#cop x cop

[crowleyhasfeels]

SCENES FROM MY NEXT FIC.

EXPLICIT

DONNA/JODY

Maybe it was the wine or maybe she had gained some courage being in the actual presence of Donna, but she was quickly to her feet, hand held out, an offering to Donna. This could blow blow up in her face, but as Donna's hand slipped into her own, she knew in her gut that there would be no going back from whatever was about to happen.

[ikiprian]

Ghost Kitchen (brought to you by criminal entrepreneur, Red Hood)

Danny’s got the easiest job in Gotham.

He works as a fry cook at a shoddily-run, independent burger joint. Hardly anyone comes in, despite prices being criminally low, and portions insanely large, and while the manager looks like the average tough-as-nails ex-con, he lets Danny mess around in the kitchen whenever the place is empty. (Which is often. This place has to be the city’s hidden gem or something!)

Mr. Manager’s the only one ever there with Danny, except for sometimes when his buddies come over to smoke and play cards. Danny would find it shady, except part of his job is not to ask questions. Literally, he was told during the interview.

(It was a weird interview. Why would they need to hire someone who’s been in a gunfight before? Like, he has, but Gotham’s idea of “hirable qualities” is so bizarre.)

So instead he whips up some killer burgers with the frozen ingredients, and basks in the praise as the guys tell him he shouldn’t have, he does too much for this joint, ain’t that friendly!

Now, Danny’s a chef on the newer side. As a teen he’d preferred the look of Nasty Burger over anything with Michelin stars, and he only really took up cooking after Jazz moved out for college. But just like ecto-exposure used to turn the groceries sentient, Danny’s low-level ecto signature imbues all his food with something historically haunted Gothamites just love! And Danny’s never been one to half-ass a job when it makes people happy.

With fresher produce, real meat, Danny’s sure he can take his dishes to the next level. It takes a couple months of badgering, but his manager finally agrees to contact the mysterious store owner, who keeps the place going, despite profits Danny knows have to be in the red.

Danny spends the morning prepping. He pours his heart into his food, eager to impress. The big boss will be here soon, and he wants to prove that despite the dangerous location, this place has real potential!

It isn’t until the Red Hood shows up that Danny realizes he’s been working for a money laundering scheme.

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposable and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[totally-here]

dpxdc twins au except it's no-pulse flavored

Bart’s new roommate looks a lot like Tim. 

Like, suspiciously like Tim. 

Danny’s the same height, has the same shape of nose, same shade of hair, and even frowns like him. He would have been a perfect copy if he acted more like Tim, but Danny definitely holds himself looser than Bart’s ever seen Tim. 

But he still has his face. So, obviously, Bart has to investigate. Maybe he’s a clone, or a shapeshifter, or maybe one of the Gotham rogues decided to get facial reconstruction surgery to look like him, and this was all a ploy. 

Okay, probably not that last one. Bart doesn’t think Tim’s enemies know his identity. 

Anyway, investigation! Bart’ll figure this out himself, and deal with it if Danny needs to be dealt with. And the investigation will start right after he comes up with an excuse as to why he’s back in their third floor apartment when he passed Danny in the hallway a few seconds before. 

Danny stares at him, and Bart stares back. 

“Must’ve been a doppelganger!” Bart blurts out. 

Danny’s silent for a second before nodding enthusiastically and noting that everyone's supposed to have like seven in the world anyway and wow what a wild coincidence that there’s one in their building. 

Bart extends the same courtesy when a week later he walks in on Danny with an iced over pan on the stove. Danny says they should really get their freezer checked out and Bart agrees and asks if he can use the ice for a painting study. 

(They never get their freezer checked.)

Bart finds that Danny’s great at setting up fun things for him to draw, whether he knows it or not. Like the ice, or his collection of rocks, his astronomy textbooks with the pretty covers, his gestures as he rants about his classes, the excited glint in his eyes when he’s talking about his next repair project and how his eyes almost look like they glow in the right light. 

Hm. A good portion of his sketchbook is drawings of Danny, and yet he’s still having trouble with getting the right blue for his eyes. At first glance they’re Tim’s shade of blue, but when he keeps looking they seem to get lighter. Maybe greener?

He should probably stop staring into his friend’s eyes. 

Well, maybe not. Danny doesn’t seem to mind. 

Just like he doesn’t mind when they started regularly sitting very close on the couch, or falling asleep together, or Bart borrowing some of his jackets, or-

Okay, Bart’s kinda seeing a pattern. He and Danny should really have a conversation about if this is platonic behavior or not. 

But not right now, because Bart brought Danny across the river to raid Wally’s board game closet in Keystone. 

And Wally, who’s used to this, just passes by them with a, “Hey Bart, hey Tim.”

“Danny, not Tim,” Danny replies almost absent mindedly, then looks back at Wally, who’s also staring at him now. “Wait, you know Tim?”

“OhmyGod I was supposed to investigate!” Bart says, face palming. It just slipped his mind! And Danny was distracting him with his pretty face that he totally wears better than Tim!

“You know him too?” Danny asks. But he doesn’t look suspicious of them, more amused. 

“How do you know him?” Wally squints at Danny, eyes briefly catching Bart’s in question. 

“He’s my twin,” Danny answers easily. “The Drakes only wanted one kid, so they gave me to their friends the Fentons, who wanted a second one.” He shrugs and goes back to digging around the closet. “Tim and I were always in contact, though. Letters and phone calls and texting, you know?” 

He says it all so casually while Wally and Bart are sharing increasingly concerned looks behind his back. 

Do the Waynes know about Danny? Has Tim never brought him up? Why? Does Danny know about Red Robin? Does Tim-

“Holy shit does this mean Tim has ice powers too!?” 

Or: Tim and Danny are twins. Through a series of coincidences, the first people to find out that aren’t Fentons or Drakes are the flashes.

(This post was brought to you by me recently finishing the 1995 Impulse run, and wanting an excuse to share this panel:

Look they both got called twinks clearly they're soulmates)

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - Mirrors

Did Danny want to live in Gotham? No, of course not. Did he have a choice? Nope. When does he ever?

Now, he may be technically homeless, but he's also technically dead, so human laws technically don't apply to him. So, naturally, he pics out an empty mansion so big even if the owners were to come home, the chances they'd run into each other would be really low, and settles in.

This 'mansion' happens to be Drake Manor. Look, Danny lived in nowhere Illinois and kinda had his hands full dealing with ghosts, a double life, bullies, and being actively hunted. He doesn’t know much about celebrities. If you tell him the name of someone super famous, it might sound vaguely familiar, but that's about it. What he knew was superheroes and vigilantes (some of them, okay, give him a break). That's about it.

So the name Drake in connection with Gotham didn't ring any alarm bells. He did some surface level research: the Drakes are dead, survived by their only child, Timothy Drake-Wayne, who now owns their house but was adopted by some other super rich guy called Bruce Wayne and doesn't live in it, leaving it empty for the foreseeable future.

It was the perfect place!

Danny didn't explore much, partly because he didn't care to and partly because he was too tired to from healing. He cleaned up after himself, used only his bedroom (chosen for being tucked way back and out of the way), the attached bathroom, and the theatre occasionally as a treat. He lived off of the provisions packed for him, ectoplasm and water from the sink.

Cut to, few weeks in.

Danny's got a new routine, he's taken his stitches out, and is still super fucked up, but a lot better than when he arrived. He hasn't been outside since he arrived, but ghosts don't need Vitamin D anyway. Is he slightly depressed? Maybe. But he's also dead, so, bigger priorities.

Tim is looking through his stuff for something or other, and it occurs to him he probably left it next door. He hasn't been to Drake Manor in months, but he sort of really needs this thing, so he sucks it up and borrows a car because like hell is he walking the several miles from this front door to that one.

He goes to his old bedroom, opens the door, and comes face-to-face with himself.

And Danny doesn't know what he's supposed to do in this situation.

Listen, Danny doesn't always make the best decision in the moment. It's a very normal flaw to have! So he tells who can only be Timothy Drake-Wayne himself when asked, that his name is Timothy Drake, and this is his house, and, actually, who are you and how did you get in?

This causes Tim to assume Danny is himself from another dimension who he accidentally dragged to his dimension by messing with the Time Stream to get Bruce back. Danny continues to accidently fuel this misunderstanding without meaning to.

(This is not helped by the fact that a DNA test doesn't disprove this. Danny's DNA is corrupted, but what Tim does get is identical to himself. This is how Danny finds out he was adopted, and how Tim, much later when misunderstandings are cleared, meets the identical twin brother he never knew he had.)

[starry-bi-sky]

i think i'm hilarious -- aka i made blood blossom danny au memes

all of these come from my DpxDC prompt "i am pushing the batdad agenda--" and it's corresponding additions in the reblogs ksdjlf.

i am. rotating them in my head. forever and always. personally i think there should be more batdad aus in dpxdc, their dynamic could be neat. :)

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Missing Persons

also on AO3

It started so quietly no one really noticed.

People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol – they announced an investigation.

The disappearances stopped.

It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldn’t just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.

When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ‘nice young man’ from her dream who offered to take her away.

She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said he’d be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batman’s irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.

So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.

“I do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.”

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.

“Dramatic fuckers, eh?” Constantine muttered.

A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.

A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.

“Who would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?”

A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.

“Eugh, it’s you.”

The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didn’t stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.

“Peace, Hellblazer.”

A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.

“I mean you no harm.”

There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.

“We met?”

“No, but I know of you. And I must admit, I’m disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.”

They gestured to the others in the room.

“Yeah, well,” Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.”

There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.

“Who might you be, then?”

The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.

“You may call me Ambassador.”

“Ambassador to ghosts?”

“If you’d like to think of it that way.”

Constantine straightened his posture.

“We would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.”

The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.

“Where to even begin…” they whispered to themselves.

“Okay, let’s start with this.” They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. “What part of ‘sleeping tyrant’ wasn’t clear?”

“I was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?”

The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.

“Ancients...”

They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.

“The king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and I’d like to keep it that way this time.”

Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.

“Speaking of which, how’d you even summon him?”

“Summon?” Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.

The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.

“Ancients, this is archaic. Where’d you find it?”

After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.

“Well?”

“Ah...Merlin.”

The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s bloody true!”

The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.

“Can’t fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.

“Lord Phantom.”

Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.

“’Sup Frighty?”

“The dark one is marked.”

The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.

“So he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.”

The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.

“Sure enough. It’s weak, but there’s a family bond there.”

Batman clenched his fist.

“Where is Red Hood?”

The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.

“Safe. And being cared for.”

Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.

“These are the ones?”

The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.

“Is anyone not coming?”

A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.

“Apologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.”

Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.

“I am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.”

“I thought she might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward.

“My Lady, I –”

“You were not asked to speak, Child.” The woman snapped.

Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.

“I will make my displeasure known,” the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.

“Take Dora with you.”

“Do you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?” Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.

“I know better than to doubt you,” they briefly smirked back, “but given my limited experience, I don’t hold them in high regard.”

After a pause they tacked on a “no offense”.

“None taken.”

The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.

“Ambassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.”

He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.

“May I inquire what your companion meant by ‘evacuation’?”

“Exactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.”

“In that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would –”

“Typical,” the ambassador scoffed, “your primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet we’re at fault for not properly informing you.”

Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard “we’re independent” retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.

“If I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.”

The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.

“I don’t talk to cops.”

The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.

“Prepare the Keep. I’ll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.”

“My Lord.”

The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.

“We have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.”

The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.

“You’re an excellent liar, Batman.” The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. “Unfortunately, I know you’re full of shit.”

“What points you to that conclusion?” Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.

The fog had risen to the ambassador’s chest. They scoffed.

“There are photos of you with Amanda Waller.”

Batman’s fist clenched harder.

The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.

“I suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.”

The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.

“I must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.”

Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.

Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.

He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger ‘Phantom’. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.

He had to act quickly.

[divineandmajesticinone]

4 MINUTES (2024) I 1.02 "Do the police normally do house check-ins."

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 15

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: self-esteem issues, feelings

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 15/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

The ride home lasts ten minutes, during which you’re holding back tears the entire time. It’s only when you’re finally inside your own apartment that you let them fall. It doesn’t help to see Fenrir’s collar and leash hanging next to your jackets, or his bowls still on the floor. In a way, it feels like you’re back at square one. 

You know you promised Jeongguk you’d call Jihyo, but you don’t, knowing she’d disapprove of you being on your own probably just as much as he does. Still, realizing that sooner or later you’ll need to either get back to work or find another job, you send her a text, asking if there’s any case for you to work on remotely until you’re ready to return fully.

The first night back is emotional, but you’re relieved to finally be home.

“I don’t think it matters how hard you throw it,” a worried Jimin watches Jeongguk hurl a dart at the dartboard. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d see better results if you didn’t throw it like an Olympic javelin thrower.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just rolls his eyes and grabs another dart. The music around them is surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the chatter of the bustling bar.

“So, care to tell me what’s up with him?” Jin asks, nodding toward Jeongguk as he sets the three pints of beer on the table and takes a seat. 

“His little lady left him,” Jimin explains sadly, sliding one of the pints closer to Jeongguk.

“Oh. Why? You weren’t a couple, were you?” Jin asks.

“No,” is all Jeongguk mutters before he heads over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. He has three of them, but only one actually hit the board; the other two embarrassingly stuck to the wood-paneled wall. From the marks already there, he’s at least not the first terrible dart-thrower. When he returns to the table with all the darts in hand, he pushes his designated pint back toward Jimin. “Can’t drink.”

Jimin meets his eyes, looking defeated. Jeongguk already explained that when you’re not with him, he can’t risk being drunk in case you need him. If you called, saying Hoseong had found you, Jeongguk would not hesitate to get on his bike or in his car, no matter how much he’s had to drink, and driving under the influence is something he’d rather avoid.

“She’s scared of me,” he repeats what you told him a few nights ago. Hearing the words from his own mouth stings less, but his heart still aches and his blood boils. He throws another dart but misses the board, and it sticks to the wall a few inches left of it. 

“Wait. What do you mean?” Jin asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Yeah. Although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t ruled out that I’ll just snap one day and kill her, she’s mostly scared that I’ll want to hurt her emotionally.”

“But why would you? I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, she’s been living with you for, what, the last month?”

“We were. Or at least, I thought so. She kissed me, and we were… getting closer, but I guess it freaked her out.”

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you I was horrible to her before I found out what Hoseong had done? Yeah, the things I said… they were inhumane.”

“What did you say?”

Jeongguk throws another dart, swinging his arm and using way too much force. “What haven’t I said? I’ve told her that she’s too ugly for me to look at, that she needs to stop eating, that she’s incompetent, and that she basically deserved being trafficked if only the traffickers would take her. That’s the short version.”

“Fuck, man,” Jimin breathes in disbelief. Jeongguk told him what happened ages ago but not explicitly what he’d said to you.

“Yeah. I just… I wanted her to hurt, to pay for what I thought she’d done, but she never seemed affected. I’d call her something, and she’d flip me off or glare at me or call me an idiot or whatever, but she never… I thought she didn’t care, so the next time I saw her, I said something worse. But I wouldn’t have, obviously, if I… If I… knew.”

Jin puts his glass down, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, I haven’t met her, but isn’t she, like, objectively very pretty? From what I’ve heard?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jeongguk sighs. “Which is also why I didn’t think she’d take it to heart, ‘cause what I said isn’t true in the slightest.” 

“But can’t she see how pathetically in love you are? No offense,” Jimin asks. “I mean, I take it you’ve apologized and probably told her what you really think? She doesn’t trust that?”

Jeongguk falls silent as he retrieves the darts again, shamefully avoiding eye contact with his friends on his way back.

“Wait, you haven’t apologized?”

“Of course I have,” he argues before lowering his voice. “I just kinda… fucked it up.”

He feels the confused stares of his friends. “I’ve apologized many, many times for how I treated her, and she seemed to kinda accept that? But I never explicitly apologized for the things I said. Nor have I told her how I actually feel about her.”

He sees how Jimin is about to tell him exactly what he thinks about that, but Jeongguk cuts him off before he's able to.

“After I somehow convinced her to stay with me, I thought carefully about how to act around her. I thought that it would be better to apologize for… everything. I thought ‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’ would cover it. And I didn’t want her to second-guess my intentions, so I didn’t actually tell her what I really think.”

“You mean ‘second-guess your intentions’ as in…” Jin trails off.

“As in think that I chose to help her because I was interested in her. I didn’t want her to think I had an agenda or to feel like she’d owe me in any way. She hasn’t had the best experience with men—men in law enforcement, especially—so I wanted to be as… safe, I guess, as possible for her. I didn’t realize she was still thinking about it, taking what I said as the truth.”

Jimin sighs. “So she thinks you might still consider her the ugliest creature to walk the earth is what you’re saying?”

“Apparently. I tried to convince her before she left, but of course, it didn’t seem genuine. I don’t blame her.”

A bit more optimistic, Jin tilts his head. “You don’t think she’ll believe you if you just tell her exactly what you just told us?”

But Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t think so. She told me I scare her because I have a desire to hurt anyone who wrongs me, and she doesn’t feel like she can read me. And I believe her. I wanted to hurt her, and during the mission, I had to pretend to love her when I really didn’t, so I kept switching up on her.”

The atmosphere shifts from frustrated and sad to just sad as Jeongguk runs his thumb over the dart in his hand.

“I lose either way. If I tell her that what I said back then was true, then I think she’s ugly, and I wanted to hurt her by saying so. But if I say that I lied and that she’s really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then I still wanted to hurt her. And after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t want a man with a desire to hurt.”

“But like you said, you didn’t mean to hurt her to that point, more so to be taken down a notch? And it got out of hand?”

“Is there a difference? I’ve hurt her, probably beyond what is salvageable, and she thinks I’m still capable of that; that if we disagree on something, I might turn on her.”

With a deep breath, you pull open the doors to the police station one chilly Monday morning, the sky outside gray and heavy with the threat of snow. It’s been three weeks since you came home, and though Jihyo put up a fight, she eventually agreed to let you stay.

Since months have passed, and you still haven’t caught Hoseong and his crew, you figure you might as well try to get back to normal. So you started planning your return to work, but then Christmas came, which you spent at your mother’s, two hours away.

Jihyo also agreed not to tell Jeongguk about your living arrangements, per your desperate request. You’d rather not deal with his savior complex, and you know he’d park outside your building if he thought you were in danger. You scoff to yourself, but almost immediately, guilt settles in. A savior complex isn’t why he’s worried about you; he’s just a good guy. You know that. Still, you don’t want him to know.

Walking through the station at nine a.m.—on your way to Jihyo’s office to discuss your new assignment—you almost hold your breath. Some officers glance your way, still not used to seeing you back, and maybe even less used to seeing you without Jeongguk. Or maybe they know you had a “falling out?” Would he tell anyone here? Jihyo, maybe, if she didn’t already know, but you’re not sure if he’d tell anyone else; his closest friends besides Jimin don’t work at this station anyway. And Jimin probably wouldn’t gossip about you either.

Jihyo is waiting for you when you reach the door to her office, calling out for you to come in as soon as you knock.

“Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hey. Want a donut?” she asks from behind her desk, happily pointing to the open box, a half-eaten donut in hand and what you assume is part of the other half in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m good,” you grin, sitting down in front of her.

“Alright,” she says, swallowing and wiping some crumbs from her lap. “So, I’ve been looking over your request and proposed methods.”

You watch as she pulls her laptop in front of her, setting the donut down on the table, and starts scrolling.

“And I’d say it’s very reasonable if we’re okay with the risks.”

“I don’t think there are any risks at all, actually,” you argue softly. “We parted on good terms.”

“Yeah, I know. And they played a part in your survival. But I’m still gonna need to have a risk analysis performed. Who would you want to go with you? I could assign Sana, I think, if you want her? She’s on an assignment right now, but we’re hoping they’ll be done by Wednesday, give or take.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m glad to see you back and wanting to work on what matters to you. I know the chief—ex-chief—did his best to be a pain in the ass for you.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait until the investigation’s finished, honestly. He deserves to rot in jail.”

“Agreed. I haven’t heard anything else from the higher-ups, so they’re probably still elbow-deep in it. Anyway, if you have any details you’d like to show me, I’m all ears.”

Your smile grows, and you reach into your bag for your laptop and notebook.

“Thanks,” you smile, standing up an hour later with your bag in hand. But before you exit her office and close the door behind you, you glance back at Jihyo. “By the way, I’m so glad you got the job. You deserve it more than anyone.”

“Thank you. It’s been… rough, these last couple of months. A lot to do and a lot of stress and pressure, but I think it’s worth it. And I’ve had help, making it easier for me to adjust.”

You know who she’s talking about; you don’t need to hear a name.

“He asks about you, you know.”

Holding onto the door, you look away. You’re well aware of what Jeongguk has done for not only you but also Jihyo, Sana, and the entire police station. 

“Let me avoid him for at least another month. Then you can tell him whatever you want, and I can try to be a better colleague. But now? I can’t… I don’t…”

Jihyo looks at you, seeing the pain well up in your eyes when you think about the reason you left his house that night. If you can just have another month to force the warm, yet invalid and hurt feelings you have for him back into the box they broke out of when you first kissed him, you can try to be more civil with him. Hell, you’ll even work with him if he can keep it professional as well.

Jihyo nods, sad but understanding. After all, she had a front-row seat when he used to tear you bloody.

For another hour, you sit at an empty desk, excitedly looking over the preliminary plan that starts on Thursday. You can’t believe it’s about to actually become reality.  

Step one:

Preliminary timeframe: Thursday. 

Possible obstacles and risks: Low risk of hostility or danger. 

Safety measures: Two detectives, civilian clothes, civilian car, concealed firearms.

Step two: Plan A or B, depending on what you find, if anything.

With your notes full of prepared questions, you rise from the chair, deeming it time to leave the station for the day. As you stand there, organizing your papers, movement catches your eye, and you look up just in time to see Jimin enter the big room. And of course, who does he have in tow if not Jeon Jeongguk, dressed, like so often, in the academy's navy crewneck and uniform pants?

Meeting both of their eyes, you’re saved by your phone’s ringtone, a sound that seems to stop even Jeongguk from taking an impulsive step toward you.

Fishing the phone out from the pocket of your black pants, you swipe your finger across the screen to answer. It’s Sana.

“Hello?”

“Hey! So I talked to Jihyo, and she said that your request got pre-approved? I’m a little busy at the moment and for the next few days, but send me anything you’d like me to look over in preparation.”

“So you’re up for it?” you ask, a wide smile forming. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeongguk reluctantly follow Jimin further into the room, where they start talking to two other officers with their backs turned. If you were more of a hopeless romantic instead of a realistic one, you’d describe the glances he sends your way as… yearning. To avoid his gaze, you focus on the notebook lying on the desk.

“Of course! You and me, just like old times.”

“Old times? It’s only been like a year since we worked on a case together.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go. See you.”

“I’ll send the info tonight. See you.”

Discreetly, you end the call and gather your things, quickly but quietly heading for the exit. But in the corridor, you hear a call of your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around. It hurts to see him, to walk these halls, avoiding him just like you used to. Only this time, it’s a different kind of pain.

The shame creeps in at the same rate Jeongguk approaches. It’s the same shame for how he sees you, but also for how you’ve reacted. You can barely look at him, yet you’re ashamed for not giving him a chance, even though he’s the one who made the bed he’s now tossing and turning in. He's so handsome, looking so warm and strong as he approaches, his black hair looking soft, shiny and just a little longer than last time. A part of you wishes he’d close his eyes so that you could throw your arms around his neck and breathe him in.

“Can you please leave me alone for a while?” is what you ask instead, clutching your notebook to your chest.

Now standing right before you, he looks down at you with sad, desperate eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. Two minutes is all I need.” 

You’re not sure why, because you’re not an immature person, but you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Noticing the shift in your expression, Jeongguk thinks back to what he said, smiling as well. “I set that one up pretty well, didn’t I?”

You turn your head, trying to stifle the smile, but you find that it fades easier than expected. 

“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust. 

Your gaze locks on the lower part of the wall. You wish someone would lend you the cloak of invisibility so that you could hide yourself from him and the world.

“Look at me,” he instructs, but you don’t. The more you think about his eyes on your body, the more you want to leave. 

“Look. At me,” he repeats, firmer this time but still without sounding angry. 

So you do.

“I get it if you don’t want anything else to do with me, but I can’t have you walking around, believing what I said is true.”

Although you don’t cry, you reluctantly let him see just how hurt you are.

“You were right. I wanted to hurt you. I said those things because I was angry, and I wanted just… some kind of justice. When you instead seemed so… unfazed, I let it get the best of me, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I was wrong and although I wanted payback, I didn’t mean to hurt you to this degree. I was only looking for a reaction, anything that showed me that you were paying for what I thought you’d done. If I’d known how I really made you feel, regardless of if you were innocent or not, I would’ve stopped.“

“So you’re just a man, after all?” you ask, and maybe it’s uncalled for, maybe it’s not.

Jeongguk takes half a step back, appearing lost for words, and with enough pain in his surprised eyes for you to think he looks hurt.

He blinks and lowers his voice. “Yeah. Just a man. But listen to me—the things I said were. Not. True. Okay? You hear me? I cannot let you go around thinking you’re anything like what I told you.”

“I find that hard to believe. How else would you know exactly where to hit? What to say to cause maximum damage? Talking about my cellulite and my… weight and…”

“I said what I figured any woman would be scared to hear.”

“Yeah, sure,” you dismiss. 

It doesn’t matter what he says now—he did know exactly what to say, which means he must have looked at you, inspected your body and found every single one of your flaws. It makes you nauseous, as if some of those flaws didn’t exist to the world simply because no one other than you had noticed or mentioned them. Then Jeongguk and his friends scrutinized every inch of you, uncovering them all and putting them on display.

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

“You would’ve told me.”

You really think he would have. The Jeongguk who wants you to sleep in his bed, holding you from behind, who asks to hold your hand, and who puts frosting on your lips as an excuse to kiss them—he would have told you if he liked you. If he thought you were beautiful.

“I didn’t. I thought–incredibly dumbly–that if I told you what I really think of you, you’d think I was hitting on you. If things were different, if we ran into each other somewhere without all this… baggage, I would’ve hit on you, but all I wanted at the time was for you to trust me as a friend and to trust that I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want you to think I was looking to get laid or that I would… that I was anything like Hoseong. I didn’t know that you took my bullshit to heart—because again, it’s just not true—and so I chose not to say anything.”

“But we’ve been past that point for a while, haven’t we?” you ask, finding his explanation a little too weak to believe. “I trusted you enough to tell you about the worst moment of my life, I kissed you, and I told you how pretty I think you are, yet you couldn’t even…”

Frustration boils in your veins, mixing with the raw disappointment and hurt which cools you back down. You feel so… small, so defeated. “I don’t need compliments. Just… something. Something that would’ve shown me you weren’t being sweet only because you felt guilty.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, yeah, he should’ve told you, and thinking back to his joke about pretty being for girls makes him cringe with both shame and regret. Especially since he’d used multiple occasions to taunt you with the fact that you’re not a pretty girl. But it had been hard, finding a balance in showing his affection without scaring you off. When you reacted the way you did that night during the power outage, he... didn’t want to risk making you more uncomfortable or afraid. He’d decided to take a step back, let you lead, and he would follow. Of course, that backfired horribly.

You look at him, hurt still brimming in your eyes.

He searches for words, trying to explain himself better. “I should’ve told you, but I… I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I wanted to follow your lead and let you decide everything. You wanted me handcuffed and blindfolded—of course I realized you were nervous. But I thought you were more worried I’d do something to you, rather than what I would think of you. I didn’t want to influence you to do anything you would’ve regretted.”

You’re clearly not convinced, and you shake your head slowly.

“You could’ve just given me a ‘you too.’ That’s all I would’ve needed.”

Jeongguk can only watch as you leave, obviously still very much hurt by him. Ten seconds after your footsteps have disappeared, he heads back to the desk area, his head hung low.

Jimin looks at him, JJ and Min gone. The unasked question hangs in the air, and Jeongguk can see Jimin realize that no, it didn’t go very well.

“You gotta remember that she’s had a hectic few months and maybe wasn’t really able to process everything. You being an ass was probably the least of her worries for a while—until it wasn’t anymore. And healing isn’t always linear. I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”

Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t think she will, and I can’t expect that of her. I just… hate myself for what I did to her. I never even realized she was just walking around, bleeding from my words.”

You haven’t fixed your car since the last tampering, but fortunately, Jihyo agreed to lend you one of the station’s unmarked cars. A discreet black thing that you park outside the station at ten a.m. on Thursday to pick up Sana, who needed to retrieve some things and told you to meet her there.

Getting no reply, you lock your phone and step out of the car with a sigh. The ground is powdered white, your shoes leaving tracks as you walk up to the station’s main entrance.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, the doors falling shut behind you.

“Good morning!” Sana rushes over, a coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute, I just gotta ask Mark something.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you do, trailing behind her into the sea of desks. The place is unusually crowded with officers, so you decide to wait near the wall, leaving her to weasel her way into the middle on her own.

There usually aren’t this many people here when you’re around, but in your case, the problem isn’t necessarily people; it’s big, strong, law enforcement men. Though they’re not paying you much attention—they must be preparing for something big—you still can’t will your body to fully relax.

By instinct, you tug at your clothes, wishing you hadn’t left your jacket in the car. Since you decided to wear civilian clothes today, you thought you might as well dress somewhat according to your original mission’s dress code. Except adjusted for winter, of course. 

You’re wearing winter boots that reach your upper calves, a pair of those invisibly fleece-lined pantyhose you’ve seen all over social media the last few months, and a cream-colored knitted turtleneck dress. It’s been in your closet forever, but unfortunately, you didn’t try it on before you had to leave.

It feels too tight on your body. Not to wear into a ‘strangely religious neighborhood,’ but too tight to wear here. You pull at the hem where it ends at your mid-thigh, keeping your eyes down when people pass you and hoping no one is looking at you and taking note of how awkwardly shaped your body is.

You stand there for a while, avoiding people’s eyes while you wait for Sana.

However, when you—out of the corner of your eye—notice a uniformed man walking toward you, you look up. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker between you and the people walking past you, as if he’s seen exactly the shameful way you carry yourself around men—these men—nowadays. It’s gotten worse since you left his house; you know that, but when all of your confidence was fueled by anger and then denial, removing those leaves… not much left.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down at you with frustrated eyes. He’s so broad, so imposing, and it’s very evident when he wears his navy uniform, the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.

“Listen to me—”

You look away, about to step back, but he grasps your hand—not just to stop you but to guide the two of you a few steps away from the path of officers and behind the tall panels of a cubicle.

“No. Listen to me. I’ll leave you alone after this if that’s what you want, but I need you to know that you are so incredibly beautiful.”

You sigh, looking at him and wordlessly begging him to just give up already. He’s quiet for a few long seconds, his frustration seemingly growing.

When he speaks again, his voice is calm, more earnest. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“No,” you shake your head. You can’t recall the very first time you met him.

“I do. It was a rainy day—my fourth at the station—and I ran into you at the main entrance. The rain had wet your hair, and I held the door open for you. You thanked me, but you didn’t really smile much, just politely. I think you also bowed your head slightly. I remember thinking that you must’ve been cold from the rain, but I realize you were wary around the men here, even if you and I didn’t know each other.”

Sounds about right.

“And I thought that you were just so beautiful.”

You look down. It’s humiliating, and you feel like shit, hearing him throw compliments your way just to make you feel better. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but what else would he say? You can’t exactly say you expected him to approach you today to call you ugly.

Noticing your hesitation, he appears to be searching his mind for something, and you glance at him. 

Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly, and he reaches into the pocket of his navy uniform pants. It’s his phone that he pulls out, and he starts to scroll. He scrolls, and he scrolls, until he finally finds what he’s looking for.

“Look,” he says, handing you the phone.

Although you’re not too keen on entertaining whatever this is, you can’t help but be a little curious. What could he have on his phone that would convince you?

Accepting the device, you start reading the words on the screen. They’re text messages from an old group chat, dated years back, and though you can’t remember the exact date Jeongguk first showed up at the station, you assume it was right around then. The chat seems to have consisted mostly of him, Ryung, Hoseong, Seunghwan, and Junseo.

Seunghwan: Yeah, we’re excited to have you, just let us know if you need anything.

The next few texts are from the following day.

Jeongguk: So I just met the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen??

Jeongguk: Quick question, is there a work dating policy here? I can’t remember. 

Jeongguk: And if not, where do I find this woman again? Is she an officer? I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m absolutely head over heels from a three-second interaction, and she didn’t even really say anything. 

Jeongguk: I’d love to ask her out.

Ryung: If it’s who I think it is then you better stay away, man.

You read on, seeing how Ryung goes on to describe a woman’s features, which happen to align with yours. The length, color, and style of your hair, the color of your eyes, and your height. But also a very generous way of describing your face and the shape of your body.

Jeongguk: Yeah! Is she with one of you already? In that case, I apologize!

Ryung: No, but Hoseong did her briefly, and she’s absolutely mental. Pretty, but crazy

The next words are not very nice, the men urging Jeongguk to stay away from the woman who could only ever be you, promising to tell him what happened the day after.

“See,” Jeongguk says, “Even Ryung knew exactly who I meant; I didn’t even have to describe you, just say that you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”

You’re not sure. Yeah, the evidence points to that, and you can’t deny that you’re definitely feeling some form of relief, but… you can still hear his voice in your ears, see the anger and hatred in his dark eyes.

You hand the phone back, and Jeongguk looks around, sighing before turning his attention back to you. “You want me to be completely honest? Tell you exactly what I think of you?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No? That’s the point? I know that I’m not your type. I’m full of flaws. I don’t have a body fat percentage in the negatives like you, I don’t always have the energy to shave every inch of my body, and I’ve never gotten flowers. No matter what you say now, I’m not someone you want.”

“You think I’m someone who would care about any of that?” he asks, his voice tinged with hurt.

“You look like someone who would.”

Jeongguk looks away, taking a second to gather his thoughts.

“I… wanted to ask you out that day, after I first met you. You looked so pretty out there in the rain, and I think my heart stopped for a while. I think that you’re cute—really fucking adorable—and charming, and you’re smart and kind, and you’re absolutely breath-taking and sexy as hell.

"Which was another reason I was so angry at you; I saw this… stunning woman, who appeared to live a very privileged life, yelling ‘sexism’ whenever something didn’t go your way to… I don’t know, avoid consequences and get ahead, not realizing what sexism truly meant for other women. I didn’t think there was that much harm in what I said because I thought you knew very well how goddamn pretty you are, so I gripped at every straw, trying to get a reaction.”

You listen to every word he says, still unable to decide. You want to believe him, but the deep wounds he carved into your skin are still bleeding.

“I was so conflicted during our mission. On one hand, I had to pretend to like the person who had shot one of my best friends, who got away with it and refused to be held accountable for it. On the other hand… I liked seeing you pretend to like me too. First, out of spite, but then I realized that I liked seeing you smile, and how nice you were to the people around you, except for me, of course, but I guess I always started it. Then you fell asleep in my arms at the barbeque, and I knew I was fucked. I felt like I betrayed my friends for… feeling something other than hatred for you. 

“But this little thing, that hated me so much, let herself be so vulnerable as to sleep in my arms. And I guess I looked at you differently after that. The more I realized that you might actually be a pretty decent detective; a decent person, the harder it was for me to be mean to you. After everything, and after I’d found out what had happened, I wanted to tell you how much I liked you and how pretty I thought you were, but I was scared you wouldn’t come with me if I did. I was scared they’d look for you at your apartment, so I kept quiet.

“Even after you came to stay with me, and it seemed like you started to trust me, even just a little bit, I had to convince myself to wait. And the more I got to know you, the harder it became. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to bury you in flowers? Hold you and kiss you silly? And you know why I was always up before you—or at least I tried to be—when you slept in my bed with me?”

You shake your head because you don’t know.

There's something else in his eyes when he holds your gaze, “Because I dream about you, and I wake up hard. But I remembered how I freaked you out when we made out back at the house, when you were on my lap and I got hard. I didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, so I made sure to wake up before you, just in case.

“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and really, it would’ve been my pleasure if you’d wanted to sleep with me. But more than that, I wanted you to be safe and feel safe, never doubting why I was doing what I was.”

He shuts his eyes for a short moment. “I guess that’s all I can say. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to know that all I wanted was revenge; nothing of what I said was true.”

He opens his eyes again, looking into yours with his soft, brown ones and a gentle sincerity. Though it’s overshadowed by something else. “I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”

Regret.

As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.

“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.

Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”

“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.

You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”

Despite the clear worry his eyes display, he makes no effort to follow you and talk you straight, probably realizing that there’s nothing else he can do; that was his last chance.

<previous | next> author's note: so there's that! thanks for waiting for it <3 this was the last puzzle piece of their past, i think, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, but especially him lol <3<3

[bluerosefox]

Possessed Pearl's

You know how in some ghost stories sometimes its not a person or a land that's haunted but the items?

Well what if, when looking for a mother's day gift for his mom, Danny is looking around a pawn shop and finds a necklace, it's missing some pearls but it's just enough to pass off as a decent gift. Danny humms but decides against it and goes to leave it....

That was until he gasped out blue frost and spots a ghostly woman appear out of the necklace with a somber smile. She isn't as seeable as the other ghosts in Amity though, meaning she doesn't have enough ectoplasm on her own (that might change the longer she's in Amity and around Danny though) and that right now only Danny can see her.

And Danny well... hes been doing his hero gig for a bit now, might go and ask if there was anything he can do to help.

And later Danny's good deed... bites him back. Oh boy. Because now he has the Bats looking into Amity Park... Wait what do you mean Martha is now strong enough to be seen?!

[mikami1992]

Supernatural Cops

The fandom has come to the conclusion that all kinds of supernatural or unusual things happen in Amity Park and people take it like any other Tuesday.

Still, I wouldn't be surprised if this place is the only place in the country (not to say the world) that has a police division in charge of handling Cults…

Yes, in Amity Park there is a group of police (not to say half of all the police in the city) that are dedicated to controlling cults and their peculiarities, because we must remember that, despite the reputation of being a tourist trap, this town in the middle of nowhere has the reputation of being the most haunted place in the country (or the world), so it wouldn't be crazy to say that on certain dates of the year many "tourists" (cough cultists cough) arrive who come in order to do "events" (cough rites cough), so whether they want it or not, someone has to control that the limits on how they are "celebrating" are not broken… and to top it off, the limits of what the city considers acceptable is a greater margin than other places, so it has become common for some groups to come back later.

So yes, Amity Park has one of the most effective police departments in dealing with cults and supernatural beliefs, not only are they effective in identifying participants, most of the time they know what kind of cultist they are dealing with, whether they are just playing a game or are the real magic business and how dangerous/troublesome they will be in the end.

What's more, this group is so good at what they do, that many times the inhabitants of Amity Park prefer to call them instead of the GIW (they are too destructive and there is still no 100% reliable insurance that will pay for the damages they cause), when it comes to a problem with a ghost and the ghost child is not around.

and that competition is more noticeable when other cities in the country begin to ask for help with some unknown cults that are appearing rap

[bet-on-me-13]

Dash Baxter as the Overly Competent Metropolis Cop

We all know the "Dash becomes a Police Officer" trope, but I can never remember what Coty he is placed in.

Now, Imagine if Dash is placed in Metropolis? He starts out on the force and keeps telling everybody that this City is "Nowhere near as exciting as I thoight it would be" and "There aren't even any Supervillains that I can arrest"

And everybody else is just thinking that he is just overconfident in his own skills than that he is just a glory seeker.

And then one day, Lex Luthor breaks out of Prison and gets one of his Giant Mechs. Superman arrived on scene to try and stop him only to discover Dash handcuffing a peefectly fine Lex on the hood of his Car while Lex's Mech Suit is laying 10 meters away totally unscathed.

This random cop somehow managed to defeat Lex Luthor's Mech Suit (Which was designed to battle SUPERMAN) without needing to hurt Lex OR damage the suit in any way.

Well, at the very least that must have been a difficult feat to pull of-

"That was easily the worst Power Armor I have ever had to fight dude, are you sure you're a Super Genius?"

What?!

[p0ssym1lker]

Danny: anything interesting happening lately

Dick: well I'm gonna be a cop soon-

Danny: *horrified gasp*

Dick: what happened-

Danny: I don't think this friendship can continue

[floweroflaurelin]

Huevember day 11: Proposal in Blumenthal 💖🌿✨💖

—

“Oh, Admiral Tusktooth, yes I will!”

—

Huevember is back with another Echoes of the Solstice painting! I had to take a week off to focus on work for my job but I’m glad to be back on the huevember grind 💪🏽 In this one I thought it was just going to be the fjorjester kiss but then I remembered Artagan made that wreath and decided to go a bit extra with it 😆🌿✨

[imfoive]

Fool, Hopelessly in Love

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: Brother’s Bestfriend au!, Angst, Romance, unrequited love, slow-burn, slightly NSFW (mdni) Warnings: mentions of cheating, drinking, cursing, blood, physical violence, somewhat proofread WC: 12.7k A/N: raise your hand if you needed a pining lee know fic 🙋‍♀️ Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

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Lee Minho was an ordinary man. Minus the occasional dangers of his profession, he thought of himself as just an average guy leading a typical life. He was quiet and composed, enjoying his solitude, yet loved goofing off and letting loose with his closest friends. Again, despite the challenges of his job as a cop that he found fulfillment in, Minho was perfectly ordinary.

But hidden deep inside was a secret he had kept locked away for what seemed like forever.

Lee Minho was a fool, hopelessly in love.

He hadn’t anticipated falling for her. 

No. 

Never in a million years.

He wasn’t aware he’d fall this hard. The aching feeling in his heart intensified just at her presence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unknown to anyone but himself.

Yet all he could do was pretend.

After all, she was his best friend’s little sister.

It hadn’t always been like this. Despite knowing her for more than a decade, he had never felt such an overwhelming pull to her before.

How was it possible that now, after all this time, he was painfully aware of these newfound feelings?

Her brother, was his first and only friend in high school. The then-sixteen year old had transferred in the middle of the semester, recently losing his mother, and had come to live with his uncle and aunt. He was a loner for the most part, yet by the second week of school he had gained a reputation for being blunt and rude, a cold demeanor displayed by a teenager who was still mourning. Still, the class mood maker, who was absent for the two weeks Minho had been there, due to a sports injury, smiled brightly in front of him. Knocking on the desk Minho had laid on with head buried in his arms. 

   “So you’re Lee Minho huh? Hey, I’m Seo Changbin!”

His voice was loud, yet Minho never understood why he had smiled at him. Even approached him, when he was hobbling around the school and had lots of school work he had to catch up on.

But slowly they became close. Changbin would persistently stay next to him, well aware that Minho didn’t want him there. The sound of Changbin’s lunch tray clattering across from him would become something he became used to. And suddenly he found himself laughing, opening up to something he didn’t know he needed. A friend. 

By the time the semester ended they were best friends. The notorious reputation he earned, long gone. They played basketball, went on trips, hung out at each other’s places for hours, fingers working against game controllers in frenzy. 

That’s how Minho met her. His best friend’s sister.

Y/N was only two years younger than they were. The siblings were always bickering. Their teasing and pranks were things that stretched even into their adulthood. But still, anyone could tell they were close. Even at fourteen, Y/N’s voice rang out loudly, matching her brother’s, if not even louder.

When Minho introduced himself, she quipped, “Ah, so you’re Grumpy Minho from Bin’s class,” earning a nudge from her flustered mother.

Their mother, a warm and kind woman, who had been acquainted with Minho’s aunt, understood the tragedy he had endured before living in this town. Initially uncomfortable with the sad look in her gaze, Minho gradually grew accustomed to her kindness. She welcomed him into their family, treating him like a second son and providing the love and support he had lost.

As the years passed, Minho’s bond with the Seo siblings deepened through shared experiences and countless hours spent together. By the time they graduated from high school, Minho had become a protective figure in Y/N’s life, someone she could rely on when her brother couldn’t be there.

And a few years later, once Minho graduated from the police academy, Y/N proudly declared she would marry him someday, eliciting chuckles and teasing from those around them. He was too good for her, they scoffed. Her mother, though, secretly wished it would come true, hoping Minho would become a permanent part of their family.

They all laughed.

Only a handful of years ago, Minho, who laughed at such a ridiculous thing, was now at a loss for words.

What changed so drastically that she became someone who occupied his thoughts day and night? He found solace in her smile, joy in her laughter, and pain in her tears. 

Probably that night. 

The day before his promotion. The week after Changbin secured a full time position at the company he had been interning at.

It was also the day Y/N planned to officially introduce her boyfriend to them.

Her birthday.

It was her first attempt at bringing a romantic partner in front of her protective older brother and his equally overwhelming best friend. One was a gym enthusiast, the other a cop, easily intimidating for any suitor.

They made reservations for dinner and drinks at an upscale venue later that evening to meet the man who supposedly made her feel special. But with so much to celebrate, the siblings decided to hit a club first. Though Minho’s promotion was not yet official, the occasion demanded dancing, laughter, and drinks. The birthday girl, initially beaming with joy, danced gracefully to the music. However, her mood shifted upon receiving a text from her boyfriend. He was busy at work and couldn’t step out, couldn’t make it to her birthday celebration. She returned to find the two older guys at the bar, masking her disappointment, though they could see right through her facade.

So they decided to distract her.

They continued drinking, dancing, and trying to lift Y/N’s spirits. Minho found himself back at the bar, navigating through the crowd when he accidentally collided with someone who looked eerily familiar. He squinted in disbelief, he’d only seen that face in pictures that Y/N shoved in his face, but he was sure it was that person. Minho’s face had contorted, and he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t who he thought it was. Perhaps the shots he downed were playing tricks on his mind. Changbin intervened, pulling him away, something about getting some fresh air. Minho nodded absently, stealing one last glance over his shoulder, but the familiar face had vanished from the bar. 

The familiar face was outside, and Minho’s initial hunch proved correct.

All three of them stood in stunned silence as they witnessed Y/N’s boyfriend passionately kissing another girl by the club’s entrance. Changbin hesitated momentarily, glancing back and forth between Y/N, frozen in disbelief, and the scene unfolding before them. Like Minho, it took a moment for the realization to sink in for him as well. Y/N’s soft voice, barely audible over the bass of the loud club music, booming even outside, and the chatter around them, was enough to confirm their doubts.

   “He wasn’t at work after all.” Her voice carried a mix of hurt and resignation.

Her boyfriend finally noticed them, his face going pale as he hastily pushed away the girl he was with. Who turned out to be a mutual friend, looking awkward and guilty. He stumbled over his words, attempting feeble excuses that neither Minho nor Changbin found convincing. His eyes darted nervously between them, fully aware that the two men were probably going to kick his ass.

Minho let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as he stepped forward to restrain Changbin, whose fists were clenched and ready to strike. Y/N remained silent, her gaze fixed on her boyfriend, processing.

   “Hey, I’m a cop…” Minho started, his tone cool and controlled, fully aware of the consequences of any altercation, especially the day before his promotion. And this loser was not worth it.

He glanced briefly at Changbin, silently urging him not to attack.

But before Changbin could respond, Y/N cut in sharply, her voice firm and decisive.

   “Let’s go.” She said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She turned on her heels and walked away, leaving her boyfriend standing there, stunned and calling after her futilely. But the boyfriend’s calls cut short, seeing the deathly glare Changbin had shot his way.

Minho sighed heavily, his frustration evident as he glanced back at the cheating man, who was now taking cautious steps backward, still shielding his cheating partner. 

   “Pathetic.” Minho muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief at the situation.

The Seo siblings found themselves seated in a humble hole-in-the-wall bar, far from the upscale place they had originally planned to celebrate Y/N’s birthday. Despite its lack of glamour, the dimly lit bar became the perfect place where they could gather their thoughts.

Changbin struggled to find words that could provide comfort or solace, as he sat in the stool next to his quiet sister. His initial attempts were drowned out by the bitter taste of anger and disappointment. But each time he began to speak out in a string of curses, Minho’s subtle gestures urged him to hold back, a silent reminder to tread carefully.

   “Ugh, let’s just drink.” Changbin finally muttered, breaking the heavy silence that hung over them.

The brother-sister duo began drinking. Minho observed them quietly from his seat, knowing he would eventually need to ensure they got home safely. His gaze shifted between Changbin, visibly letting off steam with each drink, and Y/N, surprising him with her capacity to match her brother’s pace despite her usually lightweight tolerance.

Changbin had fallen first, his head landing with a dull thud against his folded arms on the bar counter. His shoulders rose and fell rhythmically with each breath. Meanwhile, Y/N swayed slightly in her seat, her elbows propped on the counter as she cupped her flushed face in her hands. Her eyes struggled to remain open, the effects of alcohol painting her cheeks with a noticeable tinge of red. When she spoke, her words slurred together in whispers that caught Minho’s attention. Frowning slightly, he leaned in closer, trying to decipher her drunken murmurs.

   “Why can’t I find anyone decent?” She began questioning, turning towards Minho, who truly did not have any answers for her.

Minho listened intently as Y/N poured out her frustrations, her voice wavering with a mix of disappointment and vulnerability.

   “I just want a good man who will treat me well.” She lamented, her glistening gaze searched his face for understanding.

   “Before this cheating dog, there was the jerk who just wanted a fling. Before him was the thief. Even you laughed at the idea of marrying me.” 

Minho had blinked back, suddenly caught off guard by her last sentence. 

   “Have you never seen me like that?” Her question hung in the air, heavy with implications that Minho suddenly struggled to process.

He continued to blink, big eyes taken aback by the unexpected turn of the conversation.

For a moment, silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft murmur of the bar and Changbin’s occasional sleepy shuffle on the other side of her. Y/N’s eyes bore into Minho’s, waiting for a response that he didn’t have.

   “You are a good guy then.” She whispered finally, a fragile smile playing on her lips.

And she leaned in, her lips meeting his.

The man next to her stiffened. Wide eyes bore into the air behind her. His mind raced as Y/N’s lips brushed against his, a gentle press that sent a jolt through his entire being. Her warmth lingered on his lips even as she pulled back, her sheepish smile breaking the spell of their fleeting moment. 

Before he could process what had just happened, Y/N slumped forward onto the bar counter with a heavy thud, the sound echoing in the quiet bar. Changbin stirred beside her, groggily lifting his head and scanning the scene with furrowed brows of confusion. Minho could feel his heart pounding in his chest, entire body igniting with a burning sensation.

   “What’s wrong?” His best friend muttered, still a little drunk, a little sleep hazed. 

Minho snapped out of his daze, still utterly at a loss for words.

The siblings had shown up hungover at his promotion ceremony, they had gotten so drunk to the point that Changbin only remembered bits and pieces of the previous night, while Y/N didn’t remember anything at all. Her genuinely puzzled expression left Minho feeling conflicted, uncertain of how to process the situation. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if he should be relieved that she couldn’t remember, sparing her from embarrassment. Yet, another part of him wondered if he should have felt worried that she did something like that? What if it had been someone else?

Or maybe he should’ve been mad that he had to be the only one who knows what happened between them? 

But ultimately, Minho did not want to confront it.

Instead he lied. Nothing stupid had happened.

Minho brushed off the incident as a drunken mistake, burying it deep within and keeping it hidden from everyone. Even her.

But then his mind wandered beyond his control, bringing up questions he never anticipated.

What did Y/N mean when she included him in the list of guys who hurt her?

Did she truly want to marry him back then? 

Why did she kiss him? 

The detective wracked his brains. The unanswered questions gnawed at Minho’s thoughts like an unsolved case. It replayed in his mind, each detail scrutinized for clues. Surely, part of her had to be aware she was kissing him and not someone else.

Her words, “You are a good guy,” echoed in his mind.

His eyes tracked her movements with a new intensity, questions at the tip of his tongue but never said aloud.

That’s probably how it started.

A slow time-lapse of his resolve breaking down, a gradual shift in his perception of her, something that seemed to have easily slipped under his radar.

He found himself looking for her, his eyes wandering until they landed on her. Each time he saw her, his mind replayed the moment. The soft of her lips, plush against his, the warmth of her smile afterward, and the sheepish glance she had given him before succumbing to unconsciousness.

He had smacked himself, shuddering for even remembering such details. Despite his efforts to push aside those memories, they persisted stubbornly, haunting him.

Then he woke up one night, stunned. Eyes darted from one end of his room to the other, his chest heaved with each panicked breath. 

He had dreamt of her.  

He had dreamt of kissing her. 

And he had liked every second of it.

The sensation was so vivid, so real, that it lingered even in the darkness of his bedroom.

It doesn’t take much for a woman to get a man to notice her, even if it’s just from a drunken encounter.

Minho wrestled with himself, debating whether he should have just told her the truth when she asked the next day if she had done anything foolish. 

But it was too late he concluded. He had already lied.

Instead, he made himself busy.

The new detective was commended for taking on so many new cases. To the outside world, he appeared focused and driven, but deep down, only Minho knew the real reason behind his relentless workload. It was his defense against thoughts of Y/N.

Against the memories of that kiss, the confusing emotions that followed, and the vivid dreams.

And for a while, his strategy seemed to work. He managed to avoid seeing Y/N frequently, although he had little energy left for socializing with anyone else at all.

Minho was becoming a fool, falling hopelessly in love.

There was a particular instance when she dropped by unexpectedly with coffee, and his new teammates couldn’t resist teasing him about whether she was his girlfriend. His response was unexpectedly sharp and loud, heavy with denial. 

   “Of course not! Never!” 

It made her flinch, visibly taken aback.

   “Geez, you don’t have to deny it that eagerly.” She retorted, rolling her eyes at him before turning to his team and introducing herself with a lighthearted smile.

If only she had known how much of his thoughts she had taken up. 

Minho tried to convince himself out of those forbidden feelings til the very end.

But then he found himself smiling at her while she did something she always does. In that fleeting instance, he found her utterly endearing, cute even.

The realization hit him like a sudden wave, his smile fading as he stood frozen, eyes cast downward. It was as if his heart had sent a clear message to his entire being.

 Accept it, you like her.

Everyone always talks about the five stages of grief, but what about the stages of secretly crushing on your best friend’s sister?

Then came anger.

His emotions finally boiled over one day when Y/N visited him unexpectedly on New Year’s Eve, insisting that he take a break from his relentless work schedule and join their celebrations. His outburst wasn’t just about her interrupting him, he knew it stemmed from the frustration and confusion he felt about his growing feelings for her. The emotions he shouldn’t have even felt to begin with.

Why was he the only one tormented by that damn kiss?

Why was he the only one dreaming of doing things to her that made him shudder just thinking about?

Was it even fair to blame her?

These questions gnawed at him, stirring up a storm of conflicting emotions that he struggled to contain.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, he lashed out, slamming his hands against her and the wall,  unintentionally caging her between them. Y/N was stunned at his outburst, confused as to why he acted that way, worried even. Her concerned eyes darted between his shining gaze.

   “I’m not supposed to feel like this.” It was a panicked mutter to himself.

The intensity of his emotions surprised him, and he quickly recoiled, realizing his eyes had lingered on her lips. 

Afraid that he’d be the one to kiss her this time. Fully sober. 

He pulled back abruptly, his fear palpable. The thought of doing something and crossing a line that he had been desperately trying to avoid, terrified him.

Y/N thought Minho’s outburst was because of stress from work, concerned that he was dealing with a particularly challenging or disturbing case.

She misunderstood. And he let her misunderstand. 

Then he disappeared. 

Well, attempted to disappear. Believing that some time away would help him sort out his feelings and make them fade, much like Y/N’s apparent teenage crush on him. 

He was confident at one point that he would be able to overcome whatever disease he believed it to be. If he believed hard enough that he would convince himself that it wasn’t so.

But the dreams.

The damn dreams that often woke him up in the middle of the night, sweaty, ears and cheeks red and flushed, the painful tent in his pants. All make him groan, rubbing his face in his palms.

He had transferred to another city for a year to get away from the source that made him feel those emotions he’s never felt before, but once there and away from her, he did nothing but pine for her. 

Alone in a city over, Minho had constantly prayed for those forbidden feelings to fade as quickly as they surfaced. But after crying to himself countless nights, feeling overwhelmed by the turmoil within him, the tug at his chest whenever he thought about her, the detective’s prayers changed.

He prayed she would be his.

That’s how this game of pretend began. 

After returning back, Minho slipped back into his routine. As if the year apart hadn’t stirred and set his feelings for Y/N in stone. As if he hadn’t been pushed over the edge. Pretending that he hadn’t fully accepted the fact that he was probably in love with her.

He smiled and laughed as he always did. Changbin and him would hang out, catching up on everything he’s missed over the last year. He lied he had been well, that the city he was working in kept him so busy he didn’t have time to think.

Of course his thoughts were full of his best friend’s sister, but the detective would never admit that.

Throughout this charade, Minho often found himself searching for Y/N in crowded rooms or during quiet moments. In hopes he could simply observe her and take in his fill of her for the day.

Then one day, when he asked about her, Changbin casually mentioned that she was on a date with her boyfriend. Unlike the fleeting relationships Y/N had described before, this one seemed different.

This one stayed.

This one was a good man. ──────────────────────── Y/N had known almost instantly that she saw him as something more than just a brother figure. From the moment she met Minho, she teased him. A familiar sense of comfort lay over her whenever she was with him. At fourteen she didn’t know what that feeling was, concluding it was because he was someone she looked up to in some sense, much like she did with her own brother.

But when she began maturing, going from a fourteen-year-old who was busy fangirling over her favorite boy band, her eyes began opening up to the beautiful chapter of teenage love.

It started out as a crush. Her heart raced at the sight of her brother’s best friend, her cheeks flushed whenever Minho spoke to her. At seventeen, she convinced herself it was love, it had to be love. So when she realized that she would never be able to cross that line and get out of his blatant sister-zone, she was heartbroken. He was, after all, her first love.

First loves, however, often end up as stories scribbled in diaries or reminisced about in old age. The chapter of secretly loving Lee Minho closed by her college years. Or so she thought, because exactly on her twenty-second birthday she had kissed him. But the only problem was that the memory of it was all fuzzy.

If only Minho hadn’t abruptly chosen to leave and transfer, perhaps things would have unfolded differently. But that all remained unknown, probably in another storyline, another universe.

Y/N had a knack for falling for the wrong type of guys, the ones who effortlessly wielded charm and knew the right words to say.

A magnet for heartbreak, her friends would tease.

But everything changed when she met Han Jisung.

Han Jisung, a good man. 

Their paths crossed at the cosmetics company where Jisung was in finances while Y/N worked in the marketing department. Initially, they didn’t cross paths, beyond sharing the same workplace. However, when Y/N’s team leader, responsible for a critical product launch, went into early labor, she was suddenly thrust into the role of temporary team leader. Finding herself collaborating with the finance department frequently.

Their relationship unfolded like a classic enemies-to-lovers tale. The ambitious temporary team leader, determined to ensure a flawless campaign, clashed with the detail-oriented man who managed budgets and processes. Despite the initial dislike, they found themselves drawn to each other, their feelings blossoming into a deep romance.

A year had passed since Minho left, a year of change. Suddenly, when Minho decided it was time to confront his feelings he had a painful realization.

It would remain a dream, a reality that that was unreachable and impossible. 

Minho felt his heart race, cheeks flushed with a mixture of emotions he surprisingly managed to mask. Extending his hand, his smile concealed the turmoil within him, meeting Jisung’s steady gaze.

   “Nice to meet you. I’m Han Jisung, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Glancing at Y/N, Minho caught the nervous anticipation in her eyes, a silent plea for his acceptance. He realized how much his opinion mattered to her, how dear he was to her. Though not in the way he yearned for. Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked at Jisung, a gleam of affection shining through.

Returning the handshake, Minho nodded graciously, his voice smooth, even though he tasted bitterness with every word.

   “Nice to meet you too.” He smiled, lying straight through his teeth.

Her brother’s best friend found himself hoping this new man was just another in the string of disappointments Y/N met. Like every other asshole she thought made her feel special. Minho wished she would discover him cheating, or catch him stealing from her. Anything that would rid him from her.

He wished she would cry because of this other man.

How selfish of him.

But he couldn’t help it. 

Like he couldn’t help loving her no matter how much distance he put between them.

His yearning for her so painful that sometimes he found himself clutching at his chest. Sometimes crying in the solitude of his bedroom.

Minho had never thought he would love secretly.

No, an unrequited love story was something he had never imagined for himself. Especially with his best friend’s little sister.

Lee Minho was an attractive man. He had dated his fair share of women, was successful as a detective with a good income. It was obvious he’d be able to protect his woman. And no matter how much of a cold front he put up in public, he could love his woman madly.

He would love his woman madly, doing exactly that, with his walls of pretend built up so high no one was able to catch even a glimpse of it.

Except he didn’t think when he tucked that photo into his favorite book.

A captured moment of Y/N’s radiant smile, standing beside him with a bouquet of flowers held between them. He was sharply dressed in his police uniform, a proud symbol of his graduation from the academy. It was the photo that brought him solace during his time away. The one he couldn’t help but stare at every time he missed her that year he was away.

He was a cop, yet he had done a terrible job of hiding the picture.

So when he was caught, he was utterly surprised. His eyes widened as he froze at the entrance of his bedroom door, seeing his best friend holding up the photo in his hand, the open book it had been in, flat against the desk.

Changbin glanced at him, his furrowed brows relaxing, and in an instant, the detective understood exactly what that look meant.

Realization.

Changbin wasn’t the brightest in the box growing up, yet he was sharp enough to become an accountant at a very big company.

Only a handful of minutes ago, the accountant’s ocd got the best of him as he stared at the clutter on Minho’s desk. He rifled through to somewhat organize, instantly his eyes caught sight of a familiar paperback novel. Its spine bent at a particular page, the book hovered open slightly. Changbin had opened it, eyes immediately seeing the photo, fingers automatically picking it up. At first he smiled, thinking back to the day it was taken. He was probably the one who took it. He glanced down at the half open novel, eyes narrowing, wondering why the photo was in there in the first place. His free hand flipped through the pages to see if there were other photos in there from that day, or even of Minho’s other friends.

But there wasn’t.

So the best friend stared intently at the photo of his sister and Minho. At the creases at the corner, clearly there from constant holding. And then his mind went back to that one time right after Minho’s return. The night the two of them drank by the river. 

Changbin had asked if Minho wanted to be set up on a date. Some of his female colleagues were constantly asking him if he had any single friends, so he thought of Minho. Weirdly, the detective was single even with that handsome face. Weirdly, he chose to be single. For a long time. 

Changbin had poured some liquor into his glass, asking why he didn’t want to go on a blind date. Minho smiled and leaned back into his seat. 

   “I have someone I like.”

His alcohol induced confession, surprised his best friend, who blinked back a couple times, leaning in. With both elbows on the table, his brows raised.

   “When? Who—Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Minho let out a faint chuckle.

   “She doesn’t know.”

Changbin frowned. There was a clear look of confusion in his eyes.

   “Why? Are you not going to tell her—ah, dummy what are you waiting for?” His mind racked, awaiting for a valid excuse.

   “She has a boyfriend. She’s happy.” It was evident that the smile on Minho’s face was a sad one, eyes staring at the bottle of alcohol set in the center. 

Changbin silently sighed, quickly catching on. This was something he wasn’t able to help out with. Instead he cleared his throat, waving it off, attempting to quickly changing the topic. 

   “Wait—just tell me. Is she someone I know?”

Minho looked up. He blinked at the man across from him, before he sat up in his chair. Slowly he shook his head and he smiled. 

   “No.”

Even if it was for a second. He hesitated.

Of course once sober, Minho had cursed himself for confessing such a thing to his best friend. But neither of them had ever brought it up.

Until now.

Maybe a part of him wanted to get caught. Maybe he wanted someone to uncover this harbored secret and rid him of some of his suffering.

   “She has a boyfriend. She’s happy… It was Y/N?”

Changbin’s voice broke the tense silence that hung heavily between them, his tone a mix of disbelief and shock.

With a resigned nod, Minho finally acknowledged the truth. There was no use in denying it anymore. Changbin had already pieced it together.

The two men fell silent, the room almost seemed as if it froze in time. Minho kept his eyes fixed on the ground, the weight of his unrequited love heavier than ever in that moment, while the best friend grappled with Minho’s hidden feelings out in the open.

Changbin, usually quick-witted, was unsure how to react. He suddenly wrestled with conflicting emotions. He wasn’t exactly thrilled that his best friend had romantic feelings for his sister, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to be angry either.

Should he feel betrayed? Upset or curious?

Should he ask “since when?” 

Questions swirled in Changbin’s mind, yet he didn’t ask any of them. Instead a wave of sympathy washed over him and he stared at his silent friend with concern. Aware that Y/N was the woman who didn’t know, the one that had a boyfriend.

The one that was happy. 

His friend was simply a fool, hopelessly in love.

Finally breaking the silence, Changbin suggested quietly, “Let’s get a drink.”

Minho looked up, surprise flickering across his features at the unexpected invitation. Changbin turned away from him, returning the photo to its place between the book’s pages. With deliberate movements, he placed the closed book back to the place he found it. After his best friend had learned of Minho’s well kept secret, the detective hoped a weight would lift from his shoulders, that he would no longer need to wear a constant mask of smiles. Yet, he found himself more conflicted than ever.

Y/N had gushed about her boyfriend. The one that made her laugh, beam with joy.

The one that made her happy.

The detective would nod along as she told him about something funny her boyfriend did, as if his knuckles hadn’t grown white from the extremely tight ball of his fists he made. He would reach over with a smile and ruffle her hair. Pretending that he wasn’t just thinking about enveloping her pretty lips in his so he didn’t need to hear her talk about another man.

But instead he sighed.

   “Enough.” He murmured softly, his eyes were dark with emotions she couldn’t quite grasp.

He turned away, attempting to busy himself, while she pouted, unaware of the turmoil within him. 

And just like that another season had passed. Her brother’s best friend continued to bury his secret deep inside.

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The summer air hung heavy as Minho clicked away at his desk, ignoring his team’s complaints about the heat. It was only before leaving that he was summoned to an emergency meeting about a suspect.

Minho was assigned to apprehend the man. But suddenly the youngest detective on the team found himself in the middle of a chase. And although Minho and his partner had eventually managed to tackle the suspect to the ground, the young detective groaned after the heated altercation they had. The sudden scuffle that had ensued before he managed to pin the suspect to the ground, hands cuffed behind the flailing and cursing man’s back.

   “You’re bleeding.” His partner pointed out, concern etched in his eyes as he gestured to Minho’s forehead.

   “Huh?” Minho touched the stinging wound, feeling the wetness of blood on his fingertips. He shrugged saying it was nothing.

   “You sure you’re okay?”

The detective shakes it off as he nodded.

   “I’m good.”

Except he wasn’t, and his legs buckled under him, his vision grew hazy as he fell to the ground.

Y/N smoothed her lipstick, preparing for a date she had spent too long getting ready for. Sighing at the mess around her she mentally groaned. A problem future Y/N would have to deal with, she concluded.

As she stepped outside, her phone buzzed with Changbin’s name. The younger sister narrowed her eyes wondering what he wanted. He was at a conference in the next town over, surely there wasn’t anything he would have needed her for. But immediately after picking up she was taken aback by her brother’s urgent voice.

   “Where are you!” 

   “I’m on my way out. Why?” Locking the door, she started walking out.

   “Get to the hospital now! Minho is hurt.” 

Her brother’s words made her falter, eyes staring into the night.

   “H-Hospital?” She repeated in a shout, looking around to halt a taxi.

   “Yeah, he got hurt on duty. They called me as his emergency contact.” Changbin’s voice is laced with worry.

Y/N begins to freak out, thoughts conjuring up the worst scenarios. With fear and worry coursing through her, she managed to hail a taxi. Her heart raced as the cab sped through the night. When she arrived breathlessly, she began running through the hospital corridors until she found the front desk.

   “L-Lee Minho. Where is he?” 

It isn’t until she’s drawing the curtains back to reveal a wide awake Minho, that she almost melts with her sigh of relief. He’s sitting on the hospital bed with his feet on the ground, a look of annoyance etched across his face. But upon seeing her sudden figure staring at him with concern, he’s stunned.

He had swore he was okay, the nurses had said he only had a concussion, yet they wouldn’t allow him to leave on his own. He insisted he was fine, that he’s been hurt even worse before, that it was nothing. But still, they didn’t sign off on his discharge. His teammates were too busy with the suspect, his emergency contacts either not picking up or out of town. He had fully expected to spend the night here, or at least be kept here until they thought he was fine to leave on his own. But seeing Y/N’s distraught form sliding into the open chair as she caught her breath, almost had his own breath hitch.

   “What are you doing here?” He finally asked, puzzled.

Glaring at him, Y/N finally stood and approached, eyes scanning his injuries. There was a wound on his forehead covered by the dressing of bandages, a red gash on his jaw, blood on his shirt and bandaids on his forearm. Clear signs of a scuffle he didn’t want her to know about. He stiffened under her hot gaze, his next words stuck in his throat.

   “I heard you were fighting the nurses to leave. How can a grown man not listen to the professionals?” Her voice is stern.

   “I’m fin—”

   “No you’re not.” She cuts him off.

Her finger pushed back the hair that fell over his bandaged forehead, trying to take a closer look. He grips at the sheet of the bed, sucking in a breath.

   “Does it hurt?” Worry tinged in her words.

Minho can’t help but break into a smile at the softness of her tone, as if seconds ago she wasn’t scolding him. He brushed away her hand.

   “It doesn’t anymore. I’m actually more embarrassed that I passed out on the streets.” He laughed, trying to dismiss her concern.

   “I’m fine, I promise.” He stated, as he looked back up at her.

But, once again, he stumbles as he takes a stand. This time she caught him, grabbing his torso to steady him before shooting him another glare.

   “Just a little light-headed.” He grinned sheepishly, slowly allowing her to throw his arm around her shoulder for support.

Minho felt exhaustion wash over him as they settled into the back seat of the cab. Despite waking up in the hospital bed not too long ago, he now felt the urge to sleep again. His head swayed momentarily before he leaned against Y/N’s shoulder.

Just for now. He told himself, his eyes closing.

Y/N glanced down at him, though his eyes were closed, he was still awake, his slightly furrowed brows revealing his discomfort. She swallowed, wondering whose heart was beating so fast, hers or his?

Helping him back to his apartment was easier than she expected. Inside, she gently settled him on the couch and placed her belongings on the coffee table.

   “I’m fine now. You can head back.” Minho insisted, noticing her taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves.

Ignoring his protests, she proceeded with her plan. Through tired eyes, the older man watched as she moved effortlessly around his apartment, reheating a pot of soup on the stove before bringing him a glass of water, which he gulped down quickly. And then she’s swiftly taking it back. The injured man observed her from his spot, soft gaze taking in the sight of her doing something so simple, yet his heart clenched. His watching gaze is interrupted by the soft vibrating sound of her phone. His eyes flickered to the device on the coffee table, his throat suddenly feeling dry as her boyfriend’s name flashed across the screen with another missed call.

The boyfriend she had forgotten all about.

Once again, Minho tried to convince her to leave, but she persisted. She helped him out of his jacket, placing it neatly on a nearby chair, then handed him an ice pack wrapped in a towel for his bruising jaw. 

   “Press.” She instructed firmly, and he complied.

A comfortable silence settled between them. And sometime after he felt his eyelids getting heavy.

Minho wasn’t sure when he had drifted off to sleep again, but when he woke up in the early hours of the morning, he was still dressed in last night’s clothes, feeling his head still ache faintly. The coffee table was clean of last night’s contents, her belongings, the bowl of soup, and the make-shift ice pack were gone. Just like she was.

Heading to the kitchen for another glass of water, his eyes caught sight of a note on the fridge.

Medicine on the counter. Bin should be visiting this afternoon. Take it easy and DO NOT WORK!

He couldn’t help but smile at the familiar messy handwriting, sticking the note back onto the fridge before pouring himself a glass of water.

Han Jisung had come to realize, sometime into their relationship, that Y/N’s eyes didn’t light up for him the way they did when she spoke about Minho.

Initially, he thought Minho was just a brotherly figure to her, but he started noticing subtle gestures. The way the so-called brother figure would hold his hand over the corner of a table when she bent down to pick up whatever she dropped. The way his gaze would follow her across the room, full of emotions he would mask as quick as they emerged, were far from brotherly.

She blew off their date. And this wasn’t the first time. 

Jisung wanted to ask her to move in with him last night, to replace the small corner of her heart where Minho unknowingly seemed to reside, with himself. He wanted to end this one-sided battle with the detective. But she had stood him up.

She was sitting across from him, yet her mind was on Minho, glancing back at her phone to see if the injured detective had gotten up, had read her messages. Any word from him that would’ve calmed her mind.

There was always a reasonable excuse. Just like this excuse she gave him. Minho was injured, and there wasn’t anyone else to help besides herself. She apologized profusely. But her boyfriend couldn’t shake the memory of his unanswered calls, and then the message she sent after finally leaving Minho’s place at dawn. He thought back to the lingering gazes his girlfriend had.

   “You love him.” Jisung finally said, the conclusion painfully obvious to him.

It was such an easy connection to make, yet she stared back at him slightly taken aback by the directness of his statement.

He watched as her expression contorted to a frown.

   “What are you talking about?” Y/N’s fingers tug at his arm across the table.

He sighed, dropping his head briefly before meeting her eyes, holding back the words he wanted to say. Instead, he withdrew his arm.

   “You love Detective Lee. Your brother’s best friend.” 

The accusation seemed absurd to her, and her brows furrowed into a deeper frown. How could she love Minho.

How could she still love Minho?

There was no way. She cared for him, certainly… but love? However, when she tried to speak, the words of refusal didn’t come out. The denial she wanted to voice remained stuck on her tongue.

She couldn’t say anything against it. And her eyes widened in realization.

The boyfriend watched as the truth dawned on her, the emotions she thought she had locked up and thrown away the key to long ago, flooding her. Shock and a lingering fearfulness filled her gaze.

Jisung attempted to smile, but of course he couldn’t bring himself to be happy, he’d be crazy if he did. He gently grasps her hands, guiding her out of her thoughts, noticing the tears that had welled up unknowingly, shimmering under the lights.

   “No. I-I don’t. Jisung-I…” Y/N attempted to deny it, to shake off this unsettling feeling, but she failed.

She couldn’t even lie.

   “It’s okay.” He muttered gently.

Jisung didn’t expect to have gotten in the way of something that ran so deep, even though she herself wasn’t aware of it. He felt quite foolish, but surprisingly he didn’t regret it, falling for Y/N.

And another beautiful chapter of her life had ended just like that. ──────────────────────── Changbin watched his sister sigh once again, her fingers absently stirring the creamer into her coffee. Her mind seemed far away, lost in her thoughts.

Y/N had been like this for most of the past couple of weeks, though it wasn’t until recently that Changbin, usually not very observant, began to take notice. Their mother would ask her a question, snapping her out of her worries momentarily, her frown smoothing into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

The older brother sensed that something was amiss with her. Her behavior had been unusual, especially when it came to her boyfriend. Whenever he tried to ask probing questions, she deflected or shut down the conversation entirely. He couldn’t shake the feeling that her boyfriend was somehow involved. Changbin convinced himself that the asshole had done something.

His suspicions were confirmed a month later when Changbin spotted Jisung out with another person, clearly on a date. Normally composed, Changbin found himself reacting in a way that he probably shouldn’t have, resulting in a trip to the police station.

Sure, the brother was the type to use his fists first, and his typically level-headed best friend wasn’t there to restrain him either. But Minho did not see Y/N’s boyfriend leaning over to press a small kiss onto whoever he was with. The confrontation left both Changbin and Jisung bruised and battered. 

So there Seo Changbin sat, surrounded by an officer, who glanced back and forth between him and the other man, both marked with bruises and cuts from their altercation. At one point, Changbin had even been on the other side of those bars, though Jisung had steadfastly refused to press any charges. 

Minho practically sprinted up the stairs, alerted by a call from an officer who recognized Changbin as his best friend. When he arrived at the holding area, Minho took in the scene before him with a sharp inhale, surprised by what he saw. But before he could even begin to ask what the hell had happened, Y/N’s voice cut through the tension.

   “What did you do?” Her voice crackled with anger as she strode towards the now group of four men. 

Changbin sighed inwardly, shooting a glare at Jisung. He was certain Jisung had been the one to call her.

   “You didn’t tell them?” Jisung raised an eyebrow, a red bruise marring his cheek, causing Y/N to grimace in a mix of guilt and embarrassment.

   “I didn’t. I’m sorry.” She shook her head apologetically.

Changbin frowned deeply, casting a bewildered look between the two of them.

   “You two actually broke up?!” His exclamation made Minho clench his fists at his sides, his eyes widening even more as another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

The ex boyfriend had admitted to the breakup when Changbin had grabbed his collar earlier, but at the time, Changbin hadn’t believed him. “Cheating bastards will say anything to make excuses”, he had spat out then.

Now, though, the older brother found himself grappling with the reality of it all, followed by a heavy dose of embarrassment.

The officer finally cleared his throat, directing a pointed look at the detective, bringing Minho out of his thoughts.

   “This appears to be a personal matter. Since Mr. Han has decided not to press charges, I suggest you resolve this among yourselves.” The officer sighed, returning to the paperwork that awaited him.

   “Thank you, Officer Kim.” Minho finally spoke up, nodding gratefully at his colleague, who responded with a thumbs-up before refocusing on his duties.

For the past three months, Y/N had wrestled with her thoughts. In the solitude of her bedroom, she would give herself a pep talk. Each night, she lay beneath her sheets, urging herself to muster the courage to confess to Minho. Yet, every morning, as the sun rose, she found herself backing away, consumed by doubt.

It was an endless cycle that would’ve continued if she hadn’t received the stressful call from Jisung, the ex boyfriend sighing into the phone as he informed her of what had happened. There was only one reason she hadn’t disclosed the breakup to her brother or his best friend.

It was pretty obvious, she had no excuse.

Jisung was a good guy. He was always going to be a good guy. Even the way he broke up with her was the coolest way she had ever heard.

What would she say when Changbin inevitably asked about their split?

She feared she might confess everything. Her emotions, her thoughts, her lingering gazes, everything that tied back to Lee Minho, his best friend.

So she hid it, hoping to pass it off as lovers drifting apart or becoming too busy for each other. But as she watched her swollen-lipped brother and bruising ex boyfriend exit the station, regret washed over her. She realized she should have come clean sooner. At least to her older brother who had always been protective of her in his own way.

The weight of it all suddenly felt heavier than ever before.

Changbin might have been one to always jump to conclusions before hearing any side of any story, but he wasn’t shameless to not accept his mistakes. He bowed his head in apology, guilt plain on his face as he surveyed Jisung’s injuries. Jisung, the good guy, smiled reassuringly, shaking his head as he comforted the older brother.

   “It was all a misunderstanding, don’t worry about it.”

Minho remained silent, catching the meaningful glance Jisung shot his way before bidding farewell.

The three of them sat in tense silence in Minho’s car, heading towards the detective’s place where they knew Changbin could find refuge because they knew his mother would have a heart attack if he went home looking like that. Once inside, Changbin wasted no time, directing an accusatory glare at his sister.

   “We need to talk!” His voice was strained with anger, his words cutting through the quiet.

Changbin headed inside, pacing restlessly in Minho’s bedroom, trying to calm his nerves.

Minho tugged at Y/N’s hand, halting her before she could follow behind. 

   “Are you sure everything is okay?” His voice was gentle, eyes filled with concern.

She fought the urge to not jump into his embrace, as she slowly shook off his gentle grip, nodding.

   “Everything is okay. He was just trying to protect me. I understand why he’s upset.” Y/N nodded again, mustering a reassuring smile before retreating into the bedroom, the door closing softly behind her.

Changbin’s questions came immediately, causing Y/N to unintentionally flinch as she leaned against the door.

   “When did you break up?” His tone was urgent, probing.

   “No, why did you break up? I thought you really liked him?” The questions poured out in a torrent, exactly as she had anticipated since arriving at Minho’s apartment.

Y/N felt her nerves intensify, her lips trembling slightly as she prepared to answer. It felt like all the emotions she had bottled up were now on the brink of spilling out, her brother’s steady gaze bearing down on her.

   “We broke up three months ago.” She whispered, her voice barely audible.

She watched as Changbin took a deep breath, his expression tightening as he processed her words. She felt overwhelmed, the heavy feeling from earlier washing over her with more intensity.

The brother had been about to barrage her with more questions, but the sight of tears streaming down Y/N’s face left him speechless and bewildered. Panic surged through him as he rushed to her side, unsure of how to comfort her, his eyes darting around in confusion and worry.

   “W-why are you crying?” He didn’t know what to do, his voice quivered with concern as he gently reached out towards her.

She wasn’t entirely sure why the tears were flowing so freely either. But deep down, she knew her heart was in turmoil. She could feel her heart clenching, the alternate paths she had taken to forget Lee Minho had ultimately led her in a circle, back to him. Her brother’s best friend, unaware in the other room, stood oblivious to her feelings.

The words poured out with ease, much to her surprise.

   “I just love Lee Minho so much.” Y/N’s voice squeaked out between sobs, her palms pressed against her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the downpour of tears.

Changbin froze, his hands dropping limply to his sides as he struggled to process what he had just heard.

She wasn’t talking about his best friend Lee Minho right?

He blinked, processing her words.

   “W-what?” His voice came out in a calm yet incredulous tone, his eyes blinking in disbelief as he locked gazes with his sister’s pained expression.

   “I’ve always loved him. I-I was just too scared to admit it.” Y/N confessed, her voice wavering with emotion.

Dumbfounded didn’t even begin to describe how Changbin felt at that moment. Shocked and stunned, he stood rooted to the spot, unable to comprehend whatever was happening right now.

His sister loved his best friend. 

His best friend loved his sister.

Were these two playing a game he wasn’t aware of? 

For some reason the brother felt anger bubbling within him.

He had been patient enough.

But after taking a beating from his sister’s apparent ex boyfriend, who was trying to defend himself, and then staring at his best friend flash sad smiles ever since he found out about his one-sided love, Changbin had finally lost it.

   “You two are going to drive me fucking insane.” His muttered words shattered the uneasy silence that had settled in the room.

Frustrated and visibly upset, Changbin flung open the bedroom door and strode into the living room where Minho sat. The detective stood up immediately, concern etched on his face as he noticed Y/N trailing behind her brother, her confused eyes, red and teary.

   “What happened?” Minho’s voice was laced with worry as he glanced between the siblings, searching for answers.

Changbin’s frustration boiled over. He scoffed before he shot a pointed glare first at his sister, then at his best friend

Though right now, that title was very close to being revoked.

   “You!” Changbin snapped, jabbing his finger accusingly at Minho, who blinked, startled.

   “Tell her everything, or I swear to god I’ll end up in jail again.” 

He turned swiftly to face his stunned sister.

   “If you don’t tell him today I’m gonna shave your head.” He threatened, his frustrated anger, palpable.

Minho and Y/N watched in surprised astonishment as Changbin grabbed his jacket he had thrown on the stool upon their arrival and stomped towards the door.

   “But your face—” Minho began.

   “I’ll live!” Changbin yelled back over his shoulder.

The door slammed shut with a resounding echo, the automatic lock beeping a few moments later. In the sudden aftermath of Changbin’s outburst, Minho and Y/N stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened.

After a long, tense silence, Minho studied Y/N’s tear-streaked face, his mind racing with questions. What had her brother said to upset her so much? Or was it about Jisung? The mere thought of her ex boyfriend tightened his jaw with unresolved emotions.

   “Why did you break up with him?” Minho finally broke the silence, his voice gentle yet probing, his gaze soft as he waited for her answer.

Another few seconds of silence after, Y/N seemed to finally find her voice.

   “I-I don’t love him.” She whispered, the admission slipping out easier now that she had opened up to Changbin.

She watched as his brows relaxed, taking in her words. Minho felt a wave of relief wash over him, her words sinking in, but his brows furrowed slightly again as he processed this new revelation.

   “Since when?” He took a step closer.

   “Since I realized a few months ago.” She confessed, a small sniffle escaping before she wiped away the remaining tears that had mostly dried on her cheeks.

Minho took another step forward, now only an arm’s reach away from her.

   “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why did Changbin have to end up at the police station before he found out?”

His questions mirrored those her brother had asked. But how could she explain it to him? She couldn’t say that she was a fool, hopelessly in love with him. Even though she had practically admitted as much back in the room to Changbin.

She was terrified. Afraid that once she acknowledged the feelings that she had tried to suppress for so long, she would end up in the same place she was all those years ago.

She did end up in the same place, loving her brother’s best friend.

   “I was scared.” Y/N breathed out, her eyes darting nervously between Minho’s.

His gaze softened, his fingers reaching out to gently wipe away the tear stains on her skin, unaware of the goosebumps his touch gave her.

   “Scared of what?” His voice was barely a whisper now, his head tilting slightly as he searched her eyes.

Y/N felt his touch like a burning imprint on her skin, her heart racing so fast and hard that she was certain he could hear it.

She swallowed.

   “That I’d have to tell everyone about my feelings for you. About how infatuated I am with you.”

Silence enveloped them as Minho’s gaze widened slowly, his fingers freezing at her jaw before falling to his side. His expression was a mixture of surprise, and something deeper, unspoken emotions flickering in his eyes. He seemed to be processing her words, his mind racing with thoughts.

It wasn’t what he was thinking right?

Surely not.

He was imagining it, his crazy mind making up stuff, stretching and connecting her words into what he wanted to hear.

But Y/N’s heart sank as Minho stunned stare, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. His silence weighed heavily on her, confirming her worst fears.

She had gotten too bold.

Let her feelings slip too easily.

She let out a self-deprecating laugh, trying to mask her sadness. Unable to meet his gaze, she dropped her eyes to the ground.

Finally confessing her feelings, words she had carried since her teenage years, had only led to this moment of painful realization that she had expected, but wasn’t prepared for.

Of course he didn’t see her that way. He never had, and likely never would.

   “I know you don’t feel the same way. I know you’ll always see me as just—“

   “I love you.” His voice cut through her self-doubt and resignation, stopping her mid-sentence.

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes widening as she searched his face for any sign of deceit or misunderstanding. But Minho’s expression was sincere, his earnest gaze, unwavering.

This time, it was Y/N’s turn to feel at a loss for words, her eyes reflecting a mix of disbelief, excitement, and a touch of fear at Minho’s sudden confession.

His words hung in the air, sinking in slowly. Her heart raced so loud, so quickly, it scared her. 

Minho dropped his head slightly, the weight of his confession finally released into the open. There’s a sudden sense of relief that washed through him, making him break into a soft smile.

   “I love you Y/N. So damn much.” He repeated, his voice soft and sincere. A tinge desperate.

Her mouth parted in surprise, a silent gasp.

   “S-since when?” Y/N managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath, the chaos of emotions swirling inside her, threatening to overwhelm her.

Minho took a final step forward, closing the distance between them until he was standing so close that his presence seemed to tower over her. Her back brushed against the wall, leaving them in an intimate space where the air between lingered with unspoken feelings.

   “I’m not sure. All I know is that you have always plagued my mind, driving me mad with thoughts of you and only you.”

Y/N’s heart raced as he spoke, her cheeks tingling with heat. The man she had just confessed to was now pouring his heart out in return, with words she had never expected to hear.

   “Minho…” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it caused Minho to shut his eyes tightly for a moment, overwhelmed by the delicate call of his name coming from her lips.

He leaned in, closing the gap between them until her figure was pressed flush against the wall.

This moment between them was something neither had ever dared to imagine, yet here they stood, their deepest feelings laid bare in the open.

It brought Minho back to the last time he had trapped her against this same wall. The last time he had almost kissed her but had pulled back, in denial. Out of the fear of crossing a line he believed was forbidden.

But in truth, Minho had been wandering in that forbidden territory for a long time, his feelings for Y/N gnawing away at him with each passing day.

He opened his eyes, locking onto hers with intensity, his hand reaching up to gently cup her cheek. The warmth of his touch sent another shiver through her, a fluttering feeling erupted in the pit of her stomach.

   “Do you know how crazy you’ve driven me?” Minho’s voice held a growl, his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain the emotions surging within him.

His intent gaze makes her stiffen, fully reminding her of the position they were in all over again. Her heart drummed against her chest.

   “How crazy you still drive me?” His tone softened to a whisper, eyes searching hers with a mix of tenderness and desperation.

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat as she tried to decipher the emotions swirling in his gaze. The words he had spoken, her heart continuing to pound with anticipation. She wanted to hear more.

   “How?...” The response comes out automatically, a genuine curiosity laced in her words.

But her response to his rhetorical question faltered the intensity in his gaze. Minho chuckled softly, a brief, welcome break in the tense atmosphere that had enveloped them.

His head dipped momentarily before he lifted it again, his eyes darkening with a look that sent another shiver down Y/N’s spine. His fingers trailed down to gently grasp her hand at her side, daringly lifting them to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss against her fingers.

She stared in fascination almost, feeling the warmth of his lips against her skin, the touch erupting a searingly hot sensation that surged through her. She shuddered slightly, her throat drier than it already was as she struggled to find her voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

   “I dream of you every night. I have for god knows how long.” Minho’s confession hung in the air, Y/N stared with her mouth slightly agape, stunned all over again.

Every word he had uttered was making her feel warm and fuzzy. Curious, yet the want to pull him into her arms tugged at her.

He continued, his lips pressing another tender kiss, this time on the palm of her hand.

   “I’ve dreamt of holding you close.” His voice was a gentle murmur against her skin, filled with longing and sincerity.

Her heart raced erratically, its beats thundering in her ears amidst the silence of the room she was sure it was going to explode.

   “I’ve dreamt of kissing you.” Minho’s other hand grazed her cheek, his knuckles trailing down the soft skin before fingers settled on the point of her chin.

He lifted her head gently, his touch searing and intimate. Y/N’s arms were littered with goosebumps, her eyes fluttered closed briefly to calm herself, then opened to meet his intense gaze.

   “I prayed you could be mine.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes dropping momentarily to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. 

Y/N can hear the thread snapping. His heartfelt words both biting and heart wrenching, has her peeling herself off the wall, closing the gap between them to finally, finally press her lips against his.

For a split second, Minho stiffened, just like he had done the first time she had kissed him years back.

But this time his eyes fluttered close, lips instantly parted to kiss her deeper. Returning it with a desperation he had suppressed for far too long. His arms encircle her, pulling her into him as if he’s afraid she would disappear if he let go. 

The kiss was full of desire, a feverishly hot kiss that has them melting into each other’s mouths. The sounds of sucking are loud in the air, tongues swirling, exploring, was breathtaking almost. And when they finally part, they’re panting for air.

Minho doesn’t let her go. His eyes remained closed, afraid that this moment was just another figment of his imagination. That he was going to wake up in his bed and mourn this fleeting dream. 

But it wasn’t a dream.

Y/N pressed her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the intimate space between them.

   “This was a better kiss than the last one.” She stated quietly after a long silence.

Minho’s eyes shot open, his heart skipping a beat at her words.

Shock, surprise, and finally, a profound realization washed over him.

She had never forgotten that night.

The night of her birthday. 

The night she had impulsively kissed him because that voice in her head told her to do so. The voice that belonged to a part of her that still pined for her brother’s best friend.

The night he could never forget.

And apparently she hadn’t either.

He pulled back slightly, trying to find the right words to say. His words spluttered almost.

   “Y-you remember?” 

Her lips were still swollen and wet from their kiss, shining under the dim light of his apartment. She softened them into a gentle smile and nodded slowly.

   “When I had asked you the next day if I did anything stupid…” Her voice trailed off, and suddenly Minho was transported back to the day after her birthday. After his promotion ceremony when she had pulled him aside.

He had lied. Reassuring her that the only foolish thing she had done was accidentally slam into a trash can while he chased after her brother.

Minho had chosen to pretend it didn’t happen.

And Y/N had accepted his lie.

The detective in her arms was rendered speechless at this turn of events. How was he never able to tell that she pretended not to remember? That she had been pretending this whole time. He wished he could strangle himself from back then. There were a lot of things he wished he could redo.

Her gentle fingers grazed his skin, a soothing touch that brought him out of his thoughts.

And he decides it’s not important anymore.

Minho had spent so many years stuck in his thoughts, stuck yearning, pining, when right now all he should be focusing on is the woman he had been waiting forever for. His eyes returned to Y/N, drinking in the sight of her in his arms, waiting for him. He pulls her close again, head ducking in for another kiss.

   “Don’t forget about this one.” He whispered against her, his hot breath gently fanning against her parted lips.

Her hands crossed into a tangle behind his neck, a smile spreading across her face as she pulled him in closer.

   “I won’t.” 

And he’s kissing her again, almost slamming her against the wall. Yet there was also something gentle about his touch, fingers intertwined with hers as he lifted their arms over head, tangled hands pressed against the cold wall. Minho’s lips traced kisses down the expanse of her neck, wet, lingering, needy. The warmth of his body flush against hers, fingers groping at parts of her he only eyed shamelessly. Lips sucking softly at any part they come in contact with, elicited a whimper from her. A sound that makes Minho growl into the crook of her neck, repeating the suckles that had her make such a pretty noise.

   “S-show me.” She finally breathes sharply, “h-how crazy I drive you.”

In an instant Minho’s lips left her throat, pulling out to look into her hooded eyes, her fingers grasped at the collar of his shirt, a urgency in her actions.

Minho’s patience had long left the room. His eyes darken with an intensity that made her feel tingly.

In a swift motion the man that had been longing for this moment, lifted her off of her feet, hands gripping at her legs to tightly secure them around his waist, his lips met hers hungrily once again, taking their tangled bodies into his bedroom.

The same bed that Minho would wake up on, drenched in sweat after dreaming another painstakingly hot dream of the woman he could only describe as being madly in love with, was now filled with the scent of her. 

Their clothes have long been discarded, laying in a forgotten trail on his floor, at the foot of the bed, remnants thrown across the room in desperation.

He wanted to do things to her that he had only dreamt about, his deepest fantasies he had never thought would come true. He had conjured up scenarios, imaginations of her welcoming arms laying on his bed, but now he could stare with a fascination that made him inhale sharply. A real moment that his dreams could never compare to.

He had already etched her naked figure, in his brain, his thoughts, taking in the beautiful sight of her under him. Splotches of bites, trails of wet from his tongue and his kisses running down her body, was suddenly something he would never be able to live without, he concluded.

Fuck, he was a ruined man.

And finally when he feels her clenched around him, filling her enough to earn a sweet moan of his name, he could only melt into her.

Minho grunts into the air, his body working against hers in a soft rhythmic pace, forehead gleaming in sweat. A pull and slam that leaves her clinging to him, to his sheets. His fingers graze over her warm skin, lingering here, tracing there. Her whimpers are music to his ears, his name escaping her swollen lips in heightened whispers whenever he moves a certain way, already memorizing it, already diving in to swallow her moans.

   “Pleasepleaseplease” Her cries are full of desperation, a need for him to be closer, deeper.

Y/N’s fingers traced his tightened jaw, guiding him back to her lips, kissing the man that had always been her first love and probably the only man she would ever truly love. She never thought there would come a moment where Lee Minho was completely hers. That he would see her in such a light.

That he would make her feel him, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Him.

He took his time with her. Testing, feeling, gauging what made her inhale sharply, what made her roll her eyes back as she was thrown off her edge. Everything made her squirm under him, ecstasy coursing through her. He made her see stars. The sight of his sweating and disheveled figure, kissing, nipping, grabbing at parts and places of her that make her moan and cry nothing but his name, had her writhe under his grinding figure with nothing but blissful pleasure. And finally when she came down from a high Minho drew out from her, when he dove into bury his face in her arms, she spoke out the words she had once attempted to bury.

   “I love you.” 

The confession came out in a low whisper, she was sure he hadn’t heard them, his mouth too busy latching onto the skin of her collarbone, creating more flourishes of red, that would darken to purple and blue. But his body stilled at her words, lifting his gaze up to meet hers. His eyes search hers, a glimmering shine in them. Tears that she could only look at with both astonishment and a fluttering emotion, made her stomach tingle. She wiped away the ones that pricked his eyes, threatening to fall, while Minho could only hold her hand to his lips, muffling his face into her palms, inhaling deeply before quickening his pace, his hips rocking against hers roughly, quickly. Filling her as much as he could before ultimately crashing his lips against hers.

   “I love you too.” 

There was a comfortable silence that settled in Minho’s bedroom. His fingers traced random patterns on the skin of her arms, making her giggle the few times he got too close to her armpit. The two of them broke into hushed laughter as she attempted to tickle him back.

   “I don’t always cry during sex, you know.” He finally voiced.

Y/N’s head shot up to meet his nonchalant expression, though his ears were bright red from embarrassment.

She broke into another low giggle, lifting herself out of his embrace to hover over him. Her fingers pushing away the strands of hair in his eyes.

   “That must’ve really been lingering on your mind this whole time huh?” She raised a brow, a teasing smile played on her lips.

The way her head cocks to a side cutely had Minho erupt into a hearty laughter Y/N hadn’t heard in a very long time. Reminding her just how much they had truly hidden during the years trying to forget one another.

She leaned in and kissed him, smiling into his slightly caught off-guard expression before pulling away.

   “Can you prove it then?”

This time he raised a brow, a challenge he would never turn down.

   “Come here.” 

He’s already tugging at her, making her crash into his embrace, his lips already finding hers easily. ────────────────────────

Changbin stared at his best friend and his sister, their fingers intertwined as they giggled and whispered into each other’s ears.

Usually, weekends were his time to relax and goof off with Minho, but now his best friend seemed to be in another world. He suddenly regretted leaving them unattended that evening.

Those idiots.

   “You know, usually in these kinds of scenarios I should be kicking your ass.” Changbin interrupted whatever intimate conversation they were having.

Minho blinked up at the third wheel, while Y/N scoffed at her brother’s remark, laughing as she gracefully exited the sofa and headed towards the dining table. Minho’s eyes followed her, but Changbin slapped his hand against the coffee table to get his friend’s attention.

   “You jerk. How can you date my little sister? Let’s fight right now.” Changbin’s tone was theatrical, almost like something out of a cartoon, but Minho sighed, not amused.

   “How many times do you want to end up behind bars?” Minho shot back.

The detective’s question shut him up, and Changbin muttered under his breath.

   “Dammit, I should’ve become a cop instead.”

The tension eased with a shared chuckle, and Minho shook his head fondly at his friend’s antics. They might tease each other, but deep down, they both knew that Minho would protect Y/N with his life.

And though Changbin had begrudgingly accepted it, he didn’t have a single worry.

It was clear the best friend could no longer laze around in Minho’s apartment. Though it was thanks to him that the two had finally poured out their feelings.

Minho’s place, which was often empty because of how much Minho stayed out due to the nature of his job, had turned into a love abode. The detective, who was rarely home before, began rushing out the door as soon as his shift ended, much to the surprise of his captain and teammates.

He’d often come back to find Y/N passed out on his couch or in his bed, exhausted after her own demanding day at work. Sometimes, he’d collapse into her arms with a blissful sigh, inhaling her sweet scent as they embraced.

He’d often come home and pin her against the wall, push her against the couch, into the bed, as his lips kissed her hungrily, hips drilling against hers. Fingers raking into each other’s hairs.

Minho could love his woman madly, and he was doing just that.

He was a fool, hopelessly in love. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

[ilovelosermen69]

Girls when they see a man in uniform