#crossposting always feels odd lmao

[centi-pearl]

[fanart] — hold on, let go, get through

[nukapind]

Hiya i love your fic One Last Time - could you do a sequel where dabi goes to the funeral and talks with shinsou who was reader’s little brother who unbeknownst to dabi, was aware of the relationship.

Meeting The Family (Dabi x Reader)

Ah thank you!! This is a bit short (I started working this week and I’m beat lmao) but I hope you enjoy it. So I imagine that he did the attack on the training camp right after the reader dies— bc let’s face it, not many of us would stay with a guy that attacks your brother’s school lmao. Anyways I hope you like it!! Feel free to send in more requests! This was crossposted to my AO3.

One Last Time (Part One)

___

Dabi hadn’t meant to show up, the common sense in his head screamed at him not to show up— he’d only cause problems. Yet, the chance to say goodbye for the final time was too great to pass up. Mask pulled up to hide his face, he made sure to stand at the back of the small crowd.

He couldn’t risk getting recognized— you deserved a proper funeral at least.

But the risk of ruining your funeral didn’t stop him from showing up. After what he’d done, what the league had done at the camp just a few days ago, it was almost a certain fact that he’d be caught. But here he was, crawling back to just get a glimpse of you— or rather, the little urn your ashes had been settled into. Funny how karma had worked out. Was this a sick form of retribution for all the people he’d turned to ash?

He always heard you drone on about your precious little brother, the one you’d always said was meant for greatness. The brother you worked an extra job for, to be able to afford an apartment closer to his school so he could live out his dream— he just didn’t know that your brother was the same who had inspired so many with villainous quirks across the globe.

Shinsou Hitoshi stood in front of him, looking like he was just about ready to tear into him. Oh, but Dabi knew the pain your brother had felt— when he’d been stuck between the choices of surviving or being consumed by the greed of his father, he’d left his own siblings. Only to be pit against each other, not that his youngest brother knew it— Dabi was no longer Touya. Touya was dead along with the memories of his siblings. He’d lost them too, in a sense. It may not have been the exact same, but there had certainly been a death along the way.

But this wasn’t about Dabi, it was about you— and by extension it was now about your brother.

Hitoshi’s face, now plastered with a scowl, looked back at the portrait with your face on it. “I knew she was dating someone, but I never thought she’d stoop so low. Or did you lie to her?” Dabi knew better than to answer, the commentator from the festival— Present Mic— had let the world know how this kid’s quirk worked.

He did lie though— he had to. It was his only option to be with someone like you.

“You’re scum.”

He knew that already, his oppressive childhood home had always let him know that.

“I hate you.”

He knew. Dabi hated himself too,

“I don’t have anyone left.”

He paused.

Dabi didn’t know that, but he should’ve— just more proof that he should have paid more attention to you while you were still here. Then it clicked. The reason you had to work so many hours, and barely had anything to show for it. The reason you barely did anything for yourself.

The reason that locket you always wore was held in a death grip in Shinsou’s— or rather Hitoshi’s— hand, the last memento you’d left for him. Maybe the only one you’d leave behind, beside the memories of course.

You were all the other had left, and now even that was gone for him. He knew that pain all too well. “If I’d known—“ Dabi couldn’t hold back the croak his voice made. “—I would’ve saved her.” Dabi wasn’t a hero, but among the people he’d wanted to save: you were at the top. He was late, late for you, late for his siblings, later for his mother. He was late for himself.

“I know.” Shinsou spoke after a brief bit of silence, shoulders hunched over. The weight of planning the nearly entire funeral had gone solely on him— as did the pressure of finding out what would happen to him. The fear was evident on his face.

It went against everything Dabi had learned in his past few years. Picking up stays was just picking up dead weight— strays only took and wouldn’t give back, they were useless. And yet.

“I’ll keep your apartment paid.”

Here he was taking one in. He hadn’t done anything like this since he and his siblings slept in the same bed nearly a decade ago, his younger brothers and sister seeking solace in his room with him whenever their father had gone on his rampages.

“I want nothing to do with you. I’d rather live in the damn streets than accept money from a villain—” The look on Shinsou’s face hardened, brows pinched together tightly. “—the only reason I’m letting you stay here because she wouldn’t want you tossed in Tartarus, but I’d let you rot there if I ever see you again.” The words left him as a low hiss, Dabi almost let out an amused snort at that, as if he’d ever be caught. “Got it.”

You did always say your brother had a strong sense of justice. It was a little odd that Dabi didn’t quite want to squash it.

They’d both lost someone that day, Hitoshi had lost the last of his family and Dabi had lost the only person that had made this hellhole of a world bearable. They were night and day, a villain and an aspiring hero.

And yet they both stood in silence as they stared at your portrait.

A truce between good and evil for the day.

Masterlist

[farfromsugafanfic]

Pas de Deux

Genre: Nutcracker AU, Swan Lake AU, slight Fantasy AU

Pairing: Jimin/Reader

Warnings: mild depictions of violence

Synopsis: When you were just a baby, Herr Drosselmeyer cured your feet. Becoming a dancer, some believe your ability is related to his magic. Even your dance partner, Jimin. Herr Drosselmeyer comes the Christmas Eve night before your performance in Swan Lake, a turning point in your career. After a frustrating rehearsal where you and Jimin couldn’t get the lift right, you find that the nutcracker gifted to you by Herr Drosselmeyer may be just as magical as the man himself.

Note: Hello, Tumblr! I’m Alyce and I normally write on Wattpad, but I decided to start crossposting my imagines and one shots here. And, maybe move towards making Tumblr my main platform. Bear with me as I learn how to use Tumblr. I may change up things or make some mistakes (such as the dividers in this post are likely not centered lmao. Enjoy!

✦✧✦✧

Your godfather only came into your life every few years. He always brought with him gifts from around the world, little worlds on their own. You remembered how on your eleventh birthday he brought you marzipan from Germany, alpaca wool mittens from South America, and sesame snaps from China. He had not come to visit since, although you'd heard of him throughout the years.

He'd made the emperor of Japan disappear for ten minutes. Your godfather turned sawdust into wooden planks in America. But, most famously, your godfather mended your feet.

✦✧✦✧

You were born on the night before Christmas Eve. Snowdrifts reached the eaves and your father had spent most of the day shoveling the door while your mother cried out. Her labor had begun in the early hours of the morning, but neither the doctor nor you had arrived by evening.

The doctor arrived after dark and Herr Drosselmeyer appeared just before ten o'clock. Herr Drosselmeyer rarely attended births in the village, but your mother, despite her sweaty brow and exhaustion cried out when she saw the man.

Herr Drosselmeyer rarely attended births in the village. His abilities were better suited for other matters. Yet, occasionally, a child was born that summoned the magician. Most believed that destiny controlled the man, a truly divine being on Earth. If you asked Drosselmeyer, he would say that he knew all along where he would end up, but there was always a glint in his eye that told otherwise. The man's excitement and surprise astounding even himself.

"I feel your child will dance," your future godfather said. "One of the best dancers in the land. I have no idea why such a thing should concern me." He stood in the corner of the room, his height caused the crown of his head to nearly touch the ceiling.

You were born about a half hour after Herr Drosselmeyer's arrival. Your parents relaxed as you began crying nearly immediately. Their fears that the magician's appearance meant your death or eternal ill health ceased.

"A girl," the doctor said. He cleaned you off and he brought the rag down to your feet and paused. "Herr Drosselmeyer, I believe I understand why this child requires your presence."

Your parents, the doctor, and the magician gathered around you. You already had sprigs of thick hair that stood up on your head and your eyes were wide as if you were trying to memorize the four faces in front of your own.

Your mother gasped when she saw your feet. They curled in on themselves and each toe was crooked at a different angle. You didn't seem to notice, no pain crossing your features as the doctor felt your bone structure.

"The child will certainly never walk," the doctor said. "She's lacking many bones of the foot and I suspect her muscles would never fully develop this way."

Your parents looked to the magician who looked down at you with the same interest he would study characters of an unfamiliar language. His hands replaced the doctor's, except that he placed his palm flat against your heel, the only part of your foot that appeared intact.

"Your observations were astute," he said to the doctor. "But, this child will dance one day, not just walk."

✦✧✦✧

For the first two years of your life, you're told that Herr Drosselmeyer visited you every week. He would place his palms against your heal and close his eyes. You never cried at his touch. Most of the time you simply looked up at him with wide, clear eyes.

For the first few months, he would place his hand against your tiny, slow-growing foot. No magic appeared to take place, but he told your parents he was gaining an understanding of how your bones worked. How they curled in on each other and formed intricate spirals. They were as fragile as a horse's leg, a break of one bone would mean losing all the others.

When you were five months old, it was the middle of spring and you always smiled at Herr Drosselmeyer's appearance. It was most likely because of the chorus of violins that played from the music box he'd gifted you on your first Christmas when you were just two days old. It played music whenever he arrived.

At that visit, what looked like thick, red liquid passed from Drosselmeyer's hands and wrapped around your fragile foot. There were no visible changes until you were one year old when the arch of your foot became visible. You had unusually high arches with the peak of your arch not touching the ground if you laid it flat on the ground.

As expected, you did not start walking at the usual time. You tried, your formed heels and arches allowed you to stand, but your curled toes and balls sent you toppling over whenever you tried to take your first step. Whenever this happened, your mother would rush towards you and make you promise to never try again, yet, you always did.

✦✧✦✧

Just before your second birthday, your parents took you to see the orchestra. As the music started, you sat forward in your chair, your feet kicking outwards. The horns and the flutes and the harp hypnotized you. You hardly realized when your arms swung above your head and you landed on your heels in front of your seat.

Your mother reached for you, but something stopped her as she noticed the natural way you found balance on your heels like a flamingo in water. Surely, balancing on the back of your feet was not the standard form or practice, but there was grace as you brought your left foot up above your shoulder. If you'd had toes, they would've been at a perfect point.

Herr Drosselmeyer came a few days later on your second birthday. As usual, he laid his hands against your arch and heel, the red colored magic encompassing your foot. This time the ball of your foot formed, only your toes remained at odd, crooked angles.

After his treatment, he presented you with the first present you remember receiving. He'd wrapped it in a petite box and it was wrapped in a silk cloth. You opened the box and unwrapped the cloth to reveal a wooden nutcracker.

The nutcracker was about a foot tall. He wore a green colored uniform and black tufts of hair stuck out from beneath his soldier's cap. You looked at his wooden skin and blue eyes, not having the vocabulary to explain how beautiful you thought he was. That night, your mother placed him on your vanity and he stood guard over your bed for the years to come.

✦✧✦✧

Jimin's hands touched your waist as he lifted you higher than you could jump during the first lift of the pas de deux. The move was simple. Jimin holding your waist and lifting you as you lifted your legs in a flowing motion You'd completed it plenty of times with other dancers. Yet, every time his hands brushed your waist, you landed hard on the heel of your foot, occasionally feeling your knee knock, threatening dislocation.

"Damn it, Y/N," Jimin said, "if we can't do this how are we going to dance at all." He ran his hand through his hair. "You need to get a hold of yourself. Focus on the landing."

You scoffed. "I am! You're holding me too tightly!" To prove him wrong, you performed the move on your own, leaping in the air with your legs out in front of you. You landed on your right foot and performed a pirouette only to show that it couldn't possibly be you.

"Your shoes don't even fit right," he said, gesturing down to your ill-fitting pointe shoes. "That's probably causing all of this."

You stayed silent, knowing that he brought up a solid point. Every night you soaked your bruised, raw feet in warm water and soothing salts, sometimes falling asleep in the chair. Pointe shoes needed to fit well, if not for the quality of the dance than to spare the dancer's feet. Every ballerina knew the perils of aching feet and blisters, but non-fitting pointe shoes only made them worse.

"I'm working on it," you said, sitting down beside him and doing some stretches. "You know it's not exactly easy finding shoes that fit."

While your godfather mended your feet by the time you turned four and could begin ballet, pointe shoes never fit completely right. Sometimes, when you pushed yourself too far during practice, you'd see your toes curl inward and you'd feel panic rise in your chest until you were able to extend them on your own.

Jimin didn't say anything more, but you suspected he didn't quite believe you. All of your fellow dancers knew of Herr Drosselmeyer and how he had fixed your feet. Some believed that he was the one who was responsible for your talent, your grace. That when he mended your feet he'd somehow infused an inherent gift for ballet.

You weren't sure where Jimin stood on the rumors. While you were certain that he held some resentment for you, he'd never contested you gaining the lead opposite him in Swan Lake.

"Let's start from the beginning," you said. "We have to get the pas de deux right." You stood up and took the beginning stance, waiting for Jimin to join you. This was the moment that the audience realized that Prince Seigfried is being deceived when Odile is introduced, when the true reality of the story begins to unfold. What starts as a love story becomes a tragedy.

He stood across the room from you and the music started. You bounded towards each other as the choreography dictated. Everything went smoothly as you approached the first lift. Jimin's hands came to your waist and the move was completed. Yet, you still came down a bit too hard on your feet. While you should vary the technique to play the black swan, hinting to the audience the difference in character. Even so, your technique should still be good. You should still appear graceful and lithe like a swan, not coming down too hard on your feet.

"Fuck," you said, leaning down to massage your feet through your slippers. You tied them tighter and adjusted the fit. "Let's go again."

The music started and you ran towards each other again. The familiar feel of Jimin's hands on your waist and the gentle grip as he lifted you in the air. You landed softer this time, albeit it not with complete grace.

"Opening night is in two days, Y/N."

"You don't think I know that?" You sighed and unfurled your hair from its tight bun. "This is the most important dance of the entire ballet. I understand the stakes, Jimin."

Ballet was about pushing your body to its limits. Feeling like your entire body would snap back like a rubber band, your vision going fuzzy because you felt dizzy from turning so many times, your knees constantly bruised. You were going to get this right, get over whatever was causing you not to land a simple lift. You tied your hair back up, tighter this time and glanced over to Jimin.

"Let's practice the other lifts," you said. "We need to make sure we have them all." He nodded as the two of you took your places on opposite sides of the room. You still landed a little shaky on the first lift, but it was getting better. The two subsequent lifts were simpler and you and Jimin completed them without issue.

Yet, the rest of the lifts were more complicated. As you danced on your own while Jimin rounded the room, you dreaded the next one, the one where he lifts you high with his arms completely extended. You needed to have enough force on your jump or else Jimin's arms would wobble. While you required his arms to stabilize you, you were responsible for a majority of the lift.

You leaped into the air with Jimin's hands on your waist, feeling his grip tighten as you reached the peak of your jump and extended your leg outward. As the descent started, you began to shake and Jimin's fingers loosened, sending you tumbling down on top of him.

His chest rose against yours as he huffed and grabbed onto your shoulders and rolling you off of him. Jimin sat up and rested his weight against his palms. "You can't be serious," he said. "I don't think you're ready for this. We'll have to bring in the understudy."

You sat up and met his eyes. "No," you said. "I'll get it. Maybe I just need to eat something." Your limbs were still shaking and you had practiced all day, not remembering when you last ate.

"I do believe I can be of assistance then," a voice said. Your eyes lit up as you stood up and run over to your godfather who stood at the edge of the studio as if he had suddenly materialized in the space without knowing himself.

He carried a bag on his shoulder like he always did and he let it slip off his shoulder as you hugged him. Your godfather always felt a little magical, like touching him would transport you to another world.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," you said, thinking of the pre-debut/ birthday party you were holding for all the dancers.

"I felt the urge to come a bit early." Herr Drosselmeyer reached into his bag and pulled out a parfait topped with fruits you'd never seen before. "I know it's not my normal treats, but I know you need to eat well before the debut performance."

You nodded and took the lid off the parfait before you felt a gaze on your back. "Oh, Herr Drosselmeyer, this is my partner for the production, Park Jimin."

He approached and your godfather held out his hand. Jimin reached for it hesitantly and shook it. You could see the way Jimin raked his eyes over the other man, having only heard of his myths and never seen the man.

"You two look tired. I won't keep you too long as I'm sure you still have a lot of practicing to do."

"Yes," Jimin said. "We do."

You caught the glass shards in his voice and knew Herr Drosselmeyer did as well. His eyebrow arched in curiosity and his fingers twitched.

"I'll take my leave then. I will see you at your birthday party tomorrow and I look forward to the show." Your godfather left with the wind, you and Jimin blinked as he faded from your view.

You momentarily forgot about your dance partner as you once again grew used to the nearly empty dance studio. Drosselmeyer could make the dustiest rooms turn into fantastical wonderlands.

"Y/N? Are you ready to start again?"

You looked back and met Jimin's eyes which were surprisingly soft. He never normally looked at you like that and it made a spark run down your spine.

✦✧✦✧

"Your guests will be here soon. Are you sure you want to do this now?" your mother asked, pouring the salts and herbs into hot water.

"I have to," you said. "I don't think I'll walk otherwise." Slowly, you lowered your feet into the tub and relaxed as the water stung your red, raw toes.

"Will be okay for the performance tomorrow?"

"Of course," you said. "And, if I'm not, I'll figure it out. Maybe Herr Drosselmeyer can help."

Part of you didn't want to use Drosselmeyer's magic to ease your pain, only giving into the rumors that he was the only reason for your success.

Your mother nodded. "I'll come get you when everyone's here." She left the room with her frown lines becoming permanently etched in her forehead.

When the door shut, your shoulders relaxed and you allowed yourself to enjoy the pleasant hum of the salts and herbs on your muscles. Your eyes wandered to your vanity which held all of your jewels and trinkets for the performance. White feather hair clips for the white swan and a black diadem with a large diamond that dripped onto your forehead when you became the black swan. Eventually, on the opposite end of the vanity sat your wooden nutcracker.

He was turned slightly towards you. He still looked the same as when Herr Drosselmeyer had first given him to you. The green uniform still the color of evergreen trees in winter and his dark hair hadn't fallen out, even when you'd attempted to brush it when you were five.

"Nutcracker," you said. "Will you bring me good luck?"

As always, the nutcracker didn't respond, but something about the juxtaposition of his rigid stance and soft eyes always made you feel at ease. You failed to notice the small difference. The painted ring around the black pupil was no longer the vibrant blue, but the same shade of brown as the vanity itself.

"I don't know why I can't get the lifts," you said. "Maybe I really am a fraud. Maybe I'm only good at this because of Drosselmeyer's magic." Your head came to rest in your hands. "It's too late to give up the part, Nutcracker. What am I going to do?"

The nutcracker watched as you fell asleep with your feet submerged and your head having fallen to rest on your pillow. Inside the tub, your toes curled backward and your heel shifted positions before going back to normal. You seemed to feel no pain as your slumber continued. That, or you were simply used to it.

✦✧✦✧

"Y/N," your mother said. "Your guests have arrived."

You shot up, not realizing you had fallen asleep. Taking your feet out of the water you attempted to stand up, immediately falling onto the wood floor.

"Y/N!" Your mother's hands were on your shoulders and pulling you back up. "You know you can't stand right out of the tub." She helped you sit back on your bed as your feet throbbed back to life. Carefully, you slipped your feet into your clunky boots, which you wore when outside of your ballet slippers. They were heavy, but provided you the extra support to maintain your feet for the performance.

By the time you got down the stairs, you'd gained control and no one could tell you'd been so unsteady on your feet. Your friends, fellow dancers, and family each wished you a happy birthday and good luck on the performance. Hors d'oeuvres were passed around: chocolate-covered strawberries, peanut brittle, and frothy, fruit drinks. You couldn't stomach any of them.

"Have you see Jimin?" someone asked. You shook your head, realizing you hadn't seen your partner. While the two of you had practiced into the early hours of the morning and he'd seemed somewhat frustrated with you, you hadn't expected him to miss the party. Your brow furrowed in curiosity.

Before you could wonder further, all the room's eyes turned to the doorway as music played. You recognized the familiar sound of violins indicating Drosselmeyer's arrival. You smiled.

The crowd gasped as two life-size dolls walked through the door. They were dressed in the costumes you and Jimin would wear during the pas de deux. You watched as they performed the dance that you and Jimin could not, executing the lifts without issue.

Halfway through the doll that represented you, disappeared down the hall, just as you would dance backstage. When the doll re-emerged, the costume had shifted from Odile's black, to Odette's white. The partygoers oohed and ahhed, all taken with the two dolls. Your brow furrowed again.

✦✧✦✧

The festivities ended and the exhaustion settled into your limbs. Climbing the stairs to your room, a chill came over you. You sighed, opening the door to your room.

Inside, your things lay ransacked. Clothes strewn around the room, your bed covers lay on the floor, necklaces broken with their pearls spread out across the room. Everything on your vanity was missing, except for the nutcracker. The little soldier had fallen on his side and you grabbed his hat and gently stood him back up.

"Attack!" A shout rang out with the nutcracker still in your grasp. You fell backward, the nutcracker tumbling with you.

✦✧✦✧

When you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on the wood of your bedroom floor. But it was not your bedroom that surrounded you. Tall pine trees erupted from the ground beneath your back and snow seeped through the cloth of your dress. You shudder as the cold reached your skin, causing you to sit up.

"Stay down."

Your back hit the snow.

You turned to see Jimin standing above you, a sword at his hip and wearing a soldier's uniform. The uniform was a little big. The sleeves ended just below the wrist and the coat dwarfed his hips, even the hat lay lopsided.

It was then you saw the brightly colored gumdrop come towards you. It landed with a loud bang a few yards away, snow and pine needles flying into the area. The ground shook beneath you and you spotted all the soldiers in the distance. Gingerbread men?

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice was hushed as if the two of you were hidden. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you said. "Where are we?"

"I don't know."

The gingerbread soldiers drew closer and you spotted another army in the distance. This one made of rats who stood on two legs. At the back of their convoy, the king sat on a palanquin, looking as if he were sailing on a sea of his soldiers.

Swords clashed. You stood up, ready to run. Only to tumble back down into the snow. You knew your feet were failing you and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

"Jimin, I can't run."

His dark eyes met yours and it was then you recognized them. They were the eyes of the nutcracker from the night before, looking at you and begging you to notice.

"It's okay," he said, drawing the sword from his belt. He held it awkwardly in his hand and his palm barely wrapped around the girth of the hilt. "It's just like dancing."

A rock sat in your stomach as you watched your dance partner stand in front of you with the tip of the sword pointed diagonally towards the snow.  

Before any words of protest could come out of your mouth, the fight began. Jimin's sword clashing with a gingerbread soldier's. Another soldier approached you and you kicked at him, knocking it to the ground. Using the strength you had, you brought your feet down on the cookie's chest, breaking it in half.

With your attacker no longer a threat, you turned to find Jimin still clashing swords with the gingerbread soldier. The cookie had taken a few hits, frosting leaking from his wounds. Jimin's sword swung and sliced off the soldier's right arm. The candy sword falling to into the snow, turning it a faint pink. With one final swipe, the soldier crumbled.

Hope swelled in your heart at his first success. You shuffled your legs, trying to stand up. You couldn't feel your feet, as if they were frozen.

Just past Jimin, the rat soldiers battled the gingerbread men. The rats devoured the soldiers until they were crumbs in the snow. At first, you believe the rats would provide a reprieve. They decimated the gingerbread soldiers with ease.

Your hopes were dashed as one of the rats swung at Jimin, cutting through the fabric of his shirt. His shoulder staining a deep red. You noticed the small golden crown sitting on the rat's head. The Rat King.  

"Jimin!" You tried your best to stand, making it to your feet for a few seconds before falling over again. This time you landed on your stomach and you crawled towards the battlefield. While your feet certainly hurt often and caused you to fall, you'd never experienced this.

What did the Rat King want with Jimin? The two of you suddenly thrust into the fight. Although, it was

At the call of his name, Jimin looked back at you, causing the rat to slice at him again. The slice hit his chest this time, more blood seeping through the deep green uniform. He fell to his knees and the rat raised his sword above his ears.

"No!" You twisted to sit straight in the snow and you unlaced your boot as quickly as you could. Your fingers were stiff and wet, but you managed to untie the lace of your right boot and fling it at the Rat King.

The heavy leather boot hit the King's head, knocking off his crown. It took a few moments, but the Rat King fell back in the snow. Red stained the snow around him, but his whiskers still twitched.

Jimin--despite his injured form--took the opportunity and picked up the sword and brought it down swiftly. The Rat King was dead.

✦✧✦✧

The rest of the rats retreated after their king was killed. While the feeling in your feet hadn't returned, you shuffled on your knees to Jimin. He'd collapsed on his back and his chest rose and fell quickly.

"Hey," you said. "Steady your breaths. Come on, like you do when you dance. Count." You started counting and following the beat as you examined the cuts. The one on his shoulder was mostly superficial and the bleeding already slowing. Blood still flowed from the one across his chest and you pulled up his shirt to see it was much deeper than it looked.

You bit your lip, not sure where to start. While you were in a pine forest covered with snow, your bedroom was still beneath you. If it was still in its ransacked state, you knew you could easily find something to stop the bleeding. Digging through the snow, your hand eventually landed on fabric and you pulled it up.

It was the white swan costume. While the outside was covered in beading and feathers, the inside was soft silk. You turned it inside out and held it firmly against your lap, ready to rip the fabric when Jimin's hand grabbed your wrist.

"No," he said, his voice labored and sweat sticking to the ends of his hair. "You need that for tomorrow."

"Jimin, I need you for tomorrow."

You winced as you heard a ripping sound. You'd managed to remove half the lining. Pressing it down on Jimin's wound, it immediately became soaked.

"Y/N," he said. "I'm sorry."

You paused, meeting his eyes.

"For what?"

"For not believing you."

You shook your head. "Forget it, Jimin," you said. "You're going to die if I don't stop the bleeding."

"I don't even think this is real. One minute I'm going to bed and the next I'm your nutcracker. And, then I'm battling gingerbread men and mice. Y/N, do you think it's him?"

He didn't need to clarify for you to know who he meant. Herr Drosselmeyer. While you hadn't had time to stop and think about how you ended up here, the only explanation was magic. And when there was magic in your life, it always traced back to your godfather.

"I don't know."

The fabric was saturated now and blood covered your hands. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, knowing there was nothing more you could do. Even if he didn't say anything, Jimin faded fast. His eyelids drooped and sweat mixed with blood.

"Jimin, you can't leave me like this," you said. "We're going to debut tomorrow. We're going to get all the lifts right. We'll get a standing ovation. They'll pick up our production for a world tour. You can't die. Jimin, please."

"Y/N, stop." He placed his hands over your own. "It's okay. Everything will be okay. You're going to do great tomorrow." His breaths slowed and your own picked up.

"No, no, Jimin. I can't let this happen."

"Shhh." His hand came to your cheek. "It's like the end of the show. Just don't jump in after me, okay?"

His eyes closed. His breathing stopped. And the feeling and your feet came back.

✦✧✦✧

"What is this, child?"

You lifted your head. You'd stayed on your knees by Jimin's side, your head resting on his chest. Tear tracks stained your face and your eyes red. A woman stood above you. Her bright red hair contrasted with the purple ball gown she wore.

"What happened, my sweet?"

"The gingerbread soldiers and the rat king and I couldn't run--"

The woman smiled. "You have no reason to cry. Valiant death is always rewarded." She crouched down beside you and Jimin.  She held out something and you soon noticed it was a small, round plum. "Split it between the two of you."

The woman disappeared when you blinked, much like how Drosselmeyer was prone to do. You looked down at the small fruit and bit into it. The purple juice ran down your chin and it tasted like sweeter than any other plum.

Swallowing, you place the other half in Jimin's mouth. You weren't sure how it was supposed to work, but after his mouth closed around the fruit. The world spun.

The snow swirled around you and you held onto Jimin's shoulders to keep from feeling dizzy. Somehow, you'd ended up on your feet, with the feeling of nothing solid between them. You closed your eyes and felt as Jimin's hands gripped your waist.

The world turned from pine trees and snow to the more familiar setting of a dance studio. It wasn't your usual studio though. The floors were perfectly waxed and there were no dents from when Jimin dropped you.

"Jimin?" you asked, feeling his grip tighten around you.

"I'm here."

Your feet touched down on the floor. It felt odd and you looked down to see black ballet slippers tied around your ankles. In fact, you were perfectly dressed as the black swan and you noticed that Jimin was in his matching outfit for the pas de deux.

"Dance for me," the woman's voice sounded. The music from the ballet played, no orchestra in sight.

You and Jimin exchanged a glance before taking your places and beginning the dance. Hesitance bubbled in your stomach as you ran for the lift, feeling Jimin's hands take hold of you immediately. This time he did not let you drop, nor did you lose your focus or form.

When he placed your feet back on the ground, you threw your arms around him. He reciprocated and the music without a source stopped. No more voices sounded, no more soldiers came out of the woodwork, Jimin no longer felt rigid.

Your feet lifted off the ground as the world shifted again. Jimin's lips connected with yours at the same moment. You weren't sure if the dizziness you felt was from the spinning or the kiss as he pulled away and your feet once again touched solid ground.

✦✧✦✧

You cradled a bouquet of roses in your arm as you came off stage. You couldn't stop smiling, even as the cold air rushed in from where families entered to greet the dancers.

Jimin wasn't far behind you and you soon felt his touch on your lower back. His touch had become so familiar now, nearly as much as your own.

"You did well out there," he said. "I don't think you missed a step."

"I think you made the audience cry at the end. Everyone believed you sacrificed yourself for a trick, for love."

Jimin's lips perked up at the ends. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"You'd jump into a lake for me? Even if it meant dying?"

"Absolutely."

[frozenfauna]

Don’t Forget

Marcus de la Cruz/F!MC - Till Death Do Us Part

Marcus belongs to @electricpuke!

Summary: Marcus’s 37th birthday needs to be special.

!: This story is a lot darker than the previous two! Please keep that in mind. The beginning starts out fluffy but the fic features some explicit heavy themes this time around. Additionally, one of the scenes in this fic is a re-imagining of a scene in the game itself! While I changed most of the details, I did take inspiration from the game itself. If you haven't played tddup, you're missing out! :3 Warning: This fic features NSFW content. This is being crossposted from AO3, you can find the story here. IRL friends don’t read this please, lmao.

Today was a special day… It was Marcus’s 37th birthday. He had insisted on not making a big deal out of the day, despite your protests. Things had been hard lately, though, and you wanted to give him a special day. Marcus had been working more than usual, and more often than not, he was getting ready to leave by the time you got up. Since the incident in the library, things had been a bit strained. A discussion about boundaries turned into your first real argument. You loved him – you truly did – but he was difficult. But maybe, you had thought, today would turn things around. You had a lot you wanted to thank him for… From the first day you met him, he had always dropped everything to come see you, despite his busy work schedule. Though the woes of domesticity were clouding your relationship, those first few months were a whirlwind. He was different than your past partners in many ways. He had even let you move in – insisted, even – after two months of dating.

---

“You realize you’ve spent the night here every day this week?” Marcus said, shoveling some of the breakfast you had made for him into his mouth. He swallowed quickly, noticing your face had fallen a little. “Not that I mind.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. Shit. Marcus was right. In your defense, you lived in a dingy studio apartment. It was all you could afford. Marcus lived in a house much closer to your college. It was sparsely decorated, but it was nice. He had taken you furniture shopping a couple weeks ago and told you to pick out items you liked. It was a bit odd, considering it was his house, but he cited his bachelor lifestyle as the reason he needed help.

“I like it though. You’re safe here.” He took another bite, winking at you. “You should move in.”

You dropped your fork onto your plate, splattering bits of egg on the table. Did he really just say that? It had only been two months… But you had never met someone like Marcus before.

“I… I don’t know. I appreciate the offer, but…” You trailed off, noting his face had suddenly turned serious.

“I love you. I want you here. I want to take care of you.” He put down his fork and reached to put his hand on yours. “If you move in, you don’t have to worry about your job. You can just focus on finishing school.” The offer was tempting, especially the part about quitting my job. Rent was monthly, so breaking your lease wasn’t an issue. It seemed like a bad idea – (how many alarm bells are going off in my head right now) – but something about Marcus made it hard to say no. His hand squeezed yours gently, waiting for an answer.

“You know what? I accept your offer.” You said, heart answering over mind. Marcus stood up from the table and leaned down to wrap you in a tight hug, his familiar cologne lingering on his clothes. You really did feel safe with him.

“Let’s pack tonight. I want you here as soon as possible.” His lips were grazing your ear as he spoke, and you felt his hands move to stroke your hips. “Wanna celebrate?”

Well, you did both have the day off today. You kissed his neck in response, hand moving to grope his already hard cock. You were gonna celebrate, all right.

---

You giggled to yourself as you thought of that morning. Things could go back to how they were before. (You love him.) You looked at the clock. It was already half past 7 P.M., and Marcus was supposed to be home by 6:30 P.M. You felt a familiar pit in your stomach. The nature of his job often had your stomach in knots, but concerns were always met with a brick wall. He’d kiss you, and tell you he’d be fine, but he refused to go deeper than that. Still… a text couldn’t hurt?

Before you could get your phone out of your pocket, you heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the door, relief flooding your body. You stood up from the couch and jogged to the front door to greet him, making it just in time for the door to open. You smiled at him, noticing how tired he looked today. He glanced at you and shut the door behind him without his usual greeting. Something was wrong. Still, you wanted to celebrate his birthday.

“Happy birthday, babe!” You wrapped your arms around his body, his uniform’s surprisingly soft material a comforting feeling. After a moment, he hugged you in return. Marcus was usually never wasted a second pouncing on you the moment he walked in the door. You felt your stomach twist. Your arms dropped from his body and you took a step back, looking at his sullen expression.

“Marcus, what’s wrong?” You said, watching his face. He leaned to take his shoes off, silent. He was the talkative one in the relationship. “Marcus?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He said, arms crossing. His muscles were even more noticeable when he stood like that, and you felt yourself flush a little. “… Nothing you would care about.”

You stared at him incredulously. Something must have set him off – you racked your brain for things you had said this past week, people you had talked to. It shouldn’t be this hard with him, but it was.

“Of course I do, Marcus. Please tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want to ruin your birthday.” You smiled, hoping it would perk him up a little. He took a step forward, forcing you to put your back against the wall. His tall form intimidated you.

“I know you don’t wanna ruin it, babe. But you really hurt me today.” He placed his arms on either side of you, forcing you to look up at him. “If you didn’t want to ruin it, why were you talking to another guy today?”

Marcus had been more possessive lately – checking your texts before you got to them, looking at your call log, asking for passwords – but you chalked it up to his absence around the house. He just wanted to keep you safe, right? You would never hurt him intentionally. He was gazing at you intensely, expression unreadable.

“That was just an acquaintance from college. We’re in the same class, Marcus. He’s not even a friend.” You bit your lip and looked at him. Had he been reading your text messages? Just breathe, you told yourself. (He loves you.)

“Mmm. I guess. Just…” Marcus trailed off, squeezing his eyes tightly. He exhaled sharply. “Please let me know who you’re talking to, yeah?”

You nodded, and he placed a kiss on your forehead. His expression still hadn’t perked up, though.

“Do you still want to go out tonight? I already messaged some of your friends.” you said. He cocked his head to the side and smiled in response. His arms moved from the wall and he leaned forward, holding you tightly.

“I don’t need them when I have you. You’re all I want tonight.” He scooped you into his arms before you could protest, groping your ass harshly in the process. “Don’t you want to give me something special tonight, kitten?”

You felt a familiar warmth in your groin at the nickname, the nervous feeling from earlier finally gone. (He loves you, and you love him.) Marcus took you to the bedroom and placed you on the bed, straddling you in the process. He was heavy, but the weight felt nice. You leaned forward and ran your fingers through his hair, eliciting a small groan from him.

You can already feel how hard Marcus is against your thin pajamas, not yet dressed for the evening you had planned. He ruts against you, neck on your throat kissing it gently. You try to lock your hands with his, but he pushes away, the sudden absence of friction leaving you wanting.

“Give me a minute, kitten…” Marcus says, moving off you. You watch as he removes his uniform, taking the time to throw it in the hamper. His boxers remained, but you could see the precum leaking through the front already. “Close your eyes.”

His tone was commanding, and you complied. It was his birthday, after all. The sound of the end table being open alerted you, the contents inside clinking as Marcus dug through them. Must be his side, you thought. Another moment passed before you felt Marcus climb back onto the bed, this time sitting next to you. You opened your eyes, immediately noticing the knife in Marcus’s hand. You felt your heart jump. (He loves me.)

“M-marcus? Why do you have that?” You said, voice shaking.

“Don’t you want to give me something special today? This can be your present for me.” He smiled, running the blade gently on your arm. You shuddered as the blade pricked your skin. “Strip.”

“What is this?” You didn’t know how else to respond. He gave you a dark look and roughly pulled your pants off. You moved to take your shirt off, not wanting him to get angrier. He looked at you and licked his lips.

“I want you to show your love for me. Permanently.” His eyes were locked with yours as he spoke, his gaze intense. “And I want it to be… personal.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, pinpricks of anxiety scattering on your skin. Marcus smoothed his hands over your thighs, what should be a tender touch feeling predatory. His hands stopped mid-thigh, his fingers tracing your skin. His touch was light.

“I could do it here,” he mused, fingers still slowly tracing your skin. “It’ll be like our secret, something only you and I will ever share.”

His tone was menacing, breath hitching in your throat as his hands began to move again, stopping to rest at your hips this time. He squeezed your hip bones, hard enough to make you wince.

“Or maybe here… I could give you matching marks then.” He chuckled, looking at you for a response. You calculated in your head for a moment, familiar mantra filling your head. (He loves me. He loves me.) You smiled at him. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d like this idea, kitten.”

You shifted underneath him, his nickname rousing something in you. He noticed and moved to press his free hand against your crotch, rubbing your clit over your panties.

“If you’re a good kitten, you’ll get a reward. But you need to behave.” He took his hand away and a whine left your throat, wanting more. He climbed over you again, pressing his cock into you. “Not yet.”

He leaned forward, lips grazing your collar bone, his right hand ghosting above your neck.

“If I did it here, everyone would know you belong to me.” His lips pressed down, his gentle kiss quickly turning into an open mouth sucking harshly on your neck. A light moan escaped you and he lifted his mouth, a loud popping sound filling the air. “Mmm, I think I like those types of marks better here. They’re different every time.”

You were silently relieved. Your heart was still pounding in your chest, mind racing wildly. (You love him. He’s safe.) He moved off you and sat beside you, his eyes trailing up and down your body.

“I think…” He said, hesitating long enough to make you squirm. “We should make it our secret.”

Marcus spread your legs apart forcefully, examining your thighs. He stared for a moment before pressing the blade against your inner right thigh. The blade was cold against your skin, a sharp contrast to Marcus’s warm hand that was pressed into your leg. Your breathing was shallow and uneven. Marcus noticed, and he leaned forward to press his lips against your forehead.

“Shh, it’s okay kitten. I’ve got you.” His words were tender, but the blade pressed against your skin wasn’t. “Nod when you’re ready.”

(he loves me he loves me he loves me)

Your heart dropped. For a moment, you thought he might change his mind. Maybe he’d take you to a tattoo parlor instead to get cheesy matching tattoos. You thought he was that person… maybe if you behaved, he would be. You nodded, and Marcus hummed in approval as you braced for the cut. For a moment, the air felt thick. His hand hesitated and he looked at you once more as your body shook.

He pressed the blade into your skin and you groaned loudly, suppressing the scream that you wanted to let out. Marcus seemed to have no response as he carefully carved an M into your thigh, blood trickling down your leg onto the bed. The pain was bearable, but the sting afterwards was worse than the cut itself.

Marcus pulled the knife from your skin, repositioning it. “You doing okay, baby?”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You didn’t understand him right now, his face laced with genuine concern. (you love him) Maybe, you thought, it won’t be so bad. You nodded, and he smiled in response.

“It’ll be over soon. 5 more letters to go. Don’t you wish I went by Marc right now?” A deep laugh left him, and you felt your face grow hot. He hadn’t given you a choice in the matter. He was actually enjoying this. (but he still loves me)

A moment later he sunk the blade into your skin again, the impact feeling less severe the second time. You winced as he put a line through the A, the blade crossing into your already sliced skin. He carefully delivered cut after cut, each letter thoughtfully placed. You closed your eyes, trying to be anywhere but here. Marcus remained silent, occasionally stopping to wipe blood from your leg. Your body was still shaking, his steady hand on your thigh fighting the movement.

“You’re being so good, kitten. So, so good…” Marcus’s voice was quiet. You opened your eyes for a moment, looking at him. His face was flushed, his cock still hard underneath his boxers. You looked at your leg, the harsh red cuts standing out on your skin. You looked away as he moved to cut the S, the curves proving to be extra painful. You clamped your hand over your mouth, trying to keep quiet.

Marcus leaned back to admire his work, gently pressing a towel against your leg. You felt weak as you opened your eyes again to watch him. You realized you had gone clammy, sweat rolling down your forehead. Marcus looked at you, a gentle smile crossing his face. (you love him)

“See, kitten? That wasn’t so bad. I love you so much.” He threw the bloodied towel aside and moved on top of you, his leg pressing uncomfortably into the cuts. You let out a small scream and stuck his fingers into your mouth. “Be good.”

You felt the hot sting of tears behind your eyes again, cuts burning against his weight. You sucked on his fingers and he moaned, rocking against you. You bit down gently, enough for Marcus to shift slightly.

He gave you smirk, the bite only making him rock against you harder. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pinned your hands to the bed.

“And you were being so good…” He cooed, pressing his weight into your wrists. A moan ripped from your throat, half pain and half pleasure. He let go of your hands but quickly flipped you over, pinning your arms behind your back. You heard him take off his boxers and felt his cock at your entrance, rubbing you through your panties. His grip on your wrists was tight, strong enough to hold them together with one hand.

He pushed your panties aside roughly, rubbing your entrance with his cock again, head grazing your clit. You felt his cock move away, replaced by a finger from his free hand. He rubbed you for a moment before inserting a finger, testing to see if you were wet. A moan left you, his finger pumping inside of you. Your thigh burned but the pain was beginning to become bearable.

“I took it a little easy since you behaved, kitten. But don’t expect anything else.” Marcus withdrew his finger and you pushed yourself back, the absence leaving you burning. He didn’t bother to take your panties off, cock at your entrance again. Without warning he slammed inside of you, thick cock stretching you apart. He moaned loudly, not bothering to start slow. His hand gripped your wrists even tighter as he pushed your face into the bed with his rough strokes, headboard slamming against the wall.

His free hand was suddenly in your hair, pulling you up roughly. You screamed in pleasure and pain again, the sensations mixing. He pulled your head back as he thrust into you even harder, his breathing heavy behind you. You wanted to badly to be able to look at him, to touch him, even now. He yanked your head back again, his thrusts becoming erratic.

Marcus slams into you again and again, pushing himself as deep as he can go, grip on your wrists loosening as he starts to lose himself. A whimper leaves you, the burning sensation of your thigh and the feeling of him buried deep inside leaving you breathless.

“Kitten, kitten… I’m so close,” Marcus groans, his voice shaky. “I need to fill you up.”

He pulls your hair again, snapping your head back rougher than before. His hips slam into you with his final thrusts, and he finally releases, cock pulsing inside you. He pumps into a few more times before he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. (he loves you) He releases his grip on your wrists and gently rolls you over, appraising the mess he made of you.

“I love you so much, you’re so perfect baby. Perfect.” Marcus says, leaning to kiss you on your sweaty forehead. Your body is still shaking with want, but Marcus pulls you up, wrapping his arms around you. Your leg & core burn, god they burn (but you love him), and you want Marcus to fix it. He’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear, rubbing your back gently, but all you can feel is the burning of your thigh, cuts bright red still. He puts his arms down and gently leans you back instead. His hand moves to trace his name etched into your thigh.

“I love you, I’ll never stop loving you. You made my birthday special.” His gaze meets yours, sullen expression from earlier replaced with something between sinister and loving. “But don’t forget who you belong to ever again.”

(you love him, he loves you)

Things had turned around today. It was his 37th birthday. The day had to be special, right?

(he’ll always love you, don't forget he loves you, never forget who you belong to)

[4jimin]

Let The Walls Break Down | 3

CHAPTER III: Restart | crossposted on ao3 Summary:  I look at you, and I'm so fucked up, because I know it's love. A/N:  hello, cutie pies~ so this one has taken a while, and i'm rly sorry for those who were waiting, it's just that... things in my life are rly crazy right now, so i can't find the inspiration to write :/ applying to an university can be rly hard i hate growing up :( anywayyy, this one is just rly fluffy and cute – unfortunately for the pain lovers hahahah – but i rly hope everyone enjoys it bc let's be honest, we all need a little of lovey dovey in our life, right? for everyone who is keeping up with me, leaving kudos and commenting on the chapters, i'm rly so so thankful and i truly love you for that, i hope i don't let you down and that you enjoy <3 i have to apologize in advance because this one is shorter than the others, but!!! i have a good reason: i just couldnt bring myself to mix all this cuteness with the sexual tension that's yet to come akhsdkhf i'm sorry but i hope you don't give up on me for that lmao okay, i'll stop talking, thank you again, and as always feedback is much appreciated <3 p.s: i forgot to say before but this whole thing is developing before inu era, in the beginning of 2015, just to make things clearer Length: 5,4k words

The apartment was freezing. Violent gusts of a cold wind were entering the room through the open windows, startling Taehyung. He woke up alarmed and hurried to close them, feeling all of his body hairs bristling. His bare feet touching the gelid ground, caused shivers through his entire body. He rubbed his swollen eyes trying to understand what had happened, still in a small sleepy trance. As his thoughts settled, Taehyung's eyes landed on Jimin's bed. Oh... He's back... After a long yawn, he found his way back to his bed in the darkness and checked the time on his phone. 2:48 A.M. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he remembered he had to be up by five. Taehyung snuggled himself between his blankets again, when something on Jimin's bed caught his attention. Jiminie, you're not that big... Wait... What– Aish, seriously? A smile formed on his lips. He turned around to the wall side and fell asleep thinking of ways to mock his two best friends – sleeping in the bed by the side of his own – on the next day.

••••

Jimin felt a familiar, yet, strange warmth next to him. He was sleeping alone for the past month, so the sensation of another body glued to his caused him a slight surprise. Tae tae? But those arms around his waist did not belong to Taehyung. Jimin's breath slowly got caught up in his throat, while he brushed his fingers through the arm's veins of the person hugging his waist and assimilated who they belonged to. He took the tender touch down to Jungkook's fingers and delicately held his hand. Jimin closed his eyes remembering all the moments from last night and allowed himself to sigh relieved. It wasn't like all of his problems had suddenly disappeared, but the constant weight tiring his shoulders – which followed him day and night in the last month – wasn't there anymore. Jungkook's breath was rhythmically tickling his neck, making him feel butterflies on his belly. Jimin pretended not to notice. He didn't want to fall in that trap again. The room was dark and cold, thanks to the sun's absence outside. In the most delicate way Jimin managed, he got rid of Jungkook's hug and got out of bed, being successful at the attempt of not waking him up. For a moment, he lost himself observing the younger boy calmly breath, his face tender and in peace. Jimin smiled. His eyes traveled through the traces of Jungkook's face – much more mature than the first time Jimin saw him –, and he felt something awkward on his chest. Jungkook was growing up fast. His childish characteristics were slowly disappearing and being replaced by puberty. Jimin didn't know how that made him feel. He was pride of being able to witness his beloved doengsang getting mature, but he was also emotional by thinking that Jungkook wasn't going to be Bangtan's baby anymore. He wasn't going to be anyone's baby anymore. Not even his. He was slowly becoming an adult. Aish, what am I? A mother? Jimin got rid of his reveries at the same time a high and irritating noise filled the whole place. He followed the sound till Taehyung's bed and turned off the screaming alarm on his phone. It was five in the morning. Jimin streched his spine thinking about their schedule for that day. Two interviews, one photoshoot and the recording of some parts of their new MV. "Jiminie?" Taehyung's muffled voice reached his ears, "What time is it?" He had his face buried in a pillow. Jimin almost laughed. Instead, he crouched down by his best friend's side and slighly messed his hair, answering in a low tone to not wake the others, "Time to get up, you lazy ass." Taehyung lifted his head up just enough for only his swollen eyes to be seen. "Just more five minutes?", his voice was deep and rough, but yet, he still managed to sound like a five year old boy. Jimin caressed his hair before getting up while saying "fine, fine" in a false defeated tone. He left the bedroom looking for his own phone – which was found resting on the kitchen's balcony. Yoongi was sitting in one of the chairs with a mug and a plate full of toasts covered in jelly. "Good morning, hyung." Jimin greeted him, heading to the fridge's direction. "Hey." he heard Yoongi saying, while he looked for the milk, "What time did you come back yesterday? We went to sleep and you two hadn't arrived yet." Jimin was thinking of an answer, when Yoongi added laughing: "What type of running did you two go for?" Jimin blushed. "We got lost by the way." he lied. Kind of. Yoongi took the chance for a – shitty – metaphor. "I hope you've found it again." Jimin laughed softly. "What is this? Namjoon-hyung is namjoonizing you, be careful." Yoongi looked pretty damn offended and pretended to feel chills. "If I wasn't clear enough, I was being sarcastic, okay?" he tried to sound indifferent, but a smile resided on his lips, "You look better." "Huh?" Jimin finished filling his bowl with milk and went to the balcony, sitting in front of Yoongi, "You think?" "Yeah." he bit his toast and chewed it in silence observing Jimin eat his chocolate cereal. Jimin was about to ask him to stop looking at him in that embarrassing way, when the whole apartment heard Hoseok's voice giving good morning to... Well, everyone. Just to make it clear: At once. "Good morning, sunshines!!!!" he screamed from his bedroom and Jimin felt thankful he wasn't there anymore. A minute later, he came out carrying both Jungkook and Taehyung out with a huge and bright smile on his face. How could someone be like that at five in the morning? Jung Hoseok wasn't a normal human being, Jimin had just declared official. It wasn't possible to say the same about the other two, that looked more like two walking zombies than actual sleepy human beings. Jimin's heart skipped a bit by glancing Jungkook awake. He stuffed more cereal in his mouth and looked away, even though the younger was walking with closed eyes. "Are they sleeping for real? You're really the worst... With this innocent smile... Waking them up in the worst possible way... Tsc, tsc." Yoongi pretented to scold Hoseok, that seemed truly offended. "What are you saying? I woke them up with lots and lots of love and that's why they're here. Right, boys?" "I asked you five more minutes, hyung." Taehyung whined by his side. Well, in Hoseok's defense, the other five minutes he asked Jimin had already passed. "But you jumped on me, like this,” he exemplified throwing all of his weight on Hoseok, "without even listening to me... You're heavy... I'm sleepy..." he continued to complain, now with his eyes closed and walking till the sofa. Jimin chuckled. There he goes again... Taehyung snuggled up on the couch, ready to sleep again. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed to be really sleeping standing. Jimin gathered enough courage to look at him, but the boy's head was hanging to his chest and for a moment he looked to get unbalanced, which startled him and made his eyes go wide. Jimin searched for more cereal to fill his mouth, wanting a subject of distraction, but the bowl was empty. He sighed, not knowing what to do. Jungkook sat by his side a moment later, making his whole body freeze. How should I act? How does he expect me to act? What do I do, what do I do? "Morn–" He started shyly, but Jungkook was fast in dropping his asleep head on the table. He was snoring.

••••

Okay, so maybe things were a bit awkward. They were back talking and Jungkook was even giving a try at light teasing Jimin with subtle jokes and touchs, but things were a little different when they were left all alone. At the first time, Jimin thought they were only tired – so that was the reason for the uncomfortable silence – and that he was the only one feeling odd in that atmosphere. But then, at the second time, Jimin tried to initiate a conversation. An easy conversation, such as “hey, have you got your makeup done?”, but Jungkook weirdly answered a “mhmm, da... yes?” and ran out of the room at the very same second. So no, he was not the only one feeling odd. And he soon found out the reason why: the two of them were shamelessly pretending nothing happened at all. All the drama of the other night, the tears shed, the muffled apologies between the hugs and the actual backhug to sleep? Nah. They were totally ignoring the whole reason of why they were back talking again and they were simply talking again. And here it was why it was odd: all of this, should have led to getting the both of them closer (what the actual fuck, Jungkook said I love you to Jimin out loud), but thanks to their dumbness, they were acting all shy and embarrassed, which was getting Jimin frustrated. For real, they didn’t go through all that shitty moments to end up here blushing and running away from each other. “Jungkook is not talking with me.” he pouted. “Hah? What do you mean? I saw you two sleeping together last night!” Taehyung said, surprising Jimin. “We didn’t– Okay, maybe we... Anyway, yes, we're talking again, but... It's weird. It feels weird, I don’t know.” “Are you asking me for advice? I don’t even know why the two of you fought before.” Jimin sighed. “It was stupid. We're stupid. It wasn’t like...” he didn’t know how to put it into words – and to be honest, he didn’t even want to, because somehow, it still hurt a little, “We both had our fair share of fault, I think, so... It wasn’t like he hurt me on purpose or anything...” Taehyung looked at him dumbfounded. “What? Are you telling me he wasn’t the dickhead and you weren't the victim?! But how so, if you were crying your heart out that night in the hotel?!” Jimin shuffled uncomfortably on his seat. “Well... Aish, why is this important, really? I don’t wanna talk about it...” he scratched the back of his head to have another thing to worry about “And that wasn’t even the reason why I came here, to begin wi–” “It is important because if he wasn’t the dick and neither were you, then I was!” Jimin gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about?” “Aish...” Taehyung held his head on his hands “Sorry Chim, but I need to apologize to Jungkookie.” and just like this, he ran away, leaving Jimin alone and clueless. “Hey! Taehyung!” he called for him, but the boy just waved at him like “talk to you later”. Jimin snorted irritated. He wanted help and Taehyung gave him shit. “What's up? Tae abandoned you?” Jin appeared by his side with his necktie in hand. “Kind of...” Jimin looked up at his hyung and smiled at the sight of the boy struggling to get his tie right, “Need help, hyung?” “Maybe.” Jin sat next to him and let Jimin finish the job of tying the thing for him. “Mhmm... Hyung?” Jin didn’t answer but he looked Jimin in the eyes to show him he was listening, “Can I ask you something?” Jimin carefully passed the tip of the tie through the hole he created while talking. “Of course.” the older boy gave Jimin his best attentive eyes, because Jimin seemed to be choosing his words carefully, so Jin deduced it was an important thing. “If you... Had a fight with someone...” he successfully finished tying the necktie and let his hands fell between them with a little sigh, “And, like– This has nothing to do with me, okay? It's just that a friend asked me for advice and I have no idea what to say... Anyway... You had a fight, but everything is fine now, because everyone apologized, okay? Okay... But what should I– my friend do if even after everyone apologized, things are still awkward between the... people who fought? “Mhmm...” Jin looked up to represent him thinking “Are you asking me how to break the ice?” “No! I mean, yes, but... Not like that...” Jimin pouted at his failure of expressing the situation he was currently in. It was frustrating. “Regardless of the situation, you can always use this, it's 100% effective!” Jin cleaned his throat with a cough, “What did the ocean say to the shore?” “Oh no, hyung, not the dad jokes…” Jimin helplessly covered his face with his hands, showing all the love he had for his hyung's jokes. But Jin didn’t say a thing, so he knew it was useless to fight, “...what?” “Nothing. It just waved.” he answered already laughing that squeaky and loud laugh of his mid-way the joke. Jimin tried forcing his own laugh it in, but he couldn't make it. The laugh came out against his will and he whined out of frustration. I need more useful members. “Hyung...” “No, wait, wait! There's another! Oh, this one is pretty good, you're gonna love it.” Jin did The Dad Pose with his forearm resting on his thigh and gave him an expectant look, “What do you call a group of killer whales playing instruments?” Jimin was in silence, mortifiedly looking at him, but already fighting a smile, “An Orca-stra.” Jimin cracked. “Okay, no, I'm leaving.” he got up from his chair, “Hyung... Laughing at your jokes hurts my pride.”

••••

The group had just finished the second interview, when they were rushed to the place where the mv would be recorded. Jimin wanted some time alone with Jungkook – even though it was useless, since he still didn’t know what to do to make things less awkward –, but they were only seeming to get more and more apart. The photoshoot had been the first thing to get done in the morning, so that recording was their last responsibility of the day – kind of – and Jimin couldn’t wait for it to get finished. They weren't going to shoot everything at once, anyway, so hopefully it wouldn't take too long. When it finally ended – the sky already dark blue –, he almost thanked the heavens. He was tired, yes, but now that they had nothing more to do – apart from practice, of course –, he was free to try solving things out with Jungkook. Damn, he wanted things to get back normal again, okay? When they arrived at the studio, everyone headed at once to the showers to take a good bath after the long day, but there were only five of them, so Jimin and Jungkook were left waiting. “I'm older!” Jimin had said to the two months younger boy. “I know, Jiminie, but… Please…” Taehyung gave him the puppy eyes. Dirty. He knew Jimin was weak for the puppy eyes. “Fine.” he let out rolling his eyes in a pseudo irritation. And that was it. To be very honest, he only gave in, because he realized that was the chance he needed to be alone with Jungkook a little. In fact, in that moment, he was alone with Jungkook. Each one in a corner of the room looking at their phone's screen in a complete silence. “Hey… Jungkook…” Jimin tried, not taking his eyes off his phone. “Yes, hyung?” Jungkook quickly looked up at him. Jimin closed his eyes wanting to punch himself. He couldn’t believe he was actually going to do that. “So… You know…” Jimin looked at him, ignoring the flush on his cheeks, “What did the ocean say to the killer whales? Wait, what. No! Shit.” Jimin looked away, “How do you call an ocean waving to the shore? No! Fuck! That's not it, wait.” Now the will of punching himself in the face was the minor of all his personal issues if compared to his will to bury himself in the fucking earth's core. He couldn’t believe he appealed to a goddamn dad joke and completely messed it up. Who does that? But Jungkook was laughing. Really laughing. With his eyes disappearing and crinkling in the corner while his body curved forward. Jimin was in a trance for a moment, just appreciating the sound coming out of the younger's mouth and watching his nose scrunch in that adorable way only Jungkook could do. “Hyung..." the maknae looked at him with eyes sparkling and that beautiful bunny smile, making Jimin blush, "Are you really dad joking me?” Jimin couldn’t be more offended. “What? Well, yes, but–“ “Why are you so offended if it's true?!” that only made Jungkook laugh more and well, fuck, Jimin was laughing too, because yeah, it was kinda funny. “I can’t believe you actually managed to mess up a dad joke, hyung, this is iconic.” Jungkook looked at him with those warm eyes embellishing his face and Jimin almost melted. “Hey, how do you call the ocean waving to the shore?” he imitated Jimin's voice in a lame tone, which made both of them fall in an even louder laughing. “Shut up! I totally don't sound like this!” “Shut up! I totally don’t sound like this!” Jungkook did it again in a further lame way and now Jimin was almost falling from his chair, the laugh completely taking over his body and making his tummy ache. “You're stupid.” Jimin told him while trying to catch his breath. “But you're smiling.” Jungkook pointed out with a light red hue painting his ears and cheeks. Jimin rolled his eyes still with that ridiculous smile on his face. “Yeah…”

••••

Jungkook once watched an anime that talked about equivalent exchange – and even though it was an alchemy's fiction and such, Jungkook totally believed in its concept. So much he brought it to his reality. The most famous quote of the animation was something among the lines of “you can't win anything without losing something first”. You know, this here it's a paraphrase, but the idea still lives on it. Jungkook believed that in order to have good moments, the sad moments needed to come first. He didn’t know if he was right, but that was how things always worked for him in his life, so maybe he kinda was. One example was what it was happening with Jimin. They fought, got hurt, stopped talking for a pretty long time and yes, it had been terrible, but now, they were closer than ever. Jimin was resting his head on Jungkook’s chest, while watching a cheesy drama. Jungkook could feel his hot breath on his skin through the fabric of his tshirt. After a few minutes, Jungkook's hand was tangled in Jimin's hair without him even realizing when it happened. He was there playing with it and softly caressing the top of his head, when he felt it slowly dropping a little to the side. Jungkook smiled, because he realized Jimin had just slept. He stayed there though, hands on Jimin's hair and Jimin's body warming his own. They were glued to each other and Jungkook couldn’t feel more at ease. He was breathing Jimin's scent, which was very probably – and happily – going to stick to his clothes for the rest of the day. It was sweet and it smelled like flowers. Jungkook buried his face on Jimin's hair, wanting to feel more of it. He deeply breathed in and the smell made funny things to his stomach. He left no room to think about what that meant, though. He didn’t want things to get weird again. His left arm was starting to tingle because of the position he was in, but Jungkook didn’t allow himself to move. Jimin was peacefully sleeping and Jungkook would do the possible to keep him that way. He wasn’t really seeing Jimin's face, but he imagined he was with his beautiful lips a bit open, with the side of his face that was in touch with Jungkook's chest all crumpled in a very cute way. He grinned thinking about it. Jimin was really cute, even though he was older. He had a tiny nose, soft cheeks and small fingers. Sometimes when he was talking, his lips formed a little pout making his voice sound childish – but not in a bad way, in an adorable way. Jungkook sighed and ignored the pain starting to grow in the middle of his spine, still playing with the fluffiness of Jimin's hair. Jimin woke up when the movie had just ended. He looked up with puffy eyes and swollen lips, so Jungkook did the possible to fight a smile. The left side of his face was marked with the folds of Jungkook’s tshirt, which just made his confused expression look cuter. “Did I sleep?” he asked in a deep and raspy voice. Jungkook felt a little shiver run through his spine, but he laughed it away. “Yes.” he took the chance to change positions and strech his painful back. “Is the movie good?” Jimin rubbed his face, trying to fully wake up. “Great.” Jungkook lied. He couldn’t say he passed the whole time staring at the top of his head thinking about him, could he? “Damn. I'm sorry, I missed it.” “It's okay.” Jungkook smiled. Jimin was still looking at him with his eyes partially open and with his mouth – Jungkook realized in a jolt – dangerously close. His heart raced ridiculously like it always did when his attention was directed to Jimin's lips and he suddenly asked himself who already had kissed those lips. He felt uneasy out of nowhere. The memory of Jimin making out with that girl invaded his mind. Jungkook closed his eyes in order to make it go away. But... Their lips touching, their tongues– “Hey, what you thinking?” Jimin whispered on his face. Jungkook opened his eyes just to meet a worried face staring back at him. He shuffled uncomfortably under Jimin, but he kept his hand on the older's back – holding him still –, because he liked that warmth so close to him. “You know, hyung...” Jungkook didn’t know why he was about to ask this, “W-who was the first person you kissed?”, but he did. Jimin wided his eyes with a slight surprise from that unexpected question. He opened his mouth to answer a few times, but fell in silence in all of them. Jungkook felt a knot on his chest, so he hurried to apologize. “I'm sorry, you don’t have to answer, that was stu–“ “A girl from my class.” Jimin cut him off and looked away. He supported his face on his hands, resting on Jungkook’s chest. “I liked her, but she didn’t. Her friends forced her to kiss me. Aish, that was embarrassing.” Jimin hid his face for a moment, “I didn’t know back then, so when I found out I apologized to her.” Jimin explained, and added in a lower tone, “I also told her to find new friends, because... Who does that?” “But it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t have to apologize!” Jungkook was shocked and pissed for Jimin. What shitty friends, to be honest. “Of course I did!” Jimin lifted his head to look at Jungkook, and he realized Jimin's lips were doing the pout thing, “I liked her and they knew that, that's why they forced her to do it! It was my fault...” “Hyung, of course not!” Jungkook was getting mad. Why was Jimin blaming himself for a bad thing other people did? “You can't be guilty for liking someone! And even if you didn’t, other people would like her, and their friends would do the exact same thing!” Jungkook realized his voice was louder than he initially intended, but he couldn’t help it. It was unfair for Jimin to carry this guilt with him if he was innocent. Jimin seemed to take a moment to think about it. “Yes, but... Still...” “There's no still! Or but!” Jungkook said with his brows furrowed, “It's not your fault...” Jimin smiled that smile that made his eyes disappear and Jungkook tried really hard to not gasp for air. “Okay, okay...” he said with a small voice, “And... What about you?” Jungkook was caught off guard. “M-me?” he stuttered. “No, idiot, me. Of course it's you!” Jungkook thought about it. He was nervous to answer. Not because of the subject itself – he had already talked about it with Taehyung and it had been a normal conversation –, but because it was Jimin who was listening. “It was a-also a girl from my class...” Stop stammering, idiot. “There's nothing big about it, but... I didn’t really like her. It was just that she confessed to me and everyone else had already kissed, so I thought 'better be with someone that likes me' and...” Jungkook had no problem telling Taehyung this, but now he was blushing and feeling guilty, “It was selfish, I know, and I kind of used her, I think, but I... I... Don’t know what to say, I felt sorry later, but she didn’t study on the same school anymore and...” “Jungkookie, it's okay.” Jimin interrupted him, “You don’t have to excuse yourself. It's okay.” he warmly smiled and Jungkook felt that warmth spreading through his whole body, “We do some mistakes as we live, but it's okay, I guess... Don't worry too much about it... In the end, aren’t we all using each other for our own happiness, anyway?” Jimin looked away supporting his head on his hand again. They were both in silence now, but Jungkook was too excited and happy he was getting to know new things about Jimin. He told himself that was the reason why he so naturally – and let's say, in a dizzy state of mind – asked, “Hyung, and what about boys?” But actually hearing those words resounding through the room made him regret at the exact same second they came out. “Huh?” Jimin looked at him again, probably asking himself if he heard right, “Boys?” Jimin asked to make sure, and that was the chance he needed to say 'forget it' and move on to another topic, but he stuttered a 'yes' instead. “What about boys?” “H-have you ever kissed them?” Jungkook heart was beating in his throat now, and the living room was drowning in silence. It probably lasted five seconds, but it felt like an eternity for Jungkook. Jimin's face was being illuminated by the orange glow from the sunshine's dawn entering the window behind them, when he answered, lowering his eyes: “Yes...” Jungkook could have ended the conversation there and moved on, but he wanted to know. He needed to know. He wasn’t really understanding that urge of finding out about Jimin's personal life, but it was completely swallowing him up. “How was...it...?” Jimin was looking at him with fond eyes, which made Jungkook feel more comfortable and secure to ask the questions he wanted – it was a 'go ahead' kind of fond eyes. “The first time?" “Well... yeah.” Jungkook answered while wondering how many times could have happened. How many people could have touched Jimin's lips in such an intimate way? Jungkook didn’t understand why, but thinking about it – which led him to imagine it – made his stomach sink. He realized he was staring at Jimin's lips, so he averted his gaze. Jimin sighed. “We used to dance together. We were from the same academy, but we weren’t classmates. One day, the professor decided to take the best from each class and form pairs to create choreographys. He said it was for approximating the students or something... Anyway, we started practicing together, some times alone and some times not... I... was shy at first, but he was nice and easy to talk to, so we were getting along well as time went by...” Jimin wasn’t looking at Jungkook – he was blankly staring at the ground like he could see all of those memories before his eyes. Jungkook felt a tip of jealousy bothering him, “He was older too, and better than me, so he helped me with some dance moves. One day... It was night already, but we were still practicing, because the performance was on the other day and... I was really nervous, so I was doing a lot of mistakes. He noticed it, paused the music and sat down in silence.” Jimin smiled, “I asked 'what are you doing?' and he lied saying 'wahh, I'm so tired, let's take a break.'" he smirked softly, "Idiot... Anyway, he was my hyung, so I just nooded and sat too, but he started talking and playing with me, and when I realized we were sitting really close to each other laughing about stupid things and I had even forgot about the performance... I think that was what he was trying to do the entire time, to be honest... But... You know when you're talking with someone and suddenly things just go quiet? So... That happened and... I was looking at the ground, but he was looking at me and getting closer. I got nervous and didn’t know what to do or what was happening, so he said 'Jimin...' and made me look up. He said 'I think I'm going to kiss you, so if you don't want to, stop me.'” Jimin sighed one more time and Jungkook got scared he could feel his heart fastly beating in his chest, “But I didn’t. I didn’t stop him and he kissed me. It was gentle and sweet and also nice, so it made me wonder if I liked guys too... Yeah... That's it.” he laughed shyly a little, “Aish, I talked too much, this is embarrassing...” “Do you?” Jungkook asked thinking that breathing got a little harder since Jimin started telling his story. “What?” “Like guys too.” Jimin looked away. “Well, yes... At least, I thought so back then... Now I know I only like guys.” Jungkook met Jimin's eyes again, “Is there a problem?” he cautiously asked. “No!” Jungkook hurried in saying. “I'm sorry.” he didn’t know why he was apologizing, “There's not, I'm sorry...” well, deep down, he kinda did. “But... What happened after?” Jungkook told himself he just wanted to know out of curiosity. “Well, we performed. I made no mistakes. And then, I left to Seoul.” Jungkook quietly nooded. “I see...” There was still another question bothering him, but he was scared to ask, so he just stayed in silence chewing on his bottom lip. His hand was sweating on Jimin's back so he took it off. “What is it?” Jimin sweetly asked. How did he do this? Jungkook said nothing, but it was still like Jimin could read him like a letter. He was about to answer 'nothing', but instead he asked: “Did you like him?” And here it was why it was bothering him: he didn’t want to hear the answer. If Jungkook was to be honest with himself, he would have to admit he didn’t really need to ask to know it. It just needed for Jimin to start talking about it, for him to realize. It just needed for Jungkook to look at Jimin blushing and looking away right now, to understand it. But the thing was, Jungkook was the master of lying to himself. So he needed to hear it. “Yes.” and even though he knew it, it still hurt, “I didn’t know back then, but I do now.” Jimin smiled at him, “But it's past. I have all of you to love now.” his eyes did the crescent moon thing. Jungkook's heart clutched in his chest. He was so cute. “It's not the same!” Jungkook told him, even though he knew Jimin was aware of that. “Hah?” the dork did a disbeliefed tone, “What you talking about? I thought it was already pretty clear that I'm marrying aaall of you.” he said like it was the most obvious thing. “Stop joking around!” Jungkook scolded him smiling. He didn’t know why hearing that made him happy, but, somehow, it did. Jimin tickled him. “I'm not!” Jungkook tickled him back. “Yes, you are!” They got into a tickle fight, just to finish it three minutes later with Jungkook screaming for mercy, “Fine, fine, you won! I give up, hyung, stop!” They were both laughing and trying to catch their breaths, when Taehyung appeared out of nowhere and joined them to watch the drama – now replaying on the tv. Before Jungkook realized, everyone else was snuggled around them with popcorn and stuff, making the place feel all warm and cozy. He smiled, feeling so much like home.