#joint operations 8

[mrcformoso]

Double upload today coz I finally got around to editing this!

CC11 with my partner, trying to finish R18 within two hours of event start because we're crazy like that. Alongside that is a continuation of my road to Chongyue series where I pull in Joint Operations 8!

[sublux]

they released my full official pediatric medical record. talk about malpractice

[g4zdtechtv]

THE PILE PRESENTS: AOTS! - You Can't Handle the Goop | 4/21/05

Take that subway down Yancy Street, 'cause it's Clobbering Time!

(4GTV - STREAM WHAT YOU PLAY!)

[keferon]

Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:

They don't.

Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].

Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.

Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?

Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.

Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.

Machines don't bleed.

So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.

Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.

Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].

Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.

Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.

He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).

It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.

He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.

He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.

OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,

[zvaigzdelasas]

The Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) has extended an offer to the US, proposing exclusive access to its critical minerals and infrastructure projects, reported Bloomberg.

In return, the DRC is seeking security assistance to combat a rebellion that is allegedly supported by Rwanda.

In a direct appeal, Congo has requested an urgent meeting between President Felix Tshisekedi and US President Donald Trump.

The proposed pact is expected to grant US companies privileged access to minerals essential for the global energy transition.

The request, conveyed in a letter to US Secretary of State Marco Rubio, underscores the DRC’s pressing need for support as it contends with internal conflict.

Congo’s mining sector, a significant source of copper, is currently dominated by Chinese companies.

A partnership with the US will enable Congo to diversify its economic alliances and reduce China’s influence.

The proposal includes operational control for US companies, “exclusive” extraction and export rights, participation in a deep-water port project and the creation of a joint strategic mineral stockpile.

In exchange for these economic opportunities, the US would provide military training, equipment, and direct security assistance including access to military bases to protect strategic resources.

The French investigative outlet Africa Intelligence reported that DRC President Félix Tshisekedi dispatched figures within his inner circle and mining industry officials to the United States and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) to discuss strategic mineral partnership agreements in exchange for bilateral military assistance in late February.[1] Africa Intelligence reported that the DRC floated an arrangement with the UAE for a copper and cobalt mining site in the Lualaba province in the southeastern DRC’s Katanga region, but China currently dominates mining in this region and additional details of the proposal remain undisclosed.[2] Tshisekedi had publicly offered the United States and the European Union (EU) “a stake in his country’s vast mineral wealth” and said that the Trump administration could benefit from “a stream of strategic minerals from Congo” in an interview with The New York Times on February 22.[3][...]

The DRC’s proposal mirrors the US-Ukraine critical minerals deal that trades access and investment in Ukraine’s mineral industry for potential US security guarantees.[6] The French magazine Jeune Afrique quoted a “senior American diplomat” who speculated that Tshisekedi drew inspiration for the deal after seeing US interest in Ukrainian minerals.[7] The DRC’s proposal for the Banana port resembles a prior DRC-UAE agreement in 2021, when the UAE-based logistics company DP World acquired 70 percent ownership of the Banana port in exchange for a $1 billion investment in the DRC and the delivery of 30 armored vehicles for the Congolese army.[8]

5 Mar 25

[elinorasims]

Lot Tour | Rock Ridge Castle Academy

World | Glimmerbrook Lot Size | 40 x 30 Value | Furnished 753,552 ; Unfurnished 204,816 Beds | 15 Baths | 8

CC | No Packs | Unrestricted

"In response to the Ministry of Occult Sims' astute advice that the tempestuous relations between Vampires, Werewolves, and Spellcasters be mended, and that occult Sims could reap many benefits through co-operation and joint ventures, Rock Ridge Castle has been host to budding occult teens for several generations, aiming to teach them how to harness their powers safely and collaborate to achieve great things together." Residential Rental Ver | 3 Units ; 152 simoleons/day Each unit comprises single occupancy butler's quarters in the basement, two shared bedrooms with space for three teens each on the upper floors, and two rooms on the top floor for YA/Adult occupancy - all other rooms in the building are shared. The gameplay idea I had here was that three 'families' of six teens (3 M, 3 F) with two YA/Adult 'teacher's occupy each of the three "rental units" - making, essentially, a mega academy style lot. I designed each 'unit' for a different occult type - vampire, werewolves, and spellcasters :3 fun or chaotic and stressful I dunno lol

INTERIOR

Ground Floor

Entry and main corridors with central 'winter garden' with domed glass ceiling. Communal library, den, art/music classroom, wc, potions classroom, dining room with shared kitchen facilities, herbology classroom, and meditation/'chapel' room.

First Floor

Four lightly themed bedrooms to sleep three teen sims each, two large communal bathrooms with shower, bath and wc stalls, den area, and candle making/misc classroom.

Second Floor

Divination classroom, woodworking/gemology classroom, two further communal bathroom areas, and two bedrooms to sleep 3 teen vampires each.

Third Floor

Six individual bedrooms for YA/Adults, two shared single bathroom spaces.

Basement

Large swimming pool, changing area, and laundry rooms. Butlers' quarters, storage rooms, and staff kitchen.

GROUNDS

FLOORPLANS + DOWNLOAD >>

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, stalking, use of the name "sweetheart", please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Welcome to the underground, where secrets are currency and alliances are as fragile as glass. Part 1 of our Mafia AU story is here, ready to pull you into a world of shadowy deals, unexpected loyalties, and high-stakes drama. Step carefully, but don’t look away—you won’t want to miss a thing!

Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 5 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 1: The Hidden World

The dim lights of the bar flickered, casting a soft amber glow across worn wooden tables and well-worn stools. The low hum of the jukebox played in the background, mingling with the clink of glasses and the steady hum of conversation. The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke hung thick in the air, a constant reminder of the bar's gritty charm. This was no high-end joint — just a dive, a haven for the forgotten and those who preferred to keep their lives in the shadows. For years, you’d been part of that rhythm, the steady beat of routine keeping the world at bay, making you feel just detached enough to avoid the spotlight.

And then they walked in.

Members of the 141 Mafia.

For months now, they’d come in like ghosts slipping through the shadows — deadly, enigmatic, and utterly out of place in the world most people knew. To the outside eye, they looked like any other patrons, but the air around them was charged, like a storm perpetually on the horizon. The kind of tension that made you realize they weren’t just men who had seen an unspoken battle, but men who carried it with them, like a weight that could never be set down. But to you, they were just regulars, faces who blended into the dim light like anyone else. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

John "Soap" MacTavish was the first to break the ice. His boyish grin and easy banter disarmed you from the start, making you forget, if only for a moment, that he was part of something darker. He’d sling a joke your way or toss a casual flirtation across the bar, a half-finished beer in hand. His carefree nature seemed almost out of place, but when you caught the flicker in his eyes — a fleeting darkness — you knew there was more to him than the easy charm. He often asked you to stay after closing for a drink, and though you’d laughed it off the first few times, lately, you found yourself lingering a little longer, drawn to the mystery behind his laugh..

Then there was Simon Riley — Ghost. Silent as a shadow, he would plant himself in the farthest corner of the bar, a hood pulled low and that eerie skull-patterned mask always hiding his face. No one dared approach him unless invited, but his eyes, constantly scanning the room, missed nothing. His mere presence sent shivers down your spine, though not from fear — it was something else, something deeper, as though he carried the weight of a hundred lives on his shoulders. Whenever Soap got too close, Ghost’s gaze would darken just a shade, his silent watch never breaking, as though ensuring nothing more than words passed between you two.

John Price was different — a man who exuded authority and a weariness that came with a lifetime of hidden battles. He’d sit at the bar nursing a tumbler of whiskey, sharing stories that sounded more like fiction than fact. 

And then there was Gaz. He brought a breath of fresh air to the heavy atmosphere. His laid-back attitude, the way he could light up the room with a joke or a quick challenge to a game of darts, made it easy to forget that he too was part of this group of regulars. He’d always laugh at your terrible aim, encouraging you despite the fact that you’d never win, but that was the charm of it. He had a way of making you feel like you were in on the joke, like you were part of their world, if only for a moment.

But tonight was different.

The bar, usually bustling at this hour on a Friday night, had grown unsettlingly still. Midnight had come and gone, and the usual hum of late-night laughter and drunken banter was absent. You were meant to take your break, but something gnawed at the back of your mind, keeping you anchored behind the bar. There was a heaviness in the air, a stillness that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t quite see.

You wiped down the counter, deciding that it’d be better to call your boss and close up  instead of standing around, casting a glance toward the door. Nothing. No one. Even the regulars had slipped away without you noticing. The quiet was unnatural, as if the bar itself had exhaled its last breath. The jukebox continued its soft, haunting melody, the only sound left in the deafening silence. As you reached for a bottle to busy yourself, your fingers brushed against something cold.

A folded piece of paper.

It sat there on the counter, exactly where an afternoon patron had been sitting earlier. Your heart thudded in your chest as you unfolded it, the jagged handwriting making it somewhat hard to read:

"I’ll see you later, sweetheart…"

Read Part 2

Part 1 just scratched the surface of what’s to come! Thanks for taking this first step into the underworld with me. The stakes are only getting higher, and Part 2 will be here before you know it!

[foxtrology]

Prompt 24 for the Harry Castillo series, please. I already miss them so much 😭

dad! harry castillo

prompt 24: a rainy sunday. adella makes a fort out of blankets. harry reads to her inside it. frances joins. she falls asleep halfway through.

prompt list

⸻

The rain came in slow and soft, the kind that blurred the edges of the windows and made everything outside look like it belonged to another world entirely. It started sometime before dawn—just a quiet patter on the roof, like a whispered warning that the whole day would belong to the indoors.

Which was fine.

Because inside their home, the world was already full.

The fire had been lit by 8 AM��a small, glowing thing Harry built with practiced ease, even though he insisted the chimney flue was “annoyingly modern.” The kettle whistled gently, the baby monitor was silent, and the house smelled like the cinnamon tea she liked and the faint remnants of blueberry muffins from the day before.

Adella had woken up with hair like a storm cloud and cheeks flushed from sleep. She let out one big, dramatic yawn and immediately demanded “something warm” which usually meant oatmeal but this time meant buttered toast cut into stars.

Harry made it without comment.

Now, well into the morning, the living room had been completely transformed.

It started with two blankets. Just two. One from the back of the couch and one from the linen basket his wife always told him to stop overstuffing. Adella had dragged them into the living room while he was checking emails, arms full and face determined.

Then came the pillows. Then more blankets. Then two of the dining room chairs. And by the time Harry looked up from his laptop, half of their home had been turned into a masterpiece of loops and drapes and the kind of architectural chaos only a six-year-old could design.

“This is a castle,” Adella announced proudly, one sock off and one sock on, her hair sticking up in three different directions. “No grown ups allowed unless they know the password.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Is the password your father pays the mortgage’?”

“Nope.” She grinned. “It’s marshmallow.’”

“Of course it is.”

He set the laptop aside without another word.

Because this was what mattered. Not the missed call from his attorney. Not the draft contract waiting for his signature. Not even the brief that had been marked “urgent” by someone in a city he no longer lived in.

No.

Right now, what mattered was the fact that his daughter had built a fort out of his bathrobe, three of their throw pillows, and the extra towels from the guest bathroom. And she was looking at him like he was either going to play or become irrelevant.

So he got down on the floor.

Of course he did.

Harry Castillo, former master of boardrooms and billion-dollar mergers, now on all fours, crawling through a blanket tunnel held up by two spatulas and a rolling pin.

Inside the fort, it was warm and dim, lit only by the little battery-operated lantern Adella used for “emergencies.”

There was a small basket of books in the corner. Two juice boxes. Three stuffed animals. Frances, their cat—more like Adella’s cat now—was already curled up in the back corner, her tail flicking with indifference, as if this were just another meeting she’d been forced to attend.

“Okay,” Harry said, settling onto one of the blankets, joints creaking as he leaned back against a pile of throw pillows. “What’s the agenda?”

Adella blinked at him. “What’s an agenda?”

He smiled. “It’s a fancy word for plan.”

“Oh. The plan is you read me five stories, then we take a nap, then we have snacks, then you read me three more.”

“That’s very specific.”

“I’m very specific.”

“Yes,” he said, pulling her into his lap, “you are.”

She settled against him without hesitation, back against his chest, legs tucked to the side like she’d been doing this her whole life. And maybe she had. In a way.

Because Harry had always read to her. Even when she was too small to understand. Even when her eyes just blinked up at him and her hands curled into little fists and she could barely hold her head steady.

He’d read financial reports aloud just to hear his own voice calm her. He’d read picture books he didn’t understand and fantasy books he couldn’t keep up with. He’d read cookbooks, shampoo bottles, the back of granola bars.

Anything, as long as she was pressed against him and listening.

Now, she handed him her current favorite—The Adventures of Buzzy the Bee.

Harry cleared his throat dramatically.

“Chapter one….Buzzy has a dream.”

Adella sighed contentedly, her small hands clutching the edge of the blanket. Her head tilted back against his shoulder, the crown of her curls soft against his chin. She was warm and a little sticky from her morning juice, and she smelled faintly of lavender shampoo and whatever magic kids carried around just under their skin.

Outside, the rain fell harder.

Inside, time slowed.

Harry read each page like it was gospel. Every silly line, every pun, every bee-related joke that made her giggle with her whole chest.

Frances shifted slightly at their feet, then—shockingly—climbed into his lap. Right between them. Adella gasped.

“She knows we’re reading,” Harry whispered, as if it were a secret only the three of them could share.

They read three books that way. Then four. Then half of a fifth.

By the time Harry turned the page on the book, Adella’s eyelids were already fluttering.

“Hey,” he whispered.

No response.

Her thumb had crept up near her mouth—not in it, but close. Her breath was soft and even, her body slack against his. Frances had fully stretched out between them, her purr vibrating gently through the blankets.

Harry didn’t move.

Not even a little.

Because this—this right here—was everything.

He could feel the warmth of her back against his chest. The tiny weight of her, still so small, still just beginning her life. Her heartbeat, slow and steady, a rhythm that had rewritten his own.

And he thought—not for the first time—how strange and sacred it all was.

That he’d almost missed this.

That he could’ve gone his whole life without knowing what it felt like to have a child fall asleep on his chest after building a fort out of couch cushions. That for so many years, he thought he’d done enough.

Built enough. Earned enough.

And then she arrived.

And nothing he’d done before her even compared.

His wife had said it once—offhand, in the middle of the night, brushing crumbs off the bed from a snack neither of them remembered eating,

“You’re the best version of yourself when you’re her dad.”

He hadn’t said anything in response.

But he’d thought about it every day since.

Because she was right.

He wasn’t perfect. God, not even close. He still got impatient. Still forgot school paperwork. Still didn’t know how to do that thing with her hair she liked.

But he showed up.

Every day.

Without being asked.

And when Adella sighed in her sleep and curled tighter against his chest, Harry didn’t care that his foot was asleep, or that the floor beneath the blankets was digging into his back.

He just wrapped an arm around her, careful and steady, and leaned his head back against the pillows.

The rain kept falling.

The fire kept crackling.

And Harry Castillo, once feared and fabled, now sixty and barefoot in a blanket fort, let himself fall asleep too.

His daughter in his arms.

His cat at his feet.

The soft sound of peace filling the corners of the only life that had ever really mattered.

And when his wife tiptoed in later—tea in hand, smile already forming when she saw them tangled together like that—she didn’t say a word.

Just sat beside them on the floor.

Watched the two halves of her heart sleep under a canopy of old towels and love-worn blankets.

And thought, simply this is everything.

Because it was.

[afeelgoodblog]

Best News of Last Week - December 11

1. Biden administration to forgive $4.8 billion in student loan debt for 80,300 borrowers

The Biden administration announced on Wednesday that it would forgive an additional $4.8 billion in student loan debt, for 80,300 borrowers.

The relief is a result of the U.S. Department of Education’s fixes to its income-driven repayment plans and Public Service Loan Forgiveness program.

2. Detroit on pace to have lowest homicide rate in 60 years this year

A partnership to reduce Detroit crime is being praised with the City on pace for the fewest homicides in 60 years.

"This is the day we’ve been waiting for, for a long time," said Mayor Mike Duggan. The coalition which includes city and county leaders that Detroit Police Chief James White formed in late 2021 to return the criminal justice system in Detroit and Wayne County to pre-Covid operations.

3. Dog that killed 8 coyotes to protect sheep running for Farm Dog of the Year

Over a year ago, Casper was stacked up against a pack of 11 coyotes, and he overcame them all to protect the livestock at his Decatur home. Now he needs your help.

Casper, the Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog, needs the public to vote for him to become the American Farm Bureau's "Farm Dog of the Year: People's Choice Pup" contest.

4. Shimmering golden mole thought extinct photographed and filmed over 80 years after last sighting

De Winton's golden mole, last sighted in 1937, has been found alive swimming through sand dunes in South Africa after an extensive search for the elusive species.

5. About 40% of the world's power generation is now renewable

The International Renewable Energy Agency (IRENA) and World Meteorological Organization (WMO) have released their first joint report to strengthen understanding of renewable energy resources and their intricate relationship with climate variability and change.

In 2022 alone, 83% of new capacity was renewable, with solar and wind accounting for most additions. Today, some 40% of power generation globally is renewable, due to rapid deployment in the past decade, according to the report.

6. Jonathan the Tortoise: World’s oldest living land animal celebrates 191st birthday

The world’s oldest living land animal - a Seychelles giant tortoise named Jonathan - has just celebrated his 191st birthday. Jonathan’s estimated 1832 birth year predates the invention of the postal stamp, the telephone, and the photograph.

The iconic creature lived through the US civil war, most of the reign of Queen Victoria, the rise and fall of the Soviet Union, and two world wars.

7. New enzyme allows CRISPR technologies to accurately target almost all human genes

A team of engineers at Duke University have developed a method to broaden the reach of CRISPR technologies. While the original CRISPR system could only target 12.5% of the human genome, the new method expands access to nearly every gene to potentially target and treat a broader range of diseases through genome engineering.

---

That's it for this week :)

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Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[kjhmyg]

rough edges pt. 18 pairing: jungkook | reader genre: college!au, fluff, slight angst word count: 16k warnings: mentions of death, drugs, executions, drinking, anxiety, weapons. 

summary: when you uncover your boyfriend's private life, a deep dive into it sucks you in as you try to help save him from himself.

a/n: one more chapter and one epiloque, and it's goodbye :( anw if u can guess my fave anime character i'll post the next part this weekend maybe

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 6.5 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / part 18 / masterlist

RE asks tag / pinterest board

Hundreds Arrested in Biggest Drug Raid of The Decade

Big Time Underground Crime Boss Taken Down 

Uncovered: An imminent underground trafficking ring busted by Department of Justice

Joint Efforts of the Police Department & DEA sees an end to Infamous Drug Lord’s Operations

⎼

“Y/n.”

A familiar presence wraps around you like a warm blanket, feeling strangely at ease every time you hear that gentle whisper of your name. Every time it calls out to you, you feel yourself inching closer to the surface of reality. 

At times when it goes quiet, you feel yourself regressing back into your cocoon and wait in silence, hoping for its return. Soft murmurs begin to dance around you, and you shake your head to shoo them away in protest, covering your ears every time they get louder, which happens every time the voice disappears. 

Arms wrapped around your legs, and head between your knees, you wait for it to come back. It feels like hours have gone by and you almost give up, until you feel something touching you, for the first time in a long while. 

Cautiously lifting your head, your eyes land on the familiar hand resting atop yours. His gorgeous eyes lure you out of the darkness and soon your hand is in his, embracing the warmth it provides. 

Jungkook helps you to your feet, and in a fraction of a second, you’re walking down the footpath of a park he used to take you in the middle of the night for a quick date. Arms swinging in between, you can’t help but to sneak glances every now and then, as if to make sure he’s still there. 

When you reach your usual spot, atop a hill with a wide view of the park and the open sky above, Jungkook grabs both your hands. He’s looking down at you, eyes roaming over your face before landing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I love you, Jungkook.” You whisper, hands on the sides of his face. He only smiles in response, and you wish he would let you hear his voice again. 

His attention suddenly turns to the bright moon above, as if it were bothering him. Following his gaze, you notice how unusually bright it seems to be. You’ve spent many nights here, lying on the grass, staring up at the sky. You can tell something’s not right. 

The glow emanating from the orb gets brighter, forcing you to turn away. 

“Jungkook?” 

When you look back, he’s gone, hand no longer in yours and nowhere to be found. The shine from above continues to blind you. You hold your arm up to shield yourself from the glare.

Somewhere in the distance, the murmuring starts once again, coming towards you from all sides. This time getting progressively louder. It’s a mixture of drowned out voices and screaming, and suddenly you can’t breathe. 

You shut your eyes to make it stop, only to feel yourself choking, struggling to breathe. When you open your eyes, the memory you tried hard to suppress comes back to haunt you, manifesting itself. 

Hongjun’s arm is around your neck, with a gun pointed to your head. A bunch of faceless officers stand before you, some in position to shoot. Then you hear him. Jungkook.

He’s running towards you at full speed, shouting something you can’t hear, hearing drowned out by a buzzing sound. 

Everything moves in slow motion, and your vision starts to blur. As you fight to keep your balance while struggling to breathe, you see Hongjun’s arm move in one swift motion, aiming for Jungkook. The last thing you see are his wide eyes, before a loud bang rings in your ear and you’re falling again. 

A sharp gasp tears from your lips, “Jungkook!” your blurt out as you suck in a breath of air, jolting upright, feeling as though you just surfaced from being underwater. Your heart booms in your chest and your eyes squint at the sudden brightness. The beeping sound somewhere near you keeps you on edge. 

“Hey you’re okay,” a voice comes up to you, a comforting hand on your back, “you’re okay my love. I’m here.” 

You look up at the worried face of your father, hovering over you with worried eyes. You will yourself to take deep breaths, trying to stay grounded. “I can’t breathe.”

“I’m gonna go get the doctor.” Hana says quickly, running out the room. 

Within the next minute, you’re surrounded by nurses, feeling the comforting grip of your dad slipping away. It all happens way too quickly, and eventually the darkness takes over once again, as your eyelids fall shut. 

⎼

It was different this time, the darkness was short-lived, and felt more like an afternoon nap. You open your eyes to the same bright room, the sounds of newspapers flipping to your left. Though still feeling sore, you slowly turn to where your dad rests with one leg over another, glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. 

The front page of the paper catches your eye; NOTORIOUS DRUG LORD TAKEN DOWN splashes across the top half of the paper, in bold. As he moves to flip the page, he notices you’re awake. 

“Hi,” your voice comes out hoarse.

“Well hello.” He sets the paper aside and gives you his full attention. Warm hands stroke the top of your head, thumb slowly caressing your forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

The question brings about a surge of emotions from your chest, heaving as you fight back a huge sob. Tears fall down your face anyways, and a machine behind you starts beeping, startling you. Your dad hushes you, wiping away the stray tears. “Where’s Jungk⎼”

“Good afternoon.” A nurse comes in to check your vitals, interrupting your question. “Oh perfect, you’re awake!” She frees you from some of the wires and the beeping finally stops. As she checks things off the clipboard, you see the door behind her swing open gently and Hana’s face emerges. 

“You’re up!” She beams, almost dropping the box of pastries in her arms. 

The nurse smiles. “Everything looks good, miss. I’ll put in an order for a meal; no solid foods yet.” She points to the pastries with the back of her pen, “You haven’t eaten in three days, so we’ll start with porridge. The doctor will come around in the evening to do a full checkup.” 

“Perfect, thank you.” Your dad says. 

Hana sets her stuff down before going over to give you a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I was out for three days?” You ask, realising it was much longer than it felt like. You don’t even know what day it is. 

“Yeah,” she says, “we were worried but the doctor said they didn’t find anything unusual. Your body probably shut down from the shock of it all.” 

You play with the blanket covering your bottom half. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

Your dad’s hand wraps around yours again. “All that matters is that you’re safe now.” The stress of the last couple of days is evident by the bags under his eyes. 

With a deep sigh, you look at yourself, bruises and marks over your arm on the side where you fell, a scrape on the side of your cheek, and a bandage around your head. It throbs still. 

“You had a concussion,” Hana reads the look on your face, “do you remember what happened?” 

You wish you could forget. Blinking away the urge to cry, you nod. 

“Hongjun…” 

She doesn’t urge you to continue, instead places a firm hand over yours. “It’s okay.” 

Many questions swim through your dad’s mind, you can see it in his eyes. “You knew him,” he says, more as a realisation than a question. Despite the disapproval of his features, he pushes your hair back affectionately, “I figured you were just at the wrong place, wrong time but if you knew him all along… what did you get yourself into?” 

“I⎼” Words fail you, how could you tell him everything that’s unfolded in the last couple of months? He doesn’t even know you were kidnapped, you dread how he’d react once he finds out. “It’s⎼ it’s a long story…”

He heaves out a long sigh, trying to make sense of it all. How could his daughter be involved in the biggest criminal raid of the decade?

At the mention of your involvement, your mind springs back to the only thing you really can think of right now. Evidently, not the right time to be asking this, but there’s nothing more than you need right now than to know if he’s safe. 

“A-any news on Jungkook?” You direct your question to Hana, who momentarily avoids your stare. “Hana? What happened? Is he okay? I need to go see him⎼” 

The two of them try to stop you as you move to get off the bed. Legs already dangling off the side, Hana grabs hold of your arm. “He’s not here.” 

You search her eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“He’s not… well we don’t know what happened to him.” 

A wave of panic washes over you and you can’t ignore the way your heart is bursting out of your chest. Your dad guides you back to your bed, willing you to calm down and you try. The throbbing in your head gets worse with every move, and you can barely keep your eyes open or stand the bright lights. 

You need to find Jungkook. But your body won’t let you. So you shut your eyes to find him again in your dreams. 

Hours later, you wake up to only Hana present, smiling when you start to stir. 

As you sit up, she places a pillow on your lower back. Then brings a cup of water to your lips, urging you to drink up. You hear gentle knocks on the door before it slowly opens and a familiar face enters. He beams at the sight of you, though you don’t reciprocate. 

Hana greets him with a nod and Hoseok takes the seat on the empty side of your bed. “Hey, how are you feeling?” 

“I’ve been better.” You mutter, eyes dropping to the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He hands them to you awkwardly, almost blushing because now Hana’s smirking at him from the other side. “Hana told me you were finally up. I wanted to come see you.” 

“Thanks Hoseok,” you muster up a smile looking at the bouquet, “they’re pretty.” 

You almost miss the way the two of them share an odd look, as if speaking telepathically. When Hana notices you staring, it stops. “Let me help you with that.” She says, relieving you of the flowers. 

An awkward silence fills the room while Hana finds a place for the bouquet on the table. Meanwhile, Hoseok hasn’t stopped staring at you. 

“Hoseok?” He straightens up at the sound of his name. 

“Yeah?” He answers when you take too long to start. 

“Have you heard any news about Jungkook?” You feel sorry for asking, especially after his features drop. But surely he’d know something. He should, Namjoon would’ve told him. “Please tell me. I need to know if he’s okay.” 

“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” he says and you realise now that was what was going on with two of them. “Hana and I asked around for him the night you were admitted, but we couldn’t get anything out of anyone. We have no idea what happened to him, or where he is.” 

“What about Namjoon? Have you asked him?” 

“I haven’t been able to contact him since that night.” Hoseok admits. “We met briefly while he was getting treated. He said he’d call to give me an update but…nothing.” 

“It’s a big case,” Hana chips in, “he’s probably working overtime to settle everything before⎼”

“I don’t care about the case,” you say curtly, “I just want to know if my boyfriend is alright. The last thing I saw was Hongjun shooting in his direction, I have to know if he’s dead or alive!” 

“Y/N,” Hana squeezes your hand when your breathing gets erratic, “it’s not like we’re hiding anything from you.” 

“We want to find him too. I double checked with the nurses the morning after,” Hoseok says, “but they said there’s no such patient.”

“He couldn’t have just disappeared.” 

“Maybe he did.” Hana says, “it’s not impossible right? If he’s caught, it’s bad, right?” 

She has a point. You consider the possibility that he could’ve ran off when he got the chance. Staying would mean he’d be under police custody. 

You stare at the blanket in front of you. “You’re right. Maybe he did run off…”

The tension in the room disperses slightly, Hoseok’s shoulders drop as you speak and Hana takes a seat.

“Sorry everyone,” you’re embarrassed at the way you snapped earlier, “I’m just really worried. I swear I thought he…”

“You went through a lot…we understand.” Hoseok says. 

The rest of the evening floats by, despite their efforts to distract you from worrying, you can’t seem to shake off the feeling in your chest. Hoseok’s laughter fills the room as they carry the conversation, and you smile every now and then, feigning interest.

⎼

Perhaps it’s the complete silence in your room that was driving you nuts, or the fact that you’d been asleep for three days prior, you just can’t seem to doze off. You’d requested everyone to take the night off, including your dad, knowing they’d spent the last few nights with you. 

Turning on your side, you spot a bouquet of your favourite flowers with a chocolate bar snuck in between the stalks. A little note is taped to it. 

I heard chocolates are good for the brain. heh. - Mia 

p.s I’m three doors down

The dimly lit hallway stretches all the way to the other end. Sitting on one of the empty seats along the hall, a security officer gives you a once over, surprised to see you up. The only other people around are two nurses at the station, busy with work and yet to notice you. Quietly, you tiptoe down the hall.

“Ma’am, aren’t you supposed to stay in bed?” The officer stands in your way, glancing at the fall risk tag around your wrist. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” You smile sheepishly, and put a finger to your lips. “Are you…guarding someone?” 

He shakes his head, “It’s just protocol. Most of the patients on this floor were admitted the same night. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Oh.” 

“I really think you should get back inside.” 

“I just want to stretch my legs.” You say, “Please. I’ve been in bed for days…” 

Despite his initial hesitation, he nods and lets out a sigh. “Fine. But don’t look at me if the nurses come for you.”

You give him an okay. If the patients in this hallway were there that night, could Jungkook be one of them? With a hint of hope, you walk past the rooms, scanning the names of the patients on the doors. 

You come to a stop three doors down. Amelia Han. Is this Mia? You gently push the handle down and the door open, trying not to make a sound. As the door clicks behind you, nerves settle in your tummy, and you see the bottom half of the bed, the rest of it covered by the curtain.

Peeking around the half-drawn fabric, you feel a sudden overwhelming sense of heartache and guilt.

“Mia,” you whisper. 

She turns at the sound of your voice. With as much energy as she can muster up, she pushes herself up to greet you with her warm smile. “Y/N.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” you run into her, and your arms wrap around each other, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get you out of there. How are you?”

“Stop, it’s not your fault,” she chuckles, “I’m happy to see you too. I’m better now.” 

“That’s good.” Your eyes drift to the bandage on the side of the head, almost matching yours. “What did the doctor say?” 

“Concussion,” she shrugs, “and smoke inhalation apparently.” 

“Oh right,” you cringe, getting flashbacks of that night, “there was a fire and smoke everywhere. I tried to drag you out but then…” 

She watches you intently, grabbing your hand when your voice fades, “You don’t have to explain, I know you did what you could. It’s not like you made it out without getting hurt either. You had it worse than I did.” 

“You heard about that?” 

“I saw it on the news.” She says, “The police wouldn’t tell me anything, but I checked with the nurses and they told me you were just a couple doors down.” 

“They already came to see you? The police?” 

“Yeah for a bit,” she nods, “Since I was a bartender there. They were asking a lot of questions, but I could barely concentrate. So they told me they’ll get me in for a proper interview once I’m discharged.” 

“I see. Won’t be long before they start knocking on my door too.” You sigh. 

Mia watches your eyes glaze over as you drift into your thoughts, barely moving save for the breaths you take. She taps you on your cheek. “I lost you there for a moment.”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, feeling embarrassed.

“Something’s bothering you,” she says, as a matter of factly, “talk to me, I’m here for you.” 

The heaviness weighing in your chest is begging for a release. Still, you’re unsure if it’s something you should be burdening Mia with, despite her receptiveness. She urges you once again, and you heave out a loaded breath. 

“The last thing I remember was Jungkook running towards me, screaming my name. Hongjun’s gun was pointing towards him…I swear everything was going hazy at that point, and I felt like I was drowning or something. But I know for sure his gun went off, because there was a loud boom, like⎼ like an explosion and then my ears starting ringing and I was falling and⎼” 

A firm squeeze around your hand keeps you grounded when the words start spilling out.

“And I don’t know what happened to Jungkook…” 

A stray tear falls, and seconds later you break down into soft weeps as Mia lets you have her shoulder, a soothing hand over your back. She’s worried too, from the lack of response, and when you pull away, her brows are furrowed as if trying to make sense of your story. 

“He can’t be…” she shakes her head, “He was probably admitted as well.” 

“My friends checked, there’s no record of him.” 

Mia thinks, grabbing her phone on the side table. You never got yours back after Hongjun kidnapped you. Her finger hovers over Jungkook’s name for a second before pressing the call and putting it on loudspeaker. But it was over before it even began. No dial tone, just a pause before a long beep and the call ends.

“He probably ran off, right?” You ask, seeking validation.

“Y-yeah!” She huffs out a smile, one you can see right through. “Probably! Maybe at the other end of the planet right now enjoying a nice drink! Nothing better than what I could make though.” 

Giggling follows, but you both know it only masks your concerns. 

“Crazy how this turned out…” Mia says softly. 

“Right? Crazy…” You sigh, mindlessly touching the area around your neck, still sensitive to touch.

Mia notices, and says, “At least he won’t hurt us anymore. When I saw the clip of him dropping to the ground⎼ I was strangely relieved.” 

“Wait, Hongjun…he got⎼ is he?” 

Mia studies your face. “He’s dead.” 

A recollection of moments where your paths had crossed with him flash through your mind, though none pleasant. From the first time you spotted him at the diner, to the times you conspired with him, and right down to the moments before he held you hostage, staring at the body of Taeho at the foot of the steps.

He hadn’t been at the forefront of your mind, nor your interest. But the thought of him being gone is shocking nonetheless, leaving you with a strange feeling. 

⎼

“Seems like we’ve got a solid case,” The superintendent removes his glasses and shuts the file on his desk. “But before the trial, we do need to double check and triple check that we have every evidence, every report, every witness on record. I know it took a lot to get this far, everyone did an excellent job.” 

“Thank you, sir.” The chief of police stands behind the two men seated before the superintendent. Placing his hands on each of their shoulders, he nods. “All thanks to these two. They led the entire operation, from start to end.” 

“It was a team effort.” Seokjin says. 

Namjoon agrees, “Everyone did their parts well. Including Jun’s team.” 

“That’s good to hear. We’ll arrange for a meeting with everyone present so we can go through this together and prepare everyone for the trials. It’s a big case, every little detail can and will be questioned.” 

“Yes sir.” They say in unison. 

“I’ll be in touch.” He nods, “Dismissed.” 

As they move to leave the room, Namjoon stops short of the door and turns back. “Sorry sir, I do have one last question.” 

“What is it, detective?”

“My informant, he was a huge help in⎼”

“Yes, I’ve received your request for immunity.” He says, noticing the look of worry on Namjoon’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m looking into it.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

⎼

The ride to the station was nerve-wracking. But you had no reason to be nervous, you reminded yourself multiple times as the officer led you to the interrogation room. 

“Just standard procedure.” He says as you take a seat. Pressing your fingers to the spot under your jaw, you take deep breaths to calm yourself. It had taken everything in you not to panic when Hana, Hoseok and your dad were told to wait downstairs. 

A minute later the door clicks open and you breathe out in relief to see your lawyer coming through. Soo Ah had been the one to contact you, offering her services. After checking out some of her previous work, you decided to let her help you. “Sorry I'm late.” She mutters, pulling up the seat next to you. 

“Not at all.” You smile.

She carries a strong aura which gives you a sense of protection. “You ready?” She asks. “Remember, stick to what we discussed.”

You nod, taking a deep breath.  

Seconds later, a detective enters, carrying with him a bunch of files. He sets a notepad in front of him and starts with the formalities. “This should be fairly quick, we’d just like to ask a couple of questions pertaining to the night of the incident.” 

You nod, suddenly feeling like a lock had tightened over your lips. 

“So, to start off, could you tell me what happened that night?” He smiles, pen hovering over the paper. 

Your lawyer nods reassuringly, having already gone over what you were going to say the day before. “I was there with a friend. But I lost her in the crowd. Then there was the fire and I couldn’t find my way out. I thought I could run out the back or through a window….or something…”

Your voice fades off towards the end and your lawyer places her hand to the small of your back. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “That’s when I bumped into him…” 

The detective nods, writing it all down. “And do you visit this club often?” 

“Quite. It’s where everyone goes.” 

“I see.” He says. “And have you ever seen that man before that night?” 

“I⎼”

The door bursts open and all heads turn to it. You hear his voice before he makes his entrance and your heart skips a beat. “Sorry everyone, I had a meeting to attend to.”

The younger detective stands to greet him, startled. “Detective Kim,” he fixes his tie, “I was told to stand in for the interview. We’re in the middle of it right now.”

“Thank you detective,” Namjoon smiles, offering his hand for a shake, “but I’m here now. So I’ll be taking over. Would that be okay with you?” 

The question was directed to you. And you blink in surprise. 

“What is this?” Your lawyer steps in. “Please don’t waste any more of my client’s time. You should’ve sorted this out before the appointment.” 

“My apologies.” Namjoon says. He nods to the other guy, who then nods in understanding and quietly dismisses himself. “Let’s continue.” 

He looks at the notes previously written by the other detective. “Okay, so have you ever seen that man before that night?” 

“Um,” your throat goes dry, feeling the weight of their stares at you. You hadn’t considered that Namjoon would be the one asking the questions. “N-no. I haven’t.”

Namjoon smiles. “Okay. Did you see anything before the incident? Anything suspicious? Perhaps something that would make you a target?”

“Are you suggesting my client had involvement in the events of that night?”

“I’m asking if she had witnessed anything she wasn’t supposed to, which made her a target.” 

His eyes shift to you. 

“No.”

“It’s just a matter of being at the wrong place, at the wrong time.” Your lawyer continues, “like she said earlier, she was trying to find a way out, but ran into him instead.” 

“Hm.” Namjoon nods, pressing his lips together. He opens up one of the files which show a string of pictures. Some of them you recognise from Hongjun’s team, and Hongjun was among them. “Do you recognise any of these men?” 

He slides the file closer to you. Your breath shakes as you take a look and you point to Hongjun’s photo. “Him.”

“Just him?” 

You look again, clearly recognising Taeho and Junho. You nod. “Just him. He was the one who took me hostage.” 

“Alright.” Namjoon nods. “Anything else you would like to share with us?” 

He keeps a straight face, but his brows raise when you delay your response. “No.” You shake your head. 

“Okay then.” Namjoon nods. “I hope you can rest easy knowing he’s no longer going to cause you trouble. Please let us know if you have any concerns and…that’s all for today. We’ll be in contact if the need arises.” 

Namjoon starts to pack up. Soo Ah does so too and you sit there watching them. For some reason, you’re disappointed at how short this turned out to be, especially since you want more time to speak to Namjoon. 

As you leave the room behind the two of them, you watch Namjoon hold the door open for you. You’re about to leave right behind Soo Ah, while Namjoon is headed in the opposite direction, when you turn back to him. 

“Detective?” You ask and he stops in his tracks. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” 

You look at your lawyer and give her a nod before walking to Namjoon. The hallway is clear, though lined with offices throughout. But the frosted glass offers you some privacy. 

“Namjoon,” you speak in a whisper. 

“We can’t do this right now.” He says in an equally soft tone. “People are watching.”

“I just need to know if he’s okay.”

You look up at him with sad glossy eyes. His shoulders slump like he knows he wants to help but he can’t. “I really can’t say anything right now.” 

“Please at least tell me if he’s ali⎼”

“Detective Kim.” A deep and commanding voice startles you into taking a step back. Namjoon straightens up and nods at the source. The man ignores your presence, grabbing Namjoon by the shoulder, motioning him to come along. “My office please, now. We have to talk about the…”

You watch regretfully as they get further away. Namjoon turns back to you before they take a turn around the corner, his apologetic eyes bore into yours, mouthing a sorry before he disappears from sight.

⎼

3 weeks later , Monday

“I said I’m fine.” 

In fact you’re quite the opposite. And you feel bad for snapping at Hana, you never mean for the words to come out the way they do, but it happens before you can stop yourself. “Sorry…just…don’t worry about me.” 

She looks on with an apprehensive look on her face. Though she wants to help, she knows when not to overstep. 

It’s been three weeks since the incident, two weeks since you were able to be discharged, and a week since it was announced that Kim was dead.

“Big time mob boss, Kim Man Shik, dies following two weeks of intensive care…”

It hits you like a brick the moment it follows with details of the case, and only then had you realised they were talking about Kim. Part of you was relieved, now he would no longer be a threat, no longer a looming danger out to get you. But at the same time, you realise, he’s spared from the consequences he ought to receive. 

Then your mind springs back to Jungkook. Still no news of him. You had no idea if he was dead or alive. Of course, you keep telling yourself that no news is good news. Maybe he managed to escape. Surely if anything had happened to him, they’d come looking for you. 

The lack of clarity surrounding it all leaves you in a state of emotional turmoil. And your friends are at the brunt of it.

“I just need some air, okay?” You don’t spare her a glance as you slip out the door. The temperature’s dropped significantly, sharp winds forcing you to hide your face in a scarf and hands in your pockets.

Since you got back, your trips out of the apartment have consisted mainly of visits to and from the police department to tie up loose ends. Thankfully, none of the questions had been about your relationship to anyone in the club, more so as an ex-employee once they picked up that you used to work there.

You find yourself going down the normal route to school, missing the normalcy of it all. The incident left you on long-term medical leave. Decidedly, your dad wanted you to take the term off, and focus on recovering. You had no say in it, though there was no objection on your part.

But now standing in front of campus, you think maybe a little academic distraction might have been better. Now you’re free to think, and you don’t want to do that. 

“Y/N?” Turning on your heel, you find Hoseok walking out the gate, eyeing you. “I thought that was you. Why are you here?” 

“Getting some air.” 

“Oh.” He waits for you to say something, anything. Instead you continue staring at the campus. “Do you wanna go get one of the crappy food hall meals? I can come with you.” 

“No, thanks.”

“How about the rugby game tonight?” 

He’s only trying to help, you keep reminding yourself. Just like Hana, everyone’s been super nice to you, and you’re appreciative, but after three weeks you’re tired of them walking on eggshells around you. 

You just want things to go back to normal. 

Hoseok was expecting another rejection, waiting as you looked to the ground in contemplation. “How about a drive instead?” You suggest, and his eyes light up.

It’s been months since you’ve been in his car, and he’s more than happy to have you sitting in the passenger seat again. He takes a scenic route, and you spend most of the ride with your attention on what’s outside, though he doesn’t seem to mind. 

The radio plays at a nice volume, not too loud but enough to keep the ride pleasant. He, himself is uncharacteristically quiet, and you know it’s because of you. When you turn to him, his eyes are focused on the road. Yet he doesn’t miss the chance to flash a smile. 

“I never got to thank you,” you say out of the blue. 

He waves you off. “No need for that, I love going on drives.” 

You giggle and it’s music to his ears. After weeks of solemnity, he’s excited to finally get a glimpse of the old you again. “I mean, for everything else, Hoseok.” 

“Oh,” he chuckles. “Nah, don’t mention it.” 

“No seriously.” You face the road this time. “You’re always looking out for me. For us. It’s why I knew I could count on you that night. Thanks for coming over and keeping Hana company.” 

He doesn’t respond for a while, wheels turning in his head. “I froze for a while, you know?” He admits. “When she told me you escaped, but then those men took you away again. I felt so helpless. And when I got to your apartment, we watched the whole thing go down on the news. And all I could do was sit there.” 

“Just because you weren’t the one taking down the bad guys doesn’t mean you were useless.” You say, “At that time, I needed you to be there for Hana. And you were. That itself means the world to me. So thank you.”

He tries to hide the immense joy bubbling in his chest with a tight lipped smile. The car takes an exit up ahead, and you see him driving towards water, a beach just outside of the city. You come to a stop by the side of the road where other cars have parked in a line. He motions for you to get out. 

“Said you wanted some air.” He says, leading the way. 

You walk a step behind him, taking in the salty air and the sounds of waves crashing into the beach. He finds a spot where the grass meets the sand, and plops down, saving the space next to him for you. The two of you sit and watch as other beach-goers go on to live their normal lives, something you envy them for. 

If you close your eyes and imagine hard enough, you transport yourself back to nights with Jungkook. Sitting on the hood of his car, staring up at the night sky. Head resting on his arm, snuggled into his side. You’d go on and on about the day or week you’ve had while he smiles as he listens to you. 

But it’s all just a memory now. 

When you open your eyes, you realise Hoseok is watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Still worried about him?” 

Everyone has basically made up their mind on Jungkook’s disappearance. They believe he managed to escape somehow. That he’s laying low in a different state, different country, trying to start fresh. Though you want to feel the same, you just can’t shake this feeling inside you that it’s not the case. 

“Always.” You say. “I have so many questions. But no one has the answers.” 

It’s hard for Hoseok, not knowing how to comfort you, not when he doesn’t have the answers himself. How does he reassure you that everything will be okay? The only person that can do that now is Jungkook. 

That’s not to say that he didn’t try to help. On his own, he’d gone to several hospitals in the city, just in case Jungkook had admitted himself there. But he came up empty. Still, you were thankful for his efforts. 

“Sorry.” He says and you question it. 

“For what? You did more than I ever asked of you.” From the look on his face, you can tell he wants to do even more, anything to cheer you up. “I should be sorry for troubling you.” 

“You’ve never troubled me,” he says. The lingering stare is one loaded with his feelings for you. Which is another thing you feel sorry for. As if he could read your mind, he says, “You know I’m glad you guys met.” 

You wait for him to go on, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“No one has had quite the effect on him as you have.” He smiles, although heavy-hearted. “Even I was going to give up on him. Kick him out of the house. Then you came and everything changed.”

“Yet it turned out exactly as you predicted it would.”

“Some things we have no control over,” he sighs, pressing his lips into a line, “but in hindsight, he was a lot better after you came into his life. The Jungkook I knew before that was a far cry from your Jungkook. Even though he still hates me, shouts at me, rolls his eyes whenever I speak…wait what was the point I was trying to make?”

You laugh out loud for the first time in weeks, feeling the stretch of your cheeks. The dynamic these two have was never something you could help with. They just don’t go well together, like water and oil. 

“Just kidding,” he chuckles too, “I was too harsh on him.”

“You meant well.”

“I said things that I shouldn’t have. I just couldn’t understand why he was like that.” Hoseok looks down at the sand, drawing lines with a twig. “But after the conversation we had, I realised maybe instead of trying to get him to understand me, I should’ve tried to understand him instead. I barely know anything about him, so why was I trying to change him so badly?”

You wonder what Jungkook would think if he were to hear Hoseok saying any of this. 

“He was right, I did have a saviour complex. And he was the perfect victim. I just had to meddle, had to call Namjoon and tell him about the drugs.” Hoseok’s startled when he feels your palm on his shoulder. He hadn’t realised he was monologuing. He’s here to comfort you, not the other way around. He shakes his head. “Sorry. The last few weeks got me thinking, that’s all.”

“Everything you did came from a good place.”

A bitter smile flashes across his face, one that turns apologetic when he looks you in the eyes. “I even tried to pit you against him, remember?” 

You sigh, closing the gap between you. Your knees brush against each other. “We’re all flawed in some way. You had good intentions, but maybe the delivery was bad. Jungkook heard you but he couldn’t feel you. And yeah, sometimes…our emotions get the better of us.”

He avoids eye contact when you tilt your head to look at him. 

“At some point, you changed targets and instead of trying to protect him, you wanted to protect me.”

He makes a guttural sound, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm. “Embarrassing.”

“Yeah.”

At that, he shoots you a look and you both break into a fit of laughter after a second. “Jokes aside, you’ve done more good than harm, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a really good friend.”

“So are you.” His hand rests atop your head, ruffling your hair and you shove him in protest. 

⎼

Tuesday

Mia hooks her arm around yours, trying to match your step as you walk. “The word going around is that someone ratted on Kim, disclosed their plans that night. He was going to leave with Mr. B till they were ambushed.” 

“Really? Wow,” your try and piece the timeline together in your mind, wondering who it could’ve been, “that’s surprising considering how loyal everyone seemed to be.”

“Hey, when you’re in deep trouble, you’re gonna do everything it takes to save yourself.” 

“Right.” You nod, “Who told you all of this anyway?”

“A friend of a friend of a friend.” She gives you a look. “When you’ve made enough connections in this line, it’s easy to fish for info. But you know, take them with a grain of salt. Not everything is true.” 

“Does anyone happen to have tea on Jungkook?” You ask, half joking, half serious. 

“I tried.” She pouts, shaking her head. “That’s what’s weird, no one’s seen him since. I guess maybe he did escape after all?” 

Your shoulders slump and you find interest in the ground. The more everyone grows into the idea of him having run off, the more you lean away from it. 

“Why? You don’t think so?” Mia tilts her head, looking at the lines on your forehead that form when you frown.

An exasperated sigh leaves you. “I don’t know. Like you said, it’s odd. My friends seem to think he did run off though.” 

“Is that why you’re upset at them?” 

“I’m not upset at them.” Your friends would disagree, “It just feels shitty every time they try to make me think the same. What if I don’t believe that he ran off?”

“Do you?”

You think about it for a moment. “I just have a feeling that he’s still here.” 

“That could be true too,” Mia says, “when I say escape, I don’t mean he’s left to another country, he’s probably gone underground. I doubt he’d let himself get caught. He’s been doing this for years, don’t you think he’d know where to go, who to go to?” 

“No, you’re right,” you laugh it off, but she recognises the bitterness of the sound. “I guess I just…I’m worried about him.”

Her shoulder gently nudges yours, and you perk up. “Of course you are, you have every right to be.”

“I’d be happy if he’s safe somewhere far away, but no one can confirm that,” you say, “so how can I go about my life normally without knowing for sure that he’s fine?”

Mia listens, nodding her head. 

“What if Hongjun did shoot him that night? Did he get help? Is he well? Is he even alive?...” 

Your voice drifts off towards the end and your steps get slower. The thought is always at the back of your mind, though you try hard not to think about it. What if he’s actually dead? And that’s why no one knows where he is? What if he’s lying somewhere in the middle of an alley or an abandoned warehouse?

Mia’s fingers dig into your shoulders, shaking you out of it. Her brown eyes lock in on yours, hypnotising you with her spirit. “You’re spiralling. Stop doing this to yourself.”

You take a deep breath, “Sorry. Ever since Kim’s death I just keep wondering if Jungkook too…”

“Until we know for sure, don’t let those thoughts consume you.” 

“I wish it were that easy.” you carry on walking. 

“Consider this, you don’t know where Suga is either right?”

You stop in your tracks. As embarrassing as it is, you hadn’t considered Suga in all of this. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally palming yourself for overlooking the one person that’s always had Jungkook’s back. Mia raises her brows, knowing she’s made a point. 

“Why didn’t I think of that?” You ask in a whisper.

“Cause you have tunnel vision when it comes to Jungkook.” She chuckles. “But for real, they could have escaped together. And if he has Suga by his side, I’m sure he’s okay. Although…”

“What?” 

The hopeful look she had on earlier briefly vanishes. “I do have some info. Which may or may not be true but⎼ I know a guy who used to bartend with me at the club like a year ago, he thinks he saw Suga on the other side of the city; you know, where the rich people live.”

“Huh. What would he be doing there?” 

“Beats me,” she pouts, “he said he was going for his shift at the Grand Lot or something. And he may have seen someone that looks like Suga walking past him.”

“Wait, do you mean Grandeur Loft?” 

Mia’s brows knit together as she tries to recall. “I think so?” 

That’s the apartment building you’d been to previously. The address on the paper. Where you’d woken up in that one morning. What would Suga be doing there? 

“Then another contact of mine told me Suga was seen with this one guy; he deals with IDs and stuff. Passports, VISAs, everything.”

“Oh,” it hits you, “so that means…they could’ve left.”

“Maybe. But they weren’t a hundred percent sure it was him.” Mia shrugs. “But, I am still inclined to believe those two are together somewhere.”

It gives you a glimmer of hope to know he might not be alone after all. If anyone out there would make sure Jungkook’s okay, it’d be Suga. 

“Okay, this is good.” You nod, and Mia laughs. “I mean I’m not happy that Suga’s also missing, but⎼”

“Chill, I get it.” 

“Thank you Mia.” 

She smiles and goes in for a hug. 

While Mia had left you in quite a good mood earlier in the morning, night time comes and you stay tossing and turning still. It’s become a routine, only being able to fall asleep once your mind is fully tired out from overthinking. 

Suga being missing might not mean anything, what if Jungkook’s not even with him? And was he really at Grandeur Loft? What for? But no. No one was sure it was him. He might not even be alive. Ugh. You curse your brain for always thinking of the worst.

You turn to your side, and your eyes land on a bouquet of flowers that you got. It was delivered in the morning, just before you left to meet with Mia. In a hurry, you had quickly placed it in a glass cup and left it on your table without much thought. 

Thinking back, it hadn’t come with a note, nor a name from the delivery man. 

Your phone screen blinds you momentarily as you move to search for the type of flowers they were. After five minutes of scrolling, you find a match. Forget-Me-Nots. 

You have never received Forget-Me-Nots before. They’re a peculiar choice, you think. But only in comparison to the flowers you’ve gotten over the last few weeks from friends and colleagues. 

You click on a link explaining the meaning of this specific flower. 

‘..Represents true love…It is a testament to your relationships and promises the other person that you will never forget them in your thoughts…”

A weird feeling creeps its way to your heart.

⎼

Wednesday

The next day, you decide to head back to work. An ongoing 1-for-1 coffee deal was happening, and the manager had asked if you were good to come down and support the team. Of course, you jumped at the chance. It’s refreshing to step back in the cafe, the smell of brewing coffee and freshly baked pastries giving you life. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get back into the hang of it, though you were tasked only to handle the drinks with two others. 

As you carry out an order, placing coffee, milk and ice cubes into the blender, put it on medium speed, you look at the tag to make sure it’s right. A caramel frappuccino. Jungkook’s regular order.

You let yourself dwell on it for a minute. But then realise there’s no time to get distracted. You top it with whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel, before placing it on the counter and yelling out the order. One after the other, the orders kept coming, and you worked on drink after drink, without so much as a glance at the customers, appearing only as a blur of faces crowded around the collection area.

By the end of the day, you were slumped. Maybe coming back on a busy day wasn’t the best idea, but you felt a semi-semblance of normalcy again. 

The last few customers remain as you start closing. You go around clearing the tables and returning dishes to the kitchen. The last table at the back grabs your attention, the chair being pushed in, and the finished cup placed neatly, with a serviette neatly placed next to it. 

It had writing on it, and while you usually would not spare it another glance, something about the way it was organised made you curious. So you unfolded the napkin and felt a knot in your stomach.

You make the best caramel frappe. 

A sharp gasp leaves your lips. There was no name on the cup, nor do you remember seeing his face, but the thought lingers, could it have been Jungkook? Your chest tightens at the possibility. 

You look out the glass windows, searching for anyone you might recognise. A few tables down, Hana notices, and she follows your line of sight. “What’s wrong?” She asks, brows furrowed. 

“Oh. Nothing.” You smile, turning back around. 

You go back to clearing tables and finish closing with the team, pushing the note to the back of your mind. But as soon as you’re safe in your room, you remove the crumpled napkin from your pocket, and stare at it again. 

You then find yourself rummaging through a stack of papers on your table, searching for the one assignment you recall Jungkook having left on your table. You feel that squeeze in your chest as you place the paper and napkin side by side, studying the handwriting. 

Jungkook.

As you drop into your chair, your eyes find the flowers from yesterday. The purple, blue and white flowers look prettier than before. What are the odds that the flowers and this note came to you consecutively?  Your hands shake as you let your fingers graze along the petals.

There’s no way of knowing if you’re right, but you know it’s him. You just know it. 

A sudden swelling of your heart leaves you in tears.

For the first time in a while, your mind is clear. A huge weight has been lifted, and a surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins. It’s him. 

He’s alive.

⎼

Thursday

The following day, you go back to the cafe despite not having a shift, in case he shows up again. Your mood had improved considerably, earning a curious look from Hana in the morning. You thought of telling her, but stopped yourself in the end. 

She has been extra protective ever since you got discharged. It would only worry her. Not only that, she’s concerned about how fixated you’ve been on Jungkook. Granted, she does understand how you feel, but the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on can’t be healthy for you. 

So telling her you think Jungkook sent you those flowers and the message, would only get her stressed. Even if you showed her the handwriting, she’d have a hard time believing it.

“Hey munchkin,” Taehyung squeezes you in his arms and you chuckle at the random nickname. “You look better.” 

“Thanks I guess.” You smile behind your cup, taking a sip. Your eyes fix on the windows, observing every person that walks past. 

“When will you be back?” Jimin takes up the space next to you while Taehyung blocks your strategic view of the cafe doors. 

Jimin looks at you weird when you adjust your seat slightly to the side, eyes glued to the doors. “Oh, I don’t know yet. Maybe after term break.” 

The two of them exchange glances at your odd behaviour. You only notice after the long silence that follows, their stares hooked on you, observing every person that walks into the shop. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not better.” Jimin comments, pulling up the chair next to you, while Taehyung goes into the kitchen for his shift. “What’s up?”

You feign nonchalance, shaking your head at his question, as if you weren’t just staring down every customer. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Been trying to clear out our rooms before break. Mama Hoseok’s driving us nuts.” 

“Clearing your rooms?”

“After the whole drug case the administration wants to do a good sweep of the greek houses,” he clarifies, “so Hoseok thinks it’s a good time for us to do some spring cleaning.” 

“Oh.” You nod, thinking of those who used to get their stash from Jungkook, wondering how they’re fairing. 

“You’re not busy right? Come and help us.” Jimin starts pouting when he sees your apprehension. “Please? Hoseok would be less naggy if you’re around.”

Helping out wasn’t the issue, it was more of not wanting to leave in case Jungkook shows up. But he doesn't know that. You didn’t say a yes, but technically not a no either. So half an hour later, you find yourself walking up the steps of the Omega house, feeling strangely nostalgic, though it hasn’t been that long. But as you reach the top of the steps, you freeze, looking at the door to Jungkook’s room.

You don’t even hear Jimin asking if you’re okay, completely blocking out everything. Until you see Hoseok coming into view from the other side of the corridor. His wide eyes immediately shift over to Jimin. “What are you doing?” 

“I thought she could…you know,” Jimin nods towards Jungkook’s door and Hoseok straightens up with a look that could kill. 

He clenches his teeth, “Are you crazy?” to which Jimin responds with a whisper and you watch as they go back and forth, arguing. 

“I don’t mind.” You interrupt, both eyes drifting over to you.

Hoseok abandons Jimin’s side and a hand rests on your back. “Are you sure about this?” 

You’re not. And it might get too much for you, hell, you froze just looking at the door. But perhaps you needed this. To be surrounded by things that belong to him, in the room he’s spent the last couple of years in. The room you’ve spent several nights wrapped up in his arms. Your heart thumps in your chest as your hand wraps around the doorknob.

Half expecting him to be there, the faint smell of his cologne greets you first, then it opens up to a warm, dusty, untouched room. In your mind you see him, laying on his bed, eyes lighting up at your presence.

“You don’t have to do much, just throw whatever he doesn’t need anymore.” Hoseok says, breaking through your thoughts. It calms you the way he speaks as if he believes Jungkook is coming back. Because even you’re not sure of it at this point. “I’ll leave the trash bag here.”

After reassuring him you’ll be okay, Hoseok finally leaves to give Jimin a piece of his mind in his room. You suck in a breath once you’re alone, closing the door and taking in his room.

The framed picture of you on his side table, wearing his favourite dress, unfortunately placed next to an out of place roll of tissue which you shake your head at. “Disgusting.” You chuckle, tossing the whole roll into the trash. 

A couple more random items you find lying around gets dumped. And you take it upon yourself to tidy up the mess he left, removing the sheets, sorting his stationery, and airing out his wardrobe. Keeping what Jimin said in mind, you did a quick sweep of all the places he could have hidden a secret stash; under the bed, behind furniture and inside the drawers, but came up empty. 

In two hours, it’s sorted. You’re left to bask in the emptiness of the room. You rest on his bed, eventually laying down and staring at the ceiling, trying to recall the feeling of his body right next to yours, arm heavy over your waist, snoring in your ear. You bury your face into his pillow, snaking an arm under it, only to find something else. 

It’s a polaroid of the two of you, taken by one of your friends; he’s behind you, arms wrapped around you with his chin resting on your head, while your head rests on his arm. He wears the biggest grin on his face, one you miss so dearly. 

A knock on the door has you sitting up. It opens slowly and Jimin’s head appears, he looks around and smiles, “Wow! Can you do my room next?”

“For a small fee.”

He groans before the door is being pushed open wide, and Jimin almost trips as he’s dragged along with it. Hoseok comes through and takes a good look around. Jimin rolls his eyes when Hoseok’s back is to him. “See? This is how you do it. Clean, organised.”

“I checked for any hidden packages.” You add, “None.”

Hoseok’s impressed, smiling wide at you, but his smile drops when he turns back to Jimin. “You have till the end of the day before I sort out your room myself.”

Jimin struts off, muttering some curses along the way. Hoseok offers you an apologetic smile when the sound of Jimin’s door slamming shakes the walls. 

“Thank you,” he says, “let me send you back.”

Your feet find it difficult to leave, your steps feel heavy as you make your way out. You make sure to grab one of his sweaters and take a good look once more before closing the door. 

“Keepsake?” He purses his lips to the folded sweater on your lap as he pulls out of the driveway. 

A tender smile crawls across your face. “Yeah.”

“That’s his favourite isn’t it?” Hoseok says, surprising you. “He’s always wearing that. He’s gonna throw a fit when he finds it missing.”

The corners of your lips lower, turning your smile into a look of contemplation. Your eyes set on the fabric and your hands graze the material. The sudden change doesn’t go unnoticed and Hoseok shifts uncomfortably, wondering if he’d said something wrong. “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke about that.” 

“No.” You force a smile. “It’s not that.” 

Silence follows as he waits for you to continue. He wishes he could read your mind, because now you’re breaking into another smile. He’s starting to think maybe leaving you with Jungkook’s stuff wasn’t the best idea. 

“You’re actually scaring me.” 

You laugh even more at the genuine fear etched on his face. “I don’t know how to tell you this.” 

With his brows furrowed and knuckled tightening on the steering wheel, he keeps switching his attention between you and the road. He grows impatient when you don’t go on. 

It’s when he stops at a red light, now being able to concentrate on what you’re saying, fully turning his body to you, that you finally decide to speak. 

“I think he’s back.”

⎼

Friday

The school grounds feel oddly unfamiliar after the weeks of absence. Walking down the halls now feels like you’re an outsider. Though, it’s heartwarming to know your classmates have missed you since, running up to you as soon as they catch sight of you to ask how you’ve been.

While the incident was the talk of the town initially, interest about it faded gradually, sparing you from the stares you used to get before taking the term off.

You walk behind Hana, tugging on the back of her top to keep from getting separated. After braving the crowd, you spot the table the boys have reserved on the lawn, Jimin waving in the distance. 

You know what this intervention is about. Across from him, you shoot him a glare, corners of your lips turned down in a frown. Hoseok looks away innocently, holding back a smile. Of course, he’s not trying to be cute, he knows you’re angry. 

“You just had to yap.” You start the conversation, folding your arms on the table. 

“Yeah, not cool dude.” Jimin folds his arms in protest as well.

Hoseok opens his mouth to defend himself but Hana puts her hand up to stop him. The three of you turn your attention to her. “You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Now I’m even more worried!” She presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “What else have you been hiding from me?” 

“Nothing!” You sigh. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid. But you can’t blame Hoseok entirely, you’d forgotten to tell him to keep it on the low till you have solid proof, so naturally he mentioned it to Hana who all but panicked the night before. 

“What did he give you?”

“It was flowers three days ago.” You’re eyeing Hana, observing her reaction. “Then the next day after my shift, he left a message on a napkin.”

They’re unimpressed. “I compared the handwriting on the napkin with Jungkook’s old assignment and they match!” 

“So many people have similar handwriting.” Hoseok argues, then shuts his lips when you narrow your eyes at him. “I’m just saying.” 

“He’s right though,” Jimin says, “what did he write on the napkin?”

“That I make the best caramel frappe.”

Hana groans and they simultaneously shift in their seats, finding it hard to understand your logic. Even Jimin, who was on your side earlier, presses his lips into a thin line, as if he’d have to break your bubble of delusion. 

“That could’ve been anyone,” Hana reasons, “probably a flirty customer.”

“A caramel frappuccino is Jungkook’s regular order. It’s like a thing he used to say to me, that he only ever likes the ones I make.” You’re borderline sounding desperate. “And the flowers? Do you guys know what forget-me-nots mean? He’s basically telling me he’s still thinking of me. I wasn’t sure the first time but now, I’m positive it’s him.”

“I don’t know,” Hana thinks about it, “I feel like I need more than that.”

“Wouldn’t he have tried contacting you first? Like a text or something?” Jimin asks. 

You angle your head towards him and raise a brow. “I don’t have my phone, dummy. Lost it when I got kidnapped, remember?” 

“Oh right…” He trails off, deep in though. 

Your hand rests atop Hana’s, and you look her in the eye. “I know it’s him, trust me.”

“I do trust you.” She places her free hand on yours. “But I’m just not convinced it’s him. Not based on handwriting alone.”

“Well what do you want him to do?” 

“Show up.” Jimin says mindlessly, shrugging when the other two look at him. He’s saying what they’re thinking. 

Hana plays with her fingers for a few seconds, “Well, yeah actually.” 

“We just can’t be sure it’s him.” Hoseok says, “Unless we know it’s him…it could literally be anyone. Unless he actually shows his face and⎼”

“Well he can’t exactly do that right now, can he?”

The bitterness that seeps through your words cuts them like a knife. It’s been a touchy subject from the beginning and they’re always careful with what they say. 

“I feel like none of you actually want him to come back.”

“It’s not that,” Hana sighs, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up about something that may not even be true.”

Though you saw it coming, and you know you’re being overly sensitive about this, it still hurts to know they don’t believe it’s him. That they’d rather believe he’d be okay with leaving halfway across the world without so much as a word to you, without thinking of you. 

And maybe that’s what really scares you. To think that it’s possible he’s really gone, and okay with being without you. 

“Whatever,” you mutter as you get up, without so much as another glance at them. 

You hear them calling your name as you go, but you don’t turn, running into the crowded mess of the halls once again and rushing out. You hold back tears, not wanting to make a scene, or let anyone catch you crying. 

That night, you skip dinner, telling Hana you’re not hungry when she knocks on your door. You feel bad, but it would be worse to face her when you’re just not in the mood. Lying on your front, you start to wonder if it really was your imagination. Maybe you wanted it to be him so badly, you started to make sense of what didn’t. Maybe it was just a flirty customer. Maybe the flowers were from someone else entirely. 

How could you be so stupid to think that any of that was Jungkook? Maybe it’s time you accept that he’s gone for now. Even just the thought of him not coming back overwhelms you and your eyes burn as tears start to fall again.

You sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any longer. You need a distraction. It’s been a long time since you enjoyed a good movie or listened to some songs, so you flip your laptop open.

You click on the green icon on your screen and your spotify opens up, immediately overwhelming you with choices of playlists. You scroll through your original playlists, looking for a specific one, but find something odd. 

There’s one playlist you don’t remember creating. 

for my love ♡

You prop yourself up on your elbows, unable to contain the beating of your heart against your chest. Jungkook and you have been using a shared account, mainly because he doesn’t listen to music much, so he hijacks yours instead. 

You click on the playlist, brewing with anticipation. The songs were added just yesterday. Your breathing gets erratic as you try to keep your composure, and you look through the songs. 

hey lover! - wabie

miss you, dear - bol4

save your tears - the weeknd, arianna grande

love is not over - bts

love. - wave to earth

come back to me - R.M.

i swear i’ll never leave again - keshi

see you - amin, dept

p.s. i love you - paul partohap

still with you - jung kook

All doubt that clouded your mind just a minute ago vanishes into thin air. You were right, you were right all along. No longer do you doubt yourself and the love Jungkook has for you. Heart swelling with the love you have for him, you wish you could be with him right now, showing him how much he means to you. 

You close your eyes and let the music run, listening to the message of each song he’s chosen. You don’t know what to do with all the emotions going through you right now. Tears keep falling, but happy ones this time. 

You lie there, imagining being back in his arms, feeling his presence right next to you. 

⎼

Saturday

The playlist is your secret to keep. Partly because of yesterday’s events, but it also felt too intimate to be shared with anyone. Right now, it’s something between Jungkook and you, and you want to keep it that way. Waking up with a clearer mind, you head out. Just on your own this time. 

You couldn’t have asked for better weather; blue skies and a gentle breeze. White fluffy clouds follow you from the sky, as if excited to spend the day with you. After breakfast, you make your way to a huge bookstore that had just opened up, spending hours just browsing their collection and ending up with five new books.

By the afternoon, your body aches for your routine nap. But you carry on. Every time you pass by an alley, or a vacated building, you can’t help but to wonder where Jungkook is right now. Now that you know he’s alive, your shoulders feel a little less heavy. 

But you miss him still. 

The park serves as your next stop, the smell of the earth swallowing you whole in its embrace. You take a stroll, stopping to watch little children feed the ducks, petting several dogs on a walk, and watching teens play basketball on the court. 

You only pause when you reach your favourite spot. One where you spent many date nights with Jungkook. You’d seen it in your dreams while you were lying in the hospital, and your mind flashes back to it, how it ended…and you feel your energy draining even more. 

You simply walk past it, refusing to go back to the spot till you’re hand in hand with Jungkook. 

In the shade of a large tree, you find an empty bench and your back thanks you when you finally settle down. Perhaps your body has gotten too comfortable at home. You reach into your bag and pull one of the books you got and flip it open. 

An hour goes by before you realise someone has taken the seat next to you. You had been so absorbed you didn’t even notice. He quietly munches on a hotdog bun, watching the kids play football on the open grass on the other side of the footpath. His side profile gives off a strangely familiar vibe, but you can’t put your finger on it. 

“Glad to see you’re well.” He says before taking another bite, still facing forward. 

You crane your neck and scan the surrounding area. Is he talking to you? You scoot away slightly. 

Noticing this, he chuckles, “Don’t panic, y/n.”

“How do you know my name?” 

That’s when he snaps his head towards you, finally giving you the missing puzzle you needed. “Seokjin,” you say in a whisper, “you look different.”

He checks his casual attire; khaki cargo pants paired with a plain blue sweater, and a baseball hat to top it off. “I’d rather not sport a bulletproof vest while I’m enjoying my day off.” He smirks. 

Although you’re happy to see him, you realise you don’t know what to say. You’ve never had a normal conversation with him, nothing which didn’t involve the case. It had always been business, or him telling you to back off.

“How was the breakfast at that cafe? They just opened right?” He asks so casually you almost fall for it, then your brows knit in confusion, “Been meaning to go there but you know, super busy the last month. Were the pancakes dry?”

“You were following me?” It was more of a statement than a question.

He takes the last bite of his hotdog, leaving you time to process it. “Just checking in.” 

“Why? Do I have something to be worried about?” 

He takes a deep breath, then looks at you. “Don’t worry, no one’s after you. You’re safe.” 

“Okay,” you nod, “then why are you following me?” 

“Come, take a walk with me.”

⎼

“This was by far the longest and toughest case I’ve ever worked on.” Seokjin goes on, “It was all worth it though.”

As you walk with him for the last ten minutes, he shares details of the case that he’s allowed to talk about for now. Mostly what went down on his side, stuff you never knew was going on while you were dealing with Jungkook and Suga and Hongjun and⎼

“I was never really on board with letting you guys in on the case. But Namjoon insisted.” He shrugs. “And I trusted him.”

“I hope we didn’t end up making things more difficult.” You voice out, and he smiles. “We did, didn’t we?”

“I”m not gonna lie, I almost wanted to bring you in for meddling. But I must say…” he looks at the ground as he walks, kicking stray pebbles along the way, “You’ve got guts. You should consider joining us.” 

You spit out a laugh. “Please, I've had enough action to last me a lifetime.” 

“I hope you’re not too traumatised. It’s terrifying to be held hostage like that,” he stops walking and so do you. “I can’t imagine what went through your mind when that was happening.”

“A lot…” you scoff, heart rate increasing from just the thought of it. “But it was less terrifying when I saw you guys.”

Jin looks at you for a moment, then looks away again, as if he has more to say, but he can’t. You don’t realise how far you’ve walked, now all the way to the back of the park, a more secluded area where the footpath meets a road, just before a dead end. 

“This is where we separate.” He says, holding out a hand for you to shake. 

You tilt your head in confusion but shake his hand anyway. He then nods to a black SUV parked by the side. You look at the car and back at him. The sliding door opens automatically.

“I can’t say this is exactly an ideal situation to be in after all I’ve been through.” You say, earning a hearty laughter from him. 

“Good to know you’re taking precaution.”

“Don’t worry,” A familiar voice comes from the other side of the car. The windows are tinted, so you can’t see who it is, until he shows himself by the door. Namjoon waves. “I promise I’ll be nice.” 

⎼

It almost felt unreal. Somehow you had pushed Namjoon far back into your mind, reminded yourself that he couldn’t help you, he had better things to do, and accepted it for what it is. Seeing him now, greeting you with such warmth, as compared to what happened at the station three weeks ago, has you taken aback. 

The ride starts off quiet, and it makes you all too aware of everything around you. The leather rubs against your skin, the headboard’s a little too high, the seat belt too tight and the sound of the blinker irritates you.

“You mad at me?” Namjoon breaks the silence first. There’s an air of serenity surrounding him now, much calmer, unlike how he was the last few months. 

“No. Are you mad at me?” 

Your question makes him chuckle. “Whatever for?” 

“For troubling you.” 

“Believe it or not,” there’s a smile on his lips as he speaks, eyes on the road, “you weren’t my biggest problem. Of course, I was occupied trying to take down a renowned crime boss but…I guess you were there somewhere in the back of my mind.” 

You hit him with the back of your hand and he winces. “I mean if you didn’t have to look out for me, it would’ve been a lot easier. I kept interfering.” 

“I won’t deny that.” He nods, “You’re stubborn. Hard-headed.”

“I get it.” The glare you send him still makes his skin crawl. 

“But, your heart’s in the right place.”

Leaning back, you smile out the window and watch as the world goes by. He hasn’t told you where you’re going, but you don’t mind. With how busy he gets, you might not get another chance to speak to him like this. 

And your thoughts wander off to Jungkook. Now that you know he’s alright, you wonder if Namjoon does. And if he doesn’t, bringing it up would only put Jungkook in a bad position. Though they were friends at some point, Namjoon was undercover and it is his job to put criminals away, and that includes Jungkook if he gets the chance. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask after a while.

“Hm? Tell you what?” 

You turn to him, “That you were undercover.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “You already knew too much. I’d just be putting you at risk.”

“Just say you don’t trust me and go.” You roll your eyes at him and your stare stays there for a while longer, questions running through your mind. “How did you do it?” 

A glimmer of delight shows on his face. It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you all about it, like a kid wanting to share their latest obsession with you. 

“When I first planned to infiltrate Kim’s organisation, I spent a lot of time studying Kim’s lower ranks,” Namjoon starts, “mainly those on the streets that run the show for him. They don’t know everything, but they weren’t my targets so that’s no issue. I just had to get them to trust me.”

“From there, I’d try to work my way up.” He laughs then, “But I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought. Word spread that there was a suspicious guy snooping around. I blew it basically.”

“What happened then?”

“Someone was sent to snuff me out. But…” Namjoon pauses, “one thing led to another and that person ended up being my informant.” 

“What?” You ask, flabbergasted. You wonder if this was the same person Mia was talking about, the one who betrayed Kim.

“I know, I was surprised too.” He laughs. “But people are complicated I guess. We met up a couple of times, I took a gamble and offered him to be my informant for a reduced sentence, and he took it up. Never told me why he did it though, he had a lot to lose considering how close he was to Kim and the higher ups.” 

“Where is he now? Is he okay?” 

“Haven’t seen him since the incident actually.” 

Someone close to the higher ups? You can’t imagine who else had been in on it. 

Namjoon laughs. “You know, when we planned for all this, I never expected there’d be an overprotective girlfriend to think about. Hoseok should’ve warned me.” 

The mention of Hoseok makes you wonder if he’d told him about your meeting today. “In all fairness, he didn’t know me well back then.” 

“Have you spoken to him recently?”

“Have you?” You flip the question back to him and he grins sheepishly. “You all but disappeared.”

“Sorry I was⎼”

“Busy, I know. Don’t worry.” You pat him on the shoulder. “We get it. We just…or I just felt like I was shoved to the side after it was all over, you know? I didn’t even know Hongjun was dead till Mia told me.” 

Namjoon admits his fault. “But remember, your knowledge of the case is a secret. So realistically, I couldn’t show that we were friendly. I didn’t want anyone dragging Hoseok into this either just because we’re friends. I kept my distance because of that.” 

That makes sense. Everyone’s eyes were on him as the lead detective, of course he’d take extra precaution. 

“Thankfully, no one suspected anything. No one we should worry about anyway, since the main targets are dead.” 

“Right.” You mutter, still trying to get used to the fact that Kim, Hongjun and his crew are all gone.

“I tried to eliminate any interest surrounding you. Afterall, you were a hostage victim, so it was fairly easy.” Namjoon said, “Then there was that first interview. I had a meeting prior, so I had to rush through it just to get to you on time. Although, I knew something like that might happen, which is why I sent Soo Ah to take your case.”

Your head snaps in his direction so quickly at the realisation. Soo Ah, your lawyer, had been Namjoon’s doing? It was odd when she showed up offering her services out of the blue, but you assumed it was only because of the high profile case.

“Hold on, that was you?” Your voice is laced with surprise. 

Namjoon’s dimple makes an appearance when he smiles again. “She’s a childhood friend, amazing lawyer. I called her in as a favour.” 

Even after everything, he tried his best to keep you safe. At the thought of it, your eyes start to brim with tears. “Namjoon…” 

He switches his attention between you and the road. “Aw come on, don’t start.” 

“I’m so touched.” You bring your sleeves to your eyes and wipe the wetness away. “Thank you. So much.” 

“It’s nothing.” He says mindlessly, though you disagree. 

As he turns the corner into a busy street, the car eventually slows down to a stop, heavy traffic ahead. It isn’t unexpected at this time of the day, when everyone’s leaving work. Now that he’s not occupied, Namjoon faces you. 

“I have one more surprise.” 

“What was the first one?” 

He takes offence at your question. “The first one was meeting me.” 

“Boo.” 

He presses his lips together and tilts his head sassily. His arm which was reaching for the compartment in front of you, backtracks. “I changed my mind. No presents.” 

“I’m just kidding,” you giggle, hooking your hand over his arm and he pulls away, only for you to pull him back. “Please? I love presents. Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple⎼”

He scoffs, trying to keep a straight face. “Now I remember why I moved miles away from my sister.”

Despite his complaints, he pulls out a brown paper bag, handing it to you. Only for a moment do you hesitate before tearing the seal open. You look inside and let out a gasp. “My phone! You got it back!”

“I backtracked to where they held you during the kidnapping and bagged it.” He says, watching as you struggle to switch it on. He offers you a charging cable connected to the dashboard. “It was lying in a pile of trash they left behind.”

“Ew. But perfect.” A green swirl appears on screen as it starts to charge. “Namjoon, I can’t thank you enough! I thought I’d lost everything on here.” 

Once the phone comes to life, you brace yourself for the influx of notifications. It keeps you busy while Namjoon tries to find an alternate route. You swipe the notifications clear save for the tens of unread messages, mostly well wishes from friends. Then, it leaves you hovering over the homescreen, a picture of Jungkook and your hands intertwined. 

Glancing at the man next to you, he’s busy scrolling through the maps app on his device. Part of you wishes to tell him about Jungkook. Surely, he’d want to know if Jungkook’s alright. But you don’t take the risk. 

Sighing, you look out the window at the mass of cars outside. It’s much further than your area. He’s driven right into the busiest part of the city, where most office buildings are located, which explains the heavy traffic. Even more so at this time of day. 

As you let your head rest on the headboard, you stifle a yawn, feeling the events of the day taking a toll on you. 

“Long day?” He chuckles, similarly getting comfortable in his seat. “Why don’t you rest for a bit. This might take a while.”

“Where are we going again?” You ask sleepily, already leaning against the side.

“You’ll see.”

“Hm.” Your body melts into a slumber in less than five minutes with the aircon blowing in your face and the radio softly playing. Your mind drifts off to the night of the photo on your homescreen. The two of you had ditched the car, opting to walk that chilly night to a nice place downtown. 

Complaining that you were taking steps which were too small, Jungkook stretches his arm out to pull you along. As you go on your way, you snuck in a quick snap of your intertwined hands. The slight pause in your step when you do, has him complaining even more, and you shut him up with a kiss. It always works. His smile is the last thing you see before you’re awakened by the sound of an angry honk. 

“Whoops, sorry.” Namjoon glances at the rear view mirror, “That one’s on me. I cut him off.” 

You stretch your arms out in front of you and twist your back with what little space you have and sigh in content. Checking the time, you realise almost half an hour has passed. “That was a good nap.”

“Yeah? You were giggling in your sleep.” 

“Was I?” You remember the smile Jungkook flashed you in your dreams. 

“So listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.” His tone is a complete 180 from before. This is more like the Namjoon you’re used to. Though familiar, it scares you. “It’s about the case.”

“Okay.” 

When Namjoon goes quiet to focus on the road again, it’s then that you realise the car is passing by a familiar set of buildings. And you vividly remember this route. 

Up ahead, the Grandeur Loft comes into view. That’s right, this is why the route seems familiar to you. It’s where you had woken up that one morning after getting high, and also the address on that piece of paper you took from Jungkook. Your conversation with Mia about Suga comes to mind as well. You think you’re just passing by at first, until Namjoon drives towards the entrance.

“Wait, why are we here?” He doesn’t respond and you press him. “Namjoon, seriously, where are you taking me?”

“Calm down,” he finally says, “some things I can only talk about in the privacy of my apartment.” 

“Your apartment?”

He nods and drives through the loft security, nodding to the guard as they grant him access to the parking lot. Multiple scenarios go through your brain as you try to predict how this might go.

“You trust me right?” The engine goes off, leaving you to ponder in silence. He waits. You nod meekly. “Then come on.” 

The building has much tighter security than you remember. But then again, you were high the first time there. A pass is required just to activate the elevators, and inside, Namjoon presses the button to the 20th storey. A tiny screen at the bottom prompts for his fingerprint. Then a flashing green light signals its approval and the elevator starts moving. 

“I know you still have a lot of questions about that night. Most of which I couldn’t disclose to you back then. But now things have mostly settled, I have the answers to your questions.” He says, hands in his pockets. You look at his reflection on the doors in front of you. 

“That’s why I decided to come and see you today.” He continues. “I’m bringing you to meet someone.”

“Someone?”

A soft ding goes off as you reach the floor. It opens to a long hallway with only two apartments. He guides you to the one on the right. You walk in step with him. Namjoon extends his arm to stop you just before reaching the door. “You’ll want to talk to him. He’ll have the answers to your questions.”

“O-okay.”

“Whatever you learn in this room, stays in this room.” He says, “This is top secret information.”

You let out a heavy sigh, sickened by the thought of having to keep yet another secret and nauseated by the anticipation. 

He scans his biometrics against a scanner on the wall next to the door, and a green dot appears on the handle, the sound of the lock clicking. “You ready?” He asks. 

Your heart thumps in your chest. “Yeah.” 

You’re greeted by an empty apartment, similar to the one you woke up in that night. It’s clean and spacious, and feels untouched. Soft music plays in one of the rooms, though you don’t see any evidence of anyone living here. Is this how Namjoon lives?

You turn on your heel, to ask him, but he presses a finger to his lips. A second later, he’s calling out, “Kid! I’m back!” 

Somewhere round the back, you hear the music getting louder and footsteps making its way down the hall. A weird feeling washes over you.

“You don’t have to yell.”

Your heart does a somersault in your chest. You feel like you’re going to throw up and faint all at once. Your feet feel stuck to the ground, body frozen. The steps get closer and you hear it come to a halt, feeling the presence behind you. 

“I told you not to call me ki⎼” 

The voice fades away. Namjoon is smiling, encouraging you. You turn slowly, wondering if it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You’re probably just hearing things. 

But your eyes land on the man standing just metres away from you.

Jungkook

⎼

It’s like the air is sucked right out of you. Your voice goes missing and for a minute, all you can do is stand frozen to your spot, staring at him. His round shiny eyes stare right back at you, equally as surprised. 

You take one cautious step forward, as if he would disappear if you made any sudden moves. 

Then with a whisper of your name, a grin appears on his face and he’s running towards you. His strong arms sweep you off your feet, spinning you around, and your heart runs wild in your chest. When your feet land, his hands cup both sides of your cheek. “It’s you.” 

“It’s you.” You mirror him, planting your hands over his and wrapping around his fingers. Tears stream down your face, and his thumb catches them mid-way. “Jungkook. It’s really you.” 

“Y/N, I’ve missed you so much.” He’s quick to pull you into an embrace, and you bury your face into his shoulder. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You feel his tears seeping onto your clothed shoulder. When he finally lifts his head, you trace his face with your fingers. “I was so worried.” 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, dropping into your arms again. “I’m so sorry for everything.” 

His eyes roam to the side of your face and the bandage on your head, gently grazing the light bruise on your cheek. A sharp pain stabs at his chest when he sees your wounds, feeling guilty for all of it. You grab his hand and hug it against your chest, shaking your head, “I'm fine.”

Excitement has blood rushing through your veins, hands shaking and knees almost giving way and you let out a chuckle at the absurdity of it all. You clench your fist, digging your nails into your palm to snap you out of whatever dream you might be having. 

But it’s all real. And Jungkook remains, glossy eyes bore into yours, nose turning red. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, “You’ve been good?”

Jungkook grins, “Better now that you’re here.” 

Your heart is on the verge of combusting out of exhilaration. Without warning, he moves in, crashing his lips to yours and your hands tug at the fabric of his shit into a fist. Rough at first, but you slowly ease into it, and soon your lips move in sync with his. Jungkook controls his ache for more, and pulls away to let you catch your breath. 

Your forehead rests against his, and when he tilts his head to look at you in the teasing way he does, you bury your face in his chest. He chuckles and you feel him land a kiss on the top of your head. 

Jungkook holds you tight, not wanting to let go. But you feel his arms loosen slightly as his attention is striped away from you and his eyes float over to where Namjoon stands, long forgotten. 

“Surprise!” Namjoon raises his palms in the air. 

It makes you laugh and you wipe away the dampness from your eyes as you pull away. Jungkook walks past you, going to give Namjoon his deserved hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you both.” He shrugs. 

Jungkook squeezes him, and Namjoon takes it only for a couple of seconds before pushing him away. As you watch them go on, the stuff Namjoon said earlier slowly creeps its way back to the forefront of your mind. 

Noticing your silence, Jungkook turns back to you, offering you a worried smile when he sees you ruminating over it. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“How? Why?” You continue to stand there confused.

Jungkook’s eyes widen momentarily, then his features ease back into a smile. He brings your hands to his face and kisses the back of your palms. 

“It’s a long story.” 

⎼

An orange glow blankets the city skyline as the sun sets. The top to bottom windows give you a perfect view, like something out of a movie. From behind, you feel Jungkook’s hands snaking around your waist and his face appears next to yours. His sweet voice rings in your ear as he tears you away from the window. “Let’s eat.”

You were pleasantly surprised that they had room service here when Namjoon brought it up. “Is this a hotel or an apartment?”

“Doubles as both.” He mentions, “Usually staff from out of town that come here for work utilise the apartments. High security level apartments like this one are only by special request.”

And you thought it was fancy enough from the outside. 

Jungkook fills your plate for you; mashed potatoes, steak, some truffle fries, eggs. And he would’ve kept going had you not stopped him. He only smiles when your hand tugs on his elbow and sets the plate in front of you. 

“What about me?” Namjoon hands his plate out. 

“You have hands, do it yourself.” Jungkook spits out, shoving his plate away and filling up his own. 

Namjoon shakes his head. “Rude.”

“Shut up. She’s injured.” Jungkook says, pointing to the mark on your head. 

Namjoon’s mouth parts open and he pulls his sleeve over his shoulder to reveal a healing wound. “I got shot, dickhead. Twice!” 

“It’s different.” Jungkook stuffs his mouth with food and Namjoon scoffs. 

You’ve missed this more than you thought. “I guess some things never change.” 

“Yeah, he is as annoying as ever.” Jungkook says with his mouth full. 

While Namjoon mocks him in a silly voice, you stare at the side profile of your boyfriend. He’s lost a bit of weight, hair a little bit shorter like he just had a trim, and his eyes are a little sunken from lack of sleep. The traces of healed cuts and bruises remain on his arms and face. Naturally, your fingers brush against them and he turns at your touch, leaning his cheek into your open palm.

Staring into his eyes, you feel a sudden change in your body and flashes of that night appear before your eyes. The scene of him running towards you and the sound of the gunshot in your ear, causes you to flinch. Jungkook makes a grab for your hand and squeezes it in his. 

Your breathing slowly goes back to normal. Realising that tears are starting to form again, you force a smile to shake it off. “I guess I’m not fully recovered yet…”

“Of course not.” Jungkook pulls you closer to him, eyes reflecting the worry in yours. “Do you know how scared I was…I thought I told you to go home. What happened?”

“We did. Mia and I. But Taeho was waiting for us at the apartment and they threatened to hurt Hana.” You explain. “I had no choice.” 

“He escaped from the warehouse raid,” Namjoon adds, “I guess he went straight to Kim and got his boys to go get you.”

Jungkook sighs. “That psycho. He almost killed you.” 

“Well he’s dead now.” Namjoon points out. “Don’t let him stay in your mind rent free. You both are lucky to be alive.”

“He shot at you didn’t he?” You ask Jungkook. “I heard the gunshot but I blacked out…I thought it had to be either you or me.”

“Luckily he was too delirious to aim properly otherwise it could’ve been fata⎼” Namjoon’s words disappear back into his throat when Jungkook shoots him a vicious scowl. 

“It hit you?” Your eyes roam his body, visibly distressed. You were right. He did get hurt. “Where?”

Reluctantly, Jungkook lifts his shirt, revealing the wound on his lower right abdomen. You let out a heavy exhale, brows knitted in the way it does when you get stressed. He releases his shirt before you spiral. “I’m getting better.” 

“Wait but Hoseok and Hana said you weren’t at the hospital that night. They asked around for you but there was nothing in the records.” You say, “Everyone thinks you got away…”

“They were looking for me?”

“Of course, everyone’s worried.” 

The corners of Jungkook’s lips raise slightly at the thought of it. He hadn’t considered that anyone other than you was looking for him. 

“We have our own care facility, so we brought him there.” Namjoon states, raising his eyebrows when you tilt your head in confusion. 

“Oh.” The wheels in your mind start turning. “Why?” 

“Because he got shot.” Namjoon’s face matches yours in confusion at your question. 

“Why not the hospital like everyone else?” 

It doesn’t show, but Namjoon is amazed at your ability to sniff out the little details. Of course you’d wonder why he was brought elsewhere to be treated. You were never someone who would let things be. He should know this by now. 

“Is it because he’s in police custody now?” 

Namjoon’s eyes momentarily shift to Jungkook sitting across from him. “He is, technically. Just not in the way you’re thinking of.” 

“I’m still under supervision.” Jungkook adds.

“I don’t get it.” You sigh, setting your utensils down. There’s clearly something they’re not telling you. “Are you in trouble or not? And why are you keeping him here?” 

“Because I couldn’t have done it without Jungkook. He saved my life in that alley.” 

You nod your head slowly, “So because of that, they’re giving him leniency?”

Jungkook focuses on the table, sporting a tiny smile. Namjoon’s eager to elaborate once again, “Remember what I said in the car? About my informant?”

You blink. Perhaps your mind just refuses to believe it till you hear it. 

“Jungkook’s my informant.” 

.

.

.

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[fatliberation]

I totally understand and can empathize with fat activists when it comes to medical fatphobia. But I do think its important to provide nuance to this topic.

A lot of doctors mention weight loss, particularly for elective surgeries, because it makes the recovery process easier (Particularly with keeping sutures in place) and anesthetic safer.

I feel like its still important to mention those things when advocating for fat folks. Safety is important.

What you're talking about is actually a different topic altogether - the previous ask was not about preparing for surgery, it was about dieting being the only treatment option for anon's chronic pain, which was exacerbating their ed symptoms. Diets have been proven over and over again to be unsustainable (and are the leading predictor of eating disorders). So yeah, I felt that it was an inappropriate prescription informed more by bias than actual data.

(And side note: This study on chronic pain and obesity concluded that weight change was not associated with changes of pain intensity.)

If you want to discuss the risk factor for surgery, sure, I think that's an important thing to know - however, most fat people already know this and are informed by their doctors and surgeons of what the risks are beforehand, so I'm not really concerned about people being uninformed about it.

I'm a fat liberation activist, and what I'm concerned about is bias. I'm concerned that there are so many BMI cutoffs in essential surgeries for fat patients, when weight loss is hardly feasible, that creates a barrier to care that disproportionately affects marginalized people with intersecting identities.

It's also important to know that we have very little data around the outcomes of surgery for fat folks that isn't bariatric weight loss surgery.

A new systematic review by researchers in Sydney, Australia, published in the journal Clinical Obesity, suggests that weight loss diets before elective surgery are ineffective in reducing postoperative complications.

CADTH Health Technology Review Body Mass Index as a Measure of Obesity and Cut-Off for Surgical Eligibility made a similar conclusion:

Most studies either found discrepancies between BMI and other measurements or concluded that there was insufficient evidence to support BMI cut-offs for surgical eligibility. The sources explicitly reporting ethical issues related to the use of BMI as a measure of obesity or cut-off for surgical eligibility described concerns around stigma, bias (particularly for racialized peoples), and the potential to create or exacerbate disparities in health care access.

Nicholas Giori MD, PhD Professor of Orthopedic Surgery at Stanford University, a respected leader in TKA and THA shared his thoughts in Elective Surgery in Adult Patients with Excess Weight: Can Preoperative Dietary Interventions Improve Surgical Outcomes? A Systematic Review:

“Obesity is not reversible for most patients. Outpatient weight reduction programs average only 8% body weight loss [1, 10, 29]. Eight percent of patients denied surgery for high BMI eventually reach the BMI cutoff and have total joint arthroplasty [28]. Without a reliable pathway for weight loss, we shouldn’t categorically withhold an operation that improves pain and function for patients in all BMI classes [3, 14, 16] to avoid a risk that is comparable to other risks we routinely accept.

It is not clear that weight reduction prior to surgery reduces risk. Most studies on this topic involve dramatic weight loss from bariatric surgery and have had mixed results [13, 19, 21, 22, 24, 27]. Moderate non-surgical weight loss has thus-far not been shown to affect risk [12]. Though hard BMI cutoffs are well-intended, currently-used BMI cutoffs nearly have the effect of arbitrarily rationing care without medical justification. This is because BMI does not strongly predict complications. It is troubling that the effects are actually not arbitrary, but disproportionately affect minorities, women and patients in low socioeconomic classes. I believe that the decision to proceed with surgery should be based on traditional shared-decision making between the patient and surgeon. Different patients and different surgeons have different tolerances to risk and reward. Giving patients and surgeons freedom to determine the balance that is right for them is, in my opinion, the right way to proceed.”

I agree with Dr. Giori on this. And I absolutely do not judge anyone who chooses to lose weight prior to a surgery. It's upsetting that it is the only option right now for things like safe anesthesia. Unfortunately, patients with a history of disordered eating (which is a significant percentage of fat people!) are left out of the conversation. There is certainly risk involved in either option and it sucks. I am always open to nuanced discussion, and the one thing I remain firm in is that weight loss is not the answer long-term. We should be looking for other solutions in treating fat patients and studying how to make surgery safer. A lot of this could be solved with more comprehensive training and new medical developments instead of continuously trying to make fat people less fat.

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 8 /// Mothball

(Read on AO3) /// (First) / (Previous)

/// CW: drug abuse, light gore, & suicide references. ///

You're sitting in what must be a bunker from... 3(?) wars ago? Seems like 3. It's too fucked up even for the locals to wanna re-use. What it makes for instead is a very conveinent place to curl up and bleed out, service pistol in the one hand that still functions.

Protocol says you should— well now seems like a better-than-normal time to ignore protocol. It always included dumb rules like don't fuck the other pilots and don't put contraband flavour in your ration fluid.

Whatever flavour 'passionfruit' was it was good.

What's a fruit, anyway? Technician said the word once. Stop touching each other you degenerate-fucking-fruits.

Whatever it is, it at least tastes better than the stashed combat stims you just squirted down your throat. Makes it so it doesn't feel so bad to bleed out, but the oncoming overdose also makes it look a lot like there's flashlights scattering a haze down from the surface.

Huh, you remember, bleeding out does leave a trail doesn't it.

There's a really big knife peeping around the corner, and it almost gets dropped with a yelp when you viscon with the eye peering through its reflection.

The eyes don't glow like you're used to. And, "hey," doesn't feel like the standard response either.

"Uhh, hey?" a voice says back.

There's another couple voices that come from even further behind it, and then it continues a bit more puffed-up, "Attention pilot! You are surrounded. Please surrender your weapon and prepare for capture."

The nerves are cute. You suppose this is a first for it too; take your pistol, drop its mag, flick the safety, unchamber the last round and—

Well, you guess you slide it across the floor.

"Pilot. Are you now disarmed now?" it asks.

"What," you reply, confused. "No?"

"But the pistol—"

Oh, right. It only said the pistol, But its eyes don't glow, so it probably doesn't have— "One second. I have like a one-shot in my—" BANG! "—shit okay, that's empty. There's two knives and—"

After a moment a retreated knife peers back out. It takes a few moments to interrupt your muttering, still relaxing from the one-shot not being an attack or maybe— "Aren't you pilots supposed to normally like—?"

"Yeah," you say succintly. Yep, that.

"Oh. And you're not gonna—?"

"Not without the pistol at least." That would've been the easiest option; perfect recall makes it an effortless, automatic task to feel a cold barrel on your temple. The thought of recreating that isn't a particularly attractive one. "And i'm not gutting myself, blegh."

"What about the um— the suicide thingy. Like the tooth?"

You swear your brow raise is audible, knocking a few loose concrete chips from crumbling support columns. "Myth," you explain. "Heard they tried it on one girl—" Pilot. Pilot. Pilot. Shut it, brain. "—but one hit to her angrav in testing and the unmuted shock made her rattle about enough to set it off. Utter fucking clownshow."

You like to imagine that she knew her handler was in the profile of where her mech fell; foam and blood-bile spilling out over a smile.

You look down at your ruined arm. The deliberately replaced one. It isn't damaged but a shot in your upper arm has oozed blood down into the joint until it was too jammed to operate.

"Hold on. My implant has a... it's got an aftermarket laser cutting tool in it. Y'know, in the arm for jacking—"

"Jacking—!?" the voice startles quietly.

"Jacking into the mech. Fuck's sake." You manage to pry open the forearm cover with a loose piece of mostly-rusted rebar. "Okay, shit. It's a real mess in here. One minute."

It would probably be useful to have another cutting tool to disable this one. You're not paying quite enough attention to even remember how you ask for it, the whole room has slowly started spinning, but—

"To cut off the cutting tool?" it says, a little baffled. This is getting weird. When were you supposed to bleed out? "I mean... can't we just cuff you now?"

"No," you say, as if it's incredibly obvious. It's fun to say it. To backtalk. Though that's a protocol-and-handler word. "I could— have off the hand."

That doesn't seem correct.

"Have cut the handcut."

The floor feels cold again.

The mildew looks a lot pinker than it did earlier.

"What?" it asks.

"Y'know... the hand."

"Okay... well, shit. No, you go and—" the voice mutters. You bet it was gonna ask something like what if you just didn't cut it. Does it think you're some protocol-following sucker? No, this is your game now. You're clearly winning too. "Alright fine, someone's getting the tool. You mind if i have a look now?"

"What. You wanna give me the handbook?" you snort. That's a good one. Maybe if it did you could rip out all the pages on protocol and not fucking the other girls and stuff them in your open wound like second-rate gauze. Or is it third-rate? Regular gauze is second. First-rate you think is some expanding chem-shit.

You never get first-rate. You don't even get passionfruit flavour.

You'd need someone else to splice it into the feed for you anyway; your arms, your head, it all feels a bit too wobbly and spread out over the spinning room. What am I even winning? Maybe it's a bit of control, to choose to bleed out—

Oh. Her hand is cold too.

She's cute.

Her eyes don't glow either.

Why don't they glow?

Everyone's eyes are supposed to glow.

"Fuck she's— no, fuck the tool, I need an OD syringe or something. I don't know. Where's the fucking medic?"

You think a smile would look good on her lips too. Nothing spilling out between them this time. Maybe she'll have one when you wake up. But that always takes a while. eEvery time the techs are different, and the handlers have more lines on their faces, and more greys in their hair. And then handlers are different too and they're soft again.

"Hey. Hey! Can you hear me!? Pilot?"

You blink and don't open your eyes. Too heavy. You ask her, "You know what a passionfruit is?"

You blink and the bunker isn't so cold. It's walls are suddenly a sterile green-grey. They don't spin as much. Who the fuck's the dude with the clipboard, you think, and move on. The thought slipping out easily, your lips don't even have to part to do it.

Where did she go? She was just—

You try to look around, and don't see her. On the side where you're missing an arm there's a bowl next you. You start to blink again, and dream of whatever the fuck was the weird purple ball in it.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

[mistresscitrusslice]

Our Glorious Evolution - Chapter 8: My Feet in Your Shoes (with Chapter Art!!!)

The tension in his legs releases and he bends them experimentally. They’re foreign to him, yet he knows their anatomy better than his own- his old ones. He turns each individual joint with… fear? Curiosity? The movement is as smooth as muscle and bone, and its range of rotation uncannily wider than any human joint.

Viktor says nothing this time, only cleans the blood off and lets him take it in. He gives Jayce a wide berth, seemingly afraid to touch or provoke him in any way. It’s a far cry from his prideful display after the first surgery. Is he giving him space in hopes that Jayce will accept this augmentation more gratefully?

“It doesn’t feel like part of me.”

Viktor appears to press back a frown. “That is normal. An adjustment period is usually required for one to acclimatize to the augmented limb.”

Jayce stretches his legs back out one by one. “No, not that. It doesn’t feel right because you haven’t treated it like a part of me yet.” He turns to Viktor hoping that he’ll get the message.

“Then,” his Herald says, “let us ensure that your new augmentations are working as they should.”

Seemingly on its own, the operating bed folds up into a chair, raising Jayce with it. He watches with a compensating confidence as the Herald kneels slowly, surely at his newly fashioned feet, eyes locked on his. The groin of his new hip is smooth, and he feels not unlike a defaced statue, dirty appendages amputated for purity.

Viktor traces the smooth, blank surface coyly, mocking. Then, he leans in and licks a stripe up Jayce’s crotch. Jayce’s breath hitches, not expecting to feel that much from it. It’s even pleasurable when Viktor takes a metal fingernail and lightly scratches a line down to the bottom of the metal panel of his crotch, finding the latch for its release.

Full fic on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54482530/chapters/169386697

[skinner17]

Kaijuu#8 B side Headcannon

Narumi has various nicknames for Mina bcs his jealousy for her taking spotlight / popularity among captains. Also since Isao mention her so much (massive daddy issue)

He calls her Cannon chan, Bazooka chan, third captain chan, Missing link chan etc.

Hoshina, freshly joins the third division- feels the irk that commander of 1st division never call His commander properly. Even tho Mina doesn't mind it (she mostly ignore him outside battle field) the vice commander can't accept disrespect toward his captain that he revered so much.

After a joint operation between 1st and 3rd division, Hoshina challenged Narumi on small kaijuu subjugation practice duel. If he win, Narumi must address the third commander properly and never by nickname.

The duel caused a scene, Of course because Narumi made announcement so more ppl would see him beat the new cheeky vice commander- Mina's subordinate no less. He will never miss a chance to look cool and better than anyone.

He was sure he can beat him easy. He hold the record afterall

The girls at base squeal and made it as the two strongest kaijuu combatant in Japan fighting over Mina.

Mina never understand what the commotion about, being asked by one of the girl. Which type she prefer (for romantic partner), Narumi or Hoshina ?

She thinks it's about the type of combatant she prefer in a battlefield.

She gives serious answer that she like both of them (they are useful to clear path for her shooting)

With Narumi she feels that she can take it easy (since he will kill the Honju himself) but Hoshina brings the best out of her.

The girls squeal again, saying they both has same chance (to become Mina's lover) and it will be decided with this duel. Making things inaccurately more dramatic.

Of course as per cannon, Hoshina won the duel, beat Narumi by 1 point.

Ever since then Narumi never a dress Mina with nickname. Also this start of the bad relationship between Hoshina and Narumi as we know it.

[yuk-tepat]

2024 Lexember #8: Khûl

RE: previous Lexember post Mup (2024, #1) - Recall that Qathûq had gathered his sorcerers in pursuit of various magical projects.

Today’s word khûl [kʰɯl] means ‘nerve’ or ‘nervous tissue.’

Spelling: The semantic radical (“meaning” component) on the left side is a body. On the right side is the phonetic radical (“sound”) - which is the previous Lexember word xûl ‘finger joint’ - indicating that this word [kʰɯl] sounds close to [xɯl]. An alternate version of the glyph has the semantic THREAD on the left, because nerves are thread-like.

Now to discuss what we might call Tepatic “brainworms.”

They may be called wet i-khûl ‘worms of the nerve’ or nel-khûl ‘nerve crawlers’ or other other terms. Recall that previous Lexember word nel means ‘crawl’ or ‘slither’ - but also ‘lead astray.’

Above: wet i-khûl and nel-khûl

But my preferred word is khûy khûl [kʰɯj kʰɯl].

Above: khûy-khûl

Khûy means ‘little i’ and refers to a little mark representing the sound i, which means ‘of’ or ‘that,’ and is written above and next to larger characters in some texts as an abbreviation of sorts.

It is also a colloquial term for small worms, because the tiny half-loop looks like a tiny worm.

Returning back to Qom: Previously said among other things, he sought to create enchanted worms that would crawl under people’s skin and control their minds. This was developed from a disease. There was a legend that a sorcerer long ago had created animate worms from clay, which could move according to his instruction. But the worms escaped into the wild, infesting animals and people. Now free and without any guiding creator, they did not manipulate people in any purposeful way, but still wandered and burrowed, causing shifting sensations and consciousnesses of all sorts. These are the “brainworms,” a rare but feared disease.

Brainworms are difficult to treat, but still easier than sarcopetrosis, which is hopeless. But it is difficult, and often painful. The worms have to be located, and they can move. If they are still crawling under the skin, the skin can be cut open. If they move into organs such as the spinal cord or brain, they can become impossible to remove. They can be suppressed by the use of antimagical drugs such as phasmoctone, but these can also suppress the patient’s own vitality as well. If not used with great care, the patient can die from the treatment as well. On the other hand, the disease is difficult to spread.

Previously Qathûq had expressed interest to his prime minister, Silhen i-Tsyam, in the latter’s teacher Xhalkil, a biologist who pioneered operant conditioning, and wondered about its social uses. He conveyed that to his magicians, who found a diseased patient from whom they could get worms, and develop them into tools - the goal being for magical worms to burrow into people and manipulate internal energy flow, altering it to cause pleasure or pain to control behavior.

[grantihare]

our cat broke his hip on christmas

hi, your local guy-with-a-blog is here to dox himself so his cat can walk again!

i made posts earlier as this was happening, but now that i've heard back from enough vets to get an idea of how steep this is going to be, i can't not ask for help.

its cheesy to say, but my cats are my everything. mordred, especially, spends his days basically glued to my side. he's my little shadow, and i don't know where i'd be without him.

when he woke me up to feed him at 6am on christmas morning, he was completely fine. i went back to sleep after, and when i woke up for real at 8, he was limp on the ground. when we went to move him, he howled and thrashed like we were torturing him. he ran, and we saw he wasn't using his right back leg.

many tears and an anxiety riddled 4 hour wait for our emergency vet appointment later, we were told he had a right capital physeal fracture, which basically means he snapped the ball bit of the ball joint in his hip. the vet said the best option for him is a femoral head and neck ostectomy (FHO), which'll take the broke bit of his bone out and the scar tissue will sort of just grow in the right way to replace his missing joint (cats are so weird)

its the cheapest option, and its the one with the best success rate, which is super lucky. unfortunately, its still expensive as fuck.

weve been quoted anywhere between 3.5k and 8k by vets i've contacted so far, and most need at least half as a downpayment before they'll operate. it'd take us years to cover the full cost by ourselves. so we've got to break out the big guns - a full gofundme, which will be shared with basically everyone we know, and hopefully far past that as well. carecredit can only cover so much for us, and our immediate family can't afford to lend us much. the internet is our only hope for meeting the full cost and getting mordred better

mordred's the light of my life and i can't stand to see him in pain like this. anything helps. if youre not in a financial state where you can donate, spreading the word is just as important and just as deeply appreciated.

thank you so much for getting this far.

our gofundme is here