess you’re just no stranger to heavy lifting these days.” Dr. Chang smirks as he pats Anzu’s large arm. 

“Thanks Dr. C! I feel much better after these sessions. I’d hug you real tight if that was allowed still!” Anzu said with a fickle laugh. 

“Of course... you know though. Patient... doctor... boundaries and all...” Eric chuckled guiltily, knowing full well the motivation for this was to not be crushed by the over enthusiastic bodybuilder. “In any case, would you like to sit in the waiting room for a bit? The weather outside is getting quite rainy, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Nah, that’s ok. Mom is coming to pick me up and- oh she just texted me! She’s here!” 

Outside the two saw a very nice car pull up to the doorway and the handsome visage of Mrs. Reika could be seen coming out.

Though rarely mentioned Dr. Chang was proud of how well Anzu’s mother had transitioned from mild mannered housewife to handsome male model. 

The suit he was wearing, clung to his form bravely, having just a built enough body to show off yet still having clothes that fit. A problem that Anzu would perpetually encounter.

“Alright, thanks for another great session Dr. C! Bye!! Hey mom! Thanks for coming!... Oh my gosh! Fine! I won’t hug you and get your suit all wrinkly.... You’re making it up to me later at the gym when you spot me!”

With that the two drove off leaving Eric once again with his notes. 

-

Dr. Evan’s Chang’s Notes on patient: Anzu Reika.

(Former stats marked by paranthesis)

Age: (20) 44

Height: (5′1) 6′5

Race: (Japanese) Arab

Weight: (98lbs) 290lbs - 131 kg

Continual meetings with patient prove to be beneficial for self - esteem issues. Subject is quite forthcoming with information, leading to perfect individual to study for longitudinal effects of body swap bomb survival. Original theory that long term swap acceptance, leading to personality shifts proved incorrect as much of the original Anzu shines through regardless of the scenario. However, the natural abilities associated with muscle memory were shown to be one successfully transferred attribute. Unknown if sexuality was at all effected by the swap, as both Anzu and Sayed Ibrahim, were attracted to men pre and post swap. Further complicated by the  fact that they both were attracted to “pretty boys”.

Given the reduction in frequency of degradation of transformation based mental issues, will likely recommend a termination to therapy once subject is situated in a new relationship. 

Note to self: Determine if Anzu learns that Minh is also a victim of a body swap bomb.

#tf therapy #thegreatstoryteller #body swap #race change #racial change #body swap bomb

[mochegato]

Well, Well, Well, If It Isn’t the Consequences of My Actions

Continuation of Truth Be Told

Marinette was still trying to parse through the events of the previous night.  Time, advice from Tikki, sleep, hysterical laughter, and the alcohol she’d drunk as soon as she’d gotten home hadn’t really helped.  To make it worse, Adrien had noticed something was up with her and had followed her to her studio so he could make sure she was okay, so she hadn’t been able to continue her breakdown in peace, because that would mean explaining the previous night to him.  And although Red H… Jason may have issues with secret identities, she did not.

She looked at her notice-free phone again with a sigh.  Maybe she should restart it.  Maybe he had tried calling or texting, but her phone wasn’t working correctly.  That had happened before, right?  That would explain why he hadn’t tried to contact her yet. Or, maybe with a more sober mind, he had decided he really wasn’t that interested.  Or!  Or he didn’t remember her.  Maybe he didn’t remember anything about her and was staring at his own phone right now in utter confusion about why her number was in it.

She was brought out of her spiral by the sound of the bell over the door.  “Sorry we’re…” she started until she saw who it was, “…closed.”  Her breath caught for a second when Jason smiled charmingly at her. “Oh no, no, no, no,” she muttered to herself, glancing over at Adrien nervously.  This could not be happening right now.  He was supposed to call or text.  Not… how did he even know where she would be?  Damned bats.

Adrien perked up from his spot grading students’ papers, an incredulous grin on his lips.  “Oh my God, please tell me that’s Rose’s boy that you told to fuck off. Can I get rid of him, please?  I haven’t gotten to be destructive in a while.”

Marinette wrinkled her face in disgust at the idea of seeing that guy again.  “No! He happened after,” she said getting up to meet Jason.

“You ran into him after your date?  How dare you not tell me about him!” Adrien hissed at her as she walked away.

She turned around to face him as she walked away. “Oh, I dare,” she hissed back.

“Is he why you’ve been so off today?” he whisper yelled.

“Weren’t you going to go get some coffee?  Now?” She called back.

Adrien looked between the two of them and raised an eyebrow at Marinette making sure she really wanted to be left alone with this guy who was easily as big as her dad.  “Yeah.  I need… caffeine apparently.  Something for you too?”  She nodded at him, but kept her eyes on Jason.  “Hey guy I’m suspiciously not allowed to talk to, you want anything from the coffee shop?”

Jason’s eyes flicked over to him for a few seconds to shake his head.  “No, thank you.  I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you are,” Marinette whispered to herself, not anticipating Adrien passing by just then on his way out the door.  

“Heard that,” he grinned before leaving.  

Marinette glared at him but quickly returned her gaze to Jason.  Once she was sure Adrien had gone and couldn’t hear them, Marinette finally broke the silence.  “I was expecting a call or a text,” she said carefully.  “Not that I mind the in-person appearance,” she added quickly.  “It was just… unexpected,” she finished awkwardly.

“I could have sworn you said to meet you at your work,” Jason said a little more innocently than was natural.  Marinette smiled, but quickly schooled her expression and shook her head.  Jason smiled back and shrugged.  “Huh, must be the memory lapses.  Kind of hazy.  Things come in and out.”  He knocked his knuckles against his head lightly.

Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he nodded popping the P.  His smile morphed into a smirk.

“Poor you,” she pouted in mock sympathy.  “Then I don't suppose you remember the proposal.”

Jason's smirk dropped. This time his wide eyes looked completely natural and believable. “Proposal?” he asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, the proposal,” she prompted him.  “Don't tell me you forgot about it,” she continued, her own eyes going wide to match his and her voice turning timid.  “You said you didn't have a ring on you, but you couldn't imagine living another day without me.  You wanted to get married as soon as possible.  Oh no.”  She gasped quietly for effect.  “You have forgotten.”

Jason blinked a few times.  He was doing a masterful job of containing any outward signs of his panic.  Marinette could just barely see a few flickers in his eyes that he quickly tamped out.  “What? No!  No, no, no.  That’s just… No, no, not at all,” he stammered.  “It's just, that's so…” he chuckled nervously, “so not like me.  I'm just... impressed how, uh… how bold I was,” he offered.

Marinette watched him closely for a few seconds before she burst out laughing.  Jason's jaw dropped to the floor.  “You were joking,” he observed in awe.  Marinette couldn't answer.  She was gasping too hard for breath, doubled over and grasping her sides.  “Oh thank God.  I want to be mad but I'm just too grateful. Shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Marinette grinned at him when her laughs finally edged down to chuckles.  “Well, that seems fair.  You almost gave me quite a few last night.  And your brother, I think.”

Jason grimaced.  “Was I that bad?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side in thought. “No, not bad.  Just… like when you just kind of stared at me for a few minutes, without saying anything, which apparently was because you were impressed but I thought it was because you were a serial killer.”  Jason chuckled lightly and bobbed his head in apology.  “Or when you revealed your face, no mask.  Or, when you told me your full name and your brother’s first name, and that he was your brother.”  

Jason winced at that revelation.  That would explain the dagger he was almost too sluggish to dodge this morning.  And the glares and lecture on the importance of security and identities.  “Maybe not my finest moment,” he conceded as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Marinette giggled at that.  “Maybe not, but you were extremely drugged and extremely endearing.”  She looked down, a light blush settling on her cheeks.  “And very complimentary.”  

“Well, that’s good at least.  I don’t really remember anything I said.”  He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, looking around the store instead of at her.  “So, did you want to talk about last night?” he offered a bit more casually than was natural.

Marinette could see the discomfort in his eyes even if they weren’t pointed at her.  She smiled kindly at him, hoping it would put him at ease.  “Why?  You worried that you said something embarrassing?” she teased lightly.  “You didn’t.”

“Not really,” he shrugged and looked back at her and relaxed into a charming smile.  “I don't embarrass that easily.  And if I said anything I should be embarrassed about, you wouldn't have given me your number.”

Marinette scoffed at him and leaned against the table they were next to.  “I gave you my number, so you’d stop giving me clues to your identity… and your brother’s.  Didn’t work. You were quite determined.”

“I must have thought you were worth it,” Jason smiled. “High me is a very astute me.”  Marinette blushed at the sincerity in his eyes. How was he still this charming even when he wasn’t blitzed out of his mind?  “But,” he continued with renewed vigor, “if I’d done anything too bad, you would have told me already, or kicked me out.”

Marinette laughed lightly.  “Well, you’re not wrong.”  She looked back up after a beat with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  “So, the background check on me is complete then? You’re allowed to interact with me now.”

Jason rolled his eyes and leaned closer to her over the table.  “I mean, the blood sample results were good.  Your cholesterol is a little high, by the way,” he started thoughtfully.  “It was kind of you to donate though.  Very conscientious.  And you really should call your parents.  It’s been a few days.”  Marinette paled significantly as he continued to speak.  Jason grinned.  “And we have an appointment to talk to your first boyfriend.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and let out a relieved laugh. “You reached for the sun with that one and your wings melted.”  He looked at her questioningly.  “He would have told me if he had an interview with anyone.  We talk a lot.  Not to mention why do that when you could just interview him in person.  He’ll be in town for his tour next week anyway.”

“Wait… really?”

“You didn’t even know who it was?” Marinette laughed.

“I’m sure my family have been doing extensive research on you and they probably know, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. If there was anything bad, they would tell me, otherwise I want to find out from you,” he answered sincerely and taking her hand.  “The only thing I know about you is your name and that’s only because you put it in my phone. I had a vague recollection of what you looked like and being incredibly impressed with you, but that’s pretty much it. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come down in person, to see if…” he searched for the best way to finish the thought.

Marinette nodded.  “To see if the chemistry was as good as you remember?  To see if it was still good when you weren’t drugged?” she offered nervously.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed.  “You too?”

Marinette took a breath and looked back up at him through her lashes, giving his hand a squeeze.  “Yeah.  I was nervous it was all because of the drugs.”

Jason gave her a relieved smile.  At least he wasn’t the only one nervous about it.  He wasn’t alone in this.  She was navigating it with him.  He squeezed her hand back.  “So,” he started, leaning back to give her a roguish grin, but keeping a grip on her hand, “who is the ex-boyfriend on tour?”

“Luka Couffaine.”

“Guitarist for Jagged Stone!” he exclaimed loudly, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah.  I mean he wasn’t at the time.  But now, yes.”  Her eyes shone with mirth at his awed expression.  “Did you want to meet him?”

“What?  No! That’s… that would be weird, wanting to meet your girlfriend’s ex and his dad.  That’s just…”

“I didn’t mention his dad,” she cut him off knowingly.  “And… girlfriend?”  He gave her a sheepish look and looked down.  He opened his mouth to say something in response but she cut him off with laughter.  “So, that’s a yes then?”

“I mean… if you’re offering,” he tried to say casually.

“I see.  This whole thing was just an elaborate scam so you could meet Jagged Stone,” she pouted in mock offense.  She looked past him and smiled.

Jason rolled his eyes and he leaned onto the counter so he was just a few inches from her.  “You caught me.  I exposed my secret identity just so I could meet a rock star.”  Marinette’s eyes instantly widened and her body went rigid.

“Secret identity?” Adrien asked as he set down her coffee cup next to Marinette.

Jason froze.  “I… didn’t realize he was back.”

“You are shit at secret identities,” Marinette hissed to him.  “Even when you aren’t high you can’t keep one.”

“I…’m still under the effects?” he offered with a wince.  

“And you couldn’t have waited to come see me until it has dissipated?” she groaned.

“No, I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said instantly, looking deeply in her eyes.

“Oh… um… okay,” she stuttered.  Her cheeks flushed deeply.  “I… would have thought it would be gone by now,” she finished quietly.

“Nope.  Still lingering.”  He made a vague motion toward his body.

“Yeah, go with that when your brothers find out.” Marinette sighed.  “Why do they let you go undercover if you’re so bad at hiding your identity?” she asked a bit louder.

Jason’s eyes scrunched in confusion.

“Isn’t that like first day at the academy?” She continued.  She made a subtle rolling motion with her hands so only he could see it.

His eyes widened in realization.  “I think I missed that day.  Police training is pretty boring… and corrupt.”

Adrien scoffed and threw his arm over her shoulder. “Bullshit.  You just don’t want to lose the bet.  Also, backdoor, no bell.”

“Fucking backdoor,” Jason grumbled looking down and shaking his head.  He looked back up at Marinette with a raised eyebrow that she didn’t see because she was glaring at Adrien.  “Bet?”

“There is no bet,” Marinette rushed to assure him.

“That she’d date another hero,” Adrien explained, pointedly ignoring her glare.  “I’m Adrien by the way.  I’m her…” he stopped to think about his next words.  “We really need to come up with a term for it.  I’m her in no way sexual or romantic life partner?”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “I thought we agreed on pseudo brother.”

“Right, right,” Adrien nodded.  “That puts me above Alya, so I like it.  But I still like mine better.”

“If I can interrupt,” Jason cut in, “Jason, nice to meet you.  And, another?”

“Also, he’s not a hero!” Marinette objected at the same time.

“How many heroes have you dated?  And she’s not wrong, I’m not a hero,” Jason added.

“Ooh, vigilante then.” Adrien nodded.  He started mentally running through all the vigilantes in Gotham.  “I think that counts, but you can always try that.”

“Let’s get back to the dating heroes thing,” Jason tried.

“But it won’t matter anyway, because nobody is going to find out about this,” her voice lowered and became very pointed.  “Right, Adrien?  Because we’re talking about someone else’s identity.  And it doesn’t matter because he isn’t a hero and the terms of the bet, which I didn’t agree to, I might add, were very specific: hero.”

“So how many heroes do you have to date for it to become a bet?” Jason asked.

“It’s more about how many heroes have had a crush on her,” Adrien answered with a smirk.  

Jason raised an eyebrow.  “How many have developed a crush on her?”

“Every hero that’s met her,” Adrien answered with a resolute nod.

“That’s not true!” Marinette exclaimed.

Jason nodded his head as he thought about that. “How many heroes is that? Approximately?” he asked Adrien, ignoring Marinette’s interruption.

“She’s met at least twenty-five.”  Marinette groaned at the glee in Adrien’s voice.

Jason’s eyes widened and turned to her. “Twenty-five?”  He turned back to Adrien.  “And they all liked her?”  

Adrien nodded with a smug smile.  “All of them.”

“No, they don’t,” Marinette insisted.

He blinked a few times.  “My brother met her.”

Marinette stared at him slack jawed until she collapsed her head onto the table.  “You SUCK at secret identities,” she mumbled into the table.  “Okay,” she announced loud enough to stop Jason and Adrien from continuing to talk.  “First,” she turned to Adrien, “that is categorically untrue.”

“You haven’t met twenty-five heroes?” Jason asked.

“Oh no, that’s a low estimate on how many I’ve met. But only like,” she narrowed her eyes and quirked her lips in thought, “three have liked me.”  

Adrien snickered.  “That’s not even close.  There was…”

“Second,” she said cutting him off, “your brother isn’t a hero,” she said pointedly.  “Third, he was a dick.”

“Literally,” Jason snickered.

Marinette smacked his shoulder and looked over at Adrien. “He was overly friendly, but not in a Rose way; in a smarmy, I’m going to manipulate you with my charm way.”

“That’s your opinion of him,” Jason pointed out. “Adrien said heroes get a crush on you so it sounds like I need to watch him around you.”

“Fourth,” she leaned closer to Jason with a hiss, “maybe you just shouldn’t talk.”

“I think we need to up the count too,” Adrien eyed Jason critically.  “Seems like we need to add a few new heroes to the total.”

Marinette stepped in between the two.  “And you won’t try to figure out any more about his identity, because that would be a violation, right Adrien?” she continued even sharper.

Adrien rolled his eyes but nodded.  “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  I’ll try but there’s only so many people in the hero adjacent community that fit his dimensions.”  

Marinette slapped him upside the head and he scowled back at her.  “Stop thinking,” she hissed.  “You’re a model it shouldn’t be that hard for you to do.”  Her smirk widened at his exaggerated offended gasp.

Adrien leaned back stared at her eyes slightly narrowed.  “Ex-model, thank you very much.  Which means I've been given a permit to think again.  And just for that, I'm going to.  Day and night.  I'm going to get out charts and diagrams, create association maps, cyberstalk people, all just because I can.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her head in her hands.  “I hate you. You can’t punish him as payback toward me.”

“You’re right,” Adrien nodded thoughtfully.  “I should make it up to Jason.  Say Jason, how many stories has she told you about our teenage years?  Has she told you about the first time we saw a movie together?  How about the first time we were at a sleepover together?”

Marinette’s eyes widened.   “Alright!” Marinette exclaimed loudly.  “I believe it’s time to get you out of here… before… uh… you say anything else embarrassing, Jason,” she insisted.  “Let’s go. Now.”  She pulled Jason out of the room by the elbow.  “You get to lock up Adrien.”

“Your coffee!” he called after her.  But she and Jason were already gone.  Adrien chuckled.  “Like I need to think to know who that is,” he scoffed taking a sip of his coffee and return to grading homework.

Jason waited a block before he spoke up.  “So… you want to tell me about the sleepover or do you want to let blondie tell me later?”

Marinette mock glared at him.  “Look, if we’re going to go over all of my embarrassing moments, we’ll never talk about anything else… ever… There’s a lot,” she stressed.

Jason chuckled and pulled her to a stop.  He picked up her hand and laced their fingers together.  He gently tucked some loose hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger along her jaw. “Is this okay?”

Marinette looked up at him wide eyed, but nodded, a deep blush gracing her cheeks again.  “Ye... um, yeah.  That’s… um, yeah, that’s okay.”

“So… history of dating heroes, huh?  Guess you weren’t that impressed with my skills last night then.”

Marinette groaned playfully.  “Okay, seriously, it was only the one and yes, you were very impressive.  The way you… were able to stand for a prolonged period of time after the amount of drugs that got pumped into your system… very impressive.”

Jason barked out a laugh.  “Why thank you.  I have lots of other impressive qualities I can astound you with.  How would you feel about a date so I can show them to you?”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” she grinned up at him swinging their arms between them.

“You know, I might not remember anything else about last night, but there was one thing I thought I remembered and I was definitely right about,” he took a step closer to her until their chests were almost touching and leaned down to gaze adoringly into her eyes, “you’re fucking hot.”

She let out a surprised snort, her face turning bright red and Jason smirked at her.  She buried her face in his chest to hide her blush.  Jason chuckled as he wound his arms around her waist and hugged her close. “Come on,” he whispered into her ear.  “I know a good place to get food right around the corner.”  She looked up at him and nodded, letting him pull her toward the restaurant.

Continued in Night of the Consequences

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @ashbrea381writings

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - dare #it's there I swear #Truth and Consequences

[i-became-the-lady-of-the-blog]

They were hiding like they always did, staying in the corners, only ever greeting people and too nervous to make conversation. ‘The adorably shy queen’ the tabloids had named them. Shyness really wasn’t an issue, they loved meeting new people. But every time they even mentioned life outside the castle to another person, they could feel his cold, viridescent stare on them.

They were nothing but a doll, decor. Teenage girls wanted to be them, the boys found them cute. What a truly odd existence. Malleus had gone into the next room with some politician from the west. Having a banquet at political meetings had been his idea, giving them something to do while he worked.

A hand rested on their shoulder, they turned to see Leona Kingscholar. He looked the same, though a bit of rough stubble adorned his chin, he had new tattoos as well.

“We need to talk, herbivore”, the nickname that annoyed them to bits years ago now seemed like a call from heaven. A way out

An ally.

This is a sequel to this story

----

Before everything went to south, MC was a social butterfly. They would talk with anyone and find topic to converse easily but here they were. Too afraid to make a conversation with people to avoid making Malleus upset. They remember first time MC felt Malleus’ raw jealousy on their first year in Valley of Thorns. They were trying to cope with their abduction, to feel normal again and soothe their need to socialize with others. There were noble fae visitors on that day. Maleficent suggested drink tea on the balcony while she, Malleus and some of the nobles had a meeting. The remaining group went to the balcony, sitting on the chairs around the table. 

It was silent when the servants brought snacks for the group. MC thought the group hated them since they are a human so they didn’t utter a word. It was silent until one of the fae ladies spoke up and asked how they’ve been faring. MC was reluctant at first, fearing their judgment but as they spoke more, their confidence restored. It was not just the fae lady who initiated the conversation, the rest of the group were good people too. Talking with them soothed MC’s nerves, in fact, they craved to talk with them more. They were on the verge of a mental breakdown after being isolated for so very long, talking with them felt like a cure in that moment. They could not even recall the last time they laughed until that day. All was going well until he showed up. Their meeting ended earlier so he didn’t want to waste any time to be with MC, yet when he teleported, he saw MC talking and laughing with someone who isn’t him. He dismissed the guests politely before teleporting MC and himself to his- no their- bed chambers. 

Malleus was enraged that they were getting intimate with another even though it was just laughing and engaging in conversation. The sky darkened as Malleus expression was taking a dark turn. The sky was rumbling with thunder and lightening, as Malleus was taking slow and uncanny steps towards them, making MC flinch with every step. That day, MC felt Malleus’ true rage, true jealousy, true power... It was not uncommon for Malleus to take pleasure in their body regardless of MC’s wishes but that day, it was more than that. It caused MC to have nightmares over a year. Waking up because of a night terror and only to be soothed by the person who caused it was taking a toll on MC. But no one cared nor dared to stand up for them. That day MC learned not to talk with people when Malleus wasn’t around, how much cruel Malleus could get when he wishes and no one would bat an eye. That day MC decided to be obedient, to avoid more harm.

Now here MC was, greeting delegates from different countries and the nobles of Valley of Thorns briefly and making a small talk before moving on to the next person. No one managed to ask questions beyond daily talk and Valley of Thorns related queries. Their court and the delegates saw them as the Shy Queen, thinking that MC was still nervous to talk with people they didn’t know personally. The truth couldn’t be far from that. They just didn’t want to get punished for socializing nor feel that pain again.

MC needed a drink and compose themselves before moving on to the other guests. That was the plan until they saw something or more like someone. They had to take a second look since they didn’t think Malleus would be this bold to invite someone from the past, someone who knew who MC was before becoming Malleus’ prisoner- no spouse. Taking another look at the figure, the realization dawned upon them. It was Leona Kingscholar, the hot guy who was not even trying to be hot, the lion king of Savanaclaw, the person they and Grim kept awake all night for him to help fight the next dorm leader. Leona and MC were not close in the NRC but to see a familiar face...

MC just wanted to run and hug him tightly. They were about to do that but then Malleus came to their mind. Speak of the devil, he shall appear...

Malleus came soon after Leona spoke. MC wanted to explain the situation so it wouldn’t cause a problem but Malleus cut them off, pulling them over, kissing their hands affectionately, making a show in front of Leona.  MC recalled the rivalry between them. Leona was powerful but he was in the middle of Valley of Thorns, surrounded by powerful fae, Malleus, Lilia and Maleficent herself. He didn’t stand a chance. They didn’t want him to be harmed so they were eager to remove the reason of current conflict, themselves, from there but it was impossible for Malleus to just let them go. MC’s heart was racing, as if it would go out of her chest when Malleus forced them to eye contact. They thought a kiss on cheek would suffice but Malleus lifted their chip up before kissing them on the lips. If it wasn’t for the years of practice to stay still even while being violated, their knees would have given away. 

MC let out the breath they weren’t aware that they were holding. Everything was too much, the stress was getting to them but they couldn’t fail now and make Malleus think something happened between them and Leona. They saw a servant and ordered a drink. Before they could have some alone time, a noble approached them and started talking. MC was having a hard time to have the standard conversation as they has with the rest. They were feeling nauseous as the nobles kept talking but luckily the servant brought them a glass of campaign. Gulping the entire glass in one go, they got the attention of the nobles as they started to make unwanted comments. The alcohol made them relax just a tiny bit. Finally, MC was able to continue conversation. As it ended, they asked for another drink while going over to greet others.

After what seemed like an age, MC found an opening to take a break. They walked into the quieter corridor, hoping for some alone time. They didn’t get what they hoped for...

A hand rested on their shoulder, making them panic since they knew it was not how Malleus touched so this meant someone other than Malleus was touching them. They wanted to warn the person. They turned around to see Malleus’ possible victim, only to meet with Leona’s eyes. “We need to talk” He said firmly.

MC just wanted him to be okay so they couldn’t speak with him, ensuring Malleus’ wrath. They conjured up a smile as best as they could in that situation. “We have already talked, Prince Kingscholar. Now if you excuse me,” MC was going to walk around him and go back to the crowd - so much for relaxing.

“Lizard is in an important meeting along with grandma Lizard. The guards are not checking your every move all the time. They have intervals.” Leona stated casually. “This means we can talk, Herbivore.” He seemed determined to talk.

Mc knew they should have walked away but something in Leona’s voice made them trust his observation. “Be quick please, I don’t want to anger Mal- I mean, my husba- I- I-” They were having trouble with speaking with Leona without saying what went on behind the closed doors. 

“I don’t need to smell to know your nervousness, MC. Especially around the Lizard who is supposed to be your husband. Tell me what happened directly now.” Leona looked the same, though a bit of rough stubble adorned his chin, he had new tattoos as well. “Did you return home?” He was asking impossible questions.

MC gulped, recalling the day they lost everything. It pained them greatly to think about the day they thought they would see their family and friends again. “No...” They whispered, clenching their fists and burying their nails to their palm to not cry, yet they couldn’t prevent the quivering of their voice. “Dire Crowley told me to come over to the mirror room. He told me that he found a way to go home and wants me to check it out before going back completely.” They closed their eyes, it was as if reliving that dreadful moment. “My husba- Mal- no my husba... You-Know-Who was there with the old bat. I thought they wanted to see interdimensional travel for the first time but they had other plans.  You-Know-Who told Dire that he did a good job before he took me to Valley of Thorns with the old bat. I resisted at first but if you went through what I-” Their voice broke as they felt tears in their eyes, dropping to their cheeks. They wiped their cheek, “I answered your question, now please leave me be before some guard sees us together and reports to You-Know-Who. I accepted this is my life and I live this way now.”

“Not anymore,” Leona objected, MC could feel the anger behind these those words. “Your imprisonment ends today, you are coming with me, Herbivore.” He stated, ordering them around like when they were in the NRC.

In that moment, it seemed silly but hearing them from someone like Leona made them imagine how their life could have changed. Maybe this was their way out and he was their ally.

——

🍪 Anon I love your brain once again!

#twst #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #savanaclaw #diasomnia #warning: yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere malleus draconia #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #mc/yuu

[cherryblossomriot]

i had a dream the other day that was basically a dinluke cowboy au and it has been HAUNTING me, so just allow me to deposit it upon you like my subconscious drop kicked it onto me:

Luke is a disabled veteran who has returned from war one hand lighter and several scars heavier. When he returns, his family, who are heavily involved in the politics/military of this fictional land, don’t understand his now jaded and melancholic view of both the world, but also the ideologies that they so strongly believe in, leading him to constantly feel like an outcast even among the people that he so dearly loves. They’re all passionate and strong-willed, but they still don’t understand, not his struggles with mental health or his new perspective, and it just makes things worse and worse and worse. Anakin is a general, and though he’s seen the gruesomeness of war firsthand, he’s also become desensitized to it and has anger-management issues, so he often almost finds a sort of refuge within the chaos of battle, so he clearly cannot even fathom the emotions and trauma that Luke is trying to sort through, much less know how to deal with them properly. Padme is a senator and cares deeply about the crimes and seemingly senseless violence occurring during the war, but she’s also a politician and knows how to play the long game, so when Luke comes to her, he leaves feeling misunderstood and pushed aside. Leia is the only one who seemingly understands, as the pair of them have a deep, intrinsic bond, but she doesn’t fully grasp Luke’s moods and doesn’t handle his breakdowns and flashbacks well. So everyone feels a little upset, a little unsettled, and a lot like they don’t understand why and how Luke has changed, which leads to Luke feeling more and more out of place within his own family. The war ends relatively soon after Luke’s return, which leads to parades which leads to awards which leads to balls and banquets, all of which Luke is forced to attend, his heart dragging but his head held high, because he’s an Amidala-Skywalker goddammit, and we have a certain responsibility and image to maintain to the public and everyone who endured so much. So Luke has to sit there through awards and boasts of glory and mentions of battle scars and it goes on and on and on, and he has to smile and bear it and accept the medal that they’re giving him because he did such a great service to his country and-he has a panic attack. A nasty one that leads to him having to flee from a ballroom, and outside to the gardens. Once he’s there, he realizes that he doesn’t want to go back in. At all. So he runs away. He just picks a direction and goes, stealing a car on the way (this is a modern au but also fictional countries because I don’t want to get into real politics, hooo boy no siree). In the middle of nowhere, he gets caught in a storm and basically crashes his car and passes out. 

But when he wakes up! That’s when the fun begins. 

He’s in this cozy sort of bedroom, and this hot guy is fast asleep in the chair beside his bed, and is that a little kid in his lap? Anyway, the hot guy wakes up, introduces himself as Din Djarin in the softest, most attractive voice Luke has ever heard with his own two ears, and doesn’t ask him where he’s from or what he was doing driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at 3 in the morning, so Luke is obligated to have a lil crush on him, even though he’s not sure about the kid. So he asks, and Din introduces him to his son Grogu, who waves at him and signs hello, because, as Din explains, he doesn’t speak much, and the foster system wasn’t too kind to him, so he’s got a little bit of trauma to work through. And Luke just, instantly falls in love with this soft dad and his cute little son who can shift his features from the biggest, most pleading puppy eyes ever to the face of a demented gremlin who will try to eat the frog he caught in the backyard, no matter how slimy it is, or how hard it tries to wriggle out of his hands. Din tells Luke that he can stay for however long he needs, because Luke’s kinda injured from his accident, and anyway, once he’s healed up, they always could use another hand on the farm. So Luke stays, and he meets all of Din’s other farm hands (and shitty friends). There’s Boba, who doesn’t talk much, but when he does it’s always something slightly ominous and menacing, and Luke thinks that his name sounds familiar...hey wasn’t he on the news for robbing a couple banks a few years back?...no, surely not..., Fennec, who speaks even less than Boba, and manages to be far, far more intimidating, but also helps Luke with his prosthetic and gives him fun little tips that always sound more like she’s cut off a lot more limbs than she’s lost. Cara Dune (who is not gina carano but i digress) is also there, and she’s just constantly a harbinger of chaos, but will babysit Grogu whenever Din wants to brood and stare longingly into the distance (or at Luke who’s also brooding as the sun sets but shhh). Bo-Katan and the gang are there, and while Bo-Katan grumbles about how the old ranch boss had different/better methods on how to run things, she still follows Din’s lead and helps him with the finances and taxes. They all take to Luke like a wildfire, because Luke is a sunshine boy who can make friends with literally anyone and somehow manages to make Din not only smile but laugh, but also because they can tell he’s got a lot of trauma and pain bubbling just under the surface, and they all silently but collectively agreed a long time ago that they are the patron saints of troubled and lost souls. 

When Luke gets better and starts to help out, he’s constantly upset with himself because he used to help out at his aunt and uncle’s farm in the summers when he was a kid, and he knows how to do this stuff, but his prosthetic is really throwing him off and his body has sustained a lot of other injuries that make doing manual labor a much more different experience than it used to be, but everyone is really patient with him and helps him out, especially Din. At one point, Din is so nice that Luke just loses it, because he doesn’t understand how Din can be so kind and so patient, and care about him so much, and kind of calls himself broken and useless in front of Din, and Din gets super protective and grabs his hands (real and prosthetic) and tells him that he’s not broken or useless, and you’re so sweet and wonderful, and can’t you see? Ever since you’ve been here, everyone’s been so much happier, so much lighter. You’ve brought something precious to us, but most of all to me. And they’re standing really close and for a second Luke thinks Din is going to kiss him, but instead, Luke realizes that he’s crying, and Din just wraps his arms around him and holds him.

After that, time sort of blurs, marked by things like Grogu climbing into Luke’s bed because he sensed that he was having a nightmare, and Din waking up to find the pair of them coloring in a serene silence, Luke getting the hang of ranch life and his prosthetic and dealing with his panic attacks and flashbacks as they come, and Din enduring relentless badgering from his friends because hey, if you don’t marry Luke, I will and Fennec, you’re a lesbian and that doesn’t matter, it’ll be a marriage of twink and butch solidarity. And all the while, Din and Luke are spinning closer and closer towards each other, two suns hurtling in their orbit to the other with an inescapable certainty. 

When it finally happens, they’ve just gotten back from one of those cowboy dances (idk what they’re called...hoedowns? yeah okay) (and yes, I wanted to hit all of the cliches in the book, thank you very much), and Grogu’s fallen fast asleep on Luke’s shoulder. After they tuck him up all snug in his bed, they head out to the porch, because it’s raining outside, and the steady thrum of water droplets splattering on the roof and on the grass is the most soothing sound Luke has ever heard (aside from Din’s voice), and he’s a little too afraid to go to sleep and ruin his perfect night with a nightmare. They stand there for a while, silence binding them together, shoulders brushing every now and then, hesitant and questioning. Luke thinks about how Din had asked him to dance earlier, his lips tilted in a teasing, but achingly soft smile, and how his heart had pounded a tattoo to the shape of his ribs when they’d pushed up so close together, the fast, rowdy dances of the beginning of the night having faded to something lasting, something meaningful. Luke remembers the ball he’d run away from, how the dancing had been cold, almost jeering in a way, and Luke realizes how far he’s come, how different it is here. And suddenly, there isn’t a question in his mind anymore. He turns toward Din, who turns toward him, and when he leans forward, Din breathes an uncertain “Luke-”, but he doesn’t get to finish the thought. Luke kisses him, and he kisses back, and it’s just them. There are hands in hair and noses nudged together, and at some point, they move, without either of them releasing the other, into the house and into Din’s bedroom. Buttons are unbuttoned, and whole stretches of skin are kissed, and when it’s over, they curl up together, Din tucking his head into the crook of Luke’s neck and falling asleep there. 

When they wake up, Luke explains why he came here, why he ran away, all the while Din looks at him with his beautiful dark eyes and runs his hands through Luke’s hair, which is catching the sunlight filtering in through the window and making him look like he has a halo, all the while never once condemning him for keeping it a secret this whole time. After he’s finished, he expects some sort of shocked reaction-after all, his family’s pretty famous, but all Din does is kiss him and ask, “Wait, so you have a twin?” 

It’s so unexpected that Luke throws his head back and bursts into uncontrollable, and very contagious peals of laughter, and when he’s finally able to breathe again, he kisses Din’s forehead and murmurs, “I love you.” 

Din, who has been touch starved and lonely for years (no time for relationships when you’ve got a business to run and a toddler to raise), tears up and kisses him, too overwhelmed for words. But Luke understands.  

And then Grogu pushes his way into the room holding up a box of Frosted Flakes above his head and shaking it, as if to say, I’d like to eat now, please. 

Din and Luke stifle their smiles into the other’s shoulder, and when they get up, Luke can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs.

----

It takes approximately .5 seconds for all the others to figure out they’re together now, and Cara and Bo-Katan (of all people) start cheering immediately, to Din and Luke’s shock. Boba and Fennec grumble and begrudgingly hand over a huge wad of cash each to Cara and Bo-Katan because they thought it would take them at least another two weeks to get together. Din’s very done with his friends at this point, but he takes one look at Luke’s flustered but smiling face and decides he won’t kill them all this time. 

And if everyone thought Luke was a lot of excitement for a humble ranch in the middle of nowhere, then they are in no way, shape, or form, prepared for when his very angry twin sister shows up with a himbo with a shit-eating grin and his 7 foot tall best friend she hired to track her brother down. 

(needless to say, Boba punches Han within two minutes of interaction).

#dinluke #dinluke headcanon #dinluke fic #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djaren #bo-katan kryze #fennec shand #leia organa #they just love each other a lot #and i am but a conduit of that love #Han takes one look at Boba and decides it's his life mission to just annoy the shit out of him #he stays away from fennec though #she's very scary #and she has no time for his dumbass #leia is even more angry and hard to deal with than she usually would be #because not only has her twin brother been missing for like four months #but she has had to deal with han thee peak dumbass solo for at least a week and its driving her insane #Chewwy fits right in #he hangs out with fennec and they go out and shoot cans together #leia hears that luke and din are together now #and she's like #you saw one (1) dilf and couldn't help yourself could you #and din's like #what's a dilf???? #and luke is like #it means you're very hot #and leia rolls her eyes

[fanficsrusz]

I WANT TO KI__ YOU - FINAL CHAPTER

Warnings: Kidnapping, Dub-Con, Non-con, Stockholm Syndrome, Being Restrained, Breeding, murder, everything bad.

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF YOU FIND ANY OF THESE WARNINGS TRIGGERING, THEN DO NOT READ. BY CONTINUING TO READ FROM THIS POINT ON, YOU ARE AGREEING THAT YOU ARE COMFORTABLE WITH ALL OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS. I DO NOT ACCEPT ANY RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU FEEL TRIGGERED BY THE FOLLOWING CONTENT SINCE THERE HAS BEEN PLENTY OF WARNINGS. IF YOU FEEL LIKE ANY OTHER WARNINGS SHOULD BE ADDED THEN PLEASE POLITELY DM ME AND I WILL ADD THEM.

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Summery: After failing to fulfill his contract, John takes a liking to y/n and his liking soon turns into a dark obsession

Aesthetic Playlist

A/n: After a billion years, a billion mental breakdowns and just about everything else, I have finally mustered up the courage to finish this series. I don't know how to feel.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I look forward to reading all your comments and feedback. If you liked this chapter then please reblog it. That is how writers like myself are able to spread out work to other people, especially because there have been a lot of issues with tags lately. Thank you ❤️

<< Previous Chapter

The taste of his lips was something that she should hate. It's something that she should crave to loaf. But even after everything he put her through, he was the sweetest poison.  

John was like an elegantly bound book but in a language she couldn't read. Y/n never thought she would love all the bad things about someone but there she stood, staring out into the openness of the forest through the front door. 

The door was there as if her dream had become solid, as if it had grown upon the hinges and blossomed into a comforting hue. An exit. A way out of the nightmare she found herself in. In all the time she had been trapped in the house, the door had remained a mystery to her. Not that she didn't know what laid beyond it, but the idea of what she would do when she saw the day it was held open for that long. 

She realised in the air that had been so still on the previous days had suddenly gained a slight movement, as if it had discovered its direction yet was content to meander at its own pace. The autumn breeze that carried fine drops, each one a promise of the rain to come.  Newly chilled air that moved the clouds, streaks of brilliance breaking through from a patient sun.

 Y/n let her eyes rest for a moment, feeling the ambiance of nothing, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting her brain process what laid ahead. 

John came behind, his lips grazing her hair as he pressed a chaste kiss upon her head. 

"I need an answer." 

His voice came as a whisper but had a firmness to it as he waited for their fate to be sealed. 

Choices were rarely a fork of two pathways, yet with eyes a little wider open, many pathways appeared before her. The right path for one person can be different from another and only the inner compass of love and passion could illuminate it for that soul to walk upon.

"I-" her lips parted, the single syllable falling from her mouth before she stopped. Her eyes clenched shut, images of her past life flashing through her mind, her heart thumping as the emotions of what she had lost pumped through her. 

Before she could even register her own existence in her new life, her feet had pulled her from John's hold. 

She could feel her heartbeat… every single pound in her chest. This great pounding, this great pressure; every beat. She could hear it, she could feel it. It remained steady with every step she took closer to the door, it remained through what little breaths she could shove down her throat. It remained when she stood and swayed at the threshold. That dark beating remained, as she waited for her own choice to take hold of her body. 

With a shaky hand she took hold of the new wooden door, a sigh leaving her as she pushed the door shut, sealing her inside the house and sealing her fate with no other exit. Just like that any glimmer of escape faded away coldly into infinite darkness. Y/n's skin shuddered and she could feel her brain starting to defocus, searching for new hope. She should have gone … out there, to the forest where the paths ran in every direction and she could be free. But one thing and one thing alone stopped her. 

Aurora. 

John's hand creeped up her arm, offering her a caring touch. 

"Thank you" he whispered, breath hot on the back of her neck.

"For what?" her voice came out hostile, sadness prominent in her tone. 

"You chose me -" he smiled, "you chose us. You chose Aurora. You chose love." his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer to his icy warmth. "I can't believe you finally recognised the importance of what we have. You've finally learnt to appreciate it all and that's all I ever wanted from you". 

Sadness sat an inch below Y/n's face, eyes remaining dry, expression impassive. She knew that if she even let a fraction out that the rest would follow, a never ending torrent of grief. She moved nothing but her eyes, her mind racing while every muscle stayed rock still against John's hold. 

"I just needed you to see it with your own eyes, to have you understand that this could be a wonderful life, that we can build a perfect, loving, family" John let his mind wander within the walls of his own fantasy. 

"Just think about it. Think about all the good things we can do together here. We can be happy, we can enjoy each other as much as we want without having to worry about the world out there and all the bad things it brings -" he placed a heated kiss onto her skin, his teeth nipping lightly. 

That warm, raspy voice that possessed his cords, sent nerves dancing up her spine. Normally his smile sent her mind into an uncontrolled, captivated spiral and his light touch lingered, it branded her soul with a simple mark: infatuation. To call it love would be a mockery of her heart, a symbol of her dying innocence. But every tempered word he spoke invaded her mind, like ivy tendrils seeking any point of weakness to enter; they wrapped her body in a blanket of comfort and consumed her soul in the heat of lust.

Y/n remembered that night John took her in a soft, painful haze. It was the night that taught her the difference between love and infatuation. Love is unconditional, eternal... Infatuation? It dies. 

Y/n had become infatuated with John to some degree. The sense of protection that he provided was something that she had never known. What else did she have other than John? But Aurora? She deserved better. Y/n loved her more than anything and she wasn't about to let her daughter live in four walls. Captive. Her beauty hidden away from the world. 

That wasn't a life she wanted for her. 

"-I only needed to know that you were convinced, that you had it in your heart" John continued, his lips peppering her skin with soft kisses. 

"well now you know" y/n whispered, eyes still glued to the closed door. 

"You know-" John gently turned her body, forcing her to look at him as his soft brown eyes studied her features for a moment, "-keeping you chained in that basement for the rest of your life was a possibility but that wasn't enough for me" 

Y/n felt the pad of his thumb rub against the wet skin of her cheek, rubbing away a few tears that had managed to quietly escape their fortress. 

"I wanted you to be here with me, so you could enjoy this life of ours without being kept like an animal." his eyes softened, eyebrows dipping kindly. "It was all necessary at first. Just a training process and I only kept you like that because you needed it" 

Y/n knew it was wrong what he did. But why did it hurt to know what she would do? 

"I understand" she whispered, her own hands wrapping around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. With a deep breath she took note of all the musky sweet notes of his scents. John rested his head on top of hers, his smile uncontrollable. 

"it was like the medicine you needed to take" John let out a small laugh as he thought back. "you were this small little disobedient puppy. It was cute honestly but it was just something you needed to go through to get stronger. And now look at you!" he pulled back, holding her at arms length so be count admire her perfect face. "you're so beautiful and So loyal" 

John kissed the droplets of tears from her lips, and she felt his lips smile against hers. He swept her hair aside and kissed her just over the collarbone. He nibbled at her ear, and then sank himself into her arms. She hung her fingers on his waistband, dragging him closer and he buried his face in her shoulder curve, his hands flexing around her back. John gave a reduced groan before whispering “I love you,” into her hair. 

"So do I" she mustered back. 

"I can't believe you finally see me for what I really am. Your family. Your soulmate. Your world. Of course that world includes Aurora. Her future brothers and sisters. We will have all we need right here" he placed another kiss onto her forehead. "we can build something new, something perfect and you are the one who made it all possible. You - you have no idea how special you are to me my love." 

John stepped back, extending his hand for her to take and Y/n slowly took it into hers. 

"I will never let you go. No matter what happens, I will always find you."

-

Three days later 

The perfect life for the perfect wife. That's what Y/n told herself daily, over and over. 

Y/n had been baking for a few hours and as the moments passed, tune by tune as the radio sang along, the piles of cookies, buns and breads grew. It was the same as mess, only the good sort she supposed, the edible sort that made people happy. That would make her happy. 

Aurora sat in her highchair, cooing softly as Y/n plated a few cookies and turned slowly, smiling as she watched her daughter stare up at her. 

She placed the plate on that table and kissed Aurora on the forehead. 

"No matter what happens. I love you" she breathed heavily and pulled back when she heard John step into the kitchen. 

"Good morning" Y/n smiled, wiping some of the drool from Aurora's face. 

John rounded the table and kissed y/n on the cheek before kissing Aurora's head. 

"Good morning my loves". 

For a moment there was silence in the large room and y/n shifted on her feet. 

"What are you going to do today?" John finally asked, pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with some water. 

Y/n shook her head slowly. 

"I don't know. Maybe clean. Play with Aurora. I baked some cookies already" John's eyes lit up as he walked over to the table, smiling as he picked up a warm cookie. 

"You made these?" he asked and y/n only hummed. 

"Mhmm" 

John kissed her cheek and Y/n savoured the feeling of his lingering touch before she turned around to face him. 

"Try it. Tell me how it is". 

John smirked before lifting the cookie to her mouth. 

"oh no. I've already eaten so many of them. I made them specially for you" 

"Such a good wife" John smiled. The cookie skimmed his lips before he shoved it into his mouth, letting the buttery goodness explode against his tongue. 

"Wow" he exclaimed, "This is really good". Y/n’s eyes lit up with excitement as she watched him eat a second cookie without hesitation. 

"Good. I'm glad you like them". 

John lifted his glass of water to his lips before he felt something wash over him. Something he hadn't felt… Ever. 

His hand extended towards Y/n as he tried to grab her, reaching out for support but she only pulled away, the smile she wore still on her face as she watched him intently. 

John breathed heavily but the air just wouldn't go in, like his lungs were surrounded by metal bands. Next came the rising panic, the dizzy feeling and the need to get low to the ground. The exertion brought on more breathlessness, like the air around him was devoid of oxygen. His ribs heaved up and down but no benefit came.

"Y.. Y/n…" his wheezing voice called out to her but she only stepped back. 

The poison was made to mimic an efficient virus, to kill the host fast. A few drops here and there and the decay set in, a sort of race to the bottom. The best part? She didn't even know what it was. She just read the bottle that John had stashed away and shoved it into the batter. If there was one thing she learnt from her mother was that love was the best blindfold for any plan. 

Y/n picked up Aurora, cradling her in her arms as she watched John gasp for breath. In his glassy eyes that stared up at her, she saw her reflection and she saw that what she was doing was the right thing. 

"You were and always have been a - monster" the words seemed to burn her tongue but she ignored the pain it caused. "You will never be able to find me or her again. Goodbye John" 

As the blackness finally began to consume him once and for all, he watched as his love pulled open the front door, her shadowy figure slowly fading into the darkness as he also did. 

-

3 months later. 

"Thank you, detective" y/n pushed the papers into her handbag before placing the bag back onto that handle of the pram. Aurora laid asleep in her arms and y/n slowly stood up. 

"No worries" the detective smiled kindly before reaching out over the table, stopping y/n from moving any more. "-and just so you know, I'm sorry. I know there isn't anything I can say that can fix everything that happened to you but You're safe now. We won't let anything else happen." y/n smiled softly and placed her hand on top of his reassuringly. 

"It's okay. You searched and you couldn't find me. There isn't anything anyone could have done. He… Was different. He was smart". 

The detective shook his head and pulled his hand away, burying them in piles of paper. 

"he was a monster for what he did". 

Y/n felt the tears well in the back of her eyes as she felt her throat turn dry. 

"I-" before she could even think of anything to say, Aurora began to cry and y/n laughed, shaking the pain of her aching heart away. "-I should really get her home". 

"Of course". He led y/n to the door, holding it open for her as they began to proceed down the corridor. 

"There's still quite a few reporters out there so it's best you take the back exit. Officer Hughes will swing by your place later on to check in" 

"Oh. Terry? He doesn't have to. He's been doing that everyday for the past three months -" 

"Nonsense. It's the least we could do". 

Y/n smiled and looked down at her watch. 

"Thank you so much detective. I'll see you later" 

"see ya". 

Y/n left the building and sighed as she heard the loud noise of the city and wind around her, the warm sun warming her body just as the first few drops of rain fell from the sky. 

"Let's get you home" she whispered to her daughter, pushing the pram towards home. 

-

The cafe that y/n lived above laid ahead, just around the corner and y/n couldn't wait to get her feet up. It's royal blue paint glistening under the closed sky was definitely a sight for sore eyes. She could just about see the large sign, decorated with droplets of water that hung on like glistening jewels. "Gloria's."

 Outside the sidewalk that would bustle in a few short hours was quiet, the concrete oblivious to whether it was midday or midnight. Y/n’s face smirked upward at the sight of the flower planter to the right, the city has put in new blooms that will give flashes of sunny yellows and hot pinks through the springtime. If she stopped walking right now she could almost hear the heartbeat of the city, quiet, like the ticking of an old Grandfather clock.

Her mind was too preoccupied with the world around her and y/n didn't notice the figure that hid under the umbrella that she nearly ran over. 

"Oh I'm so sorry!" y/n exclaimed, extending her hand to steady the person. Y/n waited patiently for the person's response, waiting to make sure she didn't hurt them. 

Then she heard it, the dark, low chuckle that made her spine tingle. 

"You're just as polite as the first time, Princess" 

The end.

Tags

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(rest of tags will be added in reblogs)

#Keanu reeves #John Wick #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick #john wick imagine #keanu reeves oneshot

[addercharmer]

Aizawa Shōta blinked slowly at Tsukauchi Naomasa, the detective was standing on his door holding the hand of a small child, looking somewhere between having a full nervous breakdown, crying, and worryingly serious. 

“Tsukauchi, what can I do for you?” Shōta asked, his voice rough with having been forced out of a nap. 

“Aizawa.” The detective started, paused, took a deep breath and tried again. “Aizawa, could we please come in and speak to you and Yamada?” The hand that was being held by the small child jerked a little to show who ‘we’ were. 

Opening the door further, Shōta turned his back on the detective as a way of granting them entry. He turned on his heel and made his way to the kitchen. He felt like he was going to need several pots of coffee to deal with whatever the slightly older man was going to dump on him. 

The quiet thump of shoes and click of the door shutting were the only indication of the two following his silent invitation. The light steps that he could hear coming closer then further away told him that Tsukauchi was headed to the living room of his home was enough of a warning to have Shōta calling his husband instead of texting like he had been planning. 

It took all of six rings for the other man to answer. "Shō! What's up?" Yamada Hizashi sounded a little breathless as he answered. 

"Tsukauchi is here, with a kid." Shōta grunted into the mic of his cell. "Come home." He ordered the blonde, and hung up before even giving the blond a chance to say anything. 

Shuffling his way into the living room without his coffee, and eyeing Tsukauchi with wry dark eyes, Shōta stiffly sat in his favorite spot on the loveseat that was kiddy-corner to the couch that was being occupied. 

"Yamada is out. I called him to come home, if this can't wait for him then we can get it over with." Shōta told Tsukauchi after he had made himself comfortable. 

He watched closely as Tsukauchi eyes the kid sitting next to him, still gripping his hand tightly. The detective looked closer to having that breakdown the longer he looked at the kid, it was honestly starting to worry the underground hero a little. 

The silence felt like it dragged on far longer than the forty-seven seconds Shōta counted. 

"Probably best to wait, you both will need some support." The last part was muttered under Tsukauchi's breath, and Shōta figured that he wasn't supposed to hear it. 

The next twenty minutes were spent with idle chatter, both adults in the room getting tencer as each minute passed. At twenty-two minutes the front door opened and shut, the sound of heavy boots clunking on the floor as they were taken off and dropped pushed the expression on Tsukauchi's face closer to resigned and sad. 

"Ah, hello Tsukauchi. You needed me home?" Hizashi's voice called from just outside of Shōta's peripherals. 

"Yamada, Aizawa." Tsukauchi's tone was a forced flat, Shōta recognized it as the one that was used for grieving families. 

"I offer my condolences Aizawa. Your sister Midoriya Inko was found dead yesterday morning, the investigation is still open and I cannot share much more." Shōta froze, he hadn't spoken to his sister since his wedding, not that they had much contact before that even. It had caused all kinds of issues when Inko had shown up and recognized Hizashi as someone she had had a one night stand with when they had met at a college party when Shōta and Hizashi had been sixteen. 

"That being said, Midoriya Inko's will stated that her daughter Izumi would go to you and or her biological father first, in the event that she was not welcome there she was to be put in foster care." Many things in Tsukauchi's tone were sending off very loud warning signals that Shōta wasn't sure he even wanted to hear much else. 

Hizashi had grabbed his hand from where he had seated himself next to Shōta when the news of his sister's passing was delivered, he squeezed tighter when the kid was brought up. 

"Yamada, your daughter was dropped off in front of the police station six days ago where officer Sansa and myself have been taking care of her, until her paternity test came back." At this Shōta felt Hizashi stiffen next to him. 

"I would like to introduce you to Midoriya Izumi. She is your niece Aizawa, and your daughter Yamada." The strain in Tsukauchi's voice was very clear, and Shōta idly wondered how his sister had hidden a full on child from him for four years. 

"What?" The question was quiet, but full of hysteria. "No...I...what?" Hizashi tried again before Shōta felt his body just collapse in on itself. 

The words Tsukauchi had said were making their way through Shōta's brain but they weren't fully being processed. 

The sniffle caught his attention finally, it was the first sound he had heard from the kid. Giving his head a firm shake Shōta finally took a look at the kid. 

The kid's hair was a wild mess of waves and curls, it was black but it looked to have lime green highlights naturally sprinkled through it, her eyes were the same toxic green as Hizashis' they even had darker green that spiraled out from the pupil. 

The freckles that were dusted across pale skin reminded him of his own mother, she had been of mixed nationality, holding citizenship in both Japan and Canada. His own freckles would show up when he had been in the sun, which made him avoid the giant ball of burning gas even more no matter how much he missed and tried to remember his mother. 

The kid's ears were starting to turn red much like his own do when he is overly emotional. That observation finally kicked his numb body into moving. 

Still holding his husband's hand in a death grip he dropped off the loveseat and onto his knees in front of the kid who was holding onto Tsukauchi so tightly that her knuckles were white. 

"Hey kid, did Inko ever talk to you about me?" Shōta asked, trying to distract the kid from the coming tears.

The kid 'Izumi' he forced himself to recall shook her head and nibbled on her lip like she wanted to say something. 

"Do you know who I am?" He tried, it was highly unlikely that the kid knew him, but the nod shocked him into staring at toxic green eyes longer. 

"How?" Was out of his mouth before he could stop it. 

"Pictures. Inko had pictures with names and days on the back." Okay there were a lot of things in that sentence and tone that needed to be analyzed later, but Shōta pushed it aside to get some other questions answered. 

Nodding, Shōta asked his next pressing question. "Do you know who he is?" He jerked his head towards the silent blond that was in a still unresponsive heap next to him. 

Izumi nodded again, her ears taking on a deeper red color. "Pictures?" Shōta asked, getting another nod in return. 

Squeezing his eyes closed tightly and shaking the hand that Hizashi was still holding roughly, Shōta was in no way prepared for the next words that were spoken. 

"It's okay if you don't want me, Inko and Hisashi didn't want me, that's why they left me at the police." It was so quiet that Shōta wanted to convince himself that he had imagined it. 

Shōta stilled, he wasn't sure what to say, and he was pretty close to either a panic attack or disassociating much like he husband was doing. 

Tsukauchi cleared his throat, it jerked Shōta out of his thoughts long enough for the detective to say. 

"We came for introductions and to share the information, Izumi will be staying with either myself or Sansa until you two have made your decision. I know it's not protocol...just give me a call later." 

That said Tsukauchi scooped the kid 'Izumi' into his arms and quickly left the two pro-heros alone. 

The click of the door shutting sounded like an explosion to Shōta, it jolted him again just enough to turn to Hizashi and work on bringing the man back to the real world. 

Yanking hard on the hand still gripping his own he unbalanced Hizashi enough to get a stutter in his breathing. 

"Zashi. He's gone, you gotta come back." Shōta demanded quietly. 

Wrapping his free arm around Hizashis' chest Shōta started to tap out the rhythm of an English song that Hizashi had used to randomly belt out in highschool. Giving himself and Hizashi something to focus on would be the only way to keep them grounded, usually it was Hizashi bringing him back but it worked both ways. 

Shōta was just starting the song over for the third time when Hizashi shifted against him and groaned. 

"I'm so sorry Shō. I didn't know. I swear." We're the first words that spilled from Hizashi's mouth. 

"Oh shut up you overgrown cockatoo." Shōta gently in his own way told his husband. 

"You have a daughter that was hidden from you, I have a niece that was hidden from me. My sister is dead, Tsukauchi said nothing of Inko's husband." Saying it wasn't helping it sink in, but he needed to say it. 

"She, Izumi, knows who we are in relation to her. She should be around four?" That question seems to jolt Hizashi a little, and a look between concentration and befuddlement is plastered across his face. 

"Un, three going on four at the youngest." Is the very quiet reply to the question about Izumi's age. 

Shōta pulled in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it out in a rush. 

"Tsukauchi and Sansa are taking care of her, and Tsukauchi asked us to call him later." Shōta told Hizashi the last piece of information.

Feeling the nod against his chest, Shōta just kept tapping the song out. 

"I'm sorry about your sister Shō." Hizashi whispered into the fabric of Shōta's sweater. "I know you weren't close, but, still." 

Shōta shrugged, "Honestly, part of me forgot I even had a sister." He told Hizashi bluntly. "So her death isn't going to bother me too much." It was harsh, but Shōta was being honest. 

"Okay, next thing." Hizashi pulled himself away a little but still kept close enough in Shōta's personal bubble that they could comfort each other. 

"Izumi?" Hizashi asked, Shōta nodded when he realized that it was a question of her name. "Izumi was dropped off six days ago, she had a paternity test done to find her father. I am her father." Hizashi's breathing picked up again. 

"Okay, just stop, let's look at this differently." Shōta spoke quickly. "My sister is dead, she had a daughter, her custody was given to us in the will. I know we have only been married a year…" Shōta paused to take in a deep breath and release it again. "Do you want to take in the kid?"

Hizashi stayed quiet for what felt like forever. "Can we talk to her first?" Was the tentative question. 

Shōta let out another sigh, this one partly relieved and nodded.

#dadzawa #dadmic #bnha #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #naomasa tsukauchi #blue tongue #chapter1

[saladejin]

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’ 

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me) 

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :) 

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories. 

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.  

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.” 

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed. 

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

  ~ three months later ~

 “That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.  

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

~

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

~

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

~

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

~

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don’t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

~

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?  

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

 ~

~

 Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home. 

.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

TO BE CONTINUED

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

#jimin x reader #jimin angst #jimin smut #bgwdynamitedads #btsghostie #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #jimin imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jimin fanfic #BTS jimin #bts fluff #bts fanfic #policeman jimin #s2l au #heavy angst #shy jimin #saladejin

[novantinuum]

On the corrupted!Steven theory...

So, originally when I mused on this yesterday I was just playing around with random possibilities.

After combing the series for info about corruption, though, I’m mildly spooked at the increased potential for this to... perhaps be a thing? I’m not saying that this is what I for sure believe will happen- to be honest, I’m not even sure Crewniverse would go this direction at all- but just for funsies, let’s see what kind of “evidence” or “foreshadowing” exists that might support this potential story path in the context of canon.

(EDIT: 10/7/19 

I honestly no longer think this creature is a worm at all whatsoever, it’s either more akin to a horned caterpillar or potentially has limbs. Either way we can see so little right now that it’s hard to tell. I’m not editing the rest of this post because I want it to exist in its original form- but do keep this in mind reading the rest! XP)

1) The design of this worm creature.

Let’s start simple. Let’s start tangible. 

For future reference and simplicity, I will be henceforth be referring to this creature as... “Wormy Boi.”

So, let’s see what we’ve got here. I’m definitely not the first person to point out this fella’s pink nature, and the jarringly human-like nose they’ve got. (Compared to other corruptions, which have had distinctly non-humanoid features.) In the photo above, we also have Wormy Boi sporting glowing pink eyes, which then send out a flare of pink light/energy. So, seemingly a powerful entity.

If you watch the short segment before they sit upright, you’ll see that Wormy Boi is super, super big. They’re in the background, but BOY do they loom. The shadows cast upon them especially push that sense of size. They’ve also got a whole bunch of spikes on their back and framing their face.

So, then. What evidence could be made for this being a corrupted!Steven, as opposed to some other run-of-the-mill monster?

Steven Universe Future is a limited series, described as ‘tying up loose ends.” To me, as a viewer, it would make far more sense for the antagonists/conflicts to deal with big concepts that have already been established since there’s such a limited amount of time we have left with this world. Introducing a completely alien species in the last act of the show would feel offbeat from both a writing and a viewing perspective. Corruption- on the other hand- is something we don’t have full answers to yet.

We don’t see any gem, yes- but Steven’s gem is- of course- on his belly. If this theory were to be true, that would translate to the gem being on Wormy Boi’s underside, far out of our sight in this shot, due to how massive they are. As an addition to this, not showing the gem gives an air of mystery to this creature’s true nature- which makes it seem like there’s something surprising to discover here.

A corrupted diamond would surely be MASSIVE. Also, very powerful. The beam of pink light hints at Wormy Boi being quite a powerhouse.

The spikes on Wormy Boi’s back and around their face highly resemble rose thorns. We all know how much the Crewniverse loves their rose symbolism, and design wise, this aspect would make a lot of visual sense for a corrupted Steven. Running off of that:

The face/nose shape and the five horns on this creature’s head give off a very Steven-like silhouette. 

The nose, of course. The face has a very Steven-like shape to it, overall- although noticeably more angular and sharp. The mouth is reminiscent of the Watermelon Stevens’ mouths. And as for the horns, there’s five of them positioned equidistant around their face, just as Steven’s hair is always formed from five lil’ bumps at the same positions.

Okay, moving on.

(Read more under the cut!)

2) We do not yet understand the true nature of corruption.

“I guess it’ll take more than a kiss to heal damage from the Diamonds…” -Pearl, Monster Reunion

Corruption is still- bafflingly- a huge mystery. The Gems we’ve watched the CGs bubble since season one have been healed, yes, but there are still many gaps in our understanding of it. With Steven Universe Future’s promise to address some lingering story threads, it would make sense if corruption was on the plate for further discussion. So, what DO we know?

We know it’s something the Diamonds can do. Interestingly, it doesn’t seem to require all four diamonds. Three of them together were able to cause all the damage to Earth. There’s also no statement made that more than one Diamond is required to cause effects like that. 

In Legs From Here to Homeworld, Blue and Yellow Diamond weren’t actually aware the corruption was something they were capable of producing. They seemed to assume they obliterated the Gems on Earth. Corruption is then, even a mystery to them. That’s... odd, isn’t it?

Pearl states that it’s “something nearly impossible to describe.” Garnet goes further to say... “It’s sorta like... if MC Bear-Bear didn’t tear the fabric of his arm, but the fabric of his mind.”

"A sound… A song?” There’s a lot of association between corruption and music.

It causes Gems to lose touch with their usual forms, instead warping into a more outwardly "monstrous” version of themselves that appear to be “just a bundle of fight-or-flight reflexes and survival instincts.” As seen by Centipeetle in Monster Buddy and Monster Reunion, it appears as if corrupted Gems try to regenerate with their original forms if unbubbled, but are simply not in a state where they can maintain that.

As seen with Jasper in Earthlings, extreme emotional distress very much seems to speed up corruption’s effects. This is less of a stated fact and more of my read on that episode, but I believe it to be an important tidbit, especially since Garnet states that corruption’s damage is mental rather than physical, at least at its core. This can also be seen in Monster Reunion with how Centipeetle’s partial healing backfires when she remembers the trauma of being corrupted and reacts strongly.

Now, when it comes to healing corruption, Steven tries to heal Centipeetle himself, and does make some nice progress... helping her regain a hold on herself as he treats her with love and compassion and understanding... but it’s ultimately not a healing that can occur in isolation, helping her on his own. She needs more support before she can heal from this corruption to a state where she can truly be herself again.

And that eventually comes in the form of the other Diamonds. So, all four diamonds can help relieve the corruption if they help these Gems all together. 

3) How could this theory potentially fit into the story anyways, you nutter?

Well, here’s the part of this post where I make some broad conjectures. I honestly am shooting fish into a barrel here because again- we know barely anything about how corruption actually happened initially, and my thoughts are very jumbled. Please forgive me.

"I don’t really know how the corruption works. It’s like they’re sick. They don’t remember who they used to be.” -Steven, Gem Hunt

So, corruption seems to be a mental ailment of Gemkind, turned manifest. It also seems to have a deep connection to a Gem’s emotions, with Centipeetle growing smaller and slightly calmer upon feeling more secure in Steven’s presence, and corruption speeding up as Jasper grew more and more emotionally overwrought and self-deriding about herself. 

When it comes to the Diamonds and how they perhaps caused it originally- without fully realizing- we know that at least Blue and White have abilities focused on causing others to act in certain ways. Blue has sway over one’s emotions, and White has a knack for forcing her thoughts and self upon others. (I’m not sure how Yellow’s ability would play in here.) Mayhaps, mixed with their grief and guilt and anger, their power simply pressed all of that hurt emotion onto all the Gems on Earth in one whole fail swoop...? Tearing their minds in the process of it all?

The question I still have, though- is whether a single diamond could produce effects like this. And whether a diamond could turn that ability on themself.

Could Steven accidentally corrupt himself? Why might that happen?

Well, let’s look at our boy here. 

He’s got a wide circle of support at this time in canon, but notably, he’s notorious for bottling up his emotion and not letting others in to help him- instead dropping everything to help them with their problems. Just to name a few examples (a few):

The Test. He feels betrayed and hurt at the Gems for a moment about the way they’re babying him with the rigged test, but instead of admitting the hurt he feels about the scenario, bottles that up to help them feel more like good guardians.

Joy Ride. He opens up to the Cool Kids about deep, incredibly troubling stuff that’s long been on his mind, but he’s never once talked about it with his family.

Mindful Education. The perils of bottling one’s emotions is literally the whole plot of the episode. The kid has a full out sobbing breakdown while he’s plunging to his death. Connie gets through to him a little here, but later episodes show that the resolution we see here is merely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Steven’s internal issues. 

Storm in the Room. Externally, Steven tries so hard to put on a guise of content and positivity, but once alone in Rose’s room feels safe enough to let the full brunt of his emotional trauma come out in an almost explosive manner. Geeze, get this kid some hugs. 

Gemcation. Steven actually fails bitterly on putting on his customary smile in this episode, simply because the weight of his problems have become such an impossible burden to him. When the other Gems are trying to help him open up, he isn’t immediately responsive to their efforts. 

What’s Your Problem? Amethyst spends the whole episode trying to cheer Steven up and find out how he’s doing, and instead Steven downplays his own feelings on the matter and ends up helping her sort out her own emotional issues.

So to sum: Many an Emotional Issue, a chronic tendency to avoid outwardly addressing said issues in favor of helping everyone else instead... and to avoid accepting other people’s help.

Even if he’s surrounded by all these people who love him, the fact of the matter is that Steven still feels as if he has to face his own inner demons alone.

Now, let’s look at the lil’ teasing synopsis that was given for Steven Universe Future:

“After saving the universe, Steven is still at it, tying up every loose end. But as he runs out of other people’s problems to solve, he’ll finally have to face his own.”

Blatantly sounds like we’re gonna finally get some addressing of Steven’s emotional state, now doesn’t it?

4) A concept on what could, theoretically happen

“Maybe… it IS a guy in a monster costume. I don’t mean literally, silly! What I mean is... there might be a conscious Gem still inside there, somewhere. What if the monster is turning back and forth into its original form? If it is, it might not be as corrupted as we think! There might still be a chance to save it!” -Steven, Gem Hunt

Suppose Steven- by some as-of-yet unknown means- ends up accidentally corrupting himself. His sorry emotional state only further amplifies the effects of this corruption, and makes it really hard to retain control. Wormy Boi as a form could be like... all his inner demons made manifest, a metaphoric mirror into his current mental state. But- as he is half-human- he’s not entirely unaware of what’s happening. Perhaps... as the quote above could be sneaky foreshadowing for... how he’s turning back and forth between this corrupted form and his normal form. 

He likely wouldn’t want everyone to see him like this, doesn’t want everyone to visibly know the sheer depth of how much he’s hurting. But just like the corrupted Gems were only able to be helped in community, with the support of the CGs and the Diamonds in preparing the fountain, Steven can’t fix this on his own. 

He can no longer face the dark alone.

At some point, everyone has to take a brave step. Reach out. Accept help. 

Steven’s helped so many people, and surely he deserves that same love and care in return, too.

And perhaps, when he’s eventually healed from this- and has gotten the opportunity to be open with his family and friends about the hurt he’s facing- he’ll be left with “corruption scars” as well. I think it’s an important thing to address, that no one goes through experiences like these without lingering effects. Stuff stays with you. Healing is not always linear. But life is a continuous journey, and with the support of people who love you surrounding, you too can make a change... can continue to live to the fullest at every moment possible.

I think the above would be a lovely moral for Steven Universe to tackle in its last run of episodes, no matter how they approach it- daft corruption theory or not.

Now, in the end- a reiteration. This is just a wild theory. I’m not trying to be any authoritative voice saying that this is for sure what will happen, because in reality I have no idea what Crewniverse is cooking. However, I do think it’s fun speculation, and I am kinda spooked at how well things fit. 

Whatever happens, I’m sure it will make me weep like a baby, though. Hoh boy. Grant me sanity in these coming months as we wait for answers.

#su #steven universe #su future #steven universe future #su theory #corrupted steven theory #my post stuff #long post #the mighty 500 #1K #2K #3K #4K #5K