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oddinary4bts · 4 months

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Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass.

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs.

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.”

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles.

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed.

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.”

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you.

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him.

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around. “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze.

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night.

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back.

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten.

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you.

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again.

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung.

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top.

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him.

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips.

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him.

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex.

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural.

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely.

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend.

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours.

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words.

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper.

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment.

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further.

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you.

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body.

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him.

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently.

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident.

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly.

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?”

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod.

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Chapter 3.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

#chasing cars ch 3 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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bellezaycafe · 9 months

Text

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 4

genre: 2024 Season AU

pairing: there will be romance but I haven't finalised who yet. platonic! oc x literally the whole grid.

warnings: lots swearing, major car accident, mentions of broken bones, blood and hospitals. A lot of shit happens. Limited knowledge of Silverstone or how the structure of their emergency response on track works.

context: Sadie, a 20 year old university student from Melbourne, decided to take a gap year and volunteer at 2 Formula One races in different countries.

Sadie's Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell (but you can visualise her howver you want :) )

comments: ...prepare for pain. I'm not sorry. I did speak to a doctor friend, and Sadie continuing with her injuries is plausible.

Part 1 | Masterlist

----$----

“Fuck me, it’s a bit cold,” Sadie complained to the middle-aged paramedic beside her.

“Is it too cold for the Australian kid?” Mark laughed.

Sadie turned to him, looked up and frowned. “Not a kid, fuck you.”

Mark laughed again and tried to pat her on the head, which Sadie swatted away.

“Let’s just hope today’s race is dry,” he said after a moment.

Sadie nodded, stray wisps of her dark brown hair loosely flying around her face in the breeze.

Silverstone, in June, was the same temperature as Sadie’s home town in September, just leaving winter into spring.

“This is not summer weather,” she whined.

“You volunteered, kid,” Joe reminded her.

“I know, I know.”

“Where have they placed you?”

“Medics at turn 13. That’s Stowe, right?”

“Yeah. It can be a dangerous one. But you’re with my older brother Keith, so you’ll be fine.”

"How is it in the wet?"

"Worse, but the drivers are in safe hands."

----$----

Sadie paced as she watched 18 -Pierre Gasly and Oscar Piastri had sent each other out early in the race- of the best drivers in the world speed past.

“Sadie,” Keith called, “you should sit down.”

“I’m more anxious when I sit,” she replied without taking her eyes off the track. The track that was getting wetter and wetter as the minutes past.

"Mark said to let you pace and I will, but nothing is going to happen," the grey-haired man reassured.

Sadie sent him a kind smile but didn't reply out loud.

It was a good thing she didn’t. They might have missed it.

Two Red Bulls, the McLaren and a Mercedes flew into view. The McLaren, Lando's McLaren, clipped the back wheel of Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes, sending a shower of debris into the misting rain.

Lando's car spun, twice and then slammed into the wall side on. Lewis spun once but managed to pull his car to a spot in the gravel before it could collide with anything.

Sadie was out the door, pulling on her mandatory helmut and grabbing a first aid kit before Keith was out of his chair.

"Go to the McLaren!" Keith shouted to her as he followed with another kit. "I'll take the Merc!"

She didn't acknowledge his order but followed it without hesitation. She jumped the barrier, her gaze locked on the fluro yellow helmet. The helmet that was barely moving.

"Lando," she shouted as she reached the car. "Are you okay?"

"No!" His voice came as a strangled croak, barely loud enough for her to hear him.

She dropped the first aid kit and grabbed the steering wheel he was holding out.

"You will be, we're here." She stated. "Can you get out?"

Sadie didn't breathe as Lando cried out. "My foot!" he wailed. "My ankle!"

"Okay, take a deep breath, Lando. Push yourself up with you arms. You're strong, mate. Push."

She didn't know what she was saying. She was running on instinct and adrenaline. Purely, instinct and adrenaline.

Get them off the track, Mark's voice rang in her head. Get them somewhere safe.

Lando hoisted himself onto the halo and Sadie saw his ankle bent at an unnatural angle. She couldn't let it show on her face.

"Alright, Lando swing to me. Swing around."

He did so, wobbling dangerously.

"Drop onto your right foot, I'm here."

Cars sped past, the flag only yellow.

Lando didn't drop onto his feet, he fell from the car and into Sadie. She was lucky she had braced herself as she caught him.

He screamed in pain as his ankle hit the ground.

"Lando, my name is Sadie. I've got you now, do not put your right foot on the ground. I'm gonna get you to the medical tent."

"Sadie? Melbourne Sadie?" He whimpered. He couldn't stop making small sounds of pain.

She opened his visor, met his watercolour eyes. She knew her helmet had no visor, knew he could see her eyes.

"Yes, Lando, it's Melbourne Sadie. I've got you now, we've got to get you off the track."

She hauled his left arm over her shoulders and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Walk with me Lando. That's it, with your right foot. Good. You're gonna be okay, mate. It's just a scratch."

Sadie still hadn't registered what she was saying, or the fact that Lando was leaning almost all of his weight on her.

Her head snapped up at the sound of approaching cars. With hands firmly on his waist, Sadie slipped out from under his left arm and placed herself under his right.

She put herself between him and the oncoming cars. She didn't know what might happen, hadn't thought about it. She hadn't thought at all.

It was Perez's Red Bull that struck the McLaren or Mercedes debris. More debris flew through the rain, some thing off all three cars. Sadie pulled Lando tighter into her and shielded him as she continued to pull him towards the closest exit.

Pain tore though Sadie's adrenaline. Her right side, both arm and leg. She stumbled, barely, but right herself and Lando cried out in pain again.

She knew two things, do not stop and do not let the pain stop you.

"I've got you Lando, you're going great. Keep going!"

"Sadie," he whimpered. "Fuck. My ankle, Sadie, my car."

"I know, Lando, I know. You're going to be okay. Your car will be fine, you will be okay."

"Fuck," he whimpered again.

"Keep going, pretty boy. Don't put that left foot on the ground. You're gonna be okay, pretty boy."

More hands joined hers and pulled Lando over the barrier. She didn't register who it was, only that he was on the other side and being treated. She heard a lot of swearing, she heard someone call her name.

She looked up to see Lando staring at her leg. He was laying down, on an ambulance stretcher.

"Sadie," he croaked, his eyes rising to hers.

She didn't look down, a part of her knew she didn't want to know. Sadie kept his eye contact as she tried to stand upright. "I'm okay, Lando. I'm okay." She reassured.

Some one stepped into her line of sight and she lost view of his face. They hauled him into the waiting ambulance.

"Fuck, kid." She recognised that voice.

She turned, limped around to face Mark.

"Mark, Lando he's -" He recognised her voice, just as she had his. She was still wearing the medic's helmet.

"Sadie, your leg. You've-" He stepped forwards and pulled a chair with him.

"I don't know," she whispered. She couldn't be louder, she tried to say it louder but it was the same whispered, "I don't know. I haven't looked."

The paramedic rushed to her, placing the chair beneath her as her right leg gave out.

"Don't look," he muttered. "You're gonna be okay, but you can't look."

Someone handed him gauze and bandages. Another handed him saline and scissors.

Lewis stepped into Sadie's quickly narrowing line of sight.

"Oh my god," he exclaimed.

When Sadie saw him, she remembered what she'd done. She thought about what she'd done.

The crash. Catching Lando. Essentially dragging him off the track. Putting herself between him and the cars. Her leg. She didn't know the damage but her leg was on fire.

"Sir," she breathed. "Lewis, my helmet, please."

"Oh my god, kid. They're gonna look after you, okay?" He dropped to his knees next to her, leaving his own helmet in the dust.

"I know," she croaked as he undid the straps at her chin. "It's not that. The media- Lewis, hide me from the media. Please."

That's when Lewis recognised Sadie. Her brown hair was plastered to her pale face. Her brown eyes were wide with fear.

"Oh shit. Okay kid, yeah. They'll never know your name, they'll never see your face. I swear it, kid. I promise."

Someone handed her a green piece of plastic. The green whistle. Pain relief, and a very strong one.

He last words before the high kicked in were, "Lewis, please. No reports, no one can know it was me."

Needless to say, the rest of the day was a blur. She barely remembered the ambulance ride, getting the piece of Formula One car embedded in her thigh taken out or the stitches in her arm and leg.

It was all over the news.

Medic gets stabbed with shrapnel while helping driver Lando Norris.

Norris out of SIlverstone GP: The Medic Who Saved Him.

Two in hospital after dangerous crash at Silverstone.

But Sadie's name was never written. Every reporter was baffled at the disappearance of her identity.

----$----

Lewis had gone to Max that evening, before the winner had the chance to go out.

"It was the Melbourne volunteer," he'd told him in his hotel room. "The medic in hospital, it was Sadie."

Max's face snapped towards Lewis. He'd been making Lewis a coffee, but it was abandoned.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

Lewis shrugged, shadows passing over his face. "I don't know, man. I- Her leg was bad."

"Fuck," Max muttered. "How did it happen?"

Lewis rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't know that either. I didn't see it. It's what happens now that I want to talk about. I need your help."

Max froze. Lewis knew why, he'd never asked Max for help before. They were friendly, finally, but they weren't close.

"She begged me, Max, begged me, to keep her name out of the media. So far, so good but I need your influence in the paddock. You still have the unpredictable 'Mad Max' reputation to some people. I need you to use it."

He nodded and there was an understanding between the champions. Sadie had protected their friend, maybe saved his career if some of the initial reports were true, and it was their turn to protect her.

"I don't why she was so desperate. She was begging me. She had a piece of fucking metal sticking out of her goddamn leg and she was begging me to hide her from the media."

"it doesn't matter," Max stated. His eyes were dark as he search his contacts for a name. "It doesn't get out. Her name appears no where."

They would protect her.

----$----

I'm not sorry. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback in welcome :)

Taglist (never thought I'd write one of these, I'm very happy to):

@snubug

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando norris #lewis hamilton #get your shit together

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kingofbodyrolls · 1 year

Text

Coming Home (m) | PJM | Part one

When your best friend, Park Jimin, who you’ve had a crush on since forever, suggests you stay at his house to heal and find yourself again after a series of traumatizing events had haunted you for years, you don’t hesitate to accept. Within those walls, a safe haven is woven, where wounds can heal and memories find release. As he nurtures your shattered spirit, an unexpected intimacy unfurls, leaving the fragile barrier between friendship and deeper emotions in question - can you keep your feelings hidden?

→ Pairing: Jimin x reader (female, “Y/N”) → Other characters: Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, OC (female, she is the therapist) and another OC (male, he is the perp). Also readers parents and mention of Jimin's. → AUs: Best friends to lovers!au, detective!jimin → Genres/themes: thriller/dark, yandere vibes, slice of life, healing after trauma, angst, smut and fluff. → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 → Word count: 20k → Warnings: Mention of past abuse and sexual assault (r*pe), trauma, stalking, trust issues, insecurities, thriller vibes, angst, fluff, slice of life, healing after trauma (including therapy sessions), blood (only in the beginning), BIG feelings, protective Jimin, previous character death (a parent), Jimin being soft and loving, self defense. → Disclaimer about warnings: I know nothing about sexual or physical abuse (I only know psychological because I experienced that, not in a sexual context though). This story is fiction, I do not mean to say that this is how one would go through their emotions or handle this situation. This is a delicate and fragile subject, so proceed with caution. I also know nothing about police work or the work in emergency/hospitals. Also, I don’t own BTS or know how they would act in a similar situation. This story is purely fiction, a fragment of my imagination. They just inspire me so much 💜

Cross posted to AO3!

→ Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

Rain pelts down relentlessly, each drop a sharp reminder of the danger chasing you.

The downpour blurs the line between raindrops and tears as they cascade down your face.

Clothes cling to your skin, suffocating, strangling.

Keep moving, keep running, the mantra plays on a loop in your mind.

With each pounding heartbeat, the echo of footsteps grows louder. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowns out the sound of the rain, but the fear in your heart is deafening.

Each breath is a desperate gasp, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the promise of danger lurking in the shadows.

Every second counts, and the darkness seems to conspire against your escape, threatening to swallow you whole. Amidst the chaos, doubt gnaws at your resolve.

Why did things have to turn out this way?

Could you have done something differently?

But you push those thoughts away; now is not the time for self-doubt.

The world around you blurs, but your heart beats like a war drum, urging you to escape the nightmare chasing your every step. Clenching your fits, you find a sliver of strength and determination within yourself, vowing to fight until the very end.

Your tears mix with the rain, blurring your vision again, but you can’t afford to stop. The pain in your chest isn’t just from exhaustion; it’s the weight of a thousand regrets and shattered dreams.

Memories flash before your eyes like lightning strikes, and you wonder if you’ll ever get a normal life again. But amidst the turmoil, one thought anchors you: survival.

The empty streets seem to stretch endlessly, dim streetlights casting flickering shadows that dance around you. An eerie feeling tightens in your chest - what if he had followed you?

Exhaustion gnaws at your limbs as you continue to run, legs turning to jelly beneath you. In the distance, a familiar fence and yard comes into view, you feel a twinge of hope surrounding your heart.

You quicken your pace, stumbling forward, almost there.

The front door is within reach, and relief wash over you.

You slam your body against the door, desperate for refuge. Pain sears through your shoulder, but you hardly notice.

Knocking feverishly, you hope someone, anyone, will answer in this dark hour. But the silence that follows only heightens the fear bubbling within you.

The wind whispers, carrying with it haunting whispers that seem to echo your own terror.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

His eyes snap open, frustration already creeping into his mind. What in the world is going on outside this time?

Those blasted drunk teenagers just never seem to learn, do they? Groaning, he begrudgingly leaves the comfort of his bed, fatigue tugging at every step he takes down the hall to the front door.

Should he open it and scold them?

Or maybe he should just yell from inside?

“Go home and sleep it off!” he yells, clenching his jaw with irritation.

Just as he turns to retreat to his bed, the knocking grows louder and more insistent. He can’t ignore it any longer, and what’s worse, he hears someone crying amidst the chaos. Mortified by the possibility that someone might be hurt, he gives in and opens the door.

What greets him, he had not expected at all.

You.

As the door swings open, your heart leaps with relief, and tears of joy blur your vision.

There he is, Jimin, your best friend of countless years, his dark brown eyes locking into yours.

Without a second thought, you rush inside, seeking refuge in the familiar space of his home.

Your back collides with the nearest wall, and you bury your face in your hands, overcome with emotions you’ve been holding back for too long. Jimin is taken aback by your sudden appearance, his mind racing to process what just happened, as he runs a hand through his dark locks.

It takes a moment for him to register that it’s in fact you, his dearest friend, standing before him after a long period of time. He can’t help but look you up and down, trying to find words that seem to escape him in this moment of surprise and bewilderment.

His eyes widen, mouth agape, as he struggles to comprehend the sight before him.

“Close and lock the door, dammit!” your voice trembles, the fear palpable in every syllable. Shivering uncontrollably, you stand on the threshold of his home, vulnerable and on edge.

Jimin snaps out of his stupor and hurriedly complies, shutting the door in a swift motion. He watches you, torn between terror and warmth reflected in his eyes. Seeing you in such distress, his heart aches, but he knows not how to ease your pain.

You stand here, trembling and panting, a state he’s never witnessed before. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a comforting embrace, but your body remains unresponsive, numb to the touch.

“What in the world happened to you?!” Jimin’s eyes widen in shock as he tightly grips your arms, searching for answers in your tear-filled eyes. You can’t meet his gaze and instead fidget with your fingers, the burden of your secret weighing heavy on your heart.

With a sudden realization, Jimin’s eyes dart downward, and he gasps as he sees your bare and bloodied feet.

“OMG! You are bleeding! Did you run here barefoot? What happened?” he urgently asks, his mind racing with concern.

He rushes into the kitchen, his voice a mix of worry and instructions to stay put. You can’t find the words to explain, so you merely nod as he returns with bandages and a glass of water.

The sound of your sobbing fills the room as Jimin carefully tends to your injured feet, his hands gentle and comforting. He’s always been there for you, a pillar of support, and in this moment, you’re reminded of why he’s your best friend.

The glass of water he hands you feels like salvation, a small act of kindness that speaks volumes about the bond you share.

As the silence envelopes the room, you take a deep breath, unsure of how to articulate the series of events that led you here.

Jimin sits besides you, his presence a source of solace, and you feel a flicker of courage to share your pain. You know that you can trust him, that he’ll listen without judgment, and that thought alone is enough to make you feel a little less alone.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” Jimin begins to say, but you immediately shake your head, chanting ‘no’ repeatedly, your heart pounding in your chest. An uneasiness settles in Jimin’s expression, his concern growing with every passing second.

“You have been missing for five fucking years!” Jimin’s voice raises, a mix of frustration and desperation evident in his tone. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and implores you to slow down and relax.

The gravity of his words sinks in, and your whole world comes to a halt.

Five years? It couldn’t have been more than a few months, you think in disbelief.

You lock eyes with him, and the floodgates of your emotions burst open. What started as sobs turns into pained screams and gut-wrenching cries. Your whole body vibrates with anguish, and in that moment, you find comfort in Jimin’s embrace.

Being in his arms feels like coming home, and you instantly feel safe, your body beginning to relax under his touch.

“I have to call the police, Y/N, and you know that,” Jimin says with a heavy heart. Deep down, you know he’s right, but the thought of facing what happened to you is terrifying.

You nod, trying to hold back the tears that fall from your red, swollen eyes, the realization of your missing years cruising you from all sides.

Jimin leads you into the kitchen, gesturing for you to take a seat on a worn stool beside the counter.

As you sit down, your eyes wander around the room, landing on familiar photos adorning the walls. Some feature Jimin, his family, and others of you both together, capturing moments of laughter and joy. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you remember the warmth of those times.

Jimin’s presence beside you is both comforting and heartbreaking. The burden of the past five years hangs heavily in the air, unspoken but palpable.

Despite the reunion, a sense of distance lingers between you, as if the chasm of time has carved an unbridgeable gap.

“Y/N, I have to make the call now,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern.

“I promise I’ll find you some new clothes and finish taking care of your feet afterward” his words are reassuring, but you can’t help the unease gnawing at your heart.

The prospect of facing the consequences of your disappearance looms before you, and you can’t help but wonder how much has changed in your absence. You glance at the photos once more, your smile now tinged with melancholy. The memories they hold are precious, reminders of the bond you share with Jimin, but they also serve as a reminder of the time you can never get back.

As Jimin steps away to make the call, you find solace in the familiarity of the kitchen, a place that once felt like a second home. The creaking of the floorboards and the faint scent of a home cooked meal bring a sense of nostalgia, but the gravity of the present is too heavy to ignore.

Uncertainty lingers like a shadow, and you wonder how your life will unfold from this point on.

Still sobbing, you watch as Jimin rushes around the house, his voice firm and commanding as he makes the urgent phone call.

“It’s Y/N! You have to come now. Yes! Y/N! Get your asses down here. Get all of them!”

The gravity of the situation settles heavily in the room, leaving you both anxious. Jimin returns with a first aid kit, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He kneels before you, gently inspecting your injured feet again. The pain is excruciating, and you instinctively pull away, hissing at the contact.

“It hurts” you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks.

His worried gaze meets yours, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain.

“I bet it does… Where have you been?… I have so many questions,” he says, gesturing with his hands. As you place your feet back in his hands, he notices the depth of the cuts, and his concern deepens.

He realizes that you must have endured a long and harrowing journey to get such severe injuries. You find it hard to answer his questions; there’s so much to say, yet the words fail to form, you feel a mix of guilt, fear, and relief at being found, but the overwhelming weight of the past five years makes it difficult to find the right words.

So you remain silent, unable to provide the answers he seeks. Jimin accepts your silence for now, recognizing that the wounds go far beyond the physical cuts.

He gently tends to your injuries with gauze and the bandages from earlier, his touch a mixture of tenderness and sorrow.

The unspoken questions hang in the air, leaving both of you grappling with the uncertainty of the future. You both forget the prospect of a new change of the clothes he promised as time tickles by.

About ten minutes later, a sharp knocking at the door sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in place. Jimin offers reassurance, but the anxiety hangs heavy in the air as he walks to open the door.

In come a group of uniformed police officers, and trailing behind them, you spot medics from the ambulance.

The realization that your disappearance is something serious only adds to the anxiety gnawing at your heart.

One of the officers stands out from the rest, with mint hair that catches your attention. He exchanges greetings with Jimin, referring to him as ‘Detective Park’, and you deduce that they must work together.

It dawns on you that Jimin has achieved his childhood dream of becoming a detective. It pulls at your heart strings, proudness filling your heart.

The man with mint hair approaches you, introducing himself as Detective Min Yoongi. His calm and composed demeanor sets you at ease momentarily. “Hey Y/N, is it alright if I ask you some questions?” he says, his voice smooth and unwavering.

As the atmosphere fills with tension and unspoken questions, you brace yourself for what lies ahead.

The presence of the police and the sudden arrival of the whole police squad hint at the gravity of the situation, leaving everybody in the room on edge.

The minutes tick by, and the gravity of your disappearance and the uncertainty of the future loom large.

“Dammit Min! Let us take care of her first before you make her re-play what happened to her!” An unfamiliar voice shouts, the paramedic’s frustration evident in the sharp tone.

You glance over and see a tall man with broad shoulders approaching, carrying a bag of medical supplies. Behind him, a younger guy with a smile as bright as the sun follows closely.

The tension in the room heightens as Detective Yoongi steps aside to let the two medics pass.

The tall man’s protective stance and the younger guy’s warm demeanor catch your attention. Their presence offers a glimmer of relief amidst the uncertainty that surrounds you.

The paramedic’s concern is palpable, and you feel a wave of gratitude for someone looking out for you in this disorienting moment.

Detective Yoongi, on the other hand, seems resolute in his approach, keen on getting to the bottom of what happened.

The conflict between his determination and the medics’ insistence on prioritizing your well-being leaves you torn and uncertain of what to expect next.

As the medics attend to you, their professionalism and care give you a sense of security. The man with the broad shoulders, voice’s boldness in defending you feels like a comforting aid, assuring you that you’re not alone in facing whatever ordeal lies ahead.

With a mix of emotions swirling inside you, the room becomes a whirlwind of activity.

“Hi. I’m Seokjin, and this is my buddy, Hoseok. We’re going to take a look at your cuts on your feet and determine if you have to ride with us to the hospital, okay?”

Seokjin’s voice is gentle and comforting as he introduces himself and Hoseok. They both exchange a side-eye with detective Min, unimpressed by his approach.

You feel a glimmer of relief at the soothing tone of the medics, finding comfort in their presence. You allow the paramedics to tend to your feet, the pain and discomfort still fresh from your barefoot run. Hoseok unwraps the bandages Jimin had put on you, inspects your feet and notices the bruises. Instantly, you withdraw your legs, hiding them under your gown, as if trying to shield yourself from further scrutiny.

The sudden attention draws everyone’s gaze, making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

“I, I…” you stammer, looking down, afraid to share the source of your bruises.

Your voice trails off, and fear grips your heart. However, the medics’ caring demeanor slowly breaks through your defenses, reminding you that they are here to help, not harm.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” Seokjin says, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You flinch, instinctively trying to pull away from the touch, unable to fully accept comfort in this moment.

Hoseok and Seokjin exchange a knowing glance, understanding the depth of your unease.

Instead of pushing further, they give you space and time to process. Their empathy creates a safe space, allowing you to slowly open up and trust in their care.

With their gentle presence and understanding, you start to feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you can get through this.

As the paramedics continue to tend to your injuries, you notice that all the police officers have circled around Jimin, engaging in small talk.

The room feels charged with tension, and you can tell that Jimin is both grateful for their support and eager to ensure that you receive the care you need. Jimin’s gaze shifts back to you, concern evident in his eyes as he observes the way you deflect any attempts at physical touch.

His mind races, trying to understand the reasons behind your reaction. He’s torn between joining the police officers and focusing on your well-being. Hoseok’s interruption brings him back to the present.

“We should take her to the hospital to get checked,” he suggests, pulling Jimin’s attention away from the crowd. “It’s hard to determine the extent of her injuries here.”

Jimin’s heart sinks at the realization that your injuries might be more severe than he initially thought. He feels a sense of urgency to ensure that you receive proper medical attention, yet he knows that he can’t push you to do something you’re not comfortable with.

“I’ll go with her,” Jimin says, the determination in his voice clear.

He glances back at the police officers, who nod in understanding. They trust his judgment and know that your well-being is his top priority.

As Hoseok and Seokjin prepare to take you to the hospital, Jimin steps beside you, offering a gentle smile.

“You don’t have to worry. We’ll all take care of you” he reassures, his voice soft and comforting. He understands that you may be hesitant, but he’s determined to support you every step of the way.

With Jimin’s unwavering support, you find a flicker of reassurance amidst the uncertainty.

“Jin is just going to get the stretcher from the ambulance, and then we can go to the hospital,” Hoseok says reassuringly. You nod, the load of exhaustion settling heavily on your shoulders.

Your body feels like it weighs a ton, and even the simplest tasks seem daunting. Seokjin arrives with the stretcher, and you manage to sit down with the help of Hoseok.

“Please lie down, and we will secure you.” he says with an encouraging smile. The softness of his voice offers a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos.

At your side, Detective Min Yoongi appears, determined to take your statement.

The idea of reliving the events feels overwhelming, and you shake your head, too tired to delve into the details.

“I think it will be alright for her to get checked out at the hospital first, no?” Seokjin suggests, his voice firm yet understanding.

The conflict between the detective and the paramedics become apparent, each prioritizing their own objectives. Detective Yoongi grumbles his acceptance, a begrudging nod signaling his reluctant agreement.

As the paramedics wheel you out of Jimin’s house and towards the waiting ambulance, you feel a mix of emotions - exhaustion, uncertainty, and relief.

The events of the night have taken a toll, and the path ahead remains uncertain. But for now, you take solace in the reassurance of the paramedics and the support of Jimin and his colleagues.

On the way out, Jimin informs you that he’ll follow in his car since he couldn’t be with you in the ambulance.

You’re secretly relieved that the paramedics insisted on you riding alone.

In the ambulance, Hoseok gently tends to your feet again, his touch soft and comforting as he removes the gauze. You wince as he cleans the wounds properly, the pain a sharp reminder of the night’s events.

“How come you have all these cuts on your feet?” Hoseok’s voice carries a mix of curiosity and concern, and you can sense his genuine desire to understand and help. He wraps your feet in fresh bandages, his soothing gaze never leaving you.

“I ran barefoot,” you offer a simple answer, not yet ready to delve into the details.

“But why were you not wearing any shoes?” Hoseok persists, his gentle tone an attempt to coax the truth from you.

“I didn’t have time to grab them” you reply, turning your head away, already weary of the questions.

Hoseok’s caring eyes sweep over you, and he notices the black and yellow discolorations on your legs and arms. His concern deepens as he observes the evidence of further injuries.

“I know you’re tired and don’t like me asking questions, but I need to ask some to help you, you know?” he explains, trying to establish a connection with you.

You flinch when he places his hand on your skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Memories of the past five years flood your mind, and you can’t help but pull away, mortified by the unwanted touch. The burden of your experiences is heavy, and sharing them feels like an insurmountable task.

Yet, amidst your discomfort, you find a glimmer of hope in Hoseok’s genuine concern, knowing that he may be the one to help you find the strength to voice the events.

You take a deep breath, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. You know you must tell Hoseok, and later, Detective Yoongi too. Gathering all your courage and mental strength, you feel your body tense as you prepare to share the painful truth.

“I was abducted and abused,” you say in a faint, low voice, your eyes darting away, unsure about the reaction you'll receive.

The weight of the words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel Hoseok’s presence, supportive and patient, as you struggle to find the right words.

You take another breath, steadying yourself before continuing, “And sexually assaulted” you whisper, almost as if speaking any louder would cause the memories to become too overpowering.

The silence that follows feels suffocating, but you know you can’t take back what you’ve shared.

Your vulnerability lies bare before Hoseok, and you wonder how he’ll respond. In this moment of revelation, you realize that speaking about your past is just the beginning of a journey towards healing.

You brace yourself for what comes next, hoping that the weight of your experiences will now be shared, lessening the burden you’ve carried for so long.

Hoseok looks at you, his eyes glistening with tears he’s trying to hold back, not wanting to cry in front of you.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m so, so sorry that happened to you” he murmurs, his voice is filled with raw emotion. He attempts to give you a reassuring smile. But the pain in his eyes betrays the facade.

The weight of your trauma hangs heavy in the air, making the atmosphere in the ambulance feel dense and suffocating. For the rest of the ride, Hoseok falls silent, the words caught in his throat.

The ambulance finally stops, and the doors open, revealing the outside world again.

As they wheel you out of the vehicle, Seokjin notices the tension between you and Hoseok. Concerned, he asks what happened, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Hoseok hesitates, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. He’s torn between sharing the information with Jin and wanting to protect you from further pain.

In the end, he decides to keep his head down, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air. Feeling drowsy, you manage to recount the horrifying events to Seokjin, who listens with sadness in his eyes.

His reassurance that you’re safe now provides some comfort amidst the overwhelming emotions. “You should agree to get the sexual assault kit done. Maybe they can find the guy in the system, you never know.” he suggests, his concern evident in his voice.

As they wheel you inside the hospital, you find yourself surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses ready to help. Hoseok’s presence beside you provides a sense of security, and you notice how he smiles at a particular nurse with a boxy smile, displaying a reassuring camaraderie.

Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind “Jimin?” you ask, looking at Hoseok for reassurance.

“He will be right behind you in a moment. He’s probably parking his car” Hoseok assures you, waving as he and his partner step back outside.

As the nurses wheel you further into the hospital, you feel a mix of emotions - fear, exhaustion, and relief.

The trauma you’ve experienced still weighs heavily on your mind, but the support and care from those around you offer a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you’re in good hands, and that with the help of the hospital team, the police and your best friend, you’re one step closer to finding justice and healing.

Jimin keeps a short distance to the ambulance, his heart pounding in his chest as he refuses to lose track of it.

With each passing second, the urgency in his movements grows.

When the ambulance finally arrives at the hospital, he finds himself racing to find a parking space, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of you.

The ambulance is fortunate to park in front of the emergency department doors, allowing medical personnel to respond swiftly.

Jimin spots a free parking spot not too far away and practically dumps his car, almost forgetting to lock it in his haste. He dashes to the front doors, his feet carrying him as fast as they can.

As he approaches the emergency department, he spots the ambulance parked to the side, with Hoseok and Seokjin standing outside, restocking items.

His heart sinks at the sight of the ambulance, knowing that you’re probably inside, dealing with the aftermath of what must be a traumatic event.

Jimin’s emotions are a whirlwind - concern, worry, and determination. He knows he needs to be there for you, to offer support and comfort during this difficult time.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, determined to be by your side.

Jimin arrives, panting and out of breath, his heart pounding as he seeks answers. As he reunites with Hoseok and Seokjin, his gaze instinctively searches for you, hoping to see you safe and cared for.

Your journey to healing has just begun, and Jimin is resolute in his commitment to stand by you every step of the way.

He greets Hoseok with a worried smile, but something is off. Hoseok’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, a telltale sign that something serious has happened.

“What happened?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice, upset that something has clearly affected his dear friend.

“It’s better that Y/N tells you…” Hoseok replies, turning away from Jimin, reluctant to share the details.

Jimin isn’t satisfied with that response.

Their years of friendship have given him the ability to sense when something is wrong with Hoseok. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, silently urging him to open up.

Seokjin intervenes, understanding the need to share the truth. He places his hands on the two friends, offering his support. With a sigh, he encourages Hoseok to speak.

“She was assaulted…”

Hoseok finally reveals, his voice carrying the weight of your trauma. Jimin freezes, his heart sinking at the revelation. He struggles to process the information, grappling with a mix of shock, anger, and a fierce desire to protect you.

“How?”

Jimin asks in a stern voice, determined to understand the details despite his internal turmoil. He knows he needs to be strong for you, but the truth is overwhelming. He braces himself for the answers, ready to face whatever comes next.

“... Sexually”

Hoseok’s usual sunshine and brightness vanished, leaving the outdoors heavy with the weight of the revelation. Jimin felt the anger take root in his body, making his blood boil. He was furious that such a thing could happen to you, and he regretted not being there to prevent it.

The surge of emotions overwhelmed him; he couldn’t bear the thought of you going through such pain.

“Thanks” he muttered, his voice tinged with urgency, and turned towards the doors in a hurry. He had to see you, make sure you were alright given the circumstances, and let you know he would be there for you no matter what.

But before he could leave, Hoseok’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

Turning back, he faced his friend, his heart pounding in his chest.

“There’s one more thing you should know…” Hoseok began, his expression filled with genuine sadness. Jimin braced himself for more devastating details, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

“She was also abused. Liked multiple times… probably over a long period of time.” Hoseok said with a frown, the burden of the truth evident in his words.

“What!?”

Jimin almost shouted, his emotions spiraling out of control. The reality of what you endured felt too much to bear. He needed to see you, to hold you close and reassure you that you were safe now.

Determination and love swelled within him, driving him forward. He had to be there for you, to let you know that he loved you and that he would protect you with everything he had.

As you settle into your hospital room, you feel grateful for the solitude, thankful to be the only patient in it at the moment.

The nurse with the boxy smile, Taehyung, you learned, tends to you with professionalism and attentiveness, his reassuring smiles putting you at ease. His presence feels like a calming force amidst the turmoil of recent events.

As he ensures your comfort, he gently inquires about what happened to you, just like the paramedics did earlier. Taking a deep breath, you recount the harrowing experience, trusting Taehyung to listen without judgment. His genuine concern is evident as he nods in understanding, offering you unwavering support.

Remembering Seokjin’s suggestion about the assault kit, you express your willingness to go through with it. Taehyung agrees that it’s a good idea and asks if you’d feel more comfortable with a female coworker conducting the examination.

You contemplate the option for a moment, acknowledging your vulnerability in this situation. Finally, you decide to have a female nurse perform the exam but request Taehyung to be present by your side for comfort.

“I’d appreciate having you there,” you say, appreciating the calm and caring energy he exudes. Taehyung nods warmly, assuring you that he’ll be right there to support you through the process.

The hospital room takes on a sense of tranquility as you put your trust in Taehyung, knowing that you’re in capable hands.

As Taehyung explains the process of the examination, you feel anxiety wash over you. The police involvement is a daunting prospect, but you're grateful that Jimin is part of it.

When the door opens, and Jimin steps in, a sense of comfort washes over you, his familiar presence easing your tension.

“—You Taehyung?” Jimin asks, panting, concern evident in his expression as he approaches your bed. Taehyung stands in front of Jimin, almost like a shield, protective of you.

“Yes” Taehyung responds firmly.

“Who are you?” he asks, sizing Jimin up with a discerning look.

“I’m a friend of Y/N. Detective Park Jimin” he replies, his eyes searching your face and body for any signs of discomfort.

“Oh.” Taehyung mutters, stepping aise to give Jimin space by your side. You try to sound tough, assuring Jimin that you’re fine, but he sees through the facade.

“You’re in no shape or form fine, and it’s okay to acknowledge that,” Jimin says, grabbing a chair and sitting down beside you, his supporting gesture speaking volumes.

When you ask if Jimin can be present during the examination, Taehyung hesitates for a moment before agreeing, on the condition that he sees Jimin’s identification. You feel relieved when Jimin shows his badge, securing his place by your side.

“I don’t have to be here if you’re uncomfortable with it, Y/N” Jimin says gently, squeezing your hand reassuringly and you feel your cheeks blush.

“I would prefer you. I don’t want somebody from the police that I don’t know” you reply, squeezing his hand back, the trust and affection between you two evident.

“Okay then. I’ll just get a female nurse to come and do the vaginal exam now” Taehyung says, leaving the room with a mix of sadness and determination in his eyes.

The weight of the situation settles in, but with Jimin by your side, you feel stronger and more ready to face what comes next.

The vaginal examination has been anything but pleasant, but you’re grateful that Jimin stayed by your side the whole time, providing a sense of security amidst the discomfort.

After the female nurse and Taehyung leave the room, you find yourself alone with Jimin again.

His presence is both comforting and unsettling, and you can sense the burden of unspoken questions between you. Jimin’s eyebrows keep furrowing as he paces the room, a clear sign of the many inquiries swirling in his mind.

You can tell he wants to ask you so many things, but he’s also aware of the sensitivity of the situation.

He starts to speak a few times but falls silent just as quickly, understanding that this may not be the right moment. Time seems to stretch on, with each passing moment carrying the weight of unspoken words.

The room is filled with an atmosphere of both comfort and tension, the air charged with emotions that neither of you knows quite how to express.

You feel the urge to break the silence, to tell Jimin everything that has happened, but the words catch in your throat.

It’s hard to put into words the trauma you’ve experienced, the pain you’ve endured. It was easier to tell the paramedics and Taehyung, because they aren’t as close to you.

There’s a fear that sharing the details might make it all too real, and might make Jimin think less of you.

Yet, in the midst of the silence, you find a sense of solace in Jimin’s presence. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, a deep connection that doesn’t require words. You know he’s there for you, ready to listen and support you whenever you’re ready to share.

As Jimin continues to pace, you catch his eye and manage a small, appreciative smile. It’s a signal that you’re not quite ready to talk yet, but you’re thankful for his presence. The gesture seems to ease some of the tension in the room, and Jimin’s features soften.

For now, you both find comfort in the silence, knowing that when the time is right, you’ll have each other to lean on. In this moment of vulnerability and uncertainty, the unspoken words between you carry more weight than any spoken ones ever could.

The silence in the room is broken by the entrance of Taehyung, a warm smile on his face. Despite the gentle expression the news he brings sends a shiver down your spine.

“Hey Y/N,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that we have called your parents, and they are on their way”.

You freeze at the mention of your parents.

Jimin looks at you, sensing your sudden unease.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems momentarily puzzled by the tension in the room before it dawns on him.

“Shit. You didn't want them to know…” he trails off, his eyes dropping to the floor with a sense of defeat.

In a small and timid voice, you ask, “What did you tell them?”.

Taehyungs’s reply is gentle but regretful, “Only that you are in the hospital, nothing else”. He offers an apology, acknowledging that calling the emergency contact is standard procedure. You can see the sincerity in his eyes as he feels remorse for causing you further distress.

The conflicting emotions inside you are overwhelming.

Part of you wants your parents’ support and comfort during this difficult time, but another part dreads their reaction, fearing their judgment and disappointment.

You glance at Jimin, hoping to find relief in his presence. Jimin, sensing your distress, reaches out to hold your hand, offering silent support. Taehyung seems to understand the complexity of the situation and takes a step back, giving you both some space.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you finally manage to say, appreciating his concern and understanding, “I just… I’m not sure how they will react.”

Taehyung nods, his expression sympathetic, “I understand. I’m sorry for any added stress this may have caused you. If you want, I can talk to them on your behalf, explain the situation.”

You consider his offer, grateful for his willingness to help. “Let me think about it” you reply, feeling torn but also relieved that Taehyung is willing to be a buffer between you and your parents.

As Taehyung leaves the room, you turn to Jimin, squeezing his hand tightly.

“I’m scared, Jimin. I don’t know how they’ll react, and I don’t want to burden them with all of this.”

Jimin’s eyes soften with understanding.

“We’ll face it together, Y/N,” he assures you.

“Whatever happens, I’m here for you, and we’ll navigate through this together”. In that moment, you realize the true depth of Jimin’s care and support.

The room falls into silence, and you find solace under the duvet, hiding your body away from the world. Jimin takes a seat beside your bed, the concern evident in his eyes.

“I know you don’t want to tell your parents everything that happened,” he begins gently, searching for a way to support you without pushing too much.

“But maybe you could just… not tell them all of it” he offers, his voice soft with compassion.

You’re taken aback by his suggestion.

How could he know what you’re going through?

You hadn’t even had the guts to confide in him yet. “Did the paramedics tell you what happened to me?” you ask timidly, avoiding his gaze as you fidget with the duvet and your fingers.

Jimin’s heart breaks at the vulnerability in your voice.

He nods, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“I’ve been friends with Hoseok for some time, so I asked him to tell me,” he admits, squeezing your hand gently.

“He didn’t want to. I’m sorry, I know I should have asked you instead.”

You finally meet his gaze, seeing the pain and empathy in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you reply softly. “I understand why you wanted to know, and I appreciate your concern.”

Talking about what happened is difficult for you, and you appreciate Jimin’s effort to understand without pushing you to share more than you’re comfortable with for now.

“I don’t know if I can tell my parents everything,” you admit, the burden of the trauma pressing down on your shoulders. Jimin doesn’t push; he simply listens and holds your hand, a silent source of comfort.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he assures you.

“Take your time. Whatever you choose to share, I’ll support you, and so will your parents” you nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you knowing that Jimin will be there for you, no matter what.

“Thank you” you whisper, feeling grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

The room fills with a quiet understanding, the unspoken bond between you and Jimin providing comfort and reassurance. As you face the difficult road ahead, you find strength in knowing you’re not alone, and that you have someone who cares deeply for you by your side.

“So you’re suggesting that I only tell them that I was abducted and nothing more?” you ponder out loud, turning to Jimin for guidance.

He nods his head in understanding, his expression gentle and reassuring. The burden of the decision feels heavy on your shoulders, torn between protecting your parents and seeking solace in their support.

A sudden knock at the door statles you, causing your head to whip around in panic.

The dreadful feeling in your body intensities, fearing that it might be your parents. Thankfully, it's Detective Yoongi who enters, peeking his head in. You remember him from earlier, and his presence makes your heart race.

“Hello, Y/N, how are you doing?” he greets you, a mix of professionalism and concern in his voice. Jimin acknowledges him with a nod as the detective approaches the other side of your bed.

“Ehm, okay, all things considered, I think” you reply, trying to steady your breath because you know exactly why he is here and where this conversation is heading.

Detective Yoongi’s gaze softens, and you can sense his desire to help and understand.

“I’ve spoken with Hoseok, and I know it’s been a difficult time for you. We’re here to support you, Y/N. Can you tell us anything about the person who abducted you? Any details you remember?”

Yoongi looks at you and then glances at Jimin, seeking his approval. Jimin meets your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, when finding none, he nods and gives your hand a soft squeeze, providing reassurance.

Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens, his protective instincts kicking in.

“She’s been through a lot, Hyung.”

Detective Yoongi nods in understanding, recognizing the delicate situation. “Of course. Take all the time you need, Y/N” he says, conveying his support and patience.

You take a deep breath and begin recounting the night five years ago, the events that led to your abduction, and the aftermath.

As you mention Jimin’s presence there that night, you see his reaction, the anguish and pain etched across his face. You feel a pang of sadness witnessing his emotional turmoil in response to your words.

The Detective listens attentively, his professional demeanor mixed with compassion, creating a safe space for you to share your story.

With every word you speak, the burden of the past bears down on you, and the memories threaten to consume you. Jimin’s unwavering presence beside you offers some comfort, a salvation in the storm of emotions.

It had gone late, and everybody was going home, some of your friends talked about taking a taxi, but you had declined, saying it was only a short walk home for you.

The streets were eerily quiet, lit only by the dim glow of streetlights. The chilling wind sent shivers down your spine, and a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as you walked down the familiar path to the forest.

If only you had chosen to take the taxi, like Jimin had suggested, none of this would have happened, you think now, replaying the nightmarish events in your mind.

As you walked home, you heard the unmistakable sound of a car approaching from the side. At first, you brushed it off, but then a window rolled down, and a man’s voice called out to you, offering a ride.

You declined, trying to keep calm.

But he persisted, his words becoming more sinister with each attempt to lure you in.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the car suddenly accelerated, blocking your path.

Panic surged through your veins, and you froze in your tracks, fear paralyzing your body.

Before you could react the driver lunged at you, grabbing you from behind.

You fought with every ounce of strength, but his grip was unyielding. Your desperate attempts to break free only fueled his aggression. A harsh chemical smell filled your nostrils as he forced a cloth over your mouth.

The world around you blurred, and darkness enveloped your senses. Your mind became hazy, and you lost track of time, lost track of yourself.

As you recount the horrifying memory, tears stream down your cheeks like a heavy downpour, mingling with the raw emotions that have been suppressed for so long.

The weight of the experience bears down on you, and you can’t help but feel the burden of self-blame for not making a different choice that night.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jimin’s voice breaks the suffocating silence, his touch a comforting anchor.

“You are safe now. I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you again” he intertwined his fingers with one of your hands, as he hugged you tightly with the other.

The action sends a weird tingle down your spine.

The memories are a torment, and you struggle to find the words as you recount the horrors you endured. Your voice quivers, and you take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. It feels like the past is clawing its way back into your present, engulfing you in darkness.

“I woke up in this unfamiliar room,” you begin, your body trembling with the weight of the memories. “There was a bed and a change of clothes, but nothing felt right. I knew something was terribly wrong” your eyes meet Jimin’s, seeking solace and strength.

As you continue, your voice becomes softer, as if you’re afraid to give voice to the nightmares that haunt you.

“He forced himself on me, even as I screamed, cried, and begged him to stop. ‘No’ meant nothing to him” you utter, the pain evident in your voice.

Tears glisten in Jimin’s eyes as he sobs softly, his heart aching for the pain you endured.

He feels terrible and the only way he knows how to alleviate some of the pain, is to hug you tightly.

“I’m so sorry” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion, “I wish I could have done more, found you sooner.”

“You did your best, Jimin,” you assure him, leaning against his shoulder. “You were the light in that darkness, the reason I held on. It’s not your fault” you stroke his back gently.

“Did you ever try to escape?” Yoongi’s question hangs heavy in the air, and you feel your heart tighten with dread. Memories of the countless attempts to break free flood your mind, each ending in devastating consequences.

“Yes,” you reply, the weight of your past pushing you closer to breaking point. “But every attempt only led to more pain. He beat me until I couldn’t move, leaving me bruised and broken.”

You take comfort in Jimin’s embrace, seeking support as you bare your soul, “I thought I could escape, find a way out of that nightmare. But hope faded, and I felt trapped. There was no way out.”

The ever calm Detective leaned forward, his eyes focused intently on you, “Tell me everything you can remember about the surroundings. Even the tiniest details could be crucial in finding this man” he implored, trying to elicit any information that might lead them to the perpetrator.

You close your eyes, trying to recall the blurred images from your escape.

“I remember it was a rundown neighborhood. Lots of abandoned buildings, overgrown with weeds,” you begin, your voice wavering as the memories resurface.

“The streets were dimly lit, and there was this eerie silence that made me feel terrified.”

Jimin’s hand tightens around your arm, offering silent support as you continue. “I ran through narrow alleyways, twisting and turning, trying to put as much distance between me and that place. But everything felt the same, like a never-ending maze.” You sigh deeply, frustration lacing your features.

The Detective’s brows furrow with concern as he takes notes, piecing together the fragmented information. “Did you notice any landmarks or signs?” he asks, hoping for a breakthrough.

You shake your head, feeling helpless and frustrated with your inability to provide more details. “I… I don’t know,” you stammer, your voice laced with disappointment.

“I was so focused on escaping, I didn’t really pay attention to anything else” you pout defeatedly.

Yoongi’s expression softens, understanding the immense trauma you endured.

“It’s okay,” he reassures gently.

“You did what you had to do to survive. We’ll do everything in our power to find this man and bring him to justice” he states assuredly with conviction.

You appreciate his comforting words, but the fear lingers in the back of your mind.

What if they can’t find him? What if he comes after you again?

Jimin interjects, his voice firm with determination, “We won’t rest until we catch him, Y/N. You’re safe now, and we’ll make sure it stays that way.”

Yoongi nods, sharing the same determination. “We’ll keep investigating and following every lead,” he says, his gaze unwavering.

“Have you ever seen his face?” as the Detective inquires further, memories flood back, and you nod slowly, acknowledging that you had seen his face.

The room grows tense as both detectives exchange meaningful glances, sensing the gravity of the situation.

“Would you be able to describe him to a sketch artist?” Yoongi asks, his voice steady but his eyes filled with concern.

You take a deep breath, mustering the courage to relive those horrifying moments.

“I can try,” you reply, feeling the weight of the task ahead.

Despite the fear that grips you, you know that providing any information could be crucial to catching the man who tormented you. Detective Yoongi then asks about the perpetrator’s name, and you recount how he demanded to be called ‘Hyun’.

The room falls silent for a moment, filled with a heavy tension as you recall the haunting memories.

Exhaustion settles in, and you yearn for a moment of respite to process the traumatic events you’ve just relieved.

However, your desire for peace is interrupted when there’s a knock at the door. As it slowly opens, your parents enter the room, their faces a mix of worry and relief.

Tears well up in your eyes as you see your parents, and you reach for them, seeking comfort in their embrace.

You feel a mixture of emotions; relief to see their familiar faces, but also anxiety about possibly explaining what had happened. As your parents approach you, their eyes filled with love and concern, your heart swells with mixed emotions.

It has been so long since you last saw them, and their presence brings comfort and a sense of home. However, the burden of the truth you carry prevents you from fully embracing their warmth.

You don’t want to burden them with the horrific details of your ordeal, afraid that it will shatter their perception of you.

Your parents greet Jimin with warmth and confusion directed towards the other man in the room. Detective Yoongi introduces himself and explains that he’s here to help with the investigation.

“He’s the detective in charge of my abduction case,” you explain, watching their expression shift from curiosity to shock and then concern.

They eye him cautiously at first, but the firm handshake seems to ease their worries a bit. Jimin stands up, feeling a pang of guilt for not being able to protect you, even though he knows it was not his fault.

Your parents look at Jimin, grateful for his presence. Jimin gestures for your dad to take the chair, and your heart swells with gratitude for your best friend’s support. With a soft smile, your father sits down beside you, and you appreciate the familiar comfort of his presence.

Jimin steps back, giving you and your parents some space, but you can see the concern still etched on his face.

Detective Yoongi, now realizing the delicate dynamics, reassures your parents that they are doing everything they can to find the perpetrator and bring him to justice. He explains that your statement is crucial in the investigation and that they’ll do their best to support you throughout the process. He hums in approval and leaves the room.

Amidst the lingering tension, your parents turn their focus back to you, showering you with affection and love. They express how much they have missed you and how glad they are to have you back home.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” your father asks, his voice filled with love and worry. You nod, attempting to mask the pain and trauma that still lingers within you.

You don’t want them to see the broken parts of you, fearing it will break their hearts too. Tears well up in your eyes as you feel the weight of their love, and you wish you could tell them everything, but you can’t bring yourself to share the horrors you’ve endured.

You squeeze their hands gently, offering a grateful smile.

“I missed you both so much too” you say, your voice quivering with emotions.

As your parents speak, telling you that you can have your old room back at home, a mix of emotions floor your heart. Relief, fear, and uncertainty clash within you.

You had imagined returning to your apartment, your sanctuary, after being rescued, but reality dawns on you like a heavy cloud. Your apartment is gone, leased to someone else while you were missing, and the truth hits you hard.

Your wide eyes betray your uneasiness, and your mother picks up on it immediately.

Her comforting presence beside you offers a glimmer of reassurance, but your mind is still racing. She begins to explain the situation, how your absence resulted in losing the apartment.

You can’t help but feel a pang of sadness and nostalgia for the place you once called home.

“I understand, mom” you say, trying to put on a brave face, but the disappointment lingers. Deep down, you had hoped to return to your apartment, to reclaim a piece of your past. Yet, it seems that life has moved on without you, and the reality of it stings.

Your dad’s explanation about them not paying the rent during your absence makes logical sense, but it adds to the weight on your shoulders. You don’t want to burden them further, and you know they have their own lives and financial responsibilities to take care of.

The conflicting emotions within you intensity. On one hand, you appreciate your parents’ offer and their unconditional love, but on the other, you crave a sense of comfort, independence and the familiarity of your own space.

You long to heal and rebuild your life on your terms, without feeling smothered.

Taking a deep breath, you gather the courage to express your feelings.

“I appreciate it, mom, Dad. I really do,” you start, your voice wavering slightly.

“But I think I need some time to find my own footing again. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, but… I need some space to heal and find myself again”.

Your parents exchange a glance, a mixture of understanding and concern evident in their eyes. They love you deeply, and they want what’s best for you. After a moment of silence, your mother speaks softly, “We understand, sweetheart. We’ll support whatever decision you make. Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what”.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you feel the weight of their love and understanding.

In that moment, you realize that while you may not have your old apartment, you have something more precious - a family that will stand by you through thick and thin.

As your parents express their concern and worry about your safety by staying by yourself, you try to reason with them, emphasizing your independence and adulthood, you’re almost twentynine years old!

However, your mom’s heartfelt response tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how much they care about you. “I know you want me close and safe, and I appreciate that more than you can imagine,” you say, trying to convey your love and gratitude.

“But I also need to find my own way and regain some semblance of normalcy.”

You explain as Jimin interjects, “She can stay at my place.”

You whip your head to look at Jimin, feeling tears fill your eyes at his caring offer.

The tension in the room escalates as your parents ponder Jimin’s offer. They are cautious about trusting someone else with your safety, especially considering the circumstances of your disappearance.

However, Jimin steps in, ready to prove his dedication and reliability.

“I understand your concerns, and I promise, I will do everything in my power to protect her,” Jimin says firmly, looking straight into your parents’ eyes.

“I blame myself for what happened, for not making sure she got home safely that night, and I will not let it happen again. She will be safe with me” he assures them with a stern yet comforting look.

His sincerity and determination leave a lasting impression on your parents. You can see their hesitancy gradually giving way to trust. Jimin’s gesture of holding their hands and expressing remorse further strengthens their belief in him.

“I will never be able to forgive myself if something happens to her again,” Jimin adds, his voice laced with regret. “I promise you, I will be her guardian and protector.”

Your parents eventually agree to the arrangement, recognizing that Jimin’s dedication to your safety outweighs their concerns.

They also think that Jimin will be able to keep you safer, with him being a cop now. They thank him for his commitment, and you can see a sense of relief wash over them.

Your mom still wants to make sure that you are completely comfortable with the situation, and asks if you are fine staying at Jimin’s place.

“I promise you, I’m okay staying at Jimin’s,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “He’s been there for me since I got back, and I trust him completely”.

Your mother’s worried expression softens as she looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. “Are you sure, sweetheart? We just want what’s best for you”.

You nod, giving her a small smile, “I know, mom. I know both of you worry about me, and I appreciate that. But being at Jimin’s feels… comforting. It’s like I have a sense of security there,” you give a small smile.

Deep down you know you won’t feel safe or comfortable with your own place like you initially thought, but this was a good compromise.

Your father places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If you ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe, don’t hesitate to call us, okay?” we’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“I will, dad” you promise, feeling grateful for their understanding.

“But please know that I need some time to myself too. I want to try and rebuild my life, and I think being at Jimin’s will help me with that, until I feel comfortable eventually getting my own place,” both your parents nod, accepting your decision while still trying to protect you.

They express their love once again, and you can see the worry lingering in their eyes as they bid you goodbye.

As they leave, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of emotions settling in. Jimin returns to your side, looking concerned as he takes the seat beside you.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and you blush at the touch.

“I will be,” you reply honestly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s just… it must be hard for them, you know? To see me like this.”

Jimin wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. “They love you, Y/N. And they’ll do whatever they can to protect you. It’s natural for them to worry.”

You nod, feeling comforted by his presence. “I know. But I also need to figure things out on my own. I need to feel like myself again.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Jimin says firmly. “I’m here for you, every step of the way. We’ll face this together.”

You look up at him, finding solace in his unwavering support. “Thank you, Jiminie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles softly at his nickname, his eyes filled with warmth and love, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here for you.”

With Jimin by your side, you know you have someone who truly understands and cares for you.

As you prepare to leave the hospital, haven met with the sketch artist too, the weight of what lies ahead settles on your shoulders. You’ve endured so much, and now the road to recovery stretches out before you like an uncertain path.

Jimin stands beside you, his presence a constant source of strength, but you can’t help but feel the apprehension growing inside you.

Taehyung approaches you with a sympathetic smile.

“Y/N, I’ve arranged a few appointments with a psychologist for you,” he says gently, handing you a small card. “She specializes in sexual trauma and can help you work through everything you’ve been through.”

You take the card, trying to hold back the emotions that threaten to spill over.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you say softly. Feeling your heart warm at his kindness, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Taehyung nods, his eyes filled with empathy, “Just take it one step at a time,” he advises. “Healing isn’t easy, but you’re not alone in this journey” he assures you and bids you goodbye with a soft smile and wave of his hand.

You know he’s right, but the fear of facing your trauma head-on still lingers. The thought of reliving those harrowing moments again fills you with dread. Jimin senses your unease and pulls you into a comforting embrace.

“You don’t have to do this alone” he whispers, his voice soothing.

You find comfort in his words, knowing that he’ll be there every step of the way. As you leave the hospital, you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you; relief to be out of that place, anxiety about the therapy sessions, and gratitude for the support you have gotten so far.

As you step into Jimin’s home, a mixture of relief and vulnerability washes over you. The walls seem warmer, the air more comforting, and the thought of having Jimin nearby offers a sense of security you haven’t felt in a long time.

You can’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering support.

Jimin leads you to the guest bedroom, its inviting decor and cozy atmosphere offering a stark contrast to the horrors you’ve endured. The room feels like a sanctuary, a place where you can begin to heal. You thank him softly, words barely escaping your lips as you try to convey the depth of your gratitude.

“I want you to feel at home here,” Jimin says with a tender smile.

“Take all the time you need, and remember, I’m right across the hall if you need anything, okay?”

His reassurance soothes the residual anxiety that clings to you like a shadow. You nod, a sense of trust growing between you and Jimin, knowing that he’ll always be here to catch you when you stumble.

“I’ve taken a few days off work to help you settle in. I hope that’s okay” he explains as you follow him into the hallway.

“That’s very sweet of you Jimin” you feel a blush creep up on your face, as your heart feels full of love with his kind actions.

As Jimin gives you the rest of the tour of his home, you can’t help but marvel at the simple yet elegant design that surrounds you.

Each room holds its unique charm, and you find yourself drawn to the minimalistic aesthetic that exudes a sense of tranquility.

The bathrooms feel like a serene oasis, adorned with white and blue tiles that create a soothing ambiance. You imagine yourself soaking in the bathtub, letting the worries of the day dissolve in the warm water.

The guest rooms, tough simple, offer a cozy retreat.

His home office is a testament to his dedication and hard work, with a touch of understated elegance in the dark gray hues that enhance the room. It’s a place where he has likely spent countless hours diligently pursuing his career as a police officer and now detective.

Moving into the heart of the house, the open floor plan of the kitchen, living, and dining room leaves you in awe.

The kitchen, with its white and wooden accents, feels like the heart of the home, a place where love and warmth fill the air. The wooden tabletop and thick black metal legs of the dining table strike a perfect balance between rustic and modern, inviting you to gather around for shared meals and laughter.

The living room, with its magnificent dark green couch, beckons you to sink into its comforting embrace. As you envision spending cozy nights here, watching movies or simply enjoying each other’s company, you feel a sense of belonging settling in your heart.

Throughout the tour, Jimin’s excitement and pride in his home are palpable.

It’s evident that he has put love and care into every corner, turning his house into a home - a place of comfort and refuge, not just for himself, but for those he cares about.

As you continue to explore the rooms, you can’t help but appreciate the changes he’s made since the last time you visited. It’s a reflection of how he’s grown, just as you have, over the years.

“This place is beautiful, Jimin,” you finally say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “I can see how much effort and love you’ve put into making it your own.”

A soft smile graces his lips and he looks around the familiar space with newfound pride. “Thank you, Y/N” he replies. “I’m glad you like it. And I hope you’ll feel at home here too.”

You nod, feeling the burden of your past gradually lifting as you step into this new chapter of your life. This house, with its comforting embrace and the man standing beside you, promises a future filled with hope, love, and healing.

“Did you renovate it? I don’t remember it looking like this when we were kids” you inquire, genuinely curious about the transformation.

“Yeah, I did it myself,” Jimin replies with a proud smile, his hands finding refuge in his pockets.

“It’s really stunning! I also liked how your parents kept it before. But this looks so modern,” you point out, acknowledging the aesthetic choices he’s made.

As you stand in the kitchen, you can’t help but notice the emotions flickering in his eyes when you mention his parents. Sensing there’s a deeper story behind the changes, you ask, “How come your parents don’t live here anymore?”.

His eyes hold a mixture of nostalgia and pain as he reveals, “My dad died of cancer three years ago. My mom couldn’t keep up with the big house, so I bought it from her, and she lives in a small apartment in the city insead.”

You feel a pang of sorrow for him and his family, realizing the significance of this home in their lives and the changes they’ve had to endure.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say, offering genuine condolences.

“How were you supposed to know?” Jimin chuckles softly, his laughter carrying a hint of vulnerability. “It’s okay, really. You couldn’t have known.”

His ability to lighten the mood in such a sensitive moment surprises you, but it also speaks volumes about his resilience. Jimin seems to create an atmosphere of ease around topics that could be emotionally overwhelming, and you can’t help but appreciate his ability to find comfort even in the face of loss.

The rest of the day rushes by in a blur of conversation and laughter, leaving you with little time to process the burden of your emotions or even the movies you watched together on Jimin’s TV. The comfort of his company and the safe haven of his home envelop you like a warm embrace.

As the hours pass, you find yourself relaxing in Jimin’s presence, your guard slowly lowering.

When a low rumbling sound fills the living room, you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Are you hungry, Y/N?” Jimin asks, amused by the hungry protests of your stomach.

He tries to suppress his grin with his hands, but the laughter bubbling from him is unmistakable. Cursing your traitorous stomach internally, you can’t help but nod in defeat. It seems your body is making its desires known without your consent.

Jimin assures you that he has some leftover lasagna, and your mouth waters at the thought. As he brings the steaming dish to the table, the savory aroma fills the room, making your stomach growl even louder in anticipation.

Taking your first bite, you’re pleasantly surprised at how delicious it tastes, and a satisfied ‘mmmmh’ escapes your lips.

Jimin cuckles in response, his eyes twinkling with joy at your enjoyment. You can see the genuine happiness in his face as he watches you savor the meal.

“I take it you like it. I’m glad,” he says with a hint of pride, his own plate half-empty as he eats alongside you.

You nod enthusiastically, your mouth full, and give him a thumbs-up to emphasize your approval. As you continue eating, the conversation flows effortlessly, and the laughter comes easily.

Jimin’s ability to make you feel at ease and comforted shines through, and you find yourself opening up more than you ever thought possible. As the evening wears on, you realize that time has flown by, and you can’t help but wonder how you could feel so comfortable and at home with someone you’ve been apart from for so long.

But in Jimin’s presence, it feels like you’re rediscovering a piece of yourself that you thought was lost forever.

As the night deepens, it becomes apparent that sleep is elusive, no matter how much you try to coax it.

An odd sense of anxiety grips you tightly, and you find yourself restless and uneasy.

You can’t quite understand the reason behind these sudden jitters, especially since you’ve slept over at Jimin’s place countless times in your younger days, but together is different; the weight of your past trauma seems to be pressing heavily on your mind.

Jimin, ever the perceptive friend, picks up on your unease.

He offers a comforting reassurance, assuring you that you can always knock on his door if you need anything. His touch on your hand feels like a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty, offering a sense of calm amidst the turmoil of emotions.

With a grateful smile, you bid him goodnight and retreat to your designated room.

But once you’re alone, your mind becomes a battleground of thoughts and emotions. The reality of what has happened to you, the journey of healing that lies ahead, and the uncertainty of the future all bombard your consciousness like a relentless freight train.

You sit on the edge of the bed, you mind spinning with questions and fears.

How will you find the strength to heal? Will you ever be able to overcome the haunting memories? Can you ever trust again after such a traumatic experience?

The silence of the night only amplifies the cacophony in your head. The ceiling above you becomes a canvas for your restless mind, and you find yourself staring blankly, unable to shut off the overwhelming thoughts.

Every creak and rustle in the house feels magnified, and your heart races with each little noise. Despite Jimin’s presence just across the hall, the fear of facing the darkness alone feels suffocating.

You try to remind yourself that he’s there for you, but your mind is stubborn, refusing to relinquish its grip on the fear that has taken root in your heart.

Hours pass, but sleep remains elusive.

The minutes stretch into eternity, and you’re left feeling like a prisoner of your own mind.

The night feels like a never-ending struggle between the desire for rest and the fear of letting your guard down.

The morning sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over everything in the room.

The pleasant aroma of pancakes fills the air, offering a momentary distraction from the weariness that clings to your body. But no matter how hard you try to revive yourself, the undereye bags and puffy eyes persist, bearing witness to the restless night that robbed you of much-needed sleep.

You walk into the kitchen where Jimin’s cheerful voice breaks through the haze of exhaustion, greeting you with a bright smile as he expertly flips pancakes on the stove.

“Good morning, Y/N, did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice a melody of kindness and warmth. Despite his cheerfulness, his eyes widen in concern as they meet your tired gaze.

He instinctively knows something is amiss.

You can’t help but sigh in response, slumping onto one of the wooden bar stools. Your body feels heavy, burdened by the weight of a night spent wrestling with haunting memories.

“Not really,” you admit, your voice tinged with fatigue and vulnerability.

Jimin’s eyes soften with sympathy, and he gently scolds you for not reaching out for company when sleep eluded you.

“My brain just wouldn’t shut off,” you confess, a hint of frustration seeping into your voice.

“I kept thinking about the past and all the stuff that I missed… about my future too,” you bury your face in your hands, seeking solace from the exhaustion that permeates your body.

In this vulnerable moment, you find comfort in Jimin’s presence. It’s as if his caring demeanor and genuine concern create a sanctuary for your weary soul. He doesn’t push you to talk about the details of your thoughts; instead, he simply stands beside you, a steady pillar of support.

As the pancakes sizzle on the griddle, the aroma fills the air, intertwining with the tender atmosphere between you and Jimin. The morning light casts a gentle glow, and for a moment, you feel a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm inside you.

Jimin places a plate of warm pancakes in front of you, garnished with chocolate and jam. He offers this simple gesture as a balm for your tired spirit.

“Here, have some breakfast. It’ll give you some energy” he says, his voice tender.

In that moment, you realize that this is more than just a shared meal. It’s an act of love and care, a way for Jimin to nourish not only your body but your soul too. And as you take a bite of the pancakes, you can’t help the blush that creeps on your face and feel grateful for having someone like him in your life - the kind of friend who stays by your side, offering comfort and understanding.

“It smells really good and looks so yummy, Jimin,” you remark with a genuine smile, appreciating not only the food but also the effort he’s put into making you feel at ease.

Jimin’s own smile widens, pleased to see you enjoying the meal he prepared. He joins in, savoring the taste of the pancakes alongside you. The moment is filled with a sense of calm, a temporary respite from the tumultuous thoughts that have been plaguing you.

But even in this tranquil moment, Jimin’s concern for your well-being doesn’t waver.

He clears his throat gently, drawing your attention.

“Maybe you should make an appointment with the psychologist, like that nurse Taehyung suggested,” he suggests softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

The sincerity in his words touches your heart. You can see the earnestness in his eyes, the depth of his care for you. His genuine concern is both comforting and overwhelming, reminding you that you don’t have to face your pain alone.

With a small chuckle, Jimin adds, “Of course, you can talk to me too. I wouldn’t mind lending you my ear.”

It's an offer that comes from the heart, a promise to be there for you in any way you need. You feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful to have Jimin in your life.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you reply, recognizing the wisdom in his suggestion.

“And thank you so much, Jimin. It means a lot to me, all that you’re doing to help me,” a lot more than you would ever know, you almost want to add.

Later that day, as the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue through the windows of Jimin’s living room, as you stood there with Jimin, you found yourself facing an entirely different challenge: self-defense.

Jimin stressed the value in being able to defend yourself, should you ever need it (especially with your perpetrator still at large).

It is a practical and necessary step, given the circumstances. Jimin’s concern for your safety is evident. And you appreciate his determination to empower you. The seriousness of the situation loomed over you, but Jimin’s presence was a reassuring anchor.

“Alright, pay close attention,” Jimin says, his voice steady and encouraging. His arms gently wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against his solid frame. Feeling his heartbeat against your back brings a sense of flutters and comfort as you listen intently to his instructions and you already feel your breath quicken.

“First, if someone tries to choke you from behind, you need to act quickly,” he explains.

“Use your elbows to strike their ribs or stomach. It forces them to loosen their grip.”

As he demonstrates the movement, his arm guides your own, helping you to mimic the motion. His warm touch feels electrifying, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Your elbow hits his arms, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he adjusts the pressure.

“Good job” he praises you, a smile evident in his voice. Jimin’s encouraging words spurs you on, and you feel your confidence growing with each practiced movement.

“Remember,” he says, his tone becoming more serious, “Don’t hesitate to use your elbow, knees, and even your fists if necessary. Your safety comes first.”

He demonstrates the proper stance, weight distribution, and how to strike effectively without injuring yourself. As he continues to teach you, you find yourself amazed at his patience and skill.

He moves with fluidity, demonstrating each technique with precision. It must be his dancing major, that gives him so much grace. You are entranced by his elegance and register your heartbeat quicken and your breath shorten.

While the situation was serious, his lighthearted spirit shone through as he let you practice some kicks on him.

“Nice kick!” he grinned, clearly impressed by your progress.

“But keep your balance steady. You don’t want to lose it and give your attacker an advantage.”

With Jimin’s guidance, you practice each move diligently. It was physically demanding, and hard to keep your mind off his strong muscles, but his presence and encouragement made the experience far more manageable.

He patiently corrects your posture and movements, helping you understand the importance of control and awareness.

As the session is nearing its end, Jimin demonstrates one final move.

“And if you ever find yourself cornered,” he said, “A quick powerful kick to the groin can create the opening you need to escape.”

With a nod you chuckle nervously, and take a step back and mimic the movement from earlier, visualizing the scenario in your mind.

“Trust me,” he says, meeting your eyes with a serious expression, “It’s a highly effective move.”

Jimin’s eyes twinkle with pride as you execute the move with determination.

“You’re doing great, Y/N,” he says, his voice gentle yet resolute. “Learning self-defense is about feeling empowered and in control. It’s not about being invincible, but knowing you have options.”

As you walk into the living room, a sense of excitement fills you.

“I’ve made an appointment with the psychologist, and she actually had a spot for me tomorrow morning because someone canceled theirs,” you share with a bright and hopeful tone, eager to let Jimin know about the progress you’ve made.

Jimin’s attention shifts from the movie he’s watching, and he turns to face you, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness for you.

“That’s nice, Y/N,” he responds with a warm smile. But it doesn’t end there; he takes it a step further, showing his unwavering support and care for you.

“I can drive you tomorrow and wait for you so you don’t have to go alone,” he offers, reaching out to envelop you in a comforting hug. His embrace feels like a safe haven, grounding you amidst uncertainties that lie ahead. He is warm and soft, making your heart flutter.

It’s a gesture that speaks volumes about his dedication as a friend, and you feel grateful for having him by your side during this journey of healing.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you murmur, your voice tinged with sincerity.

“Having you there with me means the world,” you hug him back, relishing in his embrace longer than friends probably should, but you can't help yourself.

He pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he gazes into your eyes, his own filled with compassion.

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N,” he replies softly.

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what”. In that moment, you know that his words are not just empty promises; they hold true weight and meaning. He’s proven time and again that he’ll go above and beyond to support and protect you, and his presence has become an anchor in your life.

As Jimin’s arms envelop you in another warm and comforting hug, your heart races with a mixture of emotions. The familiar touch of his hands against your back sends tingles down your spine, and you can’t help but yearn for more.

But as much as you cherish his affection, you know the depths of your feelings go beyond mere friendship. Throughout the years, you’ve hidden your unrequited love for Jimin, fearing that revealing it would jeopardize the precious bond you share.

You’ve watched from the sidelines as he laughed, smiled, and even dated others, all the while silently nursing your love for him. Now, being back in his embrace, your feelings resurface with a vengeance, and it’s becoming harder to suppress them.

Jimin’s genuine kindness and the way he selflessly cares for you only deepen the chasm in your heart. You find yourself yearning for more than just his friendship, craving a connection that goes beyond what you’ve ever shared.

But the fear of rejection and the potential loss of his friendship weigh heavily on you.

As his scent fills your senses, you can’t help but wonder if he could ever feel the same way about you.

The thought of confessing your feelings terrifies you, and you push it to the back of your mind, trying to focus on the present moment instead.

Yet, the trauma you’ve endured has left a mark on your soul, casting a shadow over your emotions. The assault and abuse have stirred up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, making it harder to decipher what is real and what is merely a product of your pain.

As you bury your face in his hair, you cling to the familiar comfort he provides, but you can’t help but feel the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

The tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, and you take deep breaths to regain control.

As the movie’s scenes play out on the screen, you find it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything but the warmth of Jimin’s body pressed against your own.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and each breath feels shallow as his proximity sends a surge of electricity through you. It takes all your willpower to remain composed and not let your feelings betray you.

Jimin’s closeness is both a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, you relish the feeling of his body so close to yours, a sensation you’ve secretly yearned for.

On the other hand, it intensifies the turmoil of emotions within you, making it difficult to keep your composure.

As the movie’s plot unfolds, you find yourself stealing glances at Jimin’s profile, mesmerized by his features and the way the flickering light of the TV dances across his face.

You wish you could be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection and the potential loss of his friendship paralyze you. Every fiber of your being longs to lean into him, to feel his arms wrap around you in a warm embrace.

Yet, you fight the urge, knowing that doing so would only deepen your emotional entanglement and make it even harder to keep your feelings hidden.

Despite the inner chaos, you manage to keep a facade of calm, smiling when appropriate and nodding along to the movie’s plot.

But inside, you’re a jumbled mess of emotions, and you can’t help but wonder if Jimin can sense your turmoil. As the movie comes to an end, you take a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing heart.

You’re grateful for the movie's conclusion, hoping that it will give you a moment to regain your composure. But even as the credits roll, Jimin doesn’t move away, and you find yourself torn between the desire to stay in his embrace and the need to escape the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

In the end, you opt to remain where you are, cherishing the closeness you share with Jimin and savoring the fleeting moments of intimacy. Though unspoke, the unrequited love you hold for him lingers in the air, creating an invisible bond between you two that goes beyond mere friendship.

The hours pass by in a blur, filled with laughter, heartfelt conversations, and a marathon of movies that bring moments of joy and escapism. You find solace in Jimin’s presence, his genuine care, and the comfort of being so close to someone you’ve admired secretly for years.

Yet, as the day draws to a close, a looming sense of emotional exhaustion settles over you like a heavy fog.

The impending therapy session hangs over your head like a dark cloud, filling you with both anxiety and hope. You know it’s necessary, that facing your trauma is a crucial step toward healing, but the thought of reliving those painful memories is daunting.

As the night deepens, you find yourself sitting on Jimin’s bed, lost in thoughts. The room is bathed in a soft glow, emanating from a small lamp on the nightstand. Jimin, ever observant, sits next to you, his warm presence a source of comfort.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, remember?” he says gently, his voice tender and caring.

You look into his eyes, seeing the genuine concern in them, and you feel your heart clench.

How much you long to pour your heart out to him, to share the burden of your emotions, and to finally reveal the depth of your feelings.

But fear holds you back, and you keep your emotions tightly guarded.

“I appreciate that, Jimin,” you reply, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your voice. “It’s just… I’m afraid of what might come up during the therapy session.”

Jimin reaches out, placing a comforting hand on yours, “I understand. Facing the past can be overwhelming, but remember, you are not alone in this. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

The tenderness in his touch and the reassurance in his words almost break the dam you’ve built around your emotions.

You want to lean into him, to finally confess your hidden affection and to seek true comfort in his embrace. Yet, the fear of jeopardizing your friendship keeps your heart in check.

As you lie in your own bed that night, sleep eludes you again.

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and the weight of unspoken words feels almost unbearable.

You wonder if Jimin can sense the depth of your feelings, if he has any inkling of the unrequited love that resides within you.

The therapy session looms ahead, and you can’t help but feel both apprehensive and hopeful about the healing it may bring. You know it won’t be an easy journey, but having Jimin by your side, even as a friend, gives you the strength to face the painful memories that haunt you.

As you drift into a restless slumber, the turmoil within you persists, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto your feelings and the fear of what might happen if you reveal them.

The morning air is crisp, and the first rays of sunlight gently kiss the edges of the sky as you step out of the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. Jimin’s consideration never fails to amaze you, and as you get dressed, you can’t help but think of all the little ways he has shown his kindness and care.

With the appointment with the psychologist looming ahead, you’re both nervous and eager to finally start the healing process. As you make your way to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast fills the air, and your stomach growls in anticipation. His culinary skills are impressive, and you can’t help but appreciate his efforts to make your morning special.

He hands you a green smoothie, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly.

“I know you need all the energy you can get today,” he says, his voice gently and encouraging. You take a sip, savoring the fresh and invigorating taste of veggies and fruits, while feeling a rush of gratitude for having someone like Jimin in your life.

Together, you sit at the dining table, and with every bite, you feel the warmth of his presence seep into your soul.

The connection between you and Jimin grows stronger with each shared meal and conversation, yet there’s still an unspoken understanding that hangs in the air.

As you finish breakfast, you exchange glances, and it’s as if the unspoken words are dancing on the edges of your lips. You want to tell him how much he means to you, how his kindness and friendship have been a lifeline in the darkest of times, but the fear of jeopardizing what you have holds you back.

You find yourself lost in his gaze, unable to look away, and it’s in that moment that you feel a flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, the unspoken love between you is not one-sided.

Maybe Jimin’s tender gestures and caring ways are more than just friendly acts?

But before you can delve deeper into your thoughts, Jimin’s voice breaks the silence.

“Are you ready for today?” he asks softly, his eyes full of concern and support.

With a small nod, you find your voice, “I am, and I’m grateful you'll be there with me.”

His smile widens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand in his, the contact sending a warm shiver down your spine.

“I’ll always be there for you, no matter what,” he says, his words carrying a deeper meaning that you can’t ignore.

As you sit in the car, the silence between you and Jimin speaks volumes. It’s not the awkward silence you had anticipated; rather, it’s a comforting one. You find solace in the familiarity of Jimin’s presence, and his unspoken support eases some of the anxiety building up inside you.

As Jimin pulls up to the tall building, its glass facade reflecting the city’s hustle and bustle, you feel a mix of nerves and determination. Jimin follows you outside and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping inside.

As you grip the handle to the tall building, your heart races in your chest like a wild stallion.

The weight of unfamiliarity and the daunting prospect of sharing your innermost thoughts with a stranger collide, setting off an explosion of anxiety and nervousness within you.

You take a deep breath, knowing that this is a pivotal moment in your journey to heal and move forward.

This is uncharted territory for you, but you’re determined to brave this new experience.

The reception area is modern and welcoming, but your heart still races as you approach the front desk. The green plants add a touch of serenity, momentarily easing the tension coiled in your body.

The receptionist smiles warmly, and you check in using your new social security card, a symbol of your newfound strength and resilience.

Taking a seat, you try to steady your breath and silence the thunderous pounding in your ears.

Your palms feel sweaty, and you quickly wipe them on your things, hoping to dispel any signs of unease.

You remind yourself that it’s normal to feel nervous, but you won’t let it deter you from seeking the help you need.

Just as you’re about to give in to the overwhelming anxiety, you feel a gentle hand on your thigh. You turn to Jimin sitting beside you, his presence like a comforting anchor in the storm. He gives you a reassuring smile as he lightly squeezes your thigh, his eyes filled with support and understanding.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he says softly, and you feel a wave of gratitude wash over you.

The fact that he’s willing to stay by your side, even in the face of your inner struggles, makes your heart swell with affection. As you sit together in the waiting area, you find solace in Jimin’s presence.

The unspoken bond between you grows stronger with each passing moment, and you feel a sense of reassurance that you’re not alone in this journey of healing.

Your heart skips a beat as you’re abruptly brought back to reality by a woman’s voice calling your name.

You quickly stand up, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through your veins. In your haste, you extend your hand to greet her, feeling a little self-conscious about the volume of your response, as you say ‘yes’.

Her warm and reassuring smile puts you at ease, and you can’t help but notice the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“I’m Chin-Sun, your psychologist,” she introduces herself, her soothing tone like a gentle wave lapping at the shore.

You exchange a fleeting glance with Jimin, silently acknowledging the strength he’s given you. With a deep breath, you follow the therapist into her office, leaving Jimin behind in the waiting area.

You feel a flutter of apprehension in your chest, but knowing that Jimin is just outside waiting for you, gives you a sense of security.

As you enter the therapist’s office, you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. But with Jimin’s reassurance still lingering, you know you can take that first step towards healing and finally find the courage to confront your past.

Outside, Jimin waits patiently, knowing that you’ll come out stronger, and that he’ll be there every step of the way.

As you enter her office, you’re immediately drawn to the inviting atmosphere that surrounds you. Chin-Sun gestures gracefully towards the plush couch adorned with an array of soft pillows.

It beckons you to sink into its comforting embrace, and you oblige, feeling a sense of calm wash over you already.

The small table in front of the couch catches your eye, adorned with candles, tissues, glasses and a jug of water, a thoughtful touch to create a soothing ambiance.

Seated on a chair in front of the table, Chin-Sun's serene presence envelops the room. Her warm smile and kind eyes put you at ease, and you find yourself feeling more relaxed in her company.

The office is a perfect balance of tranquility and professionalism. One wall, painted a soothing navy blue, adds a touch of depth and serenity to the space, while the rest of the room remains in calming white tones.

As you take a moment to glance around, you notice her neatly organized desk, equipped with a computer and other therapeutic resources.

Chin-Sun picks up her pen and paper, explaining her preference for taking notes. It gives you a sense of comfort to know that your thoughts and feelings will be heard and respected.

“It’s natural to feel nervous,” she assures, her gentle voice like a lifeline amidst the storm of your thoughts. “This is a place of healing, and there’s no judgment here. You have the power to set the pace, and if it ever becomes overwhelming, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

As you grapple with the knot of nerves in your stomach, you can’t help but apologize for your nervousness. She leans in, her empathy palpable, and reminds you that there’s no need to apologize. This is your journey, and the feelings you’re experiencing are entirely valid.

“I understand how unfamiliar this may be,” she acknowledges, validating your emotions.

“But remember, you’re here because you want to explore these emotions and experiences. It's okay to take your time and ease into it.” Her encouragement emboldens you, and you find the strength to meet her gaze.

You realize that this therapeutic space is not about judgment or quick fixes; it’s about embracing vulnerability and allowing yourself to heal at your own pace.

As you sit in the cozy confines of Chin-Sun’s office, her gentle encouragement puts you at ease. You feel a mixture of relief and vulnerability knowing that she has your medical report from the hospital and will be guiding you through this process with sensitivity and understanding.

She leans forward with a calming presence, offering you both empathy and professional expertise.

“When you are ready,” she begins, her words a gentle invitation, “can you start from the beginning?”

With each breath, you find the strength to speak your truth.

As you begin recounting the events that led to your trauma, you focus on the broad strokes as Chin-Sun suggested. The weight of the memories may be heavy, but you remind yourself that sharing them here is an essential step towards healing.

Chin-Sun listens with unwavering attention, her pen moving gently across the paper, capturing your words with care. She refrains from interrupting, giving you the space to voice your experiences without judgment.

Her approach allows you to navigate the emotional terrain at your own pace, and you feel seen and heard.

As you speak, you find solace in her empathetic eyes, and the vulnerability in sharing your story with a stranger gradually dissipates.

You appreciate that she doesn't pry or push for more details, respecting your boundaries and giving you the freedom to share as much or as little as you feel comfortable with.

The moments of silence that punctuate your narrative become opportunities for reflection. You appreciate that Chin-Sun doesn't rush to fill the void but rather allows you to gather your thoughts.

As the session draws to a close, you can sense Chin-Sun's genuine sadness for what you've endured.

Her compassion has created a safe space for you to share your experiences, and you appreciate her understanding demeanor. With just ten minutes left, Chin-Sun offers you the opportunity to ask any questions or discuss topics you'd like to explore in future sessions.

You feel a flicker of curiosity and decide to seize the moment.

“Actually… I do have some stuff that’s been on my mind. Can I ask you those questions?” you say, sitting up straight, determined to confront the thoughts that have been swirling in your mind.

Chin-Sun's gentle nod and sip of water give you the encouragement you need to voice your concerns. You share your lingering worry about your captor and whether he might still be out there searching for you.

The fear in your voice is evident as you whisper your words, as if speaking any louder might draw danger closer.

Understanding the weight of your concern, Chin-Sun responds with empathy, “I understand that. Do you have anybody that can help you feel safe while the police are looking for the perpetrator?”

You take comfort in her soothing smile as you fidget with the hem of your shirt.

Gathering your thoughts, you find the courage to speak about the one person who has provided you with a sanctuary – Jimin, your best friend and the detective who has taken you into his home.

Chin-Sun listens intently, acknowledging the significance of having someone like Jimin by your side during this trying time.

She allows you to express yourself fully, creating a space where your emotions and thoughts are validated.

As the floodgates of your emotions open, you find yourself pouring your deepest fears and vulnerabilities to Chin-Sun.

The weight of your trauma is overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill. Though she tries to offer calming words of reassurance, you feel unable to listen.

The pain and trauma inflicted on you have shattered your trust in men, and you express the feeling that sex is now ruined for you. Images of your horrifying ordeal flash before your eyes, making it hard to escape the haunting memories.

In a desperate attempt to shut out the distressing visuals, you press your hands against your eyes, your body trembling as you curl your feet up onto the couch, seeking some form of comfort and safety.

Recognizing your anguish, Chin-Sun gently hands you tissues and moves to your side, offering a comforting hug.

“It might be incredibly hard in the beginning. But it is possible to trust again. It’s also possible to have sex again, if that is something you want. Just take your time and progress slowly. Do what you are comfortable with and stop and voice your feelings if you ever feel like it or if it goes too far,” she says, her comforting presence providing you a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

As you struggle to regain your composure, you take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and shaking body.

Gradually, the storm of emotions begins to subside, and you feel your body easing into a state of relaxation. The tears eventually stop flowing, leaving you emotionally drained but also somewhat relieved.

Before you leave her office, Chin-Sun offers valuable advice, emphasizing the importance of taking things slowly and not rushing yourself into anything.

She encourages you to communicate your feelings and boundaries with utmost honesty and to seek out the support of people you trust.

As you step out of the session, the burden of your trauma is not fully lifted, but you feel a glimmer of hope for the future.

Trusting again may be a daunting journey, but with Chin-Sun's guidance and support, you are determined to embark on the path to healing and rebuilding yourself.

Your resolve to take each step at your own pace, honoring your feelings and emotions as you move forward.

The thought of having sex again is something that both frightens and intrigues you, but you know that with time and support, you might find the strength to explore intimacy once more.

As you contemplate the future, you recognize that healing is not a linear process. There will be ups and downs, and that's okay. With Chin-Sun's encouragement, you feel more hopeful that, one day, you will reclaim your sense of security and find solace in the arms of someone who truly cares for you.

Maybe you have already found that one person, currently waiting for you in the waiting area.

As you enter the waiting area, Jimin's concern is evident on his face.

He takes in your swollen and red eyes, the dried tear streaks marking your cheeks, and he knows that the therapy session must have been emotionally taxing.

You sink into the seat, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion.

“Are you alright? How did it go?” Jimin’s voice is filled with genuine concern as he looks for your eyes seeking reassurance. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking.

“I’m okay, Jimin. The session was good, but I’m just so emotionally drained” you say, your voice heavy with weariness. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently, seeking comfort and connection.

“I’m here for you, always,” he responds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. His unwavering support brings a flicker of warmth to your heart, and you find solace in the knowledge that you have someone by your side who truly cares for you.

“I’d like to go home and rest now,” you add, feeling the need to retreat and process the emotions that have been stirred up during the session. Jimin seems to understand, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, let’s head home,” he says as you walk out of the building, turning on the engine and shifting into gear. The car ride is quiet, but it’s a comforting silence, one that allows you to collect your thoughts and emotions.

As you arrive home, Jimin accompanies you inside, his presence a soothing balm to your weary soul. He lets you rest and recuperate, offering his unwavering support from the sidelines.

In the comfort of his home, you find a safe space to process your feelings and begin the healing journey.

It’s already Jimin’s last day off and he decides it’s a good idea to go grocery shopping so you don’t starve to death while he is working.

You are not really the best cook, so it was a good idea.

As you and Jimin stroll through the supermarket, filling the cart with groceries, the atmosphere is light-hearted and fun. Jimin seems to have a talent for turning even the most mundane tasks into enjoyable adventures, and you find yourself laughing and joking along the way.

“Hey, Jimin, remember that time we tried to cook together in college? It was a disaster!” you chuckle, recalling the disastrous attempt at making a simple pasta dish that ended up in a kitchen full of smoke.

Jimin grins, his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Oh, how could I forget? We set off the fire alarm!” he laughs at the disastrous memory.

You both burst into laughter, drawing a few curious glances from other shoppers, but you don't care. It feels good to let go of the burden of the past and embrace the present moment with your best friend.

As you reach the fresh produce section, Jimin playfully challenges you to a ‘vegetable picking’ contest. You both pretend to be food critics, carefully inspecting each vegetable, making exaggerated remarks about their texture and flavor profile.

It’s all just silly fun, but it brings an undeniable joy to your heart.

With the cart now filled with a colorful array of vegetables, starch, meat, canned goods, and some treats, you make your way to the cashier to pay.

With the grocery shopping done, you head back to Jimin's car, where he skillfully begins to load the bags into the trunk.

“I promise not to let you starve,” Jimin says with a grin, pulling more bags in the trunk and giving you a playful wink.

“We’ll make some delicious meals together. Who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden chef in you,” he sticks out his tongue playfully. You laugh, knowing very well that your cooking skills are far from impressive.

“Well, with your help, I might just become a master chef,” you tease back, enjoying the playful banter like old times.

As you stand next to Jimin, watching him load the groceries into the trunk, a sinister presence seems to linger in the shadows, shrouding you with unease.

You can't shake off the feeling that someone was there, watching, but when you glance back, the dark hooded figure has vanished without a trace.

Your heart races, and you try to shake off the feeling, not wanting to worry Jimin.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Jimin’s concerned voice interrupts your thoughts.

He looks at you with a hint of worry in his eyes, sensing that something might be bothering you. You quickly put on a facade, mustering a bright smile and nodding, “Yeah, I’m good to go home.”

As you get into the car, your mind is preoccupied with the mysterious figure you saw by the carts.

Who was it? What were they doing there?

And most importantly, why did they vanish so suddenly?

The questions swirl in your mind, but you keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to burden Jimin with your sudden discomfort.

The car ride back is filled with an awkward silence that wasn't there before. You steal glances at Jimin, trying to gauge if he senses anything amiss.

He's focused on the road, but his brows are slightly furrowed, indicating that he's concerned about you.

You decide to break the silence, attempting to distract yourself and Jimin from the unsettling encounter. “Hey, what do you think we should cook for dinner tonight?” you ask, trying to sound casual. You hope that talking about something mundane will help ease the tension.

He glances at you, a small smile forming on his lips, grateful for the change of topic.

“Hmm, how about that pasta dish we tried to make in college? I think we can ace it this time,” he suggests, trying to bring back the lightheartedness you both had earlier.

You chuckle, glad he’s playing along, even though your mind is still preoccupied with the mysterious figure.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. We’ll make sure to avoid having the firemen drop by for a visit” you reply, trying to match his playful tone.

Jimin can't shake the feeling that something is amiss with you ever since the grocery store. He tries to play it cool, giving you space to open up if you wish, but his concern gnaws at him like an itch he can't scratch.

He wishes you would confide in him, knowing that you could share anything with him if you wanted to. But as much as he wants to stay by your side indefinitely, reality beckons, and he knows he has to return to work tomorrow.

The thought of leaving you alone with your worries gnaws at him, but he trusts that you'll reach out to him when you're ready.

As Jimin prepares to leave for work, a mixture of concern and guilt gnaws at him. He hates the idea of leaving you alone, especially when he senses that something is still bothering you. But he knows that pushing you to talk won't help; you need the space to process your thoughts and emotions.

He stands by the door, hesitating for a moment before finally stepping outside.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he assures you, trying to put on a brave face despite his inner turmoil. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he gives you a small hug.

You nod, offering him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’ll be fine” you say, your voice soft and uncertain. He wishes he could read your mind, to understand the depth of what you’re going through, but he respects your boundaries.

As the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

The silence that fills the house feels overwhelming, and you find yourself wandering aimlessly from room to room, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that linger in your mind.

You spend the day with Jimin's laptop on your thighs scouring YouTube for funny animal videos which gives you a few good laughs.

It helps keep your mind off the haunting feeling you feel inside. Your laughter is suddenly interrupted when you hear a knock at the door.

Startled, you place the laptop off to the side on the couch. It couldn’t be Jimin, because it was too early for him to be home yet.

You feel panic run through your body, but you force your feet to carry you to the door, unlocking it and opening it.

In front of you stands a man in a brown uniform sporting a yellow logo that reads ‘UPS’ on his left upper chest. You let out a relieved gasp as you place your right hand over your heart giving out a low chuckle at your reaction.

The UPS delivery man gives you a friendly smile. “Good morning Miss! I have a package for Mr. Park, is he home?” he asks politely.

“Oh, uh, no, he’s not home yet. But I can sign for it if you want?” you reply feeling a bit flustered by your initial panic.

“Sure thing! Just need your signature here” he says, handing you a small electronic device. You sign your name with a shaky hand, still trying to shake off the lingering nerves.

“Thank you. Have a great day!” he says cheerfully as he hands you the package. You see that your name is on it too.

“Thanks, you too,” you reply, managing a smile as you close and lock the door.

You lock the door and walk back to the couch, dropping down with a heavy thud.

You turn and twist the package to get some kind of information about its contents. You decide that you might as well open it, as it is also addressed to you.

You go to Jimin’s home office and find a pocket knife that you use to delicately cut along the tape to reveal its subject. It’s a phone. A brand new one at that! You take it out of the brown package and inspect the case that reads ‘Google Pixel 7A’.

You unbox the snow coloured phone and find a SIM card and the charger. In a matter of seconds, you have placed the SIM card in the phone and put it in the charger to power it up.

You let the phone charge in peace as you go to the fridge to grab some of the leftover food Jimin had been sweet enough to make for you yesterday.

Then you go back to leisurely browsing through YouTube on Jimin’s laptop while getting comfortable on the couch. You have already spent hours on the laptop, watching random videos of this and that.

But it had definitely helped keep your mind off things, so you hadn’t even noticed the time. It is already around dinnertime and you expect Jimin to be home soon.

You hear a key being inserted in the lock, twisting, and then Jimin enters with a tired smile dorning his face while he drags his body inside.

You jump to your feet, a burst of energy rushing through you, banishing the remnants of sleep from your body. With giddy feet and a spring in your step, you dance your way to Jimin, your heart warming at the sight of him.

“Did you have a good day?” you chirp, eager to bring a smile to his tired face.

Jimin lets out a tired sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He runs his hands through his tousled hair, ruffling it in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“Yes, but tiring” he admits, the weariness evident in his eyes.

You pout at him playfully, determined to lift his spirits.

“Well, you’re home now, and that’s all that matters” you say with a soft smile, hoping to convey your genuine happiness to have him back.

His exhaustion seems to melt away as he gazes at you, and he nods, “And being home with you makes it even better.”

You reach out and embrace him in a big warm hug, feeling the comforting strength of his arms around you. He leans into the hug, his tiredness fading as he draws comfort from your presence. His scent, a delightful blend of musky vanilla and woody notes, envelopes you, making you feel safe and at home.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

His warmth and closeness ease the tension in your body, too, as if you're sharing the burden of the day together. For a moment, you both stand there, just holding each other, finding solace in the simple act of being there for one another.

“I missed you” he whispers into your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You can feel your cheeks flushing red, grateful that he can't see your reaction with your face buried in his chest. You nuzzle your head against his sturdy pectorals, seeking comfort in his embrace, and he chuckles softly at the movement.

“I missed you too,” you murmur, looking up into his eyes. His tired gaze meets yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. You think you catch a hint of longing in his eyes, but you're not entirely sure. There's a depth to his gaze, a hidden emotion that leaves you yearning to unravel the mystery of his thoughts.

Still holding you close, he presses you gently against his body, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart. His embrace is both protective and tender, making you feel safe and cherished.

The world outside fades away, and it's just the two of you, lost in the comfort of each other's arms.

You feel your body relax in his embrace, the tension of the day melting away. And then, in a playful gesture, you give him a gentle pinch on his side, right above his hips.

He jumps slightly, letting out a surprised, yet endearing, small shriek.

“I got your package” you giggle, pointing towards the new phone charging on the couch table. It's your way of breaking the momentary intensity, adding a touch of light-heartedness to the air.

He adjusts his head, following your gaze to the living room, where the package lies.

“Ah, right,” he says, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I hope you like it, princess” he adds, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

But as he utters the last word, your body tenses, and a wave of discomfort washes over you. His hand on your back feels heavy, and you take a step back, trying to create some distance.

He notices the sudden change in your demeanor and takes a concerned step forward, studying your face for any sign of distress. His playful expression fades as he sees pain and agony etched on your features.

You struggle to find your voice, your body still frozen in place, as if trapped in a moment of overwhelming vulnerability.

The room feels suffocating, and you try to take a deep breath, but your lungs refuse to cooperate.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat resonating with fear and unease.

Your mind races, unable to escape the grip of rising panic.

In that moment, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, unable to flee from the intensity of his gaze.

His concern only amplifies your discomfort, making it harder to find the words to explain what's wrong.

You realize you've been holding your breath, and you force yourself to exhale, hoping to dispel the growing tension within you.

But the freckles of a panic attack linger, threatening to engulf you in their overwhelming embrace.

Jimin takes another step closer, his hands reaching out gently, as if trying to touch the pain you're hiding inside. But you step back again, creating more distance between you.

It's not that you don't appreciate his concern; it's just that you're not ready to confront the tumultuous emotions swirling within you.

As the tears flow freely down your cheeks, your voice trembles with each syllable, making it difficult to articulate your feelings.

Jimin's grip on your shoulders loosens, his concern evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead. “I–, I'm sorry,” you manage to stammer out, your breath still uneven.

“It's just... a horrible memory came over me.”

Jimin's eyes soften with understanding, and he pulls you gently into a comforting hug, allowing you to bury your face in his shoulder. His embrace feels warm and secure, offering solace and safety in the midst of your turmoil.

As you regain control of your breath, you find yourself locking eyes with Jimin, his gaze filled with concern and regret.

The atmosphere is charged with emotions, and you can feel the electricity between you two. Your boldness surprises even yourself, but it's as if a newfound courage has taken hold of you in this vulnerable moment.

“That's what he called me,” you repeat, your voice steadier now. “It's a trigger, I guess...” you gulp the realization down your throat as you try to regain composure.

Jimin's eyes soften, and he nods understandingly, his hands gently holding yours, reassuring you that he's there for you.

“I didn't know,” Jimin repeats, his voice soft and remorseful. “I would never intentionally hurt you, Y/N.”

“I know you wouldn't, Jiminie” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “It's just that... that word brought back memories I've been trying to forget.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” he says, his voice filled with empathy.

“You don't have to face this alone” with his presence, the haunting feeling starts to subside, and you find comfort in his unwavering support. You're grateful for the breathing technique you learned in therapy, but it's Jimin's presence that truly grounds you.

Jimin's hand finds its way to your cheek, gently caressing it as he looks at you with unwavering support.

“I'm here for you, Y/N. You can tell me anything, and I'll do my best to understand and help.”

His words resonate deep within your soul, making you realize how lucky you are to have him in your life. Despite the pain, there's a warmth in knowing that Jimin genuinely cares about you and wants to be there for you.

As you lock eyes with him, you feel a surge of affection and gratitude.

“Thank you” you whisper, feeling the weight of your vulnerability lessen with each passing moment. Jimin's embrace tightens, pulling you into him as if he never wants to let you go.

“You don't have to thank me,” he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness.

“I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

→ Author’s note: I don’t know what happened! I planned to write like 5K words to get back into writing and then boom 40K+ 😆I don’t really know how I feel about this story, but I wanted to post it because I finished something 🎉If it’s shit, I’m really sorry. Also, I just couldn’t decide which hair color to give Jimin, because I love all colors on him, so I settled with black 😊

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

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ask-mobile-iterator-project · 9 months

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Intro Post

This blog focuses on my Rain World OCs involved in the "Mobile Iterator Project" AU. ^_^

The “Mobile Iterator Project” (MIP) is a project created and directed by an Ancient named "No Cost Too Great" (NCTG) with the stated goal of supporting standard iterators in their productivity, maintenance, and longevity, so that they can operate at maximum efficiency, even after the inevitable mass ascension. ‘MIP Units’—iterators under the project—are created puppet-first in the "MIP Development Center" and later assigned to Local Groups, where their structures are built to support the Iterators around them. Uniquely, their personalities are heavily based around singular, specific Architects (Ancients) who donate their memories and qualia. The exception to this is TWR. In total, there are 99 MIP Units, with IDs ranging from 01 to 99.

(This AU strays pretty far from the themes and canon of both Vanilla Rain World and Downpour, so please keep that in mind!)

⚠️Importantly, here are some warnings for sensitive content that may appear in the posts:

depictions of trauma and mental illness

heavy themes of manipulation (including memory manipulation)

depictions of emotional abuse

dehumanization

depictions of dissociation

identity struggles

medical malpractice/abuse, experimentation

child endangerment

generally dark themes

violence, physical abuse

infrequent body horror

When sensitive content comes up, I will leave a warning before the cut and tag as "sensitive content"!

Characters:

Starlight Symphony (SLS) she/her, [bio]

Frosted Briar (FB) she/they, [bio]

Glimmering Seafoam In Sunlight (GSIS) she/her, [bio]

Thorns Without Roses (TWR) she/they, [bio]

Perpetual Umbra (PU) they/them, [bio]

Legacy Of Famine (LOF) she/any, [bio]

*These are not all of the characters, just the main 6 that are open to receiving asks.

How it works:

Please specify who you are asking the question to, for example: (to SLS), (to SLS and FB), (to any), (to all), (to admin)

If you don’t specify, I’ll just pick myself. Though, sometimes, I might have another character answer too, if I think it might be interesting.

For admin asks, my friend’s overseer might want to add stuff too, so don’t be surprised if she shows up. For simplicity's sake, assume all admin asks are addressed to potentially both of us.

Additionally, I might add commentary sometimes, which I’ll tag with #admin commentary. My friend might do that too sometimes, so #overseer commentary for her.

I’ll do my best to answer your asks, with varying art quality, though I won’t answer all of them. Jade might answer some of them too, primarily the ones regarding, FB, as she knows them way better than I do.

We will sign off at the end of each post, denoting who handled the “broadcast” (ask.)

[Broadcast handled by admin], [Broadcast handled by overseer], [Broadcast handled by admin and overseer]

There is a light roleplaying/interactive element: The in-universe framing device for the questions is broadcasts being sent to the iterators, hence the ask button’s title. There may also be some occasional meta shenanigans.

I will be answering some questions from curiouscat rather than tumblr, and I will crosspost to twitter, too. This is probably too much work, but whatever. The askblog will be the main source of my attention, though, so posts will come here first.

Boundaries/Rules:

Please don’t ask questions related to your own OCs, because I don’t know them.

Please try to break up multiple questions into separate asks.

Nothing NSFW or suggestive.

No “magic” asks (like turning the characters into different things)

You can send items if you want, though

Please keep in mind that Frosted Briar is, for all intents and purposes, basically a child.

Rules may change as things go along and we figure stuff out!

Non-Ask Posts:

Occasionally, I may post content related to backstories and worldbuilding and stuff unrelated to asks. This will be tagged with #mip logs.

Tags:

#silly: for silly stuff

#angst: for angsty stuff

#dubiously canon: usually used in tandem with silly, but for anything that has questionable characterization

#sensitive content: content that may be triggering or upsetting

#mip worldbuilding: asks/posts related to worldbuilding

#mip lore: asks/posts related to lore!

#mip ask: in-universe asks for the ocs.

#admin ask: asks directed towards the admin/overseers

#guest appearance: asks where characters outside of the main 6 appear.

#mip logs: non-ask posts that build upon the lore/worldbuilding

#ooc: update posts, rule posts, etc.

#meta: hehe

#admin commentary: commentary from the admin (luna)

#overseer commentary: commentary from the overseer (jade or clover)

#overseer assistance: for when the overseers help with the process

#fanart: reblogs of fanart!! :D

#admin art: reblogs of luna’s, jade's or clover's art of the characters

#luna art, #jade art, #clover art: self-explanatory

#old: from the sls ask blog, consider it non-canon

#mobile iterator project, #rw mip au: self-explanatory

post is tagged with most of these

Main Admin: Luna, @mewguca

Overseer: Jade, @fauxbia

Overseer: Clover, @cloverlady

Thank you for reading!

For additional information on my OC usage permissions, please read my carrd

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t00nyah · 1 month

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t00nyah's Rain World AUs and OCs archive

so. i want to make navigating my ideas easier and encourage people learning more stuff about them! so this post here is meant to serve this purpose

Alternative Universes

i try my best to tag my aus with #rain world au

>1// HLL Apprentice AU AU, where Hunter finds a slugpup on their way to ascend and decides to bring it to safety first, ending up succumbing to the rot and not making it to the Depths. the pup, known as the Apprentice, ends up staying by their side and growing up in grief, waiting for it to let them move on to set on their own journey.

tag: #rw hll apprentice au

>2// Arti's Scavpup AU AU, where Artificer doesn't condone violence towards children because of their own pain, so something in them makes them save a scavenger pup from a vulture. as a bonus i decided to connect it with the idea of green pup surviving i had.

tag: #arti's scavpup au

>3// Moon Clinic AU a shitpost AU where Ruffles and Moon organize a clinic in Moon's remains to help those in need! lots of uncovered lore proceeded to sprout in my head then. in this AU, Gourmand, Rivulet and Watcher are clinic workers, while others are connected less directly, like Invenot, who just keeps getting in trouble so much that they always end up there!

tag: #moon clinic rw au

this AU has an ask blog dedicated to it! you can try to learn more lore through questions! :3

>4// Last resort explosive AU AU where Artificer's slugpups, Blast and Grenade, survive the Toll incident after being tossed away by their mother, losing her in process and being forced to survive on their own.

tag: #last resort explosive au

>5// Citizen Artificer AU i never posted anything about this AU, but in this AU Arti decides to retire and resides in Metropolis, ending up communicating with Five Pebbles in times of need. just a silly little au. there's also a version of it where Grenade lives and finds their mother, ending up living there with her.

tag: #citizen arti au (not used)

>6// 4siblings AU AU where Survivor/Pebble takes care of their four very young siblings: Flower(Monk), Night(Watcher) and Dragonfly(Hunter). they acknowledge that Dragonfly has an unknown sickness. in this AU Moon still gets revived, but a different slugcat was made for this purpose: Sofanthiel, or Inv, who ends up being the unluckiest slugcat.

tag: #4siblings au

>7// The Dragon Slayer now, this is not exactly an AU (nor OC), but it's a fanon interpretation of a canon character...yep! it's my take on the third sibling! in my interpretation they ended up losing parents to lizards and becoming an enemy to the scaly kind...taking a rather different path than their younger sibling.

tag: #rw dragon slayer

Original Characters

this section is dedicated to my rain world ocs, which is, uh, quite a lot! i usually tag them as #rain world oc

there is a post with most of my characters, but this post is meant to have all of them and info about them! usually there's more info about them in posts linked with their names! (while writing i've realized some ocs have...very little lore i have vocalized on tumblr, so this ended up very, very long. i would appreciate it if you gave it all a read though! i explained a lot of unexplained lore here)

>1// The Friend(they/it) and Poppy(she/they/it) my slugcat sona! they went from being a lost pup named Firecracker to a slugcat who found joy in bonds with living creatures, giving themself name the Friend. one day they end up creating a daughter, Poppy, who made them realize they lacked slugcat company throughout their journey, which made them set on a new one - a journey that concludes with them finding new friends and establishing their own colony, taking an inside name the Matriarch (which isn't used as often as just Friend)

tags: #the friend rw oc #my puppy #poppy pup rw oc

>2// Eclipse of Sunrise(she/her), Eleven Stars Bringing Dawn(it/they), Celestial Magnificence(she/her), Three Pillars bathing in Sunshine(she/it), the Timejumper(they/it) further to the west(there's a map in the end of this post), an iterator called Celestial Magnificence resides. her superstructure was tied to beautiful Gardens, a system of ecosystems fabricated by the Ancients. a lot of unique flora and fauna could be found there, and quite some was dependant on light. then, mostly out of malice, another superstructure was built...practically on top of it all. with sunlight blocked, Celestial Gardens had to adapt and, to some extent, ended up mixing up and falling apart, straying from their initial structures. lime lizards were a huge part of the Gardens, and their light source being blocked made some stray in search of sunlight, while some became way more hostile after being in darkness for too long.

Three Pillars bathing in Sunshine is a lizard that made its way to upper part of CM's can and was ADORED by her when she accidentally ended up in her puppet room. Sunny ends up a messenger although lime lizards are not the best at climbing, making it challenging for her to reach for the main recipient - Eclipse of Sunrise.

unlike her creators, Eclipse of Sunrise was always fond of Celestial Magnificence. having knowledge of what she was like in her prime time, before she herself was built, makes EOS extremely bitter about not being able to witness her in her full glory. she is the whole reason the shade was thrown onto CM and the least she could do was create a strong bond with her.

Eleven Stars Bringing Dawn is a slugcat created by EOS for this entire purpose! it usually just chills on top of Eclipse. its special coat stores and produces light in the dark environment, making it slightly easier to go through the pitch black areas under its iterator's can.

The Timejumper is a slugcat with a supernatural ability to return to their previous cycle to benefit in current one, which proves itself useful in the unstable environment some of the Gardens have turned into.

tags: #eclipse of sunrise rw #eleven stars bringing dawn rw #celestial magnificence rw #sunny rw oc #the timejumper rw oc

>3// Lizard pack (White(they/it), Pink(they/it), Green(they/it), Blue(they/it)) Lizard pack is a small group of slugcats who descend from lineages of rapidly evolving slugcats to confuse predators with their camouflage! they are the first ones to get more lizard-like features. White acts as their pack's leader, being the oldest and most responsible one. Green is the chill guy of the group who sometimes seems to be inside their head. Pink is very curious about hunting techniques. Blue really likes trying to climb like real blue lizards do, being a goofball all the time.

tag: #lizard pack rw ocs

>4// The Anemone/Fifteen Anemones blooming in White Snows/The Reincarnated/The Alienated(they/she/it) phew...okay. Anemone is my main rain world oc. they have a lot going on with them.

they were initially an Ancient, bound by karma and confused about others' desire to ascend. the fear of being left behind forced them to try to ascend despite the stories of those who were left as echoes of the past. and, to their surprise, nothing that terrifying happened, except they did not escape the great cycle, no. they were reincarnated into a small slugcat, forced to survive with knowledge the world would not let them go away.

at first, they had a decent memory of their knowledge and even could recreate their craft as a small critter. but as time went on, as they tried ascending again and failed every time, their memories become foggier. in the Blizzard era, they cannot even remember who kept them bound for so long.

tag: #rw oc anemone

>5// Good Things Happen(they/them), Twenty Curses, Silver Bells(they/she/it/he), the Pursuer(he/they/it), Lantern(she/they/it), Coal(he/they/it) Good Things Happen is my silly iterator sona! i can't really say much about their personality, they're just a silly goober. they are tied to the Blooming Terrarium, a relatively small facility where they keep creatures they like. Twenty Curses, Silver Bells is a slugcat who had Rot developing in them ever since they were a pup, but they never ended up dying to it, mostly co-existing. Bells is GTH's favourite thing ever though! The Pursuer is a carnivorous slugcat that took features of centipedes in development. They are the oldest one in the Blooming Terrarium. Lantern is a young slugcat who chose to befriend the threat and share brain cells with a blue lizard! they are now inseparable! Coal was actually initially levzee's sona's slugpup from 'adopt a slugpup' event, but Good Things Happen now takes care of him. maybe one day they'll reunite, maybe not.

tags: #good things happen rw oc #twenty curses silver bells rw oc #the pursuer rw oc #lantern rw oc #coal rw oc

>6// Grasshopper(she/her), Leap(she/her) and Collector(he/him) a Scavenger tribe that went a long way from Metropolis after the tragedy struck their kind. they developed a special pearl language which is not their main meaning of communiation, but it definitely takes a very special place in their extremely local culture.

Grasshopper is seen by other scavengers as a very reliable friend! she is the only one to witness Artificer's slaughter unfold right before her eyes. she still wonders why the crimson raging slugcat only shot a glance at her and never enacted her rage onto her. Leap and Collector are siblings that were a little too young to remember what exactly happened that day, but they are very aware of the tragedy as they were taken outside the city because of it and Grasshopper doesn't let them forget what brought them to wilderness.

tags: #rw oc grasshopper #rw oc leap #rw oc collector

>7// Murk(he/him) while i don't use him that often, i love my lizard boy!

the Tenuous one, or Murk, is a white lizard whose camouflaging abilities never developed, which led to him adapting to it by becoming more aggressive and even quicker to catch prey.

tag: #murk rw oc

>8// Flashdrive(they/she/it) my rivsona! based on a personality quiz result.

Flashdrive is a slugcat made with a goal to store Five Pebbles' consciousness and transport it to a more suitable vessel or simply new can. they are a very silly slugcat and Pebbles' certainly doesn't appreciate this unwanted help after so many cycles of trying to solve the issues himself and giving up on it. Flashdrive and their iterator do not care though! she's committed to the goal. well, except for some times where their own desires overtake them, such as when they met a crimson slugcat named Beehive and fell for her immediately...

tags: #flashdrive scugsona #rivsona

>9// Frail Personal Savior(he/they) FPS is simply a joke character to complement my friend's oc named Alt+F4!

tag: #frail personal savior rw oc

>10// The Chatter (they/it) The Chatter is a parrot - subspecies of vulture - who developed empathy to its prey and now goes through mental struggle...and spontaniously transports slugpups between regions.

tag: #the chatter rw oc

>11// The Empath(she/he/they/it), The Colorist(she/they/it) and The Courageous One(he/it) those three are my addition to mushroom's #Scugshroom colony - Lion's Mane and Blood Tooth fungi based slugcats. the linked post explains them pretty well!

tags: #the empath rw oc #the colorist rw oc #strawberry rw oc

>12// Abyss(she/it) my white lizard plushie! she's just a baby, recently learned camouflaging, likes vibeogamez and write fanfiction of her favourite slugcats (psst it's monk and survivor and her otp is artihunter where she writes only fix-it where hunter doesn't have rot and arti's pups are alive)

tag: #abyss rw oc

>13// Neuron(he/they/it) and Siren(she/they/he/it) [WIP lore] slugpups sent by an iterator to help their kind reach enlightenment and ascend, known as 'the Prophets' in colonies and as 'the solution in testing' in some private iterators' conversation logs. of course they get babied by slugcats, since they ARE babies.

tags: #neuron pup rw oc #siren pup rw oc

>14// The Chromatic(she/it/they) a cuttlefish based slugcat i got from my friend! she's silly and has no lore but potentically lives in my Deserted Faraway region

tag: #the chromatic rw oc

that's it for now! thank you so much for reading this far! i really appreciate it :]

feel free to ask anything in my inbox or dms if you're interested

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onemeangreenbean · 9 months

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Anything Ch 1

SUMMARY: On the precipice of death Wynter does the only thing she can think to do to save herself. Something that is forbidden in her practice….to summon a demon and make a deal. The demon that answers her call ask what Wynter is offering and in her delirious state she answers with the only thing she can think of “Anything”.

PAIRING: Demon!Yoongi x BlackWitch OC

GENRE: Demon AU, Mystery, Strangers to Lovers, Soulmates, Smut, Fluff, Angst, slowburn

WARNINGS: violence, gore, murder (maybe), eventual smut, panic attacks, honestly my brain has stopped but promise each chapter with have individual warnings!

WORDCOUNT: 2,826 words

Previous | Next

Anything Masterlist | Masterlist

Wynter knew that she shouldn’t do it, but as she laid there in her tiny apartment she saw no other option. The poison from that bitch, Jiyeon, was fast acting and no one was coming to save her. Her own family on the other side of the world, why did she have to be so fucking stubborn. Something had felt off the whole day, from the time she woke up, through her shift at the bookstore. It was so off that she called her mommy and asked her what to do. “Baby, you know what to do,” her mommy sighed. “Do an egg cleansing when you get home and tell me what it says.”

Wynter never made it that far cause as soon as she walked in the door, her body all but collapsed on the floor. It was late at night and her apartment was pitch black, not even the moon shone through the heavy storm clouds. Water dripped off her curly hair and onto the floor as she tried to get her body to move.

She tried to breathe through the liquid fire running through her veins, making its way towards her brain. Gathering enough strength she started clawing her way across the floor, Wynter, reached up on her altar and grabbed the athame. “Fuck,” Wynter mummered more to herself than anyone. Tightening her trembling hold on the dagger she dug the blade into her wrist. It stung but it hurt considerably less then what was going on in the rest of her body.

How she had gotten herself into this predicament was beyond her, but she knew that if she got out of it she was going to make Jiyeon’s life a living hell. She hadn’t been in South Korea long and thought she had made a friend, which for Wynter was an accomplishment. Apparently, she had not made a friend. All she could picture was Jiyeon’s smiling face as she spoke to Wynter earlier that day about a spell she was excited about.

Rain pittered against the window as the monsoon progressively got worse outside. Wynter’s summoning circle was rudimentary, but with the way her body was beginning to give out it was the best she was going to get. As she chanted the invocation all she could do was hope that whatever demon came through was one of the good ones, or at the very least neutral. The air began to feel heavier as Wynter continued her chanting, stumbling over the Korean words as she tried to remain conscious. Rolling over onto her back she made sure to keep one hand in the circle, in order to maintain the connection.

The poison had made its way up to her chest constricting it to the point where all Wynter could do was gasp out the words. Her throat constricting; closing in on itself, her head pounding. She could feel the blood being pushed out of her orifices. Tears of red running down her face, as the taste of iron coated her mouth. It isn’t going to work. The heaviness in the air remained and wind began circling her, but no one appeared. If they were going to come they would’ve been here already. Wynter’s vision began to flicker in and out, blackness closing in around her.

“What do you want?” a deep voice growled above her. Her flickering gaze met a figure peering down at her.

“Please. Save. Me.” Wynter gasped out each word.

Yoongi crouched down in front of her. His black eyes drinking in her form on the brink of death. Very rarely was he called upon; never was it to save someone; never was it by a foreigner. Her brown skin was ashen and her eyes unfocused as her cloths clung to her sweat covered body. “What’s in it for me if I do save you?” He moved a curl out of her face so he could see her better.

Wynter’s brain tried in vain to form a coherent sentence, but all she could manage to squeak out was, “Anything.” Though the man was merely a pale blob in front of her now she tried to convey what she meant through her eyes. That she would give this demon anything, within reason, he wanted if he would just save her.

Normally, Yoongi, would leave her to die and go back home, though home was a loose interpretation, but as he threw a quick glance around her tiny home he could tell that she was powerful– it had took him longer than he liked to break through her protection wards and he was invited– and with the shit he got himself into he could use her later on. So with that in mind smirking down at her passed out form, Yoongi decided to save this strange witch.

Wynter’s body ached as she tried to get more comfortable in the softness of her bed. Her limbs felt as though someone had tried to rip them off of her body. A strange dream played in her head of her dying, and a demon saving her. She would have to ask her Nana about it when she got a chance. A demon! It would be a cold day in hell before her black ass called on a demon for help. “You’re awfully ungrateful for someone who was basically dead less than 5 hours ago,” a calm voice said from beside her.

Her eyes flew open and landed on the face of a man directly in front of her. An attractive man, but a strange man nonetheless. Dressed in all black his cat like eyes watched her with an expressionless face; black hair falling perfectly just under his brows. He looked like he could use a day out in the sun but that was the least of Wynter’s problems at the moment.

The man was sitting beside her bed like he had been watching her sleep. She tried not to let her mind linger on the fact that she was in her sleep shorts and a t-shirt, when she had been in her work cloths when she got home, which only meant one thing…Wynter’s stomach rolled and she rushed out of bed and into the bathroom slamming the door behind her. As she emptied her stomach contents out she tried to understand what was happening. Once she was done she looked down at the black liquid that filled the toilet, a death curse, and a nasty one at that. What the fuck. She rinsed her mouth out and splashed cold water on her face and neck trying to calm down. No no no no, she would never summon a demon. Not only was it forbidden to use dark magic, but also her mommy was going to kill her.

“Sorry to break the news to you but you did, in fact, summon a demon.” The deep voice had the nerve to sound amused that Wynter was going through a moral crisis. A crisis that was shaking the very foundation of her practice! She stared at her reflection trying to come up with a game plan. It seemed as though her bronze skin had regained some of its color, but her hair was a mess. She tugged and manipulated her curls until they sat in a puff on top of her head. Wynter couldn’t have summoned a demon, for all intents and purposes a demon shouldn’t have even been able to get past her protection wards, unless…..FUCK! She did summon it but she literally had nothing to offer the thing.

Yoongi was waiting as patiently as he could on the other side of the bathroom door, trying his best to keep up with the flurry of unfamiliar words racing through her head. He was beginning to get highly annoyed– not only at himself for not being able to understand her thoughts, but also at her for making him wait– when the door ripped open and she was standing in front of him. Her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “What did I offer you?” Her large brown eyes looked up at him as she tried to read his expression, which much to her dismay was cold and distant.

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

They stared at each other silently as Wynter tried to process what he had just said, why would she offer something so stupid. “Would you like some coffee?” The question shocked Yoongi as much as it did Wynter, but she needed caffeine if she was going to figure out this pile of shit she, no correction, Jiyeon, had gotten her into.

Wynter walked off before Yoongi could answer, leaving him to question if he had heard her correctly or not. When he saw her preparing the coffee and taking down two mugs from the cabinet, he made his way over to the counter. For the most part she prepared the coffee in silence before handing him a mug with some cartoon character on it. Yoongi stared down into the steaming coffee, trying to remember the last time he had an actual drink. He studied her profile as she looked out the kitchen window and at the city while she sipped her coffee. The dull pink hues of the sunrise painted her skin a pretty shade of brown, a shade that Yoongi was having a hard time pinning down. Her hair up in a bun with her dark curls spilling out every which way; her full lips perched on the rim of the mug in contemplation.

Wynter turned towards the demon in her studio apartment and took in a deep breath as she tried to steady her thoughts. She wasn’t expecting to be met with his feline-like eyes intensely staring at her. His black hair falling into his face as he cocked his head to the side, unabashedly, studying her. Wynter’s gaze flickered slightly over to the vertical scar going across his eye. His black t-shirt and pants contrasting nicely on his pale skin. Wynter cleared her throat and looked away as she tried to remember what she was going to say. “Since I was stupid enough to offer you anything, what do you want?”

It was the question that had been swirling around in her head since he had first told Wynter what she offered him. He could probably ask for the most ridiculous thing and Wynter would be beholden to give it to him. Yoongi took a sip of his coffee as he pondered his answer. He hummed in appreciation at the taste. He needed her for the power she could give him and while he could very easily ask for that, it was a power he had absolutely no knowledge of and therefore was useless in his hands. So, he asked for the only thing he could, “Your soul.”

The tension in a tiny kitchen weighed heavy on Wynter as she tried to process what he had just asked. Her soul? A laugh escaped from her lips before she could stop it. To be quite honest she didn’t even know why she was laughing beside it being some sort of fucked up trauma response. Yoongi just stared at her, his eyes widened slightly in disbelief. “I’m sorry. Did I say something funny?”

Wynter’s laugh died down to a chuckle as she tried to hold it in seeing Yoongi’s face start to contort at her sheer audacity. “I’m sorry for laughing. I just don’t know how to respond to that. I mean a demon asking for my soul, while wildly disconcerting, is also very cliche don’t you think?” The fact that this was even happening at all was one for the books to Wynter, but at this point all she could do was accept it and go with the flow. She had no doubt that she could probably find a loophole somewhere but now wasn’t the time for it.

“Cliche? You think my request for payment for saving your little life is cliche?” Yoongi slammed the mug down on the counter causing a small crack to appear. At that she stopped laughing, a sound that Yoongi instantly missed but pushed to the back of his mind. “The only reason I asked for you pitiful soul is because it’s more beneficial to enslave you for all entirety instead of snuffing out your pathetic life for your power.” Yoongi stalked towards her until her back hit the counter. Her eyes wide as she stared back up at him, the smallest flicker of fear dancing in them.

“When would you like payment?” Her voice wobbled a bit as she tried to check her own fear. Wynter honestly didn’t mean to laugh but with the absurdity of the whole situation it was her body's only response. Here she was after being cursed in the middle of her small studio apartment kitchen with a demon telling her he wanted her soul. Absurd!

“5 years.” Yoongi’s voice had leveled back out to a tone of calm indifference. His face as apathetic as before.

“That’s an oddly specific time to wait,” Wynter scoffed, crossing her arms. “Why not just collect now?”

“Would you rather me collect it now?”

“No. I’d rather you collect it never, but I’m just wondering why the time frame?” Wynter knew that demons only took long term contracts when something big was in it for them, and they never turned down an easy payday, such as a one time request.

Yoongi closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Her questions were as aggravating as her small attitude, but he could see that she wasn’t going to move on from the topic. “Who the fuck complains that they’re given more time to keep their soul?”

“I’m not–”

“You are. Quite honestly you have a spiritual gift I have never seen before and I want it, but it’s not fully developed yet. I need time to cultivate it; to bring it, and in turn you, up to its full potential.” Yoongi waited for a response but she kind of just stood there with a dumbfounded look on her pretty face.

“So,” she took a deep breath and quirked an eyebrow. “You want to mentor me for 5 years and then basically make me work for you for all eternity?” Wynter spoke slowly in order to make sure she was getting all the facts of the situation correct. How did he even know what her gift was, let alone that she was trying to perfect it? On top of that, what the hell could he even want it for?

“Basically. Now are we done playing 20 questions?” He scratched the side of his face as he averted his gaze. Yoongi didn’t realize how close he had gotten to her, barely a finger width apart. She looked up at him with an unreadable look in her doe eyes, her breathing deep and slow like she was trying to calm down.

Which for the most part Wynter was cause she could feel the demonic energy rolling off of him in waves and she was having problems deflecting it since he was so close. Normally, she would just tell him to back up, but he had pushed her into the corner of her L-shape counter and he frankly terrified her. He wasn’t even looking at her and he terrified her. He had such a calmness about him that it was eerie, like he was actively maintaining control over himself at all times, and her Granny always told her to be wary of those types of folks. Wynter opted to clear her throat to continue, “So, I’ll see you in 5 years then?”

Yoongi whipped his head back to lock eyes with her once again. Smirking, he placed his hand on either side of her body on the counter and leaned in. His face merely inches from hers, “Gongjunim, do you think I’m really going to leave you alone after someone just tried to kill you. You’re stuck with me for the next 5 years so I can protect my investment.” Her pulse point beating erratically on her neck was Yoongi’s only indication that she was nervous.

“O-okay. Um, last question then.” Wynter’s mind raced as she tried to gather her wits about her. Her mind had made the executive decision to stop working when he called her gongjunim and leaned in. She didn’t know what gongjunim meant but whatever it sounded like it meant made her heart flutter and quite honestly, fuck that. So she wetted her dry lips, sucked in a shaky breath and let out a stable one, not missing the way that his dark gaze drifted to her lips before coming back up. “Since you are staying, do you mind telling me your name? It seems stupid to have to refer to you a “the demon” or “you” for 5 years.”

Yoongi chuckled and pulled away from her, finally giving her some breathing room. “Yoongi. Yours?”

“Wynter.”

#bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #yoongi x black reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #bts x black girl #bts x oc

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cookieeevee · 7 months

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Hello Yellow and Welcome People!!

Most people tend to call me Cookie or Cookieeevee because of my blog name, but call me Alice! I use the pronouns She/Her and They/Them (I don't mind which one you use)

I am Aroace and a Minor! ! !

I am into Rain World, OneShot, Pokemon, Warrior Cats, Kirby, Sonic, Pikmin, Ori, Chicory: a colorful tale, Steven universe, MHA, Epic Mickey, and many more

You can ask me anything, I'd love to chat with you all (Ask about ADH au or ask Lily if u want too)

Art requests are always welcomed :D

My designs of the slugcats and Iterators My Rain world OCs My other OCs

Side blogs of mine:

Cookie: @ask-cookieeevee03

Madge: rainworld-starsandclouds023

Droplet (Old, should probably reboot at some point): rainworld-ask-the-medic

SOES: rainworld-lifeisendless230

Slugcat's: rainworld-cycle-of-slugcats

just doodle/art blog: mossy-doodles85

Silly adventurers of my plush's (feel free to send me art in Messages of the sillys if you want, I will post it and credit u, if u want :3)

you can draw for me if ya want

Amazing Friends Of Mine!: @rainworld-obsessed-cat-reborn (One of my first tumblr friends! Probably one of my closes friends here! They are really silly and has great art! I thought I'd never see them again once their main blog got deleted... I'm very glad they're back now. I care for them with the might of a 1000 suns and always wish for the best of them! I'll always have their back, no matter what <3) @stargazer0001 (A great friend, who I really care for! One of the first people I go to talk to about silly ideas and aus of mine. They're art is a joy to see and our silly chats we had before were really fun! Thanks for being there for me <3)

@southparkau00 (MY FIRST TUMBLR FRIEND! They helped me a lot when I was new to Tumblr, lots of love to them! They have been off for so long I thought they left, they didn't and I'm so glad.) @critter2 (Super silly bud that I met because of Star! Their art is amazing and its always a blast to be around them! Sadly they aren't on often so that kinda sucks... ALSO THEY ARE WHOLESOME WHEREVER THEY THINK/KNOW THAT OR NOT!!!!) @lanternlightsovercloudyskies (I've actually never checked if we're friends or not, but see her as one! Cute silly art that a joy to see, and shes super wholesome in my opinion! I always hope for the best for her!) @bananacat76 (My silly great friend! They're super cool and wholesome, all things I wish to be. They've let me add their RW persona, Banana cat, to my RW AU and even let me make Banana Cat Enot's sibling! Lots of hugs to them! A joy see and a gift to be around ^^) @rcranger (THIS SUPER AMAZING AND COOL PERSON IS MY FRIEND!!! Hes made super cute and silly art that is a joy to see and always puts a smile on my face! Cherry has been a super great person and he need MORE LOVE so go check him out and give him some love!!)

@puffstarss (I'm pretty sure we're friends, at least to me she is! Puffs is probably one of the most kind people here! She's a big UT and UTY fan and is the owner of The Undertale Yellow Runaway Route AU! If your a fan of UTY aus and stuff be sure you check out her blog! also I will die for them like all friends of mine)

Random things about me: My favorite colors are mint green and lavender I want to write but am too scared to put it online and I get writers block a lot... I wish people would ask me more things (on any of my blogs)... My IRL friend group and I do a lot of dark humour I draw all the time, in class, at lunch, at home, in the car, and many other places Cream is my favorite Sonic character I my 3rd favorite Sonic character is Chris from Sonic X, FIGHT ME ON IT I have four brothers and no sisters... I have many AUs which I will probably never tell anyone about because I am scared of doing that Rain world brain rot I REALLY want to play SA2 just because of the chao garden Undertale Yellow fan! I'VE DODGED DEATH!!!! If you want to be friends with me, just ask. Cuz I'm probably not gonna ask you that and I'm always happy to have more friends I need help

#pinned post #silly thing #silly chat #silly friends #me #echo #star #shroom #lamp #banana #cherry #puffs #OC #my doodles

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

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Ivy & Stone, Chapter Nine: Lady Maribel’s Wedding

pairing: victorian au!javi gutierrez x f!oc (Florence Bell)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, love triangle angst, javi being bad for once, noncon-exhibitionism, unprotected piv, florence being a young fool in love)

wc: 3.7k

an: y’all aren’t ready for the dramaaaaaa in this one. don’t kill me pls i had to give javi a flaw 😭

series masterlist

Two months had passed since the night of Benjamin and Maribel’s engagement dinner, the bleak January rain and frost turning into a soft March drizzle, the flowers blooming in the countryside as Florence and Javi’s carriage trotted along the dirt road.

Javier sat in front of her, his eyes focused on his sketchbook as he busied himself with a portrait for the bride and bridegroom. Florence watched him rather closely, intent on taking him in while she was free of the distractions she knew waited for her at home.

To say things had gone back to their previous state would’ve been a lie. Javi struggled with loving his bride-to-be, or more accurately, with trusting her. It broke her to see him fight such a war internally, all because she chose to follow her body’s urges and allow herself to give in to her heart’s deepest desire.

She wished she could say she’d forgotten about Frankie, that she didn’t still yearn for him, but it wasn’t true. In fact, not a day passed without his image crossing her mind. She wondered how he was faring, how all of this weighed on his soul. At least she had a partner to bear it with, a person to love her in the spaces in between. Frankie was all alone, with nothing and no one to confide in besides his journal and the garden he tended to. She longed to apologize to him, to ask his forgiveness for treating him as nothing more than an affair when he couldn’t have been further from it. But she knew him far too well to think that he would accept that apology as anything more than an insult to their love. Besides, Javi had laid his terms out clearly and plainly—she wasn’t to see or speak to Frankie, unless of course she was choosing him.

She wasn’t sure she was ready for such a commitment. To lose Javi would not only mean losing a fiancé, it would mean losing her dearest friend and closest confidant. She couldn’t bear such a thought.

“How is it coming, my love?” Florence asked, pulling Javi’s eyes away from his work. He gave her that bright, boyish smile that soothed every ache in her chest and moved to sit beside her, showing her the half-completed sketch. “Oh, it’s lovely, Javi! Mari is going to adore it.”

“Thank you,” he replied, blushing as he tucked the sketchbook away. He grabbed both of her gloved hands and ran his fingers over her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers and lips parted to speak. “I…wanted to ask how you’re feeling…being back here.”

Florence sucked in a sharp breath and dropped her eyes to her lap where their hands remained clasped together. “I’m feeling…okay.”

“That wasn’t very believable,” he chuckled. “Please, I want your honesty.”

“Well,” she began with a sigh. “Honestly…I’m nervous. Very nervous. Not only because of…” She couldn’t manage the courage to say Frankie’s name but Javi understood her regardless. “But also to see my mother after everything. I worry she’s going to fawn over you every second, and I hate that. You’re not some prize for her to parade about to all her friends at court. You’re going to be my husband—you’re my prize.”

“Mi amor—” He grinned, reaching to tuck one of her chocolate ringlets behind her ear. “I assure you, I will be glued to your side the entirety of the week. Your mother will have to pry me from you to parade me about.”

Florence chuckled and nodded, attempting to calm her worries.

“And then,” he continued. “We will be off to Majorca to be wed. Then we’ll spend the next year traveling the world together, just me and you.”

“The whole world?” she chuckled, her finger tracing the curve of his bottom lip. Javi grabbed the hand that was lifted to his face and pressed a kiss onto her wrist.

“Anywhere you want to go, Florecita,” he hummed, his eyes batting shut as he breathed in her perfume. “I want to see everything in the world with you, my muse. I want to do everything in the world with you.”

“Let’s go to Paris after we’re married,” she grinned, now filled with excitement from the romantic scenes her lover had painted for her. “I want to see where you lived, what you did, what inspired you.”

“The countryside only,” he said, his face turning grave. “That’s the only part I want to revisit. Everything else—I don’t want it near you.”

“Can’t I decide that for myself?” Florence asked, her brows lacing together, that sickly sweet excitement simmering into something closer to irritation. “You got the chance to decide for yourself what you got to see and do. Why can’t I?”

“Because you’re my bride and I want better for you—“

“Because I’m your bride?” she scoffed and pulled her hand from his. “I am supposed to be your lover. Your confidant. Your equal.”

“You are—“

“No,” she shook her head and gestured at him. “We’re not even wed yet and you’re determining what parts of the world you’ll allow me to see!”

“There’s nothing for you in those parts of the world, Florecita. All I am trying to do is keep you safe—“

“Javi, you got to live a full life simply because you have a cock,” she said, turning to him with a stern, unimpressed look. “I want a full life. I want a full life beside you. But I do not want a life sheltered from the storms you decide I cannot weather. Do you understand me on this?”

“I do,” he sighed, reaching for your chin. “I love when you’re stern with me.”

“Do you?” she smirked.

“I love when you’re anyway with me,” he smiled. “But there’s something about you telling me off that sparks something inside me.”

“That’s good to know,” she grinned and kissed him.

“Frankie!” Leo called, running across the slowly thawing garden with a wide grin on his face. “Frankie, Florence is on her way!”

Frankie sighed to himself as he raked up all the soggy dead leaves from the winter season.

“Yes, I know,” he replied, dejected.

“You aren’t happy?” the child asked, tilting his head at his friend.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Leo,” he said, pausing his work to look at the boy. “Of course I’m happy, but—”

“Lord Javier,” he interjected, earning a nod. “I do not mind Javier. Of course, I’d prefer it if you were marrying Flo, but my mother has told me that’s not possible. Why isn’t it possible?”

“I’m just not as wealthy as they’d like,” he replied, shrugging. “And truth be told, I do not mind Javier either. He seems to be a good man.”

“But he’s not you.”

“Perhaps that’s a good thing.” Picking up his work again, he moved further down the shrub he was manicuring and began taking a new pile. “The last time they were here together they seemed happy. She seemed…happy.”

His mind flipped back to the night in his cabin, the night she’d given herself back to him while her intended was back in London. He hadn’t gotten the image of her asleep in his arms out of his mind since then—a cruel, but welcome torment.

“I overheard my father talking about your departure,” Leo started again, watching as Frankie raked the leaves.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“How long will you be gone? And why does it have to be so far away?”

Frankie sighed again, trying to tame his frustration over the subject as he looked to the little boy.

“I will be gone as long as I’m told,” he said. “And the further away I am, the less chance your sister will have of seeing me.”

“Why can’t the two of you be allowed to see each other? Surely she’s allowed to have a friend, even in marriage.”

Frankie chuckled and shook his head.

“There is no universe, no reality that exists in which your sister and I can ever be friends. Your parents know this well.”

Leo frowned and looked down at the grass. “My parents must not see the bond between the two of you. I don’t know how they could be so cruel.”

“They’re not,” Frankie assured, reaching to pat Leo on the shoulder. “They’re only looking out for Florence’s best interest. I do not fault them for that.”

“Leo!” Lady Elizabeth called from the house. “Come inside for your bath!”

“Yes, mum!” he called back before turning to Frankie. “For what it’s worth, you will always be family to me, Mr. Frankie.”

Frankie couldn’t help but smile at that, watching the young boy as he ran off to his mother who was shooting daggers towards her gardener. Frankie looked away quickly, knowing his delicate position in this family well.

He wouldn’t have said yes to Lord Thomas’s proposition for him to move to America if Florence was still here, ready to run away with him and start a new life, away from all of this high society nonsense. But she wasn’t. She was still promised to someone else, and last he overheard, a date had been officially set. So, with nothing left to lose, he agreed to the terms. He’d leave England and Florence and move to New York to have a new life, one better than most who come from a similar background. He’d have his own home, his own land, and a job working for Florence’s uncle, James.

He had to remind himself every hour that this was a good deal, but he couldn’t help but still feel like he lost.

“Mari!” Florence chirped as she stepped out of the carriage with Javi’s hand steadying her, the sight of her soon-to-be sister in law distracting her from the looming thought of Frankie just a few miles away.

“Flo,” Maribel hummed as she hugged Florence close. “How was the ride?”

“It was lovely,” she replied, turning to look at Javi as he stood beside her. “I had good company.”

“She had great company,” he corrected with a smirk and a teasing bump of his shoulder against hers.

“Where’s Benjamin?” Florence asked.

“He’s at your family’s home,” she replied. “They should be arriving anytime. Your entire staff is already here working on the dinner.”

“The entire staff?” Florence asks, anxiety thick in her voice at the thought of coming face to face with Frankie after everything.

“I think so.”

Florence doesn’t fail to notice the way Javi’s smile is wiped away when she looks at him, his eyes locked on his shoes, his jaw clenched.

“Well,” Florence exhales and forces a smile on her face as she looks back to Maribel. “Shall we head inside?”

“Yes, you both must be so tired after riding all afternoon. Let me show you to your rooms—“ She smiled as she led the two of them up the steps to the palace, turning back to give them a smirk. “Tio insisted on separate bedrooms, primo.”

“Por supuesto,” Javi sighed, heavily ladened with the thought of interacting with his father again. Florence sensed the worry and slid her hand into his, only for him to pull his hand away and tuck it into his pocket.

Florence could feel her concern growing into irritation at the way he closed himself off from her, especially when she had yet to do anything wrong. All it took was the potential of her even thinking of Frankie for him to give her the cold shoulder. She wondered if it would be like this forever, Javi’s insecurity leaving her unable to have even the simple luxury of her own thoughts.

She hoped not.

“Aren’t you coming?” Anna asked Frankie as he stood at the carriage, helping the family as they headed out for the evening ceremony and reception.

“No,” he said simply. “I was told to remain here to look over the estate.”

“Nonsense,” Anna said, an appalled look on her face as she looked to her mother and father. “Allow Frankie to come.”

“No,” Lady Elizabeth replied, shocked at her daughter’s order.

“Well, I am not going, then,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Anna, get in the carriage,” Lord Thomas ordered, his voice demanding obedience in a way that his wife’s couldn’t. Anna sighed, knowing she had no choice but to follow the order. She turned to Frankie and frowned.

“I will bring you back some dessert,” she promised, delighting at the faint smile that grew on his face. “Perhaps they’ll have lemon tarts. I know they’re your favorite.”

“How did you know that?” he asked, but Lady Elizabeth’s bark for her daughter to get in the carriage left the question unanswered. With another smile, the seventeen year old climbed inside the carriage, Frankie closing the door behind her.

He watched as the family rode off, leaving him alone on the property for the first time in his life. There were no servants to keep him company, no tasks to complete. He was ordered into solitude, and he couldn’t have hated it more.

The ceremony was a lovely, candlelit scene. It was clear that Benjamin and Maribel were as in love as it got, but the row between Javi and Florence dampened the romance of it all for the couple who hadn’t spoken since they arrived.

Once the ceremony had concluded, Javi turned to Florence, admiring the way she sparkled in her gown and makeup, and felt unable to continue this silent treatment he’d been giving her since he saw her eyes light up with hope over the thought of Frankie being here, even when he knew fully well that the Bell men had purposely arranged for Frankie to remain at the estate.

“To the garden, then?” Florence asked in an exhale, her eyes meeting his for the first time all afternoon. He smiled and shook his head, the desire to get her all alone and claim her as his for the first time outweighing the desire to stay at the party. “No?”

“No,” he smirked as he combed a stray ringlet out of her face. “Do you trust me, Florecita?”

She tilted her head at him and let out a chuckle. “What are you planning? An apology?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching to hold her hands. “I was jealous. And insecure. But, I know you love me. I know you wouldn’t hurt me again. I know that.”

“Good, because it’s the truth.” She lifted her hand to rest on his cheek, loving the way he leaned into it.

“I‘ve been thinking about the fact that you and I have yet to…give ourselves completely to one another,” he said, nerves causing his voice to waver. “I wanted to wait—to do it right, but…I can’t wait any longer. I want you, my love. I want you right now.”

“There’s too many people here,” she blushed.

“I know a place where we can be alone,” he smirked.

“My family home?” she asked, giggling at the mischief of it all. “Are you sure we won’t be caught?”

Javi knew he was crossing a moral line by lying to her and assuring her that no one was there to find them, knowing fully well that Frankie would be on the grounds, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wanted Frankie to walk in. He wanted him to see that she was no longer his. He wanted to claim her in front of the only person that mattered.

“No,” he said. “There’s no one there.”

Florence bit her lip, thrilled by the plan, and nodded. “Then let’s hurry.”

The estate was quiet as Frankie sat in the greenhouse tinkering with a broken rake that was in desperate need of fixing. It wasn’t until he heard the crunch of wheels on gravel that he lifted his head up from his work, his brows furrowed in confusion. Lord Thomas made it clear that the family would be staying over at the Gutierrez palace tonight, so who could possibly be arriving?

Setting his tools down, he wiped his hands on a spare cloth before walking through the dark garden to the front of the home to get a glimpse of the carriage, noticing that it wasn’t one that belonged to the family as far as he could recall. His eyes caught a glimpse of candlelight in the window as the mysterious guest ascended the staircase to the second story, causing his heart to race as he sought out a weapon he could use to defend himself if someone was attempting a burglary. Running into his tool shed, he found an ax that he desperately hoped would only have to serve as a means for intimidation and carried it with him as he entered through the back door.

Florence and Javi were all giggles and hands as they clumsily made their way to her bedroom, Javi nearly dropping the candlestick he was carrying a few times when Florence got too handsy.

“My love,” she hummed as they stood in the middle of her childhood room, grabbing the candlestick from his hands and setting it on her nightstand before returning her hands to his face. “I want you so badly.”

“You can have me, Florecita,” he whispered, pulling her into his body to kiss her harder than he’d ever kissed her before. She moaned into his mouth at the promise and reached to unbutton his vest and dress shirt while he skillfully undid her corset without ever breaking the kiss. Florence grinned as she moved away from him to let her dress and skirts fall to the floor, leaving her in only her undergarments. Javi nearly broke at the sight, his pants tenting with the evidence of her arousal as he watched her step out of her thin slip, exposing herself to him completely now.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, reaching a hand up to cup her breast, his thumb stroking over the stiffened peak before he was hurrying to take his pants off. “I promise, mi amor, I will eat you like you’re my last meal after we’re done, but I need you now.”

“I need you too,” she replied as she watched his pants drop to unveil his cock to her for the first time ever. “You’re so big,” she hummed.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, his eyes dark with hunger as he watched her obey. When she positioned herself on all fours for him, he smirked. “That’s how you want it, mi vida?”

“Mmhm,” she nodded, looking back at him with a smile that made him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the head. Javi could barely contain his excitement as he lined himself up behind her, pumping his cock as he swiped it up and down her wetness until she was begging for him. “Javi, please.”

“Louder,” he ordered, hoping that if his plan was succeeding, there would already be someone right outside the door.

“Javi, please! I need you,” she was whining now, desperate for a taste of the forbidden fruit she adored so much.

“Tell me you love me,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Tell me I’m the only one.”

“You’re the only one. I love you more than anything,” she cried, wiggling her ass at him. Javi smiled and bit his lip as he pressed inside of her slick heat, the couple moaning in unison at the tight fit. “You feel so good!”

A loud clank in the doorway made Florence gasp and freeze, the sight of Frankie standing there watching them, listening to the words only Javi was meant to hear making her heart break. Frankie held a tear in his eye as he looked at her only once before turning and rushing down the hall.

Javi was surprised to feel Florence pushing him off of her before scrambling to find her slip dress and shoes to chase after Frankie rather than stay here with him.

“Florence—“

“No!” she shouted, pointing a finger at him. “You knew. You knew he’d be here, you knew he’d come looking. You knew.”

“I just wanted to—“

“To what? To claim me? Javi,” she sighed and shook her head. “I may love you but I do not like you at all sometimes.”

“Florecita—“ His heart was breaking all because of his own jealousy and he hated himself for it. “Please…don’t chase him. Don’t…choose him.”

Florence stood there, looking more confused than she’d ever been before as she battled a war of her heart and mind. She desperately wanted to chase after Frankie, to hold him, to apologize to him, to…run away with him. But would he even let her? Could he even look at her?

“It is going to take a very long time for me to forgive you for this, you do know that?” she asked, seemingly deciding against chasing after her former lover. Javier nodded. “You ruined our first night together over jealousy. Every time we’re together like this, I am going to think of this moment. Of how you betrayed me and exposed me. Do you know that?”

“I’m so…so sorry,” he said, climbing out of bed to kneel at her feet. “I told you I wasn’t always good. Not the good that you see in me, at least. This was just another thing that I regret, achingly. I beg you for your forgiveness, but I know it will take much more than a few pitiful words to earn it. Please…let me earn it.”

Florence stared down at the man she considered a best friend, seeing the truth of his regret in his eyes. Though she still felt sick with fury and resentment, she found herself nodding, unable to stop herself from loving him like her mind told her she should.

“But we will not be getting married next month,” she said simply. “I need time to forgive you before I commit my life to you.”

“Yes, my love. Anything you ask,” he said.

“And we will go to Paris. We will visit every place you’ve been, we will meet every friend you have. And then, perhaps I’ll get to meet the real you. The hidden you I’ve met tonight.”

Javier seemed to panic at the thought of his worlds colliding, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to marry a man she didn’t know completely and entirely.

“Okay,” he finally managed.

“Okay.” And however messy and complicated, they decided to carry on, with neither of them changing a single bit.

•

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #ivy & stone #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales angst #frankie morales x oc #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javi g fic #javi g fanfiction #javi g smut #javi g x oc #javi g fluff #javi gutiérrez x oc #javi gutierrez

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itsbeeble · 1 year

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Merry Bad Ending

Summary: He'd been sent to protect you, to guide you, and keep you on the path the fates had set for you. He knew he couldn't get involved with you, it went against everything he was taught. But he can't help it, can't help but love you no matter the consequences.

Genre: Angst, fluff, Guardian Angel!au, Soulmate!au

Pairing: Lee Hyunjae x fem!reader (feat. oc, Eric, Sunwoo, Sangyeon, and I think that's it)

WC: 8.5k (I'm sorry)

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

Warnings: mentions of religion (mainly Christianity); hurt and kinda comfort; age gap (I'm sorry. Reader will be 24 and Hyunjae will appear 25 but is actually a couple thousand years old); major character death; illness; honestly there isn’t a ton of romance it’s just kinda sad (there will still be some); mentions of death; violence; minor injuries; threats of death (Hyunjae gets violent); illness (LOTS OF IT); alcohol mentions and consumption; Idk let me know if I missed something; brief mentions of kind of bad home life; rude friends; swearing; MINORS DNI 18+

Listen to Merry Bad Ending by The Boyz if you want idk

A/N: yall i'm sorry this took so long and I'm sorry if it isn't my best work. I didn't really wanna do anything too romantic for this one, so there's no spice this time bjghsugs. I hope you enjoy it either way!

Hyunjae remembered when he was first assigned to you. You were both young— at least, you were. You’d been seven at the time, young, curious, and ready to learn about all the cruel things the world could throw at you. He’d appeared to you in the form of a 25-year-old man. Tall, fluffy brown hair, and a pretty face. He looked so young, and he enjoyed the attention that was drawn to him. He enjoyed seeing the human population watch this young man walk by in black clothes, soaked by the rain as if he hadn’t a care in the world. They weren’t aware of who he was. They didn’t know that he couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t get sick from the rain that was slowly falling from the clouds above them. It always rained when a Guardian began their assignment. Some religions take the rain as a sign that God is angry with them, but only a few know the truth.

This storm is a goodbye, as the angels will not see their Father or their brethren for a long time. Not until their assignment is fulfilled. Nobody knows where they will be until they are finished. No one except for their Father. Hyunjae hadn’t seen his brother, Sangyeon, in over 600 years. He has no idea where he is, and no idea if he is alive. All he knows is that he is assigned to a bloodline and that he has to care for them all until there is no one left. That can take anywhere from 100 to 1,000 years.

A crack of thunder overhead.

Children run to their yelling parents as rain begins to pour down.

He walks slowly, watching you in your little violet jacket and black rain boots. You sit on the mulch, playing with trucks and ignoring the way your little body is shaking from the cold. Hyunjae sniffs, pushing his sopping wet hair behind his ear as he opens the umbrella in his hand and holds it over you. You don’t notice at first, so focused on that old, yellow toy truck that was covered in stains and rain and all sorts of things that would have your parents yelling for you to put the toy down and play on the swings.

Parents. That’s right. Your parents. They should be here with you, why aren’t they here with you?

“Who are you?” You’re looking at him now, big eyes full of curiosity and caution. Good. Your parents at least taught you not to trust strangers you meet on the street.

Hyunjae takes a moment to think. Should he introduce himself yet? Should he tell you his human name or the name his Father gave him?

“My name is Hyunjae,” he flashes a smile at you. Angelic, stunning, everything an angel should be. Your mouth parts in awe. That dopey little lip part that children get when they’re stunned by something. “What are you doing out here all on your own, little bug?”

“I’m waiting for my mommy. She said she would be here soon!” You smile brightly and continue playing with the truck. Hyunjae frowns.

“When was that?” You shrug.

“I dunno. Before school.”

“And…when was school?” You scowl at him.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Mister Hyunjae.” Your lack of trust is amusing. Hyunjae crouches down, making sure that the umbrella stays over your head.

“You don’t ask enough, little bug.”

“Why are you calling me a bug?” You turn towards him finally, crossing your legs and folding your hands neatly on your lap. “Bugs are gross, Mister.” He laughs and you crack a smile.

“Bugs aren’t gross, silly.” He lifts his arms, his hand palm-side down. When he flips his hand over, there’s a butterfly on his fingers, fluttering its wings and waiting to fly. “At least, not all of them. This butterfly is fairly beautiful, don’t you think?”

Your eyes are wide with amazement, and he watches you try to do what he did.

“How did you do that!?” You cry. “That’s so cool!”

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you, little bug.” He pats your head, and you beam at him. The butterfly drifts from his finger, and Hyunjae shifts so you can’t see the small, beautiful creature struggle to reach the large oak tree behind you.

You’re nine now. Two years, and yet somehow he’s never seen your parents. He’s watched every day as you leave your house and trudge down the busy sidewalk to get to your school two miles away. He walks where no one can see him except you, and he watches you look at him out of the corner of your eyes. Hyunjae sees the curiosity and the annoyance whenever you see him, and it couldn’t make him more amused.

“Why are you always following me?” You ask him one day. He’s standing beside you while you swing, giving you a little push here and there. People can see him now, and the mothers are cooing about what a nice young man, playing with his niece. He rolls his eyes at them.

“I’m not following you. You just happen to be going everywhere I need to be.”

“Are you sure? And why haven’t you changed at all?” You ask him. He just smiles. “And also, why couldn’t anybody see you when we were at school? I was talking to you and Eric and he thought I was crazy for some reason.” You stop your swing and kick the dirt with a pout. Hyunjae crouches beside you and puts his finger under your chin to lift your head. There are tears in your eyes, and he frowns at that.

“Why are you crying, little bug?” You don’t speak at first, your lip trembling and your eyes shining. Hyunjae lifts his hand, and when he flips it over there’s a butterfly. A monarch, just like the last time. He holds his hand out for you to hold the small insect, but you just start sobbing. The butterfly, now startled, flutters off toward the road. He watches as a car zips by the poor creature, and he doesn’t see it fly away. When he looks back at you, you’re trying to wipe your tears.

They don’t stop, and he wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you in for a tight hug that you find yourself returning. He feels you shaking against him, feels the tears starting to soak into his crisp black button-down shirt.

“Y/N,” he says your name in a quiet yet stern voice. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” You sniffle against his chest and he sighs.

“I don’t wanna die like mommy.” His body goes rigid and you pull away from him.

“What did you say?” He breathes out.

“I don’t wa-wanna d-die like m-mommy.” You hiccup and Hyunjae’s eyes become dark with an emotion you haven’t seen before, and he can only pray to his Father that you never have to.

“You aren’t going to, little bug.” He promises. “Not if I can help it.”

That night he speaks to his Father. He finds himself alone in the park, sitting on the same swing you had when you spoke to him.

I don’t wanna die like mommy.

You’d been so afraid when you said that, and he couldn’t help the twinge in his heart. Sometimes it was hard to be a Guardian. You weren’t allowed to stop the fate of your assignment. You weren’t allowed to change details. You could only sit and watch and turn your eyes away when things got bad. Most angels turned their emotions off like a switch, only acting as if they cared for their assignments until it was done.

Hyunjae couldn’t do that. He had promised Sangyeon that, no matter the cost, he wouldn’t turn them off. He intended to keep that promise.

“You asked to see me.”

A voice around him. Not in front, or behind, or on either side. It surrounds him as if it was the water in a lake he’d submerged himself in. He flinches at the sound but doesn’t raise his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Father.” No response, so Hyunjae continues. “Why didn’t you tell me anything about my assignment?”

“You knew everything you needed to know about the girl. Nothing else matters.”

“She’s only a child, and she’s terrified of dying like her mother. How can that be what the fates have intended for her?” Hyunjae keeps his voice level, but his hands are beginning to shake with anger.

“Are you questioning your abilities to continue this assignment?”

“No, Father.” Hyunjae shakes his head and sighs. “I’m just…I want to understand why you did this.” There’s a warm feeling across his shoulders, and he feels his body beginning to relax. There’s a comfort in his Father’s shadowy embrace, one that he cherishes no matter what he feels for Him.

“You will understand when you are both ready. For now, proceed as you were. There is still time.” Hyunjae’s eyebrows knit together and he raises his head at last. The warm embrace has vanished, along with the overwhelming presence that had accompanied it.

“The hell do you mean there’s still time?” He mutters, rising to his feet and taking a few steps forward. “Time for what?”

Hyunjae watches as you celebrate your sixteenth birthday with a few of your close friends. There’s a smile on your face while you cut the cake and open presents, but he can see something weighing on you. He can see the emotions rolling off of you in waves, even when you smile brightly at him.

A storm rages outside your house, and Hyunjae can only imagine what is happening in the heavens above him.

“Are you two dating?” He hears one of your friends ask, but you vehemently deny it. You claim that he’s far too old for you, that he’s just a family friend that’s in town for a while. One of your friends side-eyes him and he raises an eyebrow. He does admit that, in his black attire, he does look mildly intimidating. He understands where she’s coming from and why she’d be suspicious of him.

Hyunjae doesn’t acknowledge her otherwise, keeping his narrowed eyes on you for the rest of the night. As a Guardian, he should be able to gauge some idea of what you’re thinking and feeling. He should be able to gauge your health status, whether you’re sick or not. He senses nothing from you.

He senses nothing and that’s terrifying.

“You okay, man?” Eric is beside him, gazing curiously at the older man that he’s almost positive hasn’t aged a day in seven years. He’s the same height, has the same broad shoulders and chiseled jaw, and his eyes haven’t formed the wrinkled lines many 30-something-year-olds have. He still has that smooth, unblemished skin that looks perfect always.

“I’m fine,” Hyunjae tilts his head to the side, gazing at the younger boy. He eyes the little acne scars on the young boy's face, the dried strands of his bleached hair, and the lankiness of his limbs. He knows the boy will grow into himself. He knows the fate of nearly everyone in this room, save for you. Guardians can’t know their assignment’s fate. They can only guide them down the path they deem correct. Everyone else, though? Their fates are open for practically everyone to see.

Eric, for example, falls into a downward spiral when he’s twenty-five. Mental health is his downfall, and he never recovers.

The girl that gave him a dirty look won’t make it past her second year of college. Poor child.

“What’s your skincare routine?” Eric blurts out suddenly, and Hyunjae raises an eyebrow. “I just— your skin is really smooth and I really just want to know what your routine is. I have a lot of, uh, blemishes?” The more Hyunjae looks at the young boy, the more nervous Eric seems to get. Hyunjae smiles at this, smiles knowing that he is, in fact, superior to the human race in more ways than deemed important.

“Just basic cleansers, some moisturizer. Face mask here and there.” Eric nods quickly, foolheartedly believing the lie, and Hyunjae can practically see him making a list of things he needs.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Eric claps Hyunjae on the shoulder, grimacing at the solid impact and the pain that shot up his wrist. “Maybe I should get your gym routine, too. Shit, you’re built like a goddamn brick wall.”

“You shouldn’t swear too much,” Hyunjae sniffs and kicks himself off the wall. “Never know who might be watching over you.”

When your friends leave, you finally allow yourself to sit, and Hyunjae watches as you put your head in your hand and just sit at the small dining room table. The small waves of emotion are becoming tsunamis, and though he can’t tell exactly what you’re feeling, he knows that you’re upset by something. He knows that there’s something wrong, something that he can’t figure out.

“Little bug,” he sits down next to you, his large frame practically dwarfing yours. “Can I tell you a story?”

You look at him, your eyes heavy with emotion. You try to smile, but he can see how difficult it is and places a hand on your shoulder.

“You heard of God, and of Adam and Eve, and Lucifer, and all of them. You’ve heard the Bible stories and learned of the angels that fought against the demons.” You nod and he proceeds. “Have you heard of the angels that stood alongside them? Not the ones that were deemed threats, or ones that everyone could see. Ones that protected them, and guided them along their fated paths.”

“What, guardian angels?” Your eyes are curious again and he smiles. “I mean, I’ve heard people talk about them but I’ve never seen them in Bible stories or anything like that.”

“That’s because they aren’t in the Bible,” Hyunjae explains. “God made it clear from the start that these Guardians weren’t to inform their…people of their existence. Guardians were to play alongside the children, befriend the adults, and take the form of whatever they found their people needed.”

“If they weren’t supposed to be common knowledge, why do you know so much about them?” You ask, and Hyunjae shrugs. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Such a curious little bug,” he nudges you and you crack a smile. A real, beautiful smile that warms every inch of his body. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know that even if it doesn’t feel like it, there is somebody watching over you. Someone is here to protect you, keep you safe, and ensure that you’re happy, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I want you to know that maybe your guardian angel is closer than you think, lingering out of the corner of your eye. Just out of sight when you turn your head.”

From his pocket, he pulls out a little box wrapped in violet paper. There’s a bow on the top, black and satiny. Your eyes widen when he places the box in your palm and squeezes your shoulder.

“Open it.”

“You didn’t have to, Hyunjae…” He just shrugs.

“No, I didn’t. But I did.” You smile and gently do your best not to rip the delicate wrapping paper while opening your gift. Despite your efforts, Hyunjae watches you wince at the small tear in the paper.

“You don’t have to be so careful,” he tells you, “it’s just paper.” You shake your head.

“Purple is my favorite color, you should know this by now Jae.” He just sits back against the couch cushion and lets you open the jewelry box he’d gotten you. You look back at him with a confused pout and he just gestures for you to open it.

A necklace. Thin silver chain, and a pendant attached.

A butterfly made of delicately crafted wings. There are jewels attached to the butterfly, creating the wings and the eyes.

“Diamonds?” Your eyes narrow and he feels his heart sink a bit. Did you hate it? “Jae, how did you afford this?”

“Call it a family heirloom,” he lies. “My mother’s.”

“Your mother had a brand new diamond necklace just hanging around the house, and you gave it to me instead of giving it to your girlfriend?” You turn fully toward him and scowl. “Lee Hyunjae you shouldn’t have gotten me a gift so expensive.”

“Why not?” He challenges.

“I’m not worth this much!” It’s his turn to scowl.

“You know that’s not true, little bug. You’re worth far more than you know.”

Hyunjae hovers over your shoulder, watching you bite at your nails while you write your essay.

“I still don’t understand why colleges make you write these things.” His fingers wrap around the back of your chair and you roll your neck. Your head brushes against his abdomen and you flinch away.

“They want to know about us, what makes us good candidates. Now can you read this and make sure it sounds like a sob story?” He rolls his eyes when you push him into the chair and take his position.

You’d written about your mom. About how she got sick when you were little, and about how your dad was basically never there. You wrote about how you would walk yourself to school every day, and walk yourself to the nearby park until your sick mother could get you. Often, you would be at the park until the sun went down and the street lights would come on.

“This is sad,” Hyunjae takes a pause and your eyes shoot to him nervously.

“Good sad or bad sad?”

“Good. Let me finish reading.” You nod and he turns back to the computer screen.

Halfway through the essay, he sees something familiar.

You’d written about him. About how he helped you stay alive through those hard times. How he, this mysterious man that claimed to be a family friend, was the only consistent person in your life. How he helped you grow into the woman that he’d convinced you was real, and that you didn’t have to struggle through life on your own.

“You called me your guardian angel?” His lips twitch into a smile and you laugh nervously.

“I— I just meant that— that you were always there for me, y’know?” You spit out quickly. “You kept me on the right path, even when I started going astray.” Hyunjae’s smile grows and he lifts himself out of the chair.

“Little bug, I didn’t do anything. Every choice you made, every path you chose, that was you. I was just a bit of moral support,” he denies, even though he knows you’re right. Although, you don’t need to know that he’s literally your guardian angel. You don’t need to know that yes, he was guiding you through the motions. He kept your boat from capsizing from even the most dangerous waves.

He can’t take all the credit for your success, even when it was due.

Still, you squeeze his shoulder and place your chin on his shoulder while he reads. His hands are beginning to shake, and he isn’t quite sure why.

“What do you think?” You ask, and he feels your breath brushing against his ear. His skin grows warm.

“I think it’s very well done.” He starts to rise from the chair and you take a few steps back, sitting on the mattress of your bed. He crosses his arms, steeling his body so you can’t see the shaking of his hands, the sweat on his neck. “I think these colleges would be foolish to not accept you.”

“You think so?” You’re hopeful, and he smiles, walking toward you until he’s hardly a foot away from you.

“I know so, little bug.” Your body goes rigid when you feel his lips against your forehead. Your cheeks go ablaze, the heat spreading down your neck. It’s the first time he’d shown this kind of true affection toward you, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with it.

He’s still smiling when he pulls back, laughing to himself when he sees your stunned expression.

“You keep working, I’ll go make some food.”

You were twenty-one when Hyunjae finally gave up on stopping you from going to parties. For years he’d forced you to stay home, to “not waste your time getting shit-faced with a bunch of nobodies who couldn’t give less of a shit about you”. He’d caught you a number of times when you tried to sneak out the window of your dorm room, sitting in the tree you were going to climb down in a flimsy skirt and some heels. He’d stopped you from sneaking out the main doors by waking your RA. Anything you could think of trying, he somehow already knew and was prepared to stop you.

“I’m just keeping you safe,” he’d say with a smirk and a shrug. “Besides, you won’t have to sneak out in a couple of years. Just hold off a little longer, focus on your studies, and hang out with your friends at a cafe or something.”

“What am I supposed to say when they ask me why I keep ditching them?” You stomp your foot, and Hyunjae raises an eyebrow.

“Tell them your guardian angel said no.” You think he’s kidding, that he isn’t taking you seriously, and that he’s mocking you. He isn’t, and he wishes he could tell you that but he could be killed.

When he finally does let you go, he comes with you and Eric, playing along as your chauffeur and as a guest. You’re a bit too excited, and Eric has to calm you down before Hyunjae puts the car in park. He can see you looking at him out of the corner of your eye, eyeing him up and down. He’s smirking. It isn’t as if he’s dressed up, at least no more than he usually is. A white tee shirt, a leather jacket that’s been left unzipped, some black pants, and black boots. No change from his usual colors, just a bit more style to fit in more with the college kids.

Nobody would question a 25-year-old at a college party. Half the men in the frat were nearing that age anyway, and Hyunjae’s lip curled in disgust when he saw one chatting up a freshman, just barely out of high school.

He feels your arm looping through his, and his gaze turns back to you. You’re talking with Eric, and he sees your arm also looped through his. You want to keep them both close, at least for a while. Hyunjae’s eyes narrowed at the young boy. Since high school, he’s put on some muscle and cleaned up the acne he’d been so worried about. He’d have no problem finding someone to settle down with, and he knows the Guardian watching over Eric is pleased with this.

“…don’t you think, Jae?” You look up at him expectantly, your eyes glittering with excitement. You don’t know he has no idea what you said, and he doesn’t plan on you finding out so he smiles and nods.

“Sure thing, little bug.”

The music is overwhelmingly loud. Not nearly the loudest party he’d had to attend, but nonetheless he hated every second he was in the disgusting house. You and Eric had peeled off in another direction, somewhere across the room and he was on the landing, leaning on the banister with a half-empty red cup in one of his hands. Every time he takes a sip from the plastic cup, he grimaces at the disgusting taste. Human alcohol had become more and more disgusting as the years dragged on. Every time he was dragged to an event, such as this one, he prayed to his father that the drinks wouldn’t get any worse. And, every time, his prayers went unanswered.

“Hey,” a girl appears at his side and he doesn’t even spare her a glance. “What’s a handsome man like yourself doing at a party like this?” She’s too close for comfort, her clothing too revealing for his taste. He scoffs, ignoring her. She keeps talking. “You seem a bit too old to be going to lame frat parties. Shouldn’t you be at a bar or at a club?” Now he looks at her, his eyebrow raised. She smiles, her lips colored ruby red and her eyes flashing with mischief.

“I go to the university.”

“My point still stands.” He sighs, returning to leaning over the banister. You’re talking with a man now, and he picks up bits of your conversation.

My name’s Sunwoo.

Y/N.

What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing at a party like this?

Humans, similarly to their drinks, get less and less creative with time. Recycling the same useless tactics over and over again until someone is desperate enough to fall for it.

Sunwoo twirls a piece of your hair around your finger, and Hyunjae’s teeth grind together at the way you swoon. Of course, you would be one to fall for the stupid comments and greetings. Of course.

“You seem awfully close to that girl.” Hyunjae rolls his eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“You should be careful.” Her finger is trailing down his arm now. “You never know what sort of evil will catch up with the two of you.” His body goes rigid and his head snaps to the side.

Her eyes are boring into his, red meeting gold. She’s still smiling, her hand still trailing up and down his arm. Hyunjae bites down on his tongue, rising to stand straight.

“What are you doing here?” He hisses. The demon beside him just continues to smile.

“I’m a warning. Someone sent me to warn you, Guardian.”

“Who sent you?” He yanks his arm out of her grasp, and she sighs.

“I can’t tell you that, Guardian. But you should be careful. They’re watching, waiting. Soon enough, they will take one of you. They don’t care which.” The demon begins to back up, and Hyunjae follows. To anyone around, it may look like she’s seducing him. Bringing him to one of the bedrooms upstairs.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Your brother did.” She shrugs and Hyunjae’s breath hitches. “In fact, he sends his regards from his assignment. The man he was assigned to recently got married and his wife is now pregnant. You should be proud of them.”

“Why do you know Sangyeon?”

“I told you, I’m just here to warn you.”

She’s gone before he can respond, disappearing into the crowd and no matter how he strains his neck, he can’t spot her anymore. But he sees you. You’re alone now, and Sunwoo seems to have found a new interest in a pretty girl by the “bar”. He walks over to you, shoving through the crowd and ignoring those who snap at him.

When your eyes lock on his, that warm feeling returns to his chest. All thoughts of the demon have disappeared, and now his mind is consumed by you. Protecting you, caring for you, being with you, having you.

“Jae?” Your voice is soft, barely audible even with his superior hearing. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him. Your hand is wrapped around his jacket, holding tightly. “Is everything okay?” He isn’t sure what comes over him. Maybe it’s the thought of someone hurting you. The thought of losing you. Maybe he’s scared of failing his assignment. Maybe he’s scared of failing you. He isn’t sure, but whatever it is has him drawing to him, his hand tilting your head up. He can hear and feel your heart beginning to pound. Hyunjae feels your grip on his jacket tighten, feels you beginning to stand on your toes.

You’re inches away from him, the two of you tucked into a darker corner of the party with not a soul watching the two of you. His hand is still loosely gripping your chin, the other holding your waist. Your skin is warm to the touch, almost too warm. He watches your eyes, the way they begin to flutter shut and the way you almost seem to lean into him.

His lips brush against your forehead, and you flinch against his touch. He goes to pull back but you keep him close, holding him against you. The two of you don’t move for a while. You just stand in that corner, holding each other as if you’re afraid the other will let go too soon.

You were just barely starting your third year of college when it happened. Just barely starting to live when your life was ripped out of your hands.

See, the thing about illnesses is that sometimes they take time. Sometimes they are slow acting, and you don’t see them until late in the victim’s life. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you don’t get symptoms at all and are able to pass away peacefully. Sometimes those slow-acting illnesses begin to show, but treatments work quickly and they’re able to be stopped.

But sometimes, on certain occasions, that isn’t the case. Sometimes illness strikes out of nowhere, sinking its teeth into the nearest unsuspecting victim. It latches on, feating until there is nothing left but a shell of the person that once was.

You were linked up to monitors, needles sticking in your arms, and a number of nurses and doctors standing around your bedside.

Unconscious.

That’s how Hyunjae found you. You were unconscious, and your skin was pale. Your eyes were sunken in. A doctor tries to make him leave, but there was something in the Guardian’s eyes that had the older man stumbling over his words and averting his eyes.

It was a look of unfathomable rage. Like he had more power inside him, and such contempt for the world that he could cause more damage than the wrath of God.

Hyunjae walked forward, pushing past the nurses trying to protest. In the reflection of one of the monitors, he could see his eyes. They were gold. Not just little flecks, not a shade of yellow that televisions tried to excuse as gold, but pure, vibrant gold. The anger in them darkened them, but anyone who looked into this man’s eyes was struck with awe. With amazement, confusion, and horror when they, past the screaming voices in their mind that told them death was imminent, realized how much danger they were in.

“What happened to her?” The doctor behind Hyunjae stuttered over his words again, and Hyunjae turns around. When he spoke again, it was as if there were millions of voices speaking all at once, overwhelming the medical professionals. “What. Happened. To. Her.”

“We…we aren’t sure yet,” the doctor breathed out, lowering his gaze to the floor. “It— she was brought here by a young man. He said that she collapsed in the middle of a presentation. It could be nothing, we just want to make sure.”

“If it was nothing,” Hyunjae hissed out and there was a swell of triumph when he sees the fear in the doctor’s eyes, “she would not be here, would she?”

“N-No, sir, I suppose not.” The doctor whimpered.

“Fix her.” The order was clear, and the doctor knew without saying that his next phrase was not a threat, but a promise. “Fix her, or I swear on thy God that I will kill each and every last one of you. I will kill you, and I will kill your families, and I will kill anyone that you have even passed on the street if that’s what it takes for you to comprehend the importance of this.”

“Calm yourself, Hyunjae.” A hand on his shoulder, and he feels something inside of him jolt. His heart, maybe. He can feel it beginning to pound, can feel his lungs empty of air. “We don’t need any accidents today.”

For a moment, he just stands there frozen. He doesn’t know if he should turn around. Doesn’t know if he should react positively or negatively. Hyunjae’s heart is pounding, and for that moment he stands frozen, the fear and the anger begin to kick in.

“Sangyeon,” Hyunjae breathes out. His brother is smiling when he turns around. He’s smiling, and healthy, and he’s alive. “You’re…you’re here? But— but how did you— how are you—”

The doctors have left the room, and he can hear them whispering amongst each other. They’re debating calling the police, or just leaving him be. Someone picks up a phone, and Sangyeon pulls Hyunjae to the side, ducking into an empty hospital room and shutting the door.

“How are you here?” Hyunjae hisses, pushing his brother back against the wall. There’s pain in his voice. Fear, even. There’s no possible way that Sangyeon could have found him. Guardians can’t track each other. They have no way of finding each other when on assignments.

“You have to know the truth.” Sangyeon doesn’t push his younger brother away, just lets himself be shoved against the wall with a strong hand digging into his chest. Something warm is beginning to burn against his skin, and he bites down on his tongue to numb the pain. “Someone had to tell you, and it wasn’t going to be our Father.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae pulls his hand away when smoke begins to rise from under his palm, tightening his hand into a fist to cool himself off. “What truth?”

“About this assignment. Didn’t she warn you?” The door behind them opens and closes, and Hyunjae whips around. His hands are glowing, radiating with heat that begins the catch on the fabric of the bed next to him. The woman— the demon he’d met just a year prior stands with her body leaning against the wall. She’s dressed in a nurse’s garb, his lips curled into that same smirk that he’d dreaded.

“I tried, but your father must be a very convincing man.” Sangyeon smiles sadly, beckoning for her to join him. She tucks herself under his arm, practically wrapping her body around him. A lump is forming in Hyunjae’s throat, and his vision beginning to swim.

“What the hell is going on?” Sangyeon frowns, taking a step toward his younger brother. Hyunjae takes a step back. “Why are you…brother, why are you with this creature?” The demon scoffs.

“Creature? I would hardly call myself a creature, you stupid Guardian—”

“Hye-Ri,” Sangyeon interrupts, “that’s enough. Let me talk.” Hye-Ri’s lips purse and she takes a small step back. The older angel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jae, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Everything Father has told you up until now has been a lie.” Hyunjae bites his tongue, fighting the urge to argue with his brother. He might not believe Sangyeon, but he will not disrespect his brother. “He’s told you that this is just an assignment, that you need to guide her down the right path until she passes, is that correct?”

“Yes.” He keeps his response short and Sangyeon nods.

“He lied. This isn’t an assignment. This is a slaughter.”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjae asks. “A slaughter?”

“Her mother wasn’t supposed to die,” Hye-Ri informs him, and his eyes narrow on her. “Sangyeon here was the woman’s guardian. She was supposed to live a long, fruitful life, but your Father fed her a disease. An angelic disease.”

“The same one Y/N has now.” Sangyeon nods and Hyunjae exhales heavily. “You said this was a slaughter?”

“Y/N is…different from what you’re used to. I’m sure you’ve noticed that you can’t get a reading on her. That you can’t quite understand her like you can other people.” Hyunjae just nods, and Sangyeon continues. “That’s because she’s a Link.”

“A what?”

“Think of Links as soulmates,” Hye-Ri explains. “Links basically latch onto an angel, guardian or not, and link them to the human realm. Not a very creative name, but it does the trick.”

“Stay on track, Hye-Ri.”

“Right,” the demon nods, “your Father isn’t sure where it started, or with whom, but he intends to wipe out any and all links he can find.”

“But…but why does he need to do that? I mean…it can’t be dangerous to have a— a soulmate, as you called them.” Hyunjae gnaws on his lip, folding his arms over his chest.

“Father has never truly loved the human race as he claimed he did,” Sangyeon says. “He despises how we, the Guardians, grow close to them. How we grow attached to them. He fears another rebellion, should one grow too close to an assignment. He fears that the Links will be the very root of his angels betraying him. That his angels and these Links will produce heirs that are powerful enough to take down even himself.”

“So Y/N…” Hyunjae’s voice is trembling more than he’d like to admit. “She’s my…she’s my Link? My soulmate?” He receives a sad nod from his brother and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Father saw you growing attached. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before you began to break the rules he’d set in stone.”

“But I haven’t…I haven’t done anything. I’ve kept myself under control, nothing has happened!” Hyunjae protests. “It isn’t fair to me, and it isn’t fair to her.”

“I know.” Sangyeon wraps his arms around his younger brother, feeling Hyunjae’s body shake with rage and fear, and pain. “I know, little brother.”

A crack of thunder shakes the building, and the pounding of rain fills the awful silence of the hospital. It’s surprisingly quiet for this time of day, but nobody would ever say that out loud.

Hyunjae is in your hospital room again, his head lowered and his foot tapping against the ground. A nurse enters the room, flinching when she sees him. Her body remains tense the entire time she takes your vitals.

“Is she getting better?” He asks before the nurse leaves. There’s a moment of silence before he looks up at her. She looks afraid, but there’s sadness in her eyes.

“No. She’s not.”

The door shuts again and Hyunjae lowers his head back down. The beeping of machines begins to overwhelm him. It’s constant, and he begins to wonder if you can hear it too. If you can hear what’s going on around if you’re screaming for someone to hear you and see you and listen to you.

When the door opens again, he knows who it is.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Eric is breathless, his voice hoarse and strained.

“I have,” comes Hyunjae’s monotone response.

“Has she woken at all?”

“No.” Hyunjae looks up again, resting his face against his laced fingers. “No, she’s comatose right now.” Eric’s face twists with pain, and Hyunjae barely flinches when the young boy’s hand collides with the concrete wall. There’s an ugly crunch, and he watches Eric bite back a scream. His knuckles are now bleeding, and his hand already going from red to purple.

“Fuck.” The boy hisses quietly, cradling his fist to his chest. Hyunjae scoffs out a laugh.

“That was idiotic.”

“I know.” Eric sits beside the Guardian, squeezing his eyes shut and willing away the pain. Hyunjae eyes the bloodied and bruised fingers and rolls his eyes.

“Give me your hand.” Hyunjae holds out his own hand, palm facing up, and Eric shoots him a look.

“No offense, you’re hot and all, but I’m not into you.” Hyunjae bites his tongue again and continues to hold out his hand.

“I’m not into you either. Glad we’re on the same page. Give. Me. Your. Hand.” Eric slowly stretches his arm out, placing his fist into Hyunjae’s outstretched palm. There’s a soft glow and a few cracking sounds. Eric’s face goes pale, watching his fingers snap into place as if they had never broken. The blood remains on his fingers, and he wipes them with a tissue.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Eric asks, gazing at his fixed hand in amazement.

“I have a number of tricks up my sleeve, kid.”

“Is this the same thing that keeps you from aging?” Hyunjae hesitates before he responds. “And don’t try lying to me. I’m not dumb. At first I just thought your skincare was hella good, but after twelve years of you not aging past twenty-five it kinda gets obvious that there’s something up.”

“You’re not afraid?” Hyunjae asks curiously. Eric shrugs.

“Unless you think I should be, not really. You’ve protected Y/N our whole lives, you’ve done nothing to make me think I shouldn’t trust you. I don’t know who or what you are, but I trust you.”

“Interesting.” Hyunjae sits back in his chair, leaning his head against the wall. “So if I told you I was her guardian angel, you’d believe me?”

“I mean…I guess?” Eric shrugs. “Unless, for some reason, that’s a lie?”

“No, it isn’t. And this isn’t a human disease.”

“What do you mean it isn’t a human disease? Like…this is from Heaven?”

“Mhm. Given to her directly by Father dearest to spite me.” Eric’s jaw drops open a bit.

“God wants to kill my best friend?”

“You pick up on things fast.” His head snaps to the side and he hears Eric hiss in pain. When Hyunjae turns his head back, Eric is sitting quietly, eyes trained on his best friend. “Are you glad you did that? Did that make you feel better?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Keep talking.”

“She’s what we call a Link. She is, essentially, my soulmate.”

“Ew, age gap much?” Hyunjae snorts, his lips curling into a smile. He’d expected Eric to be less accepting of all of this, but apparently, he’d underestimated the boy.

“My Father, God as you call him, doesn’t necessarily approve of Links. He wants to eradicate them all. He gives them diseases, angelic diseases that have no cure in any world. Not in Heaven, not in Hell, and certainly not here. Any medications given are just prolonging the inevitable.”

“So…She’s just…gonna die?” Eric asks, and Hyunjae gives him a pitiful look. “Is there anything that you can do? You’re her soulmate, there’s gotta be something. True love’s kiss?” The Guardian shakes his head and Eric lets out a shaky sigh.

“My brother is…trying to find something. Anything that can help her. We just have to be patient.”

He isn’t entirely sure who he’s trying to convince, himself or Eric or both. He knows that these attempts are futile. He knows that he can’t save you like he’d promised you so long ago.

I don’t want to die like my mommy.

I won’t let that happen.

“We need to consider that she might not wake up.” Hyunjae stares down at the doctor, his hands shaking and his eyes narrowed. “It’s…it’s been two years, sir.”

“I don’t give a damn how long it’s been,” Hyunjae snarls, standing over your comatose form. Protecting you. “We aren’t pulling this plug. Not now, not ever. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

“Sir,” the older gentleman tries to plead, “I understand your frustration but… you need to face that she would be better off just…going on her own terms. Keeping her alive, in this state where she has no control over her bodily functions, where she can’t communicate with us or feel the things that we can, it isn’t good for her or for you.”

He knows the doctor is right. He knows he’s just prolonging the inevitable, he always has. But he can’t let go of you yet. It’s too soon. He hasn’t had enough time with you. Hasn’t had enough time to talk to you, to take care of you, to love you, cherish you, adore you. He hasn’t had time to show you the world, as he’d wanted to for so long. He hadn’t had time to tell you the truth.

Although, at this point, the truth is…unfortunate. His wings had been stripped from his body, his and his brother’s. His rights as a Guardian have been removed. Anything he could’ve used to save you…there’s nothing left. He has Fallen, but he couldn’t be more proud of it. He doesn’t have to hide himself anymore, doesn’t have to fear the man he once called Father.

“Hyunjae,” Hye-Ri stands at his side, her eyes tired. “You know the doctor is right.”

“Shut up, Hye-Ri.” The young demon snarls. Hye-Ri doesn’t snap at him this time. She looks sad, almost pitying him. Sangyeon stands at the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. None of you do.”

“Lee Hyunjae,” Sangyeon says sternly, “use reason. I understand you’re upset, but you need to understand that your soulmate is suffering and that you are being selfish.”

“Am I not allowed to be selfish?” Hyunjae cries. “Even now that I am finally free from God’s hands, am I not allowed to be selfish for once?” Hye-Ri leaves the room, her eyes lowered to the ground. Sangyeon steps forward. Hyunjae moves even closer to you.

“You are allowed to want things, little brother,” Sangyeon speaks softly, so as not to anger Hyunjae further. “You are allowed to want her. You are allowed to crave more time with her, but you cannot have her like this. You know that.” For a brief moment, Hyunjae wants to scream. He wants to throw the vase of flowers that sits beside your hospital bed, he wants to tear this building down until there’s nothing left but a pile of bricks.

But he doesn’t. He stands there, gazing down at you and brushing his thumb across your cheek. Your body is cold, and when he touches you, you don’t so much as twitch. His hand drops to his side.

“Get Eric. Get the doctor.”

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the beach in front of you. You’re laying in the sand, water washing up to your ankles. The sun is warm on your skin, but you aren’t sweating. In fact, nothing about your situation is uncomfortable. You’re at peace, more comfortable than you think you’ve ever been.

The second thing you notice is that you’re in nothing but a bathing suit and a beach cover. You don’t remember changing into this. In fact, you can’t seem to remember anything after the party.

“You’re awake,” you turn your head and you begin to smile. Hyunjae is dressed in a simple tee shirt and shorts, two classes and a bottle of champagne clutched in his hands. He’s grinning at you, and you rise to your feet.

“You’re wearing something other than black, I see.” You tease him. He lets out a laugh, and you think it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Hilarious, little bug.” He nudges your side, guiding you to a nearby table with two long beach chairs sitting side-by-side. “Come have a drink with me.” You follow him, the beach cover blowing behind you a bit. Your hair isn’t quite tussled by the wind around you, just brushed over your shoulders. Everything is perfect.

Too perfect.

Hyunjae takes a seat on one of the chairs, gritting his teeth when he removes the top of the champagne bottle.

“I always get nervous opening these things. Far too dangerous for their own good if you ask me.” You sit beside him, and he side-eyes you. “I got you your own chair.”

“What if I want to sit next to you?” You challenge. He pauses, and for a moment you think he looks…sad. That moment passes quickly, and he’s smiling again and laughing to himself.

“I won’t stop you then.” He takes one of the glasses and slowly fills it with the bubbling alcohol before passing it to you. You thank him quietly and briefly turn your gaze to the ocean.

“Have you ever seen water so clear?” You ask, half rhetorical and half curious. He hums.

“Once or twice.”

“I didn’t think Heaven would have beaches this nice.” Silence behind you, and you turn back to Hyunjae, still smiling. He’s staring at you, his body completely frozen. You can see his body shaking, the liquid in his glass sloshing up the sides. You take the glass and the bottle from his hands, setting both on the table beside him. Tears are beginning to wet his cheeks, and you reach forward to wipe them away.

“I didn’t…I’m so, so sorry little bug.” His voice cracks and the tears keep falling.

“Jae, you knew it would happen eventually. I did too. That’s just…I just got the shit end of the stick in this life.” You slide closer to him and he lets his eyes close. “Besides, did you really think that I believed you had really good skincare? For almost twenty years?”

Hyunjae wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you as close as he possibly could. You let him hold you, you let him whisper his apologies, and his regrets, and his whispers of I love you, I adore you, I’m sorry this happened before I got to show you the world. You just smile, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing his shoulders.

When he pulls away from you at last, his cheeks are red and stained with tears. You’re still smiling, assuring him that everything is okay.

“So,” you raise the two glasses of champagne and hand him one, “what are we toasting?” Hyunjae shakes his head, his smile returning.

“Whatever you want, little bug. Anything you want, I will give you.” You hum, kicking your legs a bit and digging your toes into the sand.

“Anything, you say?” You wiggle your eyebrows and while he laughs, you know that he means every word. You know what he doesn’t have the strength to say yet. I am yours. You are mine. I will cherish you, adore you, and love you how I should have when you were alive. “Fine then.”

“Have you decided?” He turns toward the beach and you do the same, leaning your head on his shoulder briefly. You feel him flinch when you press your lips to his shoulder blade, where you can feel his wings once were.

“I have.”

“So?”

“To merry bad endings, and to you for going against what you’d been raised to do, for believing in me and in your brother.” Hyunjae smiles, tipping his glass to yours. A small clink echoes across the beach.

“To merry bad endings.”

TAGLIST: @hyunjaespresent-deobi @just-here-to-read-01