#they r healing from the end of the world trauma

[thedo0zyslider]

(woe. Fanfic snippet be upon ye)

Fwhip looked at the hallway he'd just been shown, curious at how empty all the bedrooms seemed to be. "Why doesn't anyone stay over there?" He asked, casting a quizzical look at Katherine. The sheep hybrid seemed to shift uncomfortably at the inquiry, but she answered him anyway. Even if she did avert her gaze as she did so.

"Jimmy sleeps on that wing," She explained slowly, an old kind of worry creeping into her tone. "He wants to be alone down there."

"We think he gets night terrors." Shrub adds, quieter than their friend is. "Sometimes there's screaming at night, from around his room.." A little sound comes out of the gnome as she finishes speaking, and Katherine places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Gem makes a noise of her own, and shares a glance with her brother. Fwhip says nothing, just sets his jaw in thought.

They say nothing more of the hallway for the rest of the tour, but it weighs heavy on the dragon hybrids mind for the rest of the day. He ends up picking a room on that hall, making some stupid, crappy joke about separating boys and girls. Like any of them have ever cared for that, and like the whole Wither Rose Alliance hadn't crashed in the same room once.

All he gets in response is troubled murmurs, and Gem's steady gaze on his back as he retreats into his bedroom for the foreseeable future. When Jimmy finds out, he does nothing but blink, frown rather deeply, then seemingly move on with his day.

_______________________

Not even two nights later, Fwhip is jolted awake by the sound of screaming. Jimmy’s screaming. The sound is horrible, tortuous, and sends the half dragon into panic mode as soon as he hears it.

Hurriedly, and without thinking, he's surging out of his bed. He throws the door open, not caring how loud the sound is, and prays Jimmy’s own bedroom door isn't locked.

After nearly running down the hall, and a frantic fight with the knob, the ginger manages to get his way into the cod's room. He thrusts the oak door open, right as the screaming seems to stop. And Fwhip is meet with a sobbing Jimmy, hunched over himself in bed, crying and hyperventilating like he'd never seen before.

Slowly, he takes a few steps further into the room. Even in the darkness, the ginger can see how Jimmy’s fins twitch. And how his head snaps in the general direction of the movement. Which means he should probably be as quiet as possible, and gentle as well. Not that he was planning on being anything but in this situation, even to the man who had once been his enemy.

"Jim?" He asks, staning hesitantly by the bedside. The nickname slips past his lips without a thought about it. "You there?"

"F-fwhip?" The cod’s voice is small, scared, and raw from all the use it just had. The half dragon can't help the pang of sympathy that pierces his heart upon hearing it.

"Yeah, yeah it's me. This is Fwhip." He places a tentative hand on the bed. "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't think so." The blonde chokes out. "Didn't mean to wake you up, sorry."

"No, no it's fine. Genuinely." Fwhip soothes without a second thought, his hand cautiously ghosting over the other's leg. He's uncertain if touch would help or make the situation worse, and he doesn't want to find out. Not unless Jimmy himself grabs for him. "Do you want me to stay?"

Those seem to be the magic words, somehow, as it what sets the cod into proper motion again. Without warning, the cod is grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him down for a hug. The ginger startles at that, but holds him back on instinct.

Before, he wouldn’t have dreamed of ever hugging this guy. But the explosion had done a lot of weird things to their relationship, so here he was, perfectly unbothered by this. Jimmy makes a strangled cry, one muffled by the half dragon's chest, and he holds the other back tighter. He holds him tighter than he thinks he's ever held anyone, even tighter than he had held his sister the day the world had ended.

They stay like that for heavens knows how long. It could've been a mere twenty minutes, or five long hours. All Fwhip knows is that he holds the blonde close to him the whole until, until his crying subsides and his breathing is even once more. He holds him and runs gentle fingers through messy hair, and whispers sweet nothing between sobs.

"Sorry for grabbing you." Jimmy mumbles. He's sat back now, no longer clutched in the half dragon's tight hold. Fwhip watches as he sniffles and rubs his eyes of any remaining wetness, and has to fight the urge to hold him again.

"It's fine. You needed it." The half dragon shrugs after a moment. He was warned about the nightmares the former Codfather gets, he knew what he was getting into when he took the room next door, and he is determined to get to the bottom of this. Especially since all of their other friends seem to be clueless in the matter, despite living with Jimmy for years.

Also, he would be a pretty big dickhead if he did nothing more to help. And he was trying not to be a dickhead anymore. So there was that.

"When did they start?" Fwhip asked it gently, and paid no mind to the other’s hesitation. He had been keeping this a secret for so long after all, like the stupid fool he tended to be.

Jimmy's words are accompanied by one too many shuddering breaths, so much so that the half dragon reaches out to hold his hand. "Those have been happening, since the explosion. " The cod's eyes were fixed on the wall as he spoke, looking like he was properly out of it. "I dream of it happening again, and you're there, and a lot of times your dead. And I have to watch it happen. I have to watch you die, Fwhip. And I can't do anything to stop it."

The blonde's voice cracks on the last words. Fwhip squeezes gus hand tighter, and doesn't stop as he keeps explainin. Though the explanation is more of a panicked rambling at this point. "Then I wake up and remember you're not dead, or that you hadn't died in the explosion."

Fwhip is stunned into silence for a few minutes, the horrfied kind really. But regardless he swallows nervously, and asks yet anoher question. And the answer, no, the shy admission he gets afterwards is nothing short of horrible. "How often do you have them?"

"Every night or so."

"Jimmy." The former Count hisses out the cod's name, but with a lot less venom than he used too. This time it was just filled with worry. Jimmy flinches regardless.

"I know I should've told someone, but I felt like I couldn't.." The cod mumbles, arms being placed out of his chest in what looks like habit. Another pang of sympathy pierces Fwhip's heart at the motion.

"Why?" He asks, poorly holding back a worried little sigh.

Jimmy's gaze flicks from the walls to the blankets, as he twists a part of the fabric in his fingers. Fwhip has to wonder what it feels like for the other, to be so strangely vulnerable, and wonders why the cod is doing it now. To him of all people, his once mortal enemy. "Dunno, some old fears about being weak or somethin'"

"Well, I know now. And I don't think you're weak." He says, the raw honesty leaking into his tone like a rushing river, like it rarely had before with the man in front of him. "I think your rather brave, for dealing with them every night like that."

"T-Thanks. Thank you." Jimmy stammers. He takes another deep breath, one mre futile attempt to regain his composure. It doesn't work, because he's far too shaken up at this point. So the cod is forced to bend and fold, and ask for the one thing he was most scared of. The one thing request he was scared of being declined.

"....Can you stay with me until morning?" He whispered, leaning closer on what seems to be instinct.

Fwhip didn’t think any part of him could possibly say no. "I can." He forced a gentle smile, and the cod’s eyes got all wide. Like a baby cow's.

"Until the sun comes up?" Jimmy asks. Like anyone in their right mind would leave him after such a nightmare.

"At least until the sun comes up." The half dragon confirms, and says nothing when the cod is in his arms again, still shaking and taking shuddering breaths. He says nothing, and holds him till sun comes up.

_______________________

A few nights later, Fwhip is back in Jimmy’s bedroom again. He’s clutching the cod to his chest, running gentle fingers through his messed up hair. Sobs wrack his friends whole body, and Fwhip can do nothing but hold him and mutter sweet nothings until it's over.

His panic is shorter than the previous one it seems. Maybe the nightmares had been slightly kinder that night, maybe it because he's here. He doesn't know the reason, and doesn't really care too. As long as his friend calms down, he is happy.

"Sorry, about that." The cod mumbles once it's over, his voice still raw and ragged from his sobs and earlier screams.

"You gotta stop apologizing for these." Fwhip sighs, and holds the blonde closer. Jimmy just sniffles, and buries himself further into the half dragon's warmth.

"I hate this. I hate having these so much." The cod complains, his arms once again holding the former Count’s waist.

"We could share a bed every night, if that helps?" Fwhio suggests, resting his chin atop the blonde's head. He's usually not very affectionate, not even in the slightest, but he lets himself go for Jimmy. He thinks his sister would be startled if she saw him so much as hold someone, let alone cuddle them. (And maybe it feels nice to let himself go. Maybe he's just a bit touched straved, not that Fwhip'll ever admit to that.

"I don't want to keep you up every night." Jimmy shook slightly his head in protest.

"I don't want to come running in here every night." Fwhip snorted, noticing that the other's breathing had finally calmed down. Good, that was good.

"Oh. Yeah. That's fair." Jimmy said, removing himself a little. He always did this when he'd calmed down enough. The cod would remove himself from Fwhip, like he was forcing the other to comfort him. Like Fwhip wasn’t the one to hug him first nine times out of ten.

"We'll just see how it comes, okay?" He smiled, pushing the blonde downwards. "Now try and sleep. You don't get enough of it."

"You don't either!" Jimmy let out a small huff of amusement, and took the half dragon down with him. Fwhip couldn’t hold back his own giggles as his head hit the soft bedsheets.

_______________________

Some time later, Fwhip wakes up with tear stains marking his cheeks. Great, that was great.

He let out a groan, and turns over in his bed. He presses his face until the coldness of his pillow, feeling his chest heave with left over sadness. The former Count hated crying in his sleep, really he did. It always gave him the worst feeling imaginable when it did happen.

After what feels like an eternity, there is the skund of his door opening. Curious despite his rather messed up state, Fwhip rolls over, and sees a very familiar man now standing in his roo. "Jim?" He asks, watching as the cod slowly approaches his bed. "Why're you in here?"

"I felt like I needed to." Jimmy shrugged, placing a head on the corner of the footboard.

The half dragon just huffed in reponse. "Well you don't. 'M fine." He can hear how his voice shakes, and knows that his words wouldn't have convinced anyone. Let alone this guy infront of him.

"Oh, Fwhip." Jimmy says delicately, and crouches on the bed next to him. Oh how the tables turn.

"What wrong?" The cod asks, and Fwhip decides he should probably sit up for this.

"Had a dream." Is all he mutters at first, a little reluctant to recall it.

"A bad one?" The blonde asks, shifting closer just in case. The half dragon shakes his head in response.

"No..."

'Fwhip, what was it?" Jimmy pushed again, in a tone that sounds like Gem’s serious one. And the ginger knows he cannot weave his way out of answering anymore.

"I....I dreamed I was flying again." He admits, and cannot look ag his friend when he does so. There is something like shame in him, shame for not being able to do that. Old shame, for causing that for himself, shame for causing the world to end.

He can feel the way the cod dimply blinks in repsonse, and wonders why his tone had turned soft so sharply. "Oh."

"Sorry, I just...." Fwhip sighed, and shifted so he could bury his head in his knees. He wasn't going to cry again, he wasn't. Not in front of Jimmy. It's supposed to be the other way around, not like this.

What the cod says next surpises him entirely, though in hindsight, the half dragon doesn't know why he hadn't considered if before. "No, I get it. I miss swimming sometimes."

He shoots his head up in suprise, meeting the others soft brown gaze. "Can you not..?" He tries not to glance at Jimmy’s tail as he speaks. Keyword tries, it doesn't really work. Though the blonde doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, considering his own people have probably given him weirder looks. (Well, what's left of fhem anyways)

"No, I'm missing one tail fin, and half of the other. And the nerves are messed up as well." Jimmy explained. He changed positions, so Fwhip could properly seem the now damaged limb. And well, he'd never really looked at Jimmy’s tail before. He'd known what if had looked like originally, and had caught glimpses of it since he can back, buy never had the ginger really sat there and inspected it.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He reaches out a hesitant hand to touch it, to ghost over the scarred flesh, and Jimmy lets him.

Jimmy just give a shrug in response. "It's fine, I'm getting used to it. What about your wings? If you don't mind me asking?" And well, Fwhip doesn't really want to show them off, but Jimmy’s voice is just so kindly curious. And he had just showed him his tail.....

The half dragon sighs, and decides to just get it over with and show him. He spreads what remains of his limbs, and can't help but move his gaze downward in shame once more. "They're mostly gone. And my tail is messed up as well. I can still move it, but it doesn't do much for balance anymore."

Jimmy nods along as he speaks, and maybe the half dragon reliazes that this feels nice. Maybe it feels nice to finally be vulnerable with someone, when he hasn't let himself for months now. "I see. Mine doesn't help with balance like it used to either." A moment later, he adds something else quietly. "My arm's also permanently damaged."

"Oh?" He cocks his head to the side curious. In response, Jimmy moves his right arm, his dominant one (arguably the worst arm to injure forever), and the movement seems a little slow and delayed.

The cod looks at the scars ligning his skin, a frown working its way onto his face. Fwhip can't even imagine what memories must be going through his head at the moment. "Used it to shield myself from the blast. It has scars, and I can barely feel one part of it."

"I have scars too, everywhere basically. All explosion shaped." He offers, and knows the ones on his arms and face have been on display a decent amount. They make him like wearing his coat even more than he used too.

Despite the earlier frown, Jimmy cracks a smile. "We messed ourselves up real good, didn't we?"

"Heh, yeah." Fwhip can't help but laugh lightly at it.

Slowly, Jimmy reaches a hand to his battered wings. Fwhip is catious about it, but he lets him, because it's only fair to, really. He flinches back a moment later on near instinct, and hates the looks of guilt that flashes across Jimmy's face.

Okay then, he doesn't like people touching his wings. Not yet anyways. A new boundary discovered at the worst time ever.

He doesn't know how to make Jimmy feel not guilty, so he just flops onto his back in defeat. "I hate this. This sucks."

"I know, I know." Jimmy mumbles, and it feels like he's moved farther away. Fwhip wants him closer.

"I want to fly again. I miss flying." He complains, gaze fixed on the white and pink celling of House Blossoms castle. Katherine really liked pink, is what he found himself noting again. He'd stared at this ceiling far too many times than he was comfortable admitting too.

"Why didn't you tell me you had nightmares as well?" Jimmy's asks quietly. Fwhip just shrugs in response.

"Never thought to."

"Idiot." Jimmy says, but not without a hint of affection behind it. "I'm helping you with them from now on."

"Do you have to?" Fwhip groans with a pout, and feels a light flick against his arm. It doesn't hurt much, but he still playfully kicks the other in response. Jimmy holds back a laugh before he speaks again.

"Yes! You help with mine, I help with yours!" The blonde exclaims, and it feels like he's moved closer again. There is a tail somewhere near his legs, one that's not it's own, and it seems to be flicking with some sort of happy emotion.

"Fineee" Fwhip holds back a laugh, and flexes his damaged wings under him. Maybe missing these won't be so bad. Maybe it can be manageable, if this guy keeps trying to cheer him up that is.

_______________________

"Mind if I sleep here tonight?" Fwhip asks, standing in Jimmy’s doorway for what has to be the thousandth time. Be doesn't know what he looks like, but he assumes it's rather pathetic.

The cod shrugs, and moves the covers aside for him. "Nah. Get in."

He walks over quickly, and slides into the bed, the second he's laying down, arms are wrapping around him and holding him close. He must've looked really sad and pathetic, for Jimmy to do that without asking. But it's comforting, and helping his bad state of mind a little, so the former Count doesn't mind much.

It feels a little awkward sharing a bed when no crying has come before it, Fwhip has to admit. In his mind at least. But then Jimmy buries his face into the small of his back, and suddenly it's not very awkward anymore. Fwhip relaxes into it fully, and has to hold back a sigh. God he needed that. He's not sure why he needed to be held and cuddled so much, he just did.

At some point in the quiet, Fwhip turns over in Jimmy’s arms, so he can see the others face. This all feels so.....domestic. so intimate. With a man he used to hate and spit venom at, no less. He wonders when they got so comfortable with each other, to be all domestic like this. He wonders if it means something else, and finds that it doesn't. He wonders what their friends would say if they found out about all this. He wonders what Sausage would say, if he was here and seeing this.

The cod hums, having shifted their postion without the other noticing, and start to trace the scars that run up his arm. The scars he's been told stories about, the scars that they both helped form. Fwhip wonders if the other feels any guilt when he looks at them. Because he know he does whenever he catches a glimpse of Jimmy’s tail, or his own scars, or any of his torn fins and his permanently damaged right arm.

Suddenly, as if the cod can feel himself being stared at, he looks up. Their eyes meet, and the blonde frowns. "Stop thinking." He says, fingers still running over his skin.

"How do you know I'm thinking?" Fwhip asks, slightly amused. He wonders when they could start reading each other so well.

"Because you're looking at me all guilty like. Stop that and go to sleep." Jimmy sounds like such an expastered mother, the half dragon can't help but sigh and try to oblige.

"I'll try." He mumbles, and closes his eyes. Careful hands keep tracing over his scars, and maybe the sensation helps lull him to sleep. Maybe the sensation is becoming comforting, just a tad.

Maybe Jimmy is his comfort.

_______________________

"You two share a bed a lot, don't you?" Gem asked one morning, brewing herself a cup of coffee. She had grabbed a mug for him without even asking, because she just knew that he'd complain if she didn't. Even the way he liked his coffee was gross, or whatever she had been calling it.

"Yeah, and?" He asks, already starting to sound exasperated. His sister must have seen him exit Jimmy's room this morning, his clothes probably decently (and suspiciously) rumpled. And if Gem was asking, she'd probably seen it more than once already.

The wizard clears her throat a little awkwardly, and asks the worst question shes probably ever asked him. "Are you two...um...involved in any way? More than friends I mean-"

"I am not fucking Jimmy." Fwhip groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind before, and thinking about it now made him physically recoil. Not that the cod wasn't attractive or anything, their relationship had just never been like that. And would probably never be, as far as he was concerned.

"Good to know." Gem says over the sound of coffee being poured. Fwhip doesn't even care much about the drink anymore, just leaving this situation as soon as he can really.

"Physical touch helps him with the nightmares." He explains further, carefully leaving out the information that he had them sometimes as well. Though Gem had seen some of them, before they were found and all, but she would worry less if she believed they'd slowly stopped over time.

"Ohhh." A lightblub seems to go off in his sister's head, and she starts preparing his coffee how he likes it. Fwhip almost tells her there's no need too.

"And if I was, it'd be none of your buisness." He grumbles, and stands from the table. He can drink cold coffee later, when he's less annoyed. It was not a good morning to ask him that.

He hears Gem sigh, but she doesn't chase after him. Fwhip only hears the faint clinking of a mug against the table, right as he returns to his own bedroom.

_______________________

Fwhip crawls into Jimmy’s room one night, not even knocking before he opens the door. It's become quite a habit after all these months, a bad one as his twin would call it, but neither of them care much for her opinion on this specific thing anyways. (Because according to Gem, finding a counselor would do many more wonders, even if Fwhip’s pretty sure neither of them can sleep alone now. Night terrors or no night terrors.)

Jimmy is awake as soon as his door clicks shut, and greets him with a groggy hello. Fwhip says nothing, just sits down on the bed, and relaxes near instantly as familiar arms wrap around him. The half dragon melts into his friends warmth, and thinks he could finally fall asleep right then and there.

"What's wrong?" The cod mumbles, sleep stilling coating his voice. Fwhip says nothing for a moment, and buries his head into Jimmy's soft woolen t-shirt.

"Phantoms pains were bad today." He grumbled eventually. "And a bunch of other things, just felt like i was gonna have a nightmare."

"Mmm, I get it." Jimmy hummed. "Wanna lay down?"

"Please." Fwhip sighed, and let himself be pulled down. He laid half ontop of Jimmy, and nuzzling into his warmth had become habit by that point, it had become as natural as breathing.

"You comfortable?" The cod laughed, his breath ghosting over the others face. Fwhip just made a tired noise in response.

"Yes, you're very warm and comforting." He mumbled, and squeezed his eyes shut. The phantom pains from earlier were still there, but focusing on the cod's breathing was helping keep his mind off it.

"Good, that's good." Jimmy said, and his night felt a lot more manageable than it had before. Not good, but more manageable, and that was more than enough for now.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ YOU ALREADY HAVE A PIECE OF MY HEART (WHICH I HAVE NEVER GIVEN TO YOU) ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | Nanami Kento x male!reader | Sukuna Ryomen x male!reader | Geto Suguru x male!reader | polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru), polygamy (Satoru x r!, Satoru x Suguru, r! x Satoru, r! x Kento) | Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen x Heian Era!male!reader | drabble of alternate universes | NOT PROOFREAD

warnings: burn scars, battle scars, grief, derealization, trauma (so much trauma), major character deaths (Satoru, Suguru, Tsumiki, Nanako, Mimiko, Principal Yaga, (Y/N)'s mom), Fushiguro Megumi angst, Junpei mentioned (surprisingly without angst), Itadori Yuji angst (minor), NSFW content for Sukuna's section, implied cannibalism

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL! The formatting is a bit all over the place but these are straight-up taken from Discord chats I had with Elias, pls. I hope they're not too hard to understand. These are all basically "what ifs" and alternate universes + one section for Heian Period Ryomen Sukuna with a (L/N)'s ancestor! " " = means straight-up copy-pasted so I guess they kinda act as a foreword for each drabble

starting off with some HCs of (Y/N)’s high school years!

(Y/N) thinks Satoru must understand the pain of being the next head of the clan, get trained vigorously, and deal with aching bones and sores. Nope! Satoru’s never dealt with that much less dealt with (Y/N)’s father.

Shoko has a dark sense of humour so she laughs at his dark jokes but (Y/N) does notice the three of them end up pampering him more often.

Satoru buys him food most of the time. Drinks and snacks and ice cream, if (Y/N) gazes at something too long Satoru just tosses it into his cart.

Suguru tends to help him stretch or massage him. He’d even fix (Y/N)’s hair, almost motherly in his actions. He makes sure (Y/N) is presentable, makes sure he doesn’t have to worry because; “Su-Su will fix it~”.

Shoko makes sure (Y/N) is always wound-free. From buying antiseptics to burn relief gels (they all have a travel-sized bottle on their person to be fair). She buys him cigarettes when he needs them and always pokes him in his sides or the back of his head, she made it a habit to use RCT on him just in case he’s in pain but can’t feel it.

"You'd come back to me"

"What if Nanami Kento and (Y/N) survived the Shibuya arc?"

Kento stroked your bangs away and then pressed kisses with every compliment he gave. Your chuckles give him this feeling that if you ever told him "please" he'd give up everything just to hear it again. Kento lightly pushes you away but slips a hand underneath you, tugging his (Y/N) closer. “Kennnnnny."

Usually, Kento doesn’t enjoy nicknames but every time you say it, the world seems bright and sweet. So he noses at your jaw and relishes in the giggles.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with so much sincerity.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Kento grins and presses a searing kiss to your lips.

You are both covered in scars. Nanami’s still pinkish and healing even with the help of socerery and yours still aching and bruised. But nothing about you could be wrong. Because that wasn’t possible. The ring on your hand is cool on his neck as you tilt his head to deepen the kiss. Kento turns and chuckles as you yelp, straddling him now.

“Kento!”

“Yes, my (Y/N)?”

Your eyes soften, and he kisses you again.

"The beach will be more cloudy. We can sit on the porch and I'll make you that milky tea again." He thinks it's a shame the two of you are stuck inside the house. It cannot be helped; his skin was far too sensitive for Malaysia's unapologetic sunny rays and dry heat and although you comfort him by saying your scars are still healing too, he wants nothing more than to pick you up and wash away all the remnants of Shibuya in seawater. "I can make it," he says. "Kento," you press your finger onto his lips, tracing it until you're cupping his face and stroking over his cheekbones. "Let me take care of you." Kento frowns and places his hand over yours, tracing the shape of your healing knuckles and raised scars. "Only if you'll let me do the same, my (Y/N)."

Kento who survived the Shibuya arc is left with a very sensitive wound all over the left side of his body. His hearing is unbalanced and his depth perception is fucked but (Y/N) helps him through all the transitions he goes through.

(Y/N) feels guilty for using his curse technique when it’d been fire that hurt Kento. Who doesn’t use it around Kento or if he does use it, he makes sure the smell is gone and washes his hands, and makes sure Kento can hold him without fear. But Kento doesn’t fear him! Kento figured it out and he just tells (Y/N); “My love, you never need to hide yourself from me…”

Yuji helps Kento with physical therapy. Kento grunts but allows Yuji to hug him when he regains consciousness. Kento who asks Yuji if he’d like to be his ringbearer during their wedding.

(Y/N) who is so nervous to meet Kento’s parents. He knows non-sorcerers and sorcerers don’t have many differences in their daily lives outside of exorcising curses but worries nonetheless. Kento’s mom is bright and jovial, and his father is even more so! (Y/N) is honestly taken aback by how soft-hearted they are and how they thank him for saving Kento. He finds himself loving them so much because they remind him of his mother and how gentle and kind she was.

When he asks for their blessing? He bows but is surprised when Kento’s father blocks his forehead from meeting the floor, blinking away tears when his mother holds his face.

“We’ll gladly take you in as your son, (Y/N),” and they all start crying because (Y/N) is crying, LMAO.

Kento tells (Y/N) he asked for his parent's blessing and he's confused because Kento should never do that - he doesn’t need to ask his father for his blessing but Kento simply says:

“I visited your mom’s grave. I asked for her blessing. I talked to her about how much I love you.”

At their wedding, there are empty seats in the crowd. Seats for their fallen comrades, their loved ones, seats for Tsumiki, Principal Yaga, Yū, Satoru, Suguru, (Y/N)'s mom… (blame Elias for this one)

In regards to (Y/N) seeing Geto Suguru's "body" as he descended into madness: Kento who spots him muttering to himself or staring into space. (Y/N), who after surviving the Shibuya arc, still sees Suguru and now Satoru as well. At times, he even sees Yū, Kento, Megumi, Tsumiki, Yuji, Nobara, Maki, or -His brain constantly makes it hard for him to decipher reality or fiction.

A HC based on Katniss and Peeta: (Y/N) asking Kento, “Real or not real?” when he can't tell reality from fiction.

“You’re alive, real or not real?” “Real.”

“Megumi is still breathing. Real or not real?” “Real, my love. He’s just healing. He’ll wake up soon.”

"...You love me, real or not real?" "Real, my love."

When Fushiguro Megumi wakes up:

When Megumi recovers he cries. Openly cries, sobs, and wails as he begs for forgiveness from everyone around him. (Y/N) literally rushed into the room which made Megumi flinch, yelling at him to stay away because he killed his father (Satoru), his sister, and everyone else Ryomen Sukuna had killed. But (Y/N) just holds him and holds him and holds him. Megumi finds it hard to piece his brain together after what Sukuna has done so Yuji helps. Yuji asks Kento for advice because Megumi and (Y/N) are lowkey in the same boat-ish.

Megumi who begs for forgiveness because Sukuna had done unspeakable things to (Y/N) just to make him his concubine and (Y/N) just comforts his son.

When Megumi is strong enough they go to Suguru and Satoru’s graves. There are no bodies but they buried the things that they treasured. Their wedding ring rests where Satoru would have along with Megumi and Tsumiki’s childhood drawings, pictures, and Suguru’s hairband and button. The flip phone was full of memories and high school photographs - his wedding picture too. He rests beside Geto Suguru, whose grave is filled with his daughter's belongings and the flip phone he kept too, the creased photograph of himself with Satoru, (Y/N) and Shoko. Tsumiki, Nanko and Mimiko are next to their fathers. Megumi cries as his knees give out, his only family left, his dad; (Y/N), just comforts him as much as he can. His precious boy, his beautiful son... They visit as often as they can, telling tales of their days, their weeks, and their months. Soon enough, it will be less painful for them to visit that hill. It'll be scenic and they'll no longer curse at the heavens for all this loss. They'll hate that they're no longer the same person their loved ones had seen, hate the wrinkles and the greying hair and the way they couldn't grow old together. Hate that they've been alive longer than them when they feel like they don't deserve to be. But one day it'll stop and they'll take it as a blessing to grow this old, knowing they'll see their family soon enough with so many stories to tell.

"And isn't it just so pretty to think? All along there was some invisible string, tying to you me?"

"You know - in every universe, Satoru falls in love with Suguru and (Y/N). In a few universes, their love is not tragic. In this special few, Satoru does not use (Y/N) for honor. Suguru comes back after his betrayal,l and (Y/N) and Kento defend his rights as a human. Satoru has (Y/N) help him with Suguru’s rehabilitation, and Kento helps Suguru with his clashing ideology. In the special few, Megumi is still beloved by YN but he doesn’t fear betrayal, and love just needs love to be perfect. Uncle (Y/N) cherishes Tsumiki and Megumi and Uncle Kento who teaches them how to be kind and responsible. Mimiko and Nanako learn how to befriend Tsumiki and Megumi!”

(Y/N) would've become a teacher like Satoru! Kento sends him to and from. He pouted so much when Kento knew Yuji was alive but forgave him. (Y/N) invited Yuji to eat homemade lunch and dinners in their home, and Yuji pretended not to feel himself tremble; a homemade meal was eaten around a dining table.

Yuji, who never had such an experience before; and who craves familial bonds; can’t stop shoveling food in his mouth because he keeps grinning too hard -

And when Junpei is brought back alive? (Y/N) takes to him like a moth to a flame. He volunteers to help Junpei, to house him, and bares his teeth at the higher-ups who dare take the boy from him.

Junpei wakes up to Kento cooking breakfast and (Y/N) who makes tea. Junpei gasps as (Y/N) opens up a movie and invites him to watch with him. Junpei relishes Kento’s words of advice for his newfound curse technique.

Junpei cries into the pillows and gets surprised when (Y/N) comforts him, telling him he misses his mother too, and lets (Y/N) hug him.

Junpei stares at himself in the mirror when Shoko heals his cigarette scars, brushing back his bangs confidently for the first time.

Junpei who bonds with Megumi about having shikigamis! Who Nobara (affectionately) bullies and toughens up! Maki is reminded of Yuta every time, and Inumaki chuckles at her face. Panda just loves being his senpai but keeps pushing Junpei away from him when Junpei tries to touch his fur -

Satoru and Suguru come over with Mimiko, Nanako, Tsumiki, and Megumi to their home. Yuji and Junpei picked out the movie (it’s obviously Human Earthworm - all 4 movies). The Gojo-Geto’s brought snacks and drinks, and the Nanami’s made their home so cozy and warm.

"Tell me you belong to me"

Heian Era Sukuna and the ancestor of the (L/N) clan, his only male concubine which he adored so much it caused his unending.

As a foreword (just a fan theory I adored not canon at all): "The theory that Sukuna keeps CTs within his Malovent Shrine (hence, in my fic, it’s why the (L/N) clan never flourished. Sukuna took their innate technique and left them with a CT so strong none of them had enough will-power to master). It’s not confirmed but in the Jogo fight, he says “open” and all of a sudden he can use a flame CT???" "This is basically an AU of (Y/N)'s ancestor, lmao."

They sacrificed (Y/N) to Ryomen Sukuna and gave him their prince who came to him with a sharp glare and dirtied with bruises and cuts.

“You wrap my gift so carelessly?” Sukuna drawls out.

(Y/N) is bound and gagged. His hair must have been in an impressed top knot, now a mess that spills from his shoulders.

Uruame shifts next to him and they grip (Y/N)'s cheeks to inspect him.

What a beautiful man, they think with mild surprise, it was no wonder he was chosen as a sacrifice.

But, Sukuna wants him. So, he adds his first male concubine to his harem. (Y/N) is scrubbed clean, dressed to the nines, and made to look like a doll. His face was painted, his hair brushed, his nails trimmed, and his skin moisturized.

Ryomen Sukuna is a monster with a picky tongue. Despite his greed, he only eats refined meats and fights the strongest sorcerers.

Sukuna doesn’t “love” his concubine but he favors him. That much, (Y/N) can tell. When he plays the biwa or recites sutras and haikus, Sukuna is ever so attentive. When (Y/N) bows and sits next to Lord Sukuna to feed him his meals, he finds those big hands holding him in one way or another.

When he takes (Y/N) as a “woman”, he is not gentle. Uruame is the one to prepare him. They provided him with oils and aromatic smoke to ease him, not out of the kindness of their hearts but for their Lord’s pleasure. (Y/N) swears he nearly rips taking his size but Sukuna spreads his legs and pushes in deeper and (Y/N) gasps, his tears like diamonds as he pleads for his Lord to grant him mercy.

Sukuna does. It surprises himself. But he does.

Maybe Sukuna will never understand the word love because he tells himself he’s never loved. Or maybe, he confuses it with ownership and cruelty - because it’s obvious he loves (Y/N).

He’s unfair to all but him.

He is still the King of Curses, a cruel tyrant, but (Y/N) is someone who calms his wrath with ease.

When they made that Binding Vow for (Y/N)'s curse technique to be given to Sukuna in exchange for Sukuna not being able to kill off his clan. He had thought to give YN another curse technique. But then, after (Y/N) learns Sukuna murdered a huge chunk of his clan, (Y/N) plans for his betrayal.

(Y/N) seeing the shock on Sukuna’s face as he gets sealed away, feeling the God's disdain weigh on his bones as he breaks the Binding Vow - he weeps for Sukuna despite knowing how horrible he is.

(Y/N) marries and his bloodline continues on, but there’s this terrible desire to be loved. It persists in every one of them. This ache that the King of Curses had left. This magnetism that power holds over the (L/N) clan.

In another universe, where (Y/N) finds no love in Satoru nor Kento, but Sukuna?

How delighted would the King of Curses be to see his concubine so willing for him? The King of Curses would have a harem of women. But the one man? Oh, he’s beloved. His room is closest to Sukuna’s, his appetite always filled and his bookshelves overflowing. Uruame enjoys his presence, tending to him personally and making him food as well.

(Y/N) who takes a liking to human flesh. Who finds himself ignoring the screams of tortured men and women, and only curls his nose in distaste when Sukuna wants to consume “soft” flesh.

Who grins so serenely in his King’s lap, who can’t decide which mouth he prefers on him or which hand is his favourite. Sukuna loves to be fed by (Y/N) and does the same to him.

Who learns how to please Sukuna’s cocks all by himself. Who has servants prep him open only to be killed right after - but what a privilege they had, to have Sukuna’s concubine mewl around their fingers.

Sukuna loves watching him ride, loves seeing the bulge in his stomach, the twinge of pain on his face. He loves sticking his tongue out (the one on his stomach) to lick at (Y/N)’s cock and (Y/N) yelps every time.

At times, you’ll find his precious concubine so stunning after a night of pleasure you’d stare. Each time, Uruame is there to gauge their eyes out.

Their master's toy is his alone after all.

"What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes"

polycule of satosugu x yn!

Satoru thinks he’s selfish. He knows that marrying (Y/N) fulfills duty and honour but in doing so it would be cruel for the boy. On the other hand, marrying Suguru was completely out of the realm of possibilities no matter how hard he insists.

His personal feelings about them both confuse him too.

Satoru loves Suguru. Satoru loves (Y/N).

You could imagine the relief 16-year-old Gojo Satoru felt when (Y/N) blushed at Suguru’s soft-spoken voice or when Suguru caught himself staring at (Y/N)’s lips for too long in a conversation.

In this AU - Satoru never dated Suguru, he instead gathered the two of you and just announced his feelings.

It was choppy waters to navigate through, among the political aspects of a marriage and teenage emotions and deadly missions.

But the three of you made it work. This relationship was among three men who fulfilled honour, duty, and love. Who only needed each other to feel filled.

A polyamorous marriage wasn’t taboo, it was just outdated, still with Gojo Satoru and Gojo (Y/N) both insisting that Geto Suguru would be their husband after Satoru became the head of the Gojo clan. It wasn’t as though they could be refused now.

In this AU, Suguru would not betray his husbands though not without thinking of it. He simply tightened his hold on the rings before he brought the twins back home and his heart softened as he saw them tend to the girls.

What a rowdy household. The children are so loved that they cannot fathom love doesn’t exist.

Satoru who will sigh and embrace his husbands out of the blue.

“You’re beautiful,” he’ll tell (Y/N) as he cups his face while the poor man is simply reading some document at the dining table. “Our husband is beautiful, Suguru!”

Suguru immediately gets drowsy whenever your fingers thread through his hair, and chuckles when you trace his features as he’s about to wake.

Gods, seeing you and Satoru hold onto your children’s hands as all of you walk together in a park makes thoughts of those dark summers dissipate into nothing.

Satoru sleeps in the center of your California king-sized bed. He simply refuses any other spot.

The Tokyo School has its hands full of the Gojo’s. From the husbands to their 3 children with rambunctious abilities.

When Tsumiki got cursed...it was an emotional day for everyone. Suguru swore he’d do anything to break it while Nanako and Mimiko yelled and yelled, Megumi just sobbing into your chest.

The girls visit her often, talking to her as they fix her hair and ensure she’s comfortable. Megumi appreciates their care as he silently stares from the corner.

Oh, breakfasts are always bustling.

The children are spoiled just as much as Satoru’s husbands are.

What a terrifying trio you are - abilities powerful beyond the curve!

Shoko always takes a few shots before heading over to celebrate holiday dinners, lmao.

She understands that you three enjoy asking about her love life though all three of you were made to kneel in apology as she glared after Satoru and you “accidentally” found the woman she’d been seeing.

Suguru rolls his eyes every time Satoru and you stroke the dragon spirit's snout or compliment the spear-wielding spirit.

While they bring burn-relief medication for you, Satoru and you ensure to bring snacks to wash away the foul taste of curses for Suguru and Suguru and you always have extra blindfolds and painkillers for Satoru.

Yuta grew flustered as he found out the three of you were together. He had honestly thought Suguru was cheating on Satoru with you but Maki’s scoff of “disgust” and her brief explanation made his face bloom into fifty shades of red.

Yuji would honestly not care - he’d be surprised at first but bounce back rather quickly (although Ryomen Sukuna would certainly have his comments).

ANGST TIME!

The Shibuya arc would be very different of course, though wouldn’t it just be delightful if Kenjaku managed to grab (Y/N) and force his husband to see Ryomen Sukuna not only take over their son’s body but see their husband get claimed by another?

Delicious angst, me thinks.

"But I just wanna stop right next to you, if I could my dream? I just wanna stop right next to you."

polygamous marriage (?) of Satosugu and kentoYN!

In this AU, (Y/N) and Satoru would feel so guilty for letting their eyes wander to their significant future husbands.

It’s not as though they don’t love each other but there’s this societal norm of monogamy and despite never getting physical with Suguru/Kento the emotional aspect still makes them feel like they’re doing something dirty.

It wasn’t fair to anyone.

Shoko dryly mumbling about polygamy had Satoru and you instantly perking up.

You loved Suguru and Satoru liked Kento - but neither of them wanted to be in a relationship with each other. So this arrangement of Satoru’s boyfriend and (Y/N)’s boyfriend honestly worked. It was confusing at first but it worked.

When Satoru married Suguru and you married Kento, it was a joyous event. A double wedding!

A rowdy household once again, Satoru insisted on living on the same land just with multiple “sections”. Even if this was a polycule, I’d imagine solitude from one another is still appreciated after all. The house was built from the ground up and it was a labour of love to ensure all four of you (and your kids) would have their own slice of heaven.

Kento adores you, the rings on your fingers, and the home you share.

Satoru adores you as well, never once making you feel as though this is a competition.

Both Satoru and you are fair to each other and your respective husbands. Never favouring the other or anything that would make them feel like a “glorified side chick.”

The kids aren’t confused at all.

Although they did have to adjust to call which father what.

They settled with Dad (you), Papa (Suguru), Pa (Kento), and Father (Satoru - only to annoy him.) Sometimes the four of you will have to play it by ear since they just use “daddd!” interchangeably.

Shoko still takes shots before she heads over to go to holiday dinners.

The students are also not confused. Yuta got a bit flustered but Suguru just informed him about it and Yuta felt less anxious - he genuinely thought Satoru was cheating on (Y/N) when he walked in on Satoru and Suguru making out in an empty classroom.

You’d honestly just giggle at Yuta’s face when he told you this which made him more confused while Suguru gave him the mercy to pat his head.

Yuji would think it’d be so cool that such a dynamic worked.

Nanako and Mimiko as Tokyo High students make my heart soar - Megumi has his older sisters tease him relentlessly whenever their schedules overlap (they always do).

[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[romanoffsbish]

Affirmations

Natasha Romanoff x R (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Trauma (Red Room) | Sources say you might cry.

Healing—well that’s a family affair, 🥹💕 | WC: 2,618

Heavy at times, but super hurt / comfort — fluffy vibes. Probably the sweetest fic I have ever written tbh

"I am smart," your daughter repeated with a grin, eyes hopeful for some reassurance. "You are so smart and."

"I am kind," she remembered, and you beamed, not even needing to speak the next one either. All you could do was place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

———

"I a-am b-b-beautiful," she stuttered, then she took a calming breath before going on, voice a lot more steady this time as she softly said, "and deserving of love." Her gaze was however focused on your face, you smiled then gently twisted her head until she was solely staring at her reflection, she flashed you a nervous smile. "Again baby, but this time try to mean it."

Arabella nodded, "I am beautiful," her voice held a soft veil of conviction, "and I deserve forever love."

"Now all at once," you gently commanded, a proud smile on your face for encouragement. Arabella matched your confidence as she did as you instructed, then she turned and jumped into your unfolding arms.

"Always remember your worth love, people in this world will try to tell you otherwise but if you hold onto your heart you'll never perceive their lies as truth."

Natasha had watched the entire sequence from the moment you entered the house with the crying child. Her best friend Darla had dropped her for a popular girl who just transferred to their school, and in the process of doing so she called your daughter ugly.

When she heard the words leave Arabella's trembling lips she nearly left on another mission, but she chose instead to do what she does best, spy from doorways.

It amazed her just how quickly you were able to bring your daughter back to herself. To instill in her a sense of confidence and love that many kids only dreamed of. Natasha felt a brief flash of envy trying to consume her when she saw herself amongst the crowd of unloved. Then she really looked at you both and rebuked the notion, that was then, she needed to focus on the now.

"Oh look," you gasped to alert your daughter to the guest you'd locked eyes with through the mirror. Your wife flashed you a smile that spoke of guilt and hope. "Mama has been watching us this whole time."

Natasha saw the traces of sorrow in your eyes but she moved passed the need to talk it out as she stumbled forward and settled into the both of your open arms.

"How long did you know you'd be home today?" The redhead shrugged and mumbled, "Only a few hours."

It wasn't a lie, you'd walked in only minutes after her, unaware that she had made it home days before she was expected to. The redhead never knew exactly when a mission would end as the bulk of them came with sliding timeframes based on multiple factors.

It wasn't her fault that a standard two week mission only takes her one, but you hated it regardless of how true her reasoning was. The impromptu nature of the arrival always made it impossible for you to tend to her. Which wouldn't bother you as much if she wasn't going out of her way to stop you from doing it.

As she pulled away from the embrace she saw you were about to offer her assistance but she was saved by the tiny girl in your arms who yawned. On days like today, when your daughter was emotionally drained, she was ready to go to sleep before you could prepare dinner.

"I'll be okay detka," she pressed a kiss to your lips then pulled Arabella from your arms for a proper embrace.

"I missed you," she yawned while melting into her mama's chest. "I missed you too sweetheart."

"Night mama," she pressed a sweet kiss to Natasha's nose then rotated back into your arms. "Sweet dreams princess, I'll see you in the morning for cartoons."

Once your daughter's smiling face was out of sight Natasha's smile fell along with her shoulders. The mission she went on was only over so soon because of the total catastrophe it became. Tiny miscalculations on the bases end led to her team evacuating the wrong building, then by the time she knew it was too late.

You knew it was best to give her time to herself, so after you prepared a snack for your daughter and got her settled into bed you began to clean the house. Ears perked up to the sounds above, and after three long hours you finally sighed in relief as the water shut off.

Natasha had zoned out after the conditioner washed out of her hair, she stood there beneath the freezing cold water in a daze until she felt her tired body sway. Once she got out she tended to her wounds, some of which were already healing and that infuriated her.

Why should she be able to walk away with her life?

When her hollowed eyes met their reflection she sighed, and she tried to remember her therapists words, "survivors guilt is natural, but don't listen to the temptation, you have a family who needs you too..."

Natasha could feel the darkness creeping in though, so she decided she would try her hand at your method.

"You are smart," she tried to mimic your earlier words, but it left a bitter taste on her tongue. If she were, then the intel she received would've never mattered, if she truly had the power to be a hero she would've known.

The next phrases were followed by the same self deprecating thoughts. What good were kindness and beauty when you were meant to be a ruthless soldier? It was in her DNA to be efficient, yet she failed. It was like her mind split in two as she muttered, "you are a monster," with clear disgust and overwhelming anger.

Then she stumbled back and shook her head, "n-no." Her mind ran wild with memories of her youth, "I-I didn't have a choice," she whimpered, and that was when you knew it was time for you to step in for her.

"Stand up Natalia," you firmly commanded and the redhead fell in line in seconds. It broke your heart but you knew you needed to be strong; firm in tone and command so she'd mean what she was about to say.

"Repeat after me," you steadily spoke, "I am not bad."

Natasha repeated it but her gaze was far away.

"I am not a bad person," you rephrased, and just like before she struggled to say it with any feelings. You sighed, "I'm not a monster." Her body stiffened, which was odd as she'd already been stood straight as a board. This time, she refused to repeat the words.

Natasha never lied, and that broke your heart, but you didn't falter in pushing her towards owed forgiveness.

"I am human," you paused, "not marble." You felt the way her spine slightly slumped as she repeated your words with a hardly noticeable, but never for you, shaky voice. You noticed everything and that was how you knew your beloved wife was about to have a real breakthrough on the never ending road to healing.

You smiled softly as her eyes finally met yours, the both of yours glistened beneath the blinding bathroom lights. Hers were merely glazed, but yours were pooling in the corners as you spoke, hopefully speaking directly to her soul. "So I'm allowed to break."

"Oh god," she cried, hands clutching the marbled sink as she had to keep herself from collapsing. You were prepared for her to fall so you had wrapped your arm around her waist, spun her then pulled her into an abrupt hug. Trying to calm her nervous system and to shield her sobs for the sake of your sleeping daughter.

"It's okay my love," you tried to reassure her but she shook her head and only sobbed harder. You took the queue then to focus on physical reassurances instead. Holding her even tighter and kissing her face, usually atop of her cheekbone to catch the fresh tears, a silent way to tell her that you'd take her pain if you could.

Natasha felt even guiltier when she caught on. "I-I couldn't save them all," she confessed into the cotton of your shirt, body shuffling in vain because there was no way possible she could get any closer to you.

"You were alone?" She shook her head and you soon hummed, "then why do you shoulder all of the blame?"

"I'm an Avenger—I was the one in charge, and..."

"You are human."

"I am enhanced..."

"Enhanced metabolic rates doesn't mean you had the ability to save them all, and we both know you don't need me to tell you that Natasha. You are brilliant."

Before she could continue to bicker with you she was stopped by your lips pressing hers shut. Natasha melted into your sweet touch. No matter the case you were always gentle with her, even when she wasn't with you. If she was angry and shouting you'd quiet her with a kiss like this, you were patient and rarely yelled back.

It's what helps her to become better for the sake of your daughter. As she processed her feelings, some for the very first time, you only ever offered her patience. You were the light at the end of her tunnel, giving her everything that she could ever dream of and more.

"I-I," she really wanted to take you on but she was too tired to fight against the warmth of your love. Her body once again melted into yours and everything felt like it was settled, but the peace of mind was short lived.

"Mama, are you okay?" Arabella sniffled from your bed, and the both of you looked up to see her crying. "Baby, what are you doing here and out of your bed?"

You coaxed your wife to keep calm as you firmly held her hands so she could still feel you there while your attention was focused elsewhere. "I heard a scream and thought there was a monster next door. I was coming to get mama so that she could fight it off for me."

Natasha squeezed your hands and sat up to face her, uncaring that her face was a mess of irritated, red splotches. On the journey to wellness it is important that you don't hide the process from your loved ones.

They can only understand you if you show them...

"Come here honey," Natasha called out to her and she immediately shuffled over and into your lap, her eyes were stern as she stared into your wife's broken pair.

"Mama needs to remember her worth," she huffed to you directly and you refrained from chuckling in her face as she looked like she meant business. "Yeah, I suppose she does—are you up to lead her through it?"

Arabella nodded her head then stood, pulling Natasha off of the ground and right over to the mirror. You left them to their moment and slipped off to the kitchen.

When you got back to the room with the tray of snacks you nearly melted into a puddle. Your daughter was sat on the counter, her tiny hands cupped around her mother's face as she told her even more phrases, it was as if she knew exactly what Natasha needed to hear.

"You are brave," then she paused so her mom could say it back. It continued on, the two in their own world as you watched your wives heart mending in real time.

"You're an Avenger," she spoke with a soft smile that only grew as her mom teasingly groaned the words.

"You're my hero," she beamed, "my super mama."

"Oh wow," she huffed shakily, "I love you so much."

"I love you even more than the Barbie movie mama."

Natasha chuckled, "wow, I must be special." Your daughter innocently nodded and you watched as Nat pulled Arabella up and into a tight hug, one of her arms loosened as she approached you without even looking up, you didn't hesitate to slip into her hold. "My greatest loves, you fit perfectly in my arms..."

The three of you remained in a tight embrace for a total of five minutes before your intuition was proved right. Natasha's stomach roared, then Arabella's followed.

"On the bed, pick a movie while I clean up some."

Natasha handed your daughter the remote then went on her nightly patrol, her hand never too far from a hidden weapon—just in case. Once she knew the lot of you were safe she grabbed the drinks you had left on the counter and returned to join you both in bed.

Arabella happily took the chilled capri sun from her hands then reached into the snack pile for a cookie.

"We are watching Encanto," she cheered and your wife fell into your unoccupied side with a hushed groan. "You and I both know she'll be out in twenty, then you can turn on Moonraker and I can finally sleep."

Natasha pinched your side but you only chuckled, and in about fifteen minutes time you had proved her right.

Your wife watched as your daughter, in the depths of her sleep climbed atop of your body and settled down. It warmed her heart to see the love that your daughter expressed even without the need for consciousness. She pressed a kiss to her cheek then moved to hover her face above your stilled one, waiting for you to bite.

Hook, line and sinker—it only took seven seconds for your eyes to crack open and your lips to perk up. The woman gently kissed your lips and if the both of you didn't desperately need to sleep she'd have continued.

Natasha's kisses lowered, pressing down your jaw until she could feel your racing pulse as she settled her face into the crook of your neck, where she slept the most.

With the tv playing on mute you found yourself drifting off as the flashes of light brought you a weird peace. You were settling into it just fine, "Y/N?" then you were being startled. Your entire body shivered as her rasp tickled the thin skin of your neck, once she kissed you in apology you found it in you to urge her on.

"You are the most beautiful partner I could have ever been blessed with—your love is the atlas of my hope."

"That was a really dramatic way to tell me you love me," you teased, voice grumbly as you fought sleep.

"Goodnight," she groaned and you giggled, "Your love is the atlas of my hope too Natty; I adore you, truly."

The redhead nipped your neck in retaliation but it was a ruse as her hand intertwined with yours atop of your daughter's back, nestled beneath the fluffy blanket.

Healing was a process that Natasha never expected to occur in her lifetime, with the blood in her ledger she always thought she was undeserving. Then there you were, at the ready to wash her hands clean in your personal oasis of understanding and righteousness.

Natalia Romanova was a victim of her circumstances, built only to lay waste to entire regimes, her story however was the greatest one to topple. All because she met a couple of people who saw her heart. Natasha Romanoff was a woman who was painfully reborn, whose entire purpose now lay beside her, at peace.

"I am not a monster," she finally repeated, just after you slipped off to sleep. "I am worthy of this love."

[taureantarot]

Pick A Card / What Does Your Heart Truly Desire?

(L-R)

1) Never Ending by Rihanna

“Ghost in the mirror,

I knew your face once,

But now it’s unclear”

For Pile One, I see a longing to run. To escape what’s within. There is a lot of pain, or bloodletting, occurring at this time, and it is draining everything out of your body and mind. You fear you can’t take it, another healing cycle, another lesson, another beginning only to end.

I see something solid building in the backdrop of your misery. Do not fear. You won’t lose this beginning you’ve cradled so gently. I see your heart’s desire is to win for once. Just once. Not another loss. Another breakdown. I see with Judgement that things are good, but you wish the pain would stop.

Next song is “Same Ol’ Mistakes”. You fear that this isn’t the beginning of something new. IT IS. The dead rise with judgement. Knight of Pentacles is steady, working towards a King. It is fear, shame, old trauma that weighs down your heart. I recommend listening to hypnosis or binaural beats, anything subconscious that can affirm positive beginnings. They are there. With Wheel of Fortune, so much sooner than you think.

I get an undercurrent of forbidden love here, do not fear. They will not judge you. The past will fall under the efforts of your love. SELF-love, that is.

AFFIRMATIONS:

I ATTRACT SUCCESS AND NEW OPPORTUNITIES EFFORTLESSLY.

I ASK. I BELIEVE. I SHALL RECEIVE.

I DON’T EMPOWER MY FEARS, I OVERCOME THEM.

(Last song was “Woo” by Rihanna. It’s okay to love and have lost. But the future has more in store for you. Anger is fuel for transmutations. Let go. Three of Swords reversed is nothing to play with. Honor your rage. Judgement Day hides for no one. But be mindful of all the good coming from your hard work.)

2) Stoicism by Moses Sumney

“And I would glance back,

Before my descent, to mutter,

‘I love you’ “

You have been longing for love your entire life. There is no mercy here for the pain, the bridges burned, the regrets, the failure of the mother. Please listen to the music in this pile, in fact, the album, Aromanticism by Moses Sumney, is for this pile. You have been fighting, making mistakes, acting like a Knight of Swords through friendships, relationships, and yourself, and it has wore your heart down to a stone nub.

“Casts a shadow on the shallow love it hurls

To the feet of swine it need not cast its pearls

Lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely world”

(Lonely World, Moses Sumney)

You have closed yourself, thinking it empowering, thinking it admirable, but your heart is dying. You have resisted the gifts of your family (any kind), you go from battle to battle, and now you are a lonely Queen of Swords, drifting into an unknown gray world. (Six of Swords)

“And the void speaks to you

In ways nobody speaks to you

And that voice fills the air

Fog in the morning

Going nowhere”

I won’t lie, this pile worries me, so we will move on to anchors. Your life isn’t over, you aren’t doomed. You are going to find connection through your work efforts. Start with getting along with coworkers. I suspect you didn’t have much love early on, but you can plant a seed and simply water it. Let it be easy, for once.

One more song.

[stargirlfics]

B U T T E R F L Y

Joel Miller x Black Latina Reader

Summary: Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, death tw, child death tw, some TLOU spoilers but doesn’t follow canon, post-outbreak!Joel, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma and violence mentions, fluff, slow burn vibe, mutual pining

Word Count: 5.6k

My mind has been stuck on the butterfly imagery connecting Sarah and Joel in the show, and in the game too! I grew up hearing from my abuelita that monarch butterflies are symbols of loved ones who’ve passed and I thought that would fit well here! This fic explores grief and pain but also finding hope through it too 🦋

To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.

Doomed is what they all said you were, surviving the outbreak this long sooner or later came with a price and they had been right, but still, half out of spite, half out of needing something to hang onto, the tenderness of you remained.

Surviving was a miracle and most could go on just grateful to wake up another day, but you’d seen how void life was lived here in the ruins of a former world, and as doomed as it all appeared, you tried your best to find pockets of light where you could, fighting the urge to shut yourself away. 

Because maybe one day those pockets of light would be abundant where they were once scarce, maybe one day, if you kept yourself open to it, there would be a sign of a changing tide to let you know you were finally safe. 

How strange signs could be, in plain sight but unseen until your brain could catch up with what your soul was feeling, and rarely did they ever come without complexity. 

In your case, that complexity came with a stern scowl that belonged to one Joel Miller. 

The first whispers you’d ever heard about Joel were that he was grumpy, stubborn, and not the kind of man to be messed with. He was the muscle behind trades done in shadowed alleys here in the QZ, illegal substances, weapons, extra ration cards, you name it. 

He was intimidating to most people, even you; having a reputation for being a man of few words and an even shorter fuse would do that but you knew there to be sorrow there too, etched deep in the lines of his face, reflecting like moonlight in his eyes. 

You’d never spoken to him, not in all your time in Boston, always seeming to narrowly avoid crossing paths, but you often saw him from afar. In the town square, catching glimpses of him waiting in line to collect a job’s earnings or in the pit, hauling bodies to the acrid cremation pyres smoldering hot throughout the day. 

If you thought about it, that’s where you saw the sorrow most.

That old, faded bandana he wore over his nose to block out the stench of burning gave you the clearest view of his eyes; sad, angry orbs fixated on the task like it was penance for him. 

All those hushed whispers told you he wasn’t a good man, that he had hurt people to get what he needed, and that wasn’t a surprise, you’d seen it enough to understand the grim nature of the wasteland you were in, how people often turned against each other if they thought it meant they’d live to see another day. 

Maybe that understanding was how it happened that day, the first time you’d meet, something in your soul already well tangled with something in his yet neither of you knew it yet. 

You’d been expecting someone else at your door that evening, a friend of yours with a bag of good soil snuck in from the outside in exchange for a radio of yours that was in decent shape. 

Instead, you were greeted by Joel Miller, bag in hand, a frown already on his face as he explained the switch up, even pointing to a note on the bag in your friend's handwriting to vouch for him. 

His voice had caught you off guard, a low, gruff bass in his careful cadence, Texan accent making the words go down smooth. 

“Okay, no problem, she did tell me she wasn’t sure if she would really make use of it. You can step in if you want, I’ll just be a second.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so trusting. 

That’s how people got robbed, taken advantage of, murdered and you weren’t going to get any sympathy from neighbors or any FEDRA soldiers in the area if something were to happen but despite that, and his reputation, you didn’t feel unsafe. 

Quite the opposite. 

Joel was certainly the grumpy type and you didn’t doubt he was capable of hurting you if he wanted but as you returned with the radio you found him just where you’d left him, his body filling your doorway in a way that reminded you of a guard dog. 

Something had caught his eye in the time it had taken you to walk back, gaze fixed somewhere behind you. 

It took you a second to realize what exactly he was staring at, eyes tracking him and following until they landed on the butterfly figurine hanging from the makeshift curtains of your kitchen sink window. 

Golden hour light warming the window had bathed the glass winged butterfly in its rays, casting fractals of color across the wall and the worn wooden floors. 

You studied his face for a moment then, a familiar kind of sadness reaching his eyes, the darkened circles underneath them a little more noticeable now. 

You wondered when the last time he got any proper sleep was. 

“I made it…” interrupting his thoughts gently you gestured towards the window when he looked at you in question, “La mariposa...took me ages to fit the glass and wire together right but I think it came out ok.”

He grunted in response, finally handing over the bag of soil when you noticed the slightest tremble in his hands. 

Oh…so he’d been caught off guard too. 

Something about your butterfly had shaken him up and you were curious, who could blame you for being tempted to cross what you were sure he would say was a line, but you pretended not to notice, trying to offer him some privacy, a second to collect himself. 

You’d appreciate it if he did the same for you in his place after all. 

The exchange was completed swiftly after, a palpable silence settling between you before he was leaving almost as quickly as he arrived, taking the fading summer sunset with him.

–

Joel barely slept that night, woken by nightmares again, a routine he was familiar with, haunted by the same old ghosts but it was different this time, the barbed wire around his heart digging in just a little extra, memories of her surfacing. 

Sarah. His Sarah.  

He didn’t realize just how long it had been since he was reminded of her this way, of what it felt like to be her father, shutting himself off to that years ago, unable to think about his life with her before because that pain was nearly unbearable. 

There is only after, the after in which she doesn’t exist, where he searches for her in his sleep and wakes knowing he won’t find her. 

Because he watched her slip away, had pleaded and begged to the skies to bring her back, had held her in his arms, hands stained red with her blood, and had to accept that she was gone and he was granted no time to say goodbye. 

Days turned to weeks, months into years and he had learned to operate on a certain level of numbness, just focused on surviving, never getting too attached, acting cold and angry, just a dead man walking. 

Until now, his chest nearly caving in with the truth that he was still breathing even after so long spent closed off. 

He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered your friend’s offer to complete the exchange at all, he knew he shouldn’t have, the radio you traded wasn’t in as great a shape as he would have liked, he knew that upfront and still begrudgingly agreed, not expecting to feel so exposed, so upended by a simple encounter.

That butterfly shining in the sunlight of your kitchen made his heart stop the second he saw it, flashes of memory surfacing, almost like his little girl was pulled to the surface of his skin again, like if he stepped inside he could reach out and she’d be there. 

A dreadful reality had washed that away after a moment, grief swallowing up the hope just as he knew it would, like it always had, but something was undeniably different this time for Joel. A difference that left an ache in his center. 

Because for those few fleeting seconds, he had felt alive again. 

–

The second time you met Joel was intentional, another bag of soil in exchange for some instant coffee this time. 

It was still early morning when he knocked on your door, quiet, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a sleepy kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before around the edges of his eyes which made you wish he didn’t look so inviting then. 

It wasn’t so hard to look at him as unapproachable as he made himself seem, he was handsome, the streaks of gray peppered in his hair and along his beard lending to his rugged look. 

“About the coffee, it’s not as strong as it could be but it’s the best I’ve got,” you handed over a jar, watching him open the lid and sniff its contents.

“That’ll do just fine.” 

Relief arrived at his approval, you gathered it’d been a while since he had any and you were glad your stash wasn’t a disappointment. 

You watched as he knelt down to set his backpack on the floor, stowing the jar inside and handing you the bag of fertilizer mix you had inquired about. 

It wasn’t long now before he’d be out the door again, these things were best kept short and simple but as you thanked him for the exchange and moved to store the bag with your other garden supplies, you noticed a moment of reluctance. 

Joel didn’t plan on lingering around now that you both had what you came for but then he was reminded of what he felt the last time he’d been in your space and his mouth was moving with the thoughts that were swimming in his head before he could bite back the words.

“That’s a good amount of soil you have, got some sorta secret garden FEDRA don’t know about?”

Suddenly you felt very silly for wanting to smile at his curiosity but also recognized the significance of him asking. 

“Something like that, yeah. I…actually found a spot of flowers growing through one of the QZ fences and I’ve been tending to it. It's no garden but the flowers are in bloom now, first time I’ve seen real butterflies in years.” 

You watched him perk up at the mention of real butterflies, furrowed brows hiding the flicker of emotion mere seconds later but it was too late, you’d seen it already. 

Up until now, your little patch of greenery had been a private endeavor. 

Something for you to put some love and effort in, and just a quiet, secluded place to be, to clear your head or be alone for a while, away from some of the chaos in the streets, and yet here you were, now, carefully asking him if he’d like to see it too. 

You thought just maybe, bringing him there would do him as much good as it had done you. 

And it’s there, in that moment when he says yes that you see all that hard exterior start to slip just an inch.  

It’s an inch you can work with. 

–

Early morning dew still clings to the soft blades of grass sprouting up near the fence line, the section where you’d been taking care of the vegetation noticeably more vibrant with color and growth. 

Slowly, you’d been replacing the dirt, had saved as many roots and sprouts as possible, taking care in replanting them, and from there, a shabby little makeshift garden bed had formed. 

This would be your third week caring for it and now Joel was trailing behind your steps to see it too.

His body language was tense like he couldn’t quite be sure you weren’t actually taking him to some secluded corner to ambush him, but you get it.

Being wary was smart, but you couldn’t lie that it was satisfying to let him take it in without explaining anything first, the tension in his shoulders easing, sagging when his eyes fell upon the dusky blue flowers and rich green leaves and vines growing up from the ground, searching for the sun’s nourishment. 

Joel couldn’t be certain whether it was the day’s first tendrils of summer heat making him feel warm or the fluttering orange and speckled black wings of a butterfly nestled atop a marigold. 

He glances at his wrist, at the memento that never leaves his side, a broken watch, and there’s a moment of clarity in the silence where Joel can feel it, all the shattered parts of him spilling out, and there isn’t any way he can catch it all, he’s already too late and he knows it. 

Panic works its way into his bloodstream, causing his hands to shake, not used to being so disarmed, so flayed open. 

His fingers curl into a fist, trying to steady himself, needing a moment to catch his breath, to process. 

And there you were, your gentle voice cutting through the noise in his head and that tidal wave of emotion. 

“They’re monarch butterflies, which means they’re special,” you’ve moved a little closer now, watching another one land next to its friend on the flower. 

“What makes' em’ so special?” Joel takes a deep breath and you do too. 

You thought for a second he might shut down and walk away, there wasn’t anything keeping him here after all, he had the coffee he came for and yet still took you up on your offer. That in itself was difficult not to attach yourself to immediately but there was no denying it felt good to know you’d earned maybe an ounce of his trust. 

“In Mexico, my abuela used to say they were a sign of the dead coming to visit the living, loved ones, our ancestors, the monarchs carry their souls to us. I think they’re good luck too.”

The smile working its way onto your lips is fond, sad, one you knew he’d recognize, the silent but shared knowledge of loss was a heavy burden to carry. There was no mistake about it, but being here, amongst your flowers and your butterflies made it easier. 

Orange and gold halos shimmered around the plant life softly swaying with the wind, your own features now warmed with the climbing sun, brown skin shining deeper under the light. 

Joel was looking at you now, following your words. The meaning of what you were both looking upon hitting him square in the chest when that feeling blooms behind his eyes again, that itch of something alive, something beautiful growing again amongst concrete ruins.

And it's there, standing next to you, watching you water the soil while butterflies float around you that he works out what that feeling must be. 

Salvation. 

–

After that morning, trading goods with Joel became a regular occurrence. 

Soil for another stash of coffee or a packet of seeds for a hunting knife in need of experienced hands, neither of you quite sure how it happened but eventually the trades became more like friendly favors to each other than practical transactions. 

Your ‘garden’ also became a frequent place for you both to go, so much so that on any given day you could bet he was there, a quick stop on his way back home, or in the morning before the day started, it became an unspoken shared refuge. 

Joel helped you fix up the makeshift garden beds when it became clear your tender care of the plants called for an upgrade and you were grateful for it, dismissive at first, not wanting him to feel obligated.

You could handle yourself around a hammer and a few nails but he insisted and you relented, the two of you knelt under the setting sun, working on the task together. 

It didn’t matter that it was closing in on curfew time, or that you didn’t really have anything to compensate him for his time because, the moment itself, the small inklings of trust building between you were actually far better. 

That’s when you started to see him nearly every day, sitting against bomb-scarred concrete, always facing those marigolds, the ones the monarch butterflies you’d told him about always flocked to. 

At first you kept your distance, knowing better than to pry. 

It was clear he’d been through a lot, most his age-if you were guessing correctly-had, old enough to have lived a good portion of their lives before the outbreak, the last witnesses of an old world. You wanted to respect that and as long as he was finding some sort of peace here, you were content. 

You didn’t mind his company either, he wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was comforting and familiar and you felt safe with him near. 

Eventually though, keeping him at a distance became impossible, both of you stumbling through the uncertainty of what to say to each other yet not giving up on trying at the same time. 

And Joel had resisted too, had tried to keep his words short, always residing somewhere in between neutral and aloof but the more he watched you in your element, amongst the seedling sprouts and vines and moss, the more it made him want to talk.

It was easy to find his voice around you. 

You were soft-hearted, he could see that and it wasn’t easy to get used to the way you looked at him, like you cared, like you understood something about his brokenness right away, had let him sit here day after day watching the butterflies because somehow you knew it’s what he needed, but he didn’t mind the learning curve either. 

His usual annoyance and reluctance to speak about feelings couldn’t keep up this time surrounded by reminders of Sarah, coaxing the small part of him that hadn’t died with her out of its state of numbness, softening him again. 

‘You were never gonna do it for yourself’ rings in his ears. 

He’d never been much good at that, doing things for himself, and Sarah was always so clever about calling it out, even now, nudging him awake again after all these years. 

It’s why he decides to tell you when you ask one day, sitting next to him on sun-warmed stone. 

He merely came by to sit for a little while and clear his head and found you already sat in his usual spot, butterfly watching, your eyes telling your secret, that you had been crying before he arrived, his first instinct carrying him forward, to your side. 

He offered you some water, even sliced an apple in half to share with you, pleased with himself when he got a smile out of the gesture but remained as quiet as you were, wanting you to feel like you could just be. 

“Who do they remind you of?” your voice was small, unsure of how he’d react to the question, overexplaining in hopes it would make him recoil less, “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, I understand. It’s just that…what I told you about the monarch butterflies, I really do believe in it you know, the people I’ve lost…they feel so close to the surface, like they’re watching over me and I think you feel the same.” 

Joel nods after a moment and you’re exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

It takes him a moment but he finds the words. 

“My daughter…her name was Sarah. They were her favorite, actually, since she was bout old enough to talk. I used to call her my little butterfly when she was a baby which, yeah, got real old when she started middle school but I liked to remind her anyways, just to see her roll her eyes at me. Just as long as she knew I loved her, you know, that I never stopped, not since the moment I held her in my hands for the first time.”

It broke your heart to hear. 

And it hurt him too, to speak about her and then remember that he had lost her, that twenty years had passed and he couldn’t remember what she smelled like anymore, and he hated the nightmares but without them, he was afraid of forgetting her face, her eyes, the coils of her hair, the sound of her voice calling out to him. 

It was only now that he was seeing how deep he’d pushed it all down, bottled up tight out of fear, and then somehow you’d entered his life, Molotov aimed straight at his heart, stunning him into remembering her the way she deserved to be. 

“I’m so sorry,” you extend all the comfort you can, knowing there weren’t any words that would ever make it right but you wanted to try anyway. 

“Yeah, me too. But you’re right, she feels close, and I know you’ve put it together by now but it’s why I’ve been sittin here every day, I see those butterflies and I see her, I remember her and it feels...good. I didn’t want it to; don’t really trust things that feel good but it does and I wanna thank you for that, for letting me have that.” 

He worries he’s said too much, or said the wrong thing, wanting to kick himself because he was never much good at words either but the sight of your lips pulling up into a small smile came as a relief. 

“She’s with you, Joel. And there’s no need to thank me, it’s been good for me too, doing all this. I think it helps.” 

He nods again, agreeing before asking you the same question, extending an opportunity to open up too; a big step when keeping personal histories to a minimum was the lay of the land around here. 

And it wasn’t easy, to talk about the things that hurt, baring your grief to Joel, and trusting him with it but you did and he had held it so gently, understanding it for what it was. 

Looking back you think maybe it’s there that things started to change, where your life and his started to merge. 

Sometime after that conversation you gifted him one of those glass winged butterflies like the one in your window, showing it to him one evening in the garden, earning you the first real smile you’d ever seen from him. 

It was after he told you more about himself, about Sarah, his brother Tommy, recounting happy memories; like the time he and Tommy surprised Sarah with her own soccer ball for her birthday one year, how he’d caved almost immediately the time she begged him to get her a polaroid camera, and you shared too, thinking on good times you’d had with the people in your life. 

It meant a lot to Joel that you spent time crafting the ornament, knowing just how deep the symbolism of it went for him. 

You were always doing that, looking out for him, planting tiny seed after tiny seed, slowly working your magic on him, ensnaring him deep, making him want to look out for you too. 

Under the fading sun again you sat with him, watching the marigolds, the calm, slow fluttering of wings, and it’s in that same spot that you find your hand in his for the first time. 

No words needed to be said, this was far better. 

A little while later you saw your gift hanging from the window in his living room, right next to the radio you had first traded him for.

The two of you had found yourselves escaping the heat here after some time tending the garden together, pulling weeds, clearing new soil of rocks and rubble, now sharing his couch, a rusty old fan that still somehow worked cooling the sweat prickling the back of your neck.

Curfew hour was nearing and you knew you would have to start making your way back home but Joel warned that he’d heard from a FEDRA officer he did trades with that they were patrolling the streets early the next few nights.

You knew why, it was hard to forget the hail of gunfire last night, a group of Fireflies going after a group of officers on patrol, a fight that neither one had won. 

Tensions in the QZ had been high all day since then and Joel suggested that you stay here with him for the night, saying he didn’t want you dealing with anything that might be going on out there.

He was being protective, a disapproving frown on that handsome face of his when you told him you didn’t want to intrude on his space but he was right, things had already started looking a little dangerous on your way back from the garden and you appreciated that he was trying to keep you safe. 

So you stayed. 

Curled up on Joel’s old, worn couch with a blanket that smelled like him tucked around you, the white noise of the fan still blowing and the knowledge that he wasn’t far, just in the next room over, carried you off to sleep.

–

One night had turned into two and then three and somewhere in the last couple months of summer that were left, you spent most of your days and nights with Joel. 

No label had been applied to whatever your situation was with him, you knew better than to ask, this all needed time, and you were okay with that, just content on holding onto this good thing with him. 

Because you liked being around, like sharing a space with him and sitting in the garden together, opening up to each other more and more every day. 

It was nice watching Joel come out of that hardened shell of his, watching him find it easier to talk about things, noticing him trying to live life more, not as reluctant to connect. 

Things were good, not to say that there hadn’t been bad days amongst all the progress made, there were plenty of them in fact. 

Days where old patterns became default again, stretches of nights where the nightmares returned, both of you trying to wade through it. 

When the aching of old wounds came knocking and the walls came back up again. 

You hated to fight with Joel when that happened, and you hated not being on the same page but he was so stubborn it wasn’t always easy to bite back your frustration. 

He had told you about his past, about the people he hurt in those early days and it’s something he wrestled with, believing in the goodness you saw inside him when all he could see were the bad things.

It frustrated you sometimes, how he preferred to shut himself off, to you, to Sarah’s memory because he felt like his hands were too dirty, too blood-stained to even try. 

“Que, no entendes?! Please, Joel! Stop trying to be something you aren’t. You think you aren’t a good man but bad people don’t get upset about being bad. Do you think you can just turn it off, the part of you that was always a good man, a good father? Well sorry, but you can’t, that’s who you are to your core, I saw it the first moment I met you and every time since then.” 

 “I’ve killed people,” his tone was mean, and venomous, another attempt at pushing you away. “Goddamnit, it’s not as simple as-”

“I get that! Look I know that you’ve done bad things but you’ve also spent every waking moment punishing yourself for it, do you realize that? All these years you’ve been paying your penance any way you can and I’m trying to tell you it’s okay live well, that you don’t have to torture yourself anymore because we have to try and make something out of all this pain.” 

It wasn’t easy to get him to see what you saw but you didn’t back down, even when it would have been easy to, Joel knew it too, guilt washing over him as you looked at him then, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You’ve endured enough.” 

It’s those final three words from you that makes him ease up, a reminder you nudged him with often, that he could rest already, could make amends by making a choice to find the light. 

He lets you take some space from him, coming to find you before bed because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without fixing things. 

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, talkin to you like that. You’re just tryna help my sorry ass and I haven’t thanked you enough. I’m gonna get better at that.” 

It’s the first time you ever hug him, noticing the tremble in his hands as he says the words, feeling the sincerity in his voice, unable to stop yourself from all but barreling into his arms. 

He’s still for only a moment before his arms wrap around you in return, the two of you bathed in moonlight, that butterfly still hanging in his window, pushing you towards each other again just like it had when you first met. 

–

Eventually, the day comes when the monarchs leave, the approaching fall and winter seasons carrying them to warmer places, a solemn change in what had been yours and Joel’s routine. 

The absence of the butterflies that had provided so much hope the last few months was felt, but the world was also a lot more open and wide now too. 

You no longer slept on Joel’s couch, you slept pressed against him now, and woke with your limbs tangled with his, a quiet partnership forming.

It scares both of you, knowing that you had grown to care for each other so quickly, knowing that was dangerous and reckless but also feeling stronger because you were a team. 

You think that’s why you make the decision together, one rainy fall evening when Joel comes home with a message from Tommy. 

They had gone through a rough patch recently, being apart from each other for some time and still not seeing eye to eye on Tommy’s choices but slowly, they’d started talking again and there was news that Tommy and the group he was with had gotten a hydroelectric plant that had once belonged to FEDRA up and running. 

There was electricity and a place to stay if you and Joel were interested, plus Tommy wanted you to meet Maria, said she did him a whole world of good and this was some of that good in action. 

It hadn’t been a hard choice to make even knowing how difficult the journey would be.

This was the chance you’d both been waiting for, and had talked about, a far off dream of running away from all the violence that was inescapable here in Boston, searching for something better out there, and now it was within reach. 

So you’d left your garden in the care of a friend you knew would understand its importance, and you bide your time with Joel, making deals, doing jobs, collecting and saving up supplies, and helping him map the way to Jackson. 

And then the day came when you left the QZ behind for good, watching the city fade away in the rearview mirror.

Making it to Tommy hadn’t been easy, there had been one too many close calls for comfort but the trust you and Joel had in each other didn’t waver, and here you were, finally on the other side. 

Settling in hadn’t been the easiest, especially for Joel, his guard still up but little by little, you both sank into a new way of life. 

You quickly learned how to ride a horse and hunt in the woods surrounding the power plant, even making friends with some of the families in the community. 

Joel had taken to things a little slower, but even he couldn’t hide for long, helping some of the men in the group with repairs on things that needed fixing, even cautiously attempting to make friends with you. 

Small pockets of peace started to open up the longer you stayed and the threat of raiders loomed over that peace at times, keeping everyone on alert for attacks but you all had Joel and Tommy now, always amongst the first to be out there protecting, defending fiercely.

You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you here.  

As spring arrived again you found a nice spot for a garden, pointing out sprouting flower buds to Joel one day, almost missing the fond smile forming on his lips, both of you knowing what this meant. 

You were happy here, and happy being with Joel, the two of you building a new garden together this time, until finally, as the chill spring breeze transitioned into summer heat and sunshine you were sat next to him like you had been what seemed like ages ago, watching the butterflies circle the flowers in bloom in what had become Sarah’s Garden. 

Joel made you a promise; to keep going for family, the family you, him, and Tommy were now. And you promised the same, not scared of how much you cared for the man by your side anymore.

It wasn’t perfect, the world was still rotten and the broken parts of you all were still raw, still healing, but this time her light was guiding the way through it and that made it all worth it.

---

A/N: When I saw that butterfly hanging in the window of his place in Boston I just couldn’t resist writing something about how he got it and here we are! This world is so dark and tragic and while this fic doesn’t change those facts, I hope it plants some gentle, hopeful little seeds of healing, because Joel deserves that and so do you as the reader! thank you for reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 💌

some tags no pressure! @inklore @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @ozarkthedog @amethystwonders11 @blkmorticia @moreofem @eupheme @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @superhoeva @buckyhoney @plumbits

[kingofbodyrolls]

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 →

[webtoon-related-tournaments]

Jaehwan:

The world suddenly was attacked by monsters, so those who were chosen decided to fight for humanity. Most of the people in his team died in the process, yet he didnt give up 😔👍 He continued to train and be open to learn new skills, running away from fights every time he didnt think he would win, to heal, train even more, and later try once again. He lived this way for y e a r s. He then (slight spoilers for the first episodes? It started with plot twists already 😭) ended up being the last human alive, decided to fight god (?), won, and decided he should kill the rest of gods too. "Fight me" <- the character Idk if I made it clear, but he is stubborn as fuck. When he said he wanted to kill gods he *was serious*. Also, im a fan of how his perspective / mental state ACTUALLY impacts how he (and we) see the world he's in. Hitting even closer when we realize how he's slowly connecting with others 🥺

Suchan:

Dude just wants to get a good grade in school and go back to being normal. Instead he gets insect wings and truckloads of trauma. My man deserves a nap (and no, getting frequent blackouts from ptsd do NOT count).

[solarmorrigan]

Under My Skin - Stranger Things - steddie

[Ao3]

In spite of the extensive skincare regimen that Steve will not admit to having, the fight with Jonathan Byers leaves its marks.

The cut on his lip heals no problem, and the bridge of his nose is left without much more than a faint line, easily dismissed. The split on his left cheekbone, though – that one sticks. It probably doesn’t help that he’d never sought proper medical attention after that fight, had never had any of the cuts or bruises properly seen to (he’d been considering going to a doctor once he finished cleaning up his mess, but then an interdimensional monster had dropped out of the ceiling of the Byers’ living room and Steve had kind of forgotten everything else).

It's not the world’s worst scar, just a little starburst of shiny skin stuck in just on the far side of the apple of his cheek, but it’s enough to make Steve frown whenever he catches it in the mirror. His looks are his best asset, he’s always been told; hell, aside from athletics, he’s been informed that his looks are pretty much his only asset, so it really won’t do to be messing them up.

He takes to wearing sunglasses whenever he can. They don’t really hide the scar, but they direct attention away from it, and he realizes quickly that the sunglasses also tend to lessen the number of headaches he gets (lights have been brighter since he got his clock cleaned, and they’re likelier to trigger a nasty pain right behind his eyes, and Steve thinks now and then that he probably really should’ve been to see a doctor, because he’s pretty sure he’d had a concussion). This works for a little bit, but Nancy keeps telling him to take them off, that they look silly.

Steve doesn’t want to tell her that they help with the headaches he hasn’t even told her he’s been getting (he doesn’t want her to worry, or to see him as any less) and he definitely doesn’t want to draw attention to the fact he’s sensitive about a little scar (nor does he particularly want to remind Nancy of how he got it in the first place), so he stops wearing them.

After all, Nancy’s opinion has become devastatingly important to him (and it remains so, long after it should).

Billy Hargrove does a far more thorough job of wrecking Steve’s shit than Jonathan had.

Steve’s last coherent thought before he succumbs to pain and then darkness is that he’s going to die here, and that he’s fucking failed to protect the kids.

(His first coherent thought upon waking, incidentally, is that he apparently hasn’t died, but that the kids are going to fucking kill him.)

When all is said and done, he doesn’t see a doctor this time, either (why start now?), just spends a few days throwing up and swaying dizzily any time he tries to move while under the watchful eye of Hopper and Eleven in their cabin in the middle of goddamn nowhere, before he’s deemed healthy enough to go home.

(Steve might fudge the truth a bit and insinuate to Hopper that his parents are definitely home and that they will definitely make sure he doesn’t slip into a coma in his sleep, but he thinks Hopper and Eleven deserve to spend some bonding time together that doesn’t involve Steve and his head trauma.)

Someone (he suspects the joint effort of Dustin and Max) had done their best to close Steve’s wounds with colorful cartoon bandages they’d dug out of the Byers’ medicine cabinet, but in the end, it doesn’t seem to have done much. The cut on his forehead had been short but deep, but it fades into something that doesn’t look like too much more than a dramatic pockmark. The gash on his jaw, though—which, he can’t say for sure, but he thinks was caused by the broken porcelain of the plate Dustin says Billy had hit him with—that one is noticeable.

Even after it heals, it looks pink and raw and stands out as it curls up over the sharp edge of his jaw, a glaring flaw on his face and a glaring reminder of his failure to look after the people he’d promised to keep safe.

He tries not to think about it—tries really, really hard—but Dustin inevitably catches him poking at it while looking in the mirror of his sun visor.

“You just make it redder when you mess with it,” Dustin says.

Steve snatches his hand away. “I do not.”

“Okay, but you do. You should just leave it alone. It’ll fade eventually.” Dustin shrugs. “But in the meantime, it looks, like… kinda badass.”

Steve turns to face Dustin, one brow raised in patent disbelief. Dustin tosses his hands up in defense.

“I mean, yeah, you got it getting your ass kicked, but it looks pretty cool. You could make up any story about it!” he says. “Besides, chicks dig cool scars, right?”

Chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment, Steve manages a smile (a real one, even) for the kid. “’course they do, Henderson.”

Steve tries making up various cool stories about the scar, but he’s never been the most creative, and when people ask about it—and they do, inevitably, because even after it fades, it’s still noticeable, and people are nosy bastards—he just brushes them off by saying it was a stupid accident with a broken plate.

Close enough.

It hasn’t even been a year since his last encounter with someone’s fists when Steve becomes acquainted with a particular brand of Russian hospitality.

The ugly j-hook of a cut that his interrogators leave under his lip is small potatoes compared to… literally everything else that happens that night (and for having been, y’know, technically tortured and all, Steve figures he got off pretty lightly; sure, his headaches have grown worse, and his hearing and vision are a little fuzzier on one side than the other, and he’s having a little trouble remembering fine details sometimes, but aesthetically speaking – yeah, he got off pretty easy). Still, in quieter moments, Steve can’t help but run his fingers over the texture of the scar and ruminate.

He can’t say he regrets how he got it, not when he’d at least been able to keep most of the heat off of everyone else, but he regrets that they’d gotten into that situation at all. He should have done better than to let it happen, he should have come up with a better solution to getting them out of there, he should have fought harder, he should have, he should have, he should have.

Besides that, combined with all the other marks Steve has been collecting over the last couple of years, he’s pretty sure the scar on his lip tips the scale from “badass” to “unpleasant to look at,” with regards to his face. He certainly doesn’t like looking at it.

He tries expressing this to Robin one evening, driving home after the closing shift at the video store, when the sky is dark and close, and the streetlights make everything seem softer– safer.

“Oh my god, you are not unpleasant to look at, you insecure dingus,” Robin insists, reaching over and giving him a shove, ignoring his protest that he is driving right now. “The scars make you look… rakish.”

“That’s not a word,” Steve says.

“It is so.”

“It is not. Don’t make shit up just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not! It means, like, sorta disreputable, but also dashing. Like a gentleman robber or something,” Robin says.

Steve shoots her a look before turning back to the road. “You’ve been reading too many of those romance books they sell at the checkout.”

“I am super offended you think I read those. That’s rude,” Robin says, but she sounds like she’s trying not to laugh.

“Anyway, I’m not saying that I’m unpleasant to look at as, like, a whole, it’s just… they don’t add up to an inviting picture.” Steve shrugs.

Robin reaches over the center console again, but this time she just pats his arm. “I promise your face is still perfectly inviting, Steve.”

He knows she’s not trying to be dismissive, he just can’t properly articulate why he’s so bothered, so he just doesn’t bring it up again.

He successfully doesn’t bring it up again for nearly a year, until after the deep scrapes from getting dragged across the dry lakebed and the cuts and bites from the demobats have put the final nail in the coffin of whatever physical appeal he’d probably had left. Steve can definitely say goodbye to swimming at public pools ever again, but keeping his shirt on isn’t going to do much for the ugly laceration that damned bat’s tail left around his throat.

It doesn’t heal pretty, and Steve would have said given up on the dating scene—on the prospect of a relationship—entirely if it hadn’t been for Eddie.

Eddie, who, in spite of Steve’s many obvious physical flaws (not just the scars, but the symptoms that accompany getting a certain number of knocks to the head, which, by virtue of simply being around all the goddamn time, Eddie has been privy to), seems to be completely into him.

And Steve’s not going to question it, the way Eddie always wants to be in his space, the way Eddie never seems to tire of him, all the ways he invites Steve’s touch, the way he seems to have room for all the affection Steve wants to give him – Steve just wishes he’d cool it with the pet names.

Some of them aren’t too bad (things like sweetheart and baby are standards that Steve finds he doesn’t mind at all) and some are so ridiculous that he can’t really hate them (he won’t pretend to understand Eddie’s obsession with fantasy books, but if he likes calling Steve sweet things in fucking Elvish or whatever the hell it is, Steve isn’t going to make him feel bad for it), but there’s one that never fails to rub him the wrong way.

“Good morning, pretty boy,” Eddie murmurs into the scant space between them, leaning up to press a kiss directly to the scar that runs over Steve’s jaw.

Steve goes tense, but does his best not to flinch. “Can you not?” he grumbles, shifting against the pillows. “It’s too early for that shit.”

“Too early to say good morning to my boyfriend?” Eddie asks, dark eyes sparkling in the morning light. “Because if I wait too long to do that, it’s gonna turn into good afternoon.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Too early to be calling me that.”

“What, pretty boy?” Eddie’s grin grows as Steve squirms a little. “But you are. Even covered in pillow creases and drool.”

Self-consciously, Steve reaches up to swipe at the corners of his mouth, and Eddie snickers.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but even this early in the morning, you’re still pretty.”

“Eddie…”

“But if you’d prefer something else, I could go with beautiful,” Eddie says, pressing another kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“Eddie.”

“Or handsome.” Eddie pecks a kiss to Steve’s cheek, just below the starburst scar, and Steve presses a firm hand to his chest, stopping short of shoving him away.

“Eddie, stop,” Steve grits out.

And Eddie does.

He stops and he pulls back a bit, looking entirely confused and more than a little worried. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

With a huff, Steve rolls so he’s not facing Eddie’s wide-eyed bewilderment. “Look, I don’t know if you think you’re only teasing, or if you’re trying to make me feel better, or what, but can you just stop?”

“Hey.” Eddie’s hand is gentle but very assuredly present on Steve’s shoulder. “Give me a little more to work with here, what the hell am I doing?”

“Calling me shit like that. Pretty. Handsome,” Steve spits out. “Whatever. It’s – you don’t have to keep saying it.”

There is a long, heavy moment of silence.

“Do you seriously think you’re not?” Eddie finally says, incredulous.

Twisting back around, Steve sneers at Eddie. “You cannot possibly have failed to notice that my face is kinda fucked up, Eddie.”

“Your face is perfect,” Eddie blurts, and Steve resists the irritable urge to shove at him again.

“My face is covered in scars, jackass.”

“So? Those are, like, surface-level imperfections. Literally skin-deep! Structurally speaking, your face is definitely perfect.”

When Steve moves to roll away from Eddie again, Eddie pounces, straddling Steve’s hips and using all his weight to keep him where he is. “No, no, I’m definitely right about this,” Eddie insists. “Besides this square jawed shit you have going on, your eyes are gorgeous.” He reaches up, cupping Steve’s cheeks and brushing his thumbs gently beneath Steve’s eyes. “And your smile is probably my favorite thing to look at.” Eddie lets his hands drift down to Steve’s jaw, then trail further, to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. “And the rest of you? I mean, are you kidding me with this?”

Steve is very much not kidding Eddie with this, but he can’t quite bring himself to say as much. His throat has gone tight for some reason; he’s been living with all these marks for years, so he’s not entirely sure why he’s getting choked up now.

“You don’t really think the scars make you ugly, do you?” Eddie asks softly, and Steve can only nod. “Steve… sweetheart, come on. I mean, look, I’m not gonna lie to you and say they’re not noticeable – and yeah, one or two even stand out, but they don’t take away at all. They add to the picture. I swear I am not fucking with you on this, you’re beautiful.”

Finally, Steve finds his voice. “They’re ugly because of what they stand for. It’s all my fucking failure carved into my fucking face.”

Eddie’s expression does something weird, getting stuck somewhere between anger and sadness. “That’s what you think they are?”

“Every time–” Steve’s voice grinds to a stop for a moment, but he pushes on. “Every time I’m supposed to be looking out for people, protecting them, they still get hurt. I get the shit kicked out of me and it isn’t even worth anything and–”

“You can’t take that all on yourself. You can’t,” Eddie breaks in. “You got all of these scars looking out for the people you love. Looking out for us. And I hate that you had to get them, but I gotta say – I love what they stand for.”

Steve doesn’t have a chance to get another word in before Eddie is leaning down and pressing a kiss to Steve’s throat. Steve flinches, just a little, because the skin there is sensitive now, but Eddie keeps it light – so soft it’s nearly reverent.

“This one was me, and Buckley, and big Wheeler,” Eddie murmurs, sitting up a little so he can brush his hands down the spiderweb scars on Steve’s sides. “And so were these. And I also kinda like ‘em because they match mine, if I’m being honest.”

One short sob of a laugh comes out of Steve at that, and he reaches up to run his fingers over the places on Eddie’s sides where the demobats had gotten a few good bites in before Vecna had been destroyed. Eddie smiles, then leans back down and kisses the scar that hooks under Steve’s lip.

“Buckley again, and Henderson, and Sinclair the younger,” he says. “I was terrified just listening to that story, but you– you kept their attention on you and off of everyone else.”

“I…”

Eddie doesn’t wait for Steve to find his words. Instead, he presses his lips to the gash on Steve’s jaw, where he’d started that morning. “Sinclair the elder. Red.” He moves up and kisses the smaller gouge in Steve’s forehead. “Henderson again. Small Wheeler. Standing up to a bigoted piece of shit who took his issues out on kids.”

You make it sound so much more heroic than it really was, Steve wants to say, but Eddie’s already moved on to the faded line on the bridge of his nose, and then to the little starburst scar on his cheek.

“You can’t possibly love that one,” Steve manages. “I didn’t get that one saving anyone, I got it for being a shithead.”

“Are you kidding? This one’s my favorite. This one was the eye-opener.” Eddie kisses the scar again. “This one saved you.”

If asked, Steve would say with a reasonable amount of confidence that he’s pretty thick-skinned. Harsh words don’t trip him up. Rough treatment might knock him down, but he’ll always get up, and he’ll come back for more as many times as he’s able. Steve can take a hit.

He can take many, many hits.

But it’s softness—the gentleness of Eddie’s hands and his mouth and his words—that finally manages to break him.

(“You’re even pretty when you cry,” Eddie says later, falsely aggrieved. “That’s not even fair!”

This time Eddie is definitely teasing him—nobody looks pretty when they cry—but Steve finds he doesn’t mind as much. It doesn’t seem as important, just at the moment. Instead of denying it, Steve simply sighs, “It’s a gift.”

Eddie snorts and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek, where he’s scarred, and blotchy, and sticky with tears, but also entirely loved.)

[project-sekai-facts]

VBS event teaser commentary

Sorry for not doing this last month. Again. Yeah I know I'm doing it just before the actual preview drops who even cares.

As per the norm, the teaser is just based on the jacket art so there's not a whole lot we can learn there. We know that cards are sometimes based on the song though, so maybe we can guess something there. Personally this gives me a retro nightclub sort of feel, and I'm kinda surprised they haven't done something like that with VBS yet, doubly so when you consider the Gekkou teaser had a very retro feel (I'm grasping at straws atp I've wanted this for two years lol).

Okay, so actual plot predictions time. I reckon this will be another POU or LUTF situation where the event focuses somewhat heavily on a side character. Ah, well, less so "I reckon" and more "Break Down the Wall foreshadows that this event will focus quite a bit on Arata and Souma". Based on bdtw, I think the event is going to focus on two things which heavily overlap with Toya's arc: Toya's feelings towards music, and getting Arata to rejoin the group.

The game has drawn parallels to the relationships between Akito & Toya and Arata & Souma since POU, with Toya outright quoting Kaito's statement from pou about their similarities in bdtw. Toya is able to relate to how Arata feels because their experiences with their partners are very similar. Akito and Souma are the ones who got Toya and Arata into the street music scene and shared their dreams with the other. Because of this similarity, Toya is able to put himself in Arata's shoes somewhat. I'm writing this very late so this is not clear what I'm getting at at all. Basically it's about partners. Toya is the best one to try and reason with Arata, and it's probably why this was his job given to him by Ken. R Sound Design says the song has a focus on relationships between the characters, so to say this will be a big part of the event is not a stretch at all.

(TL by pjsekai_eng)

And connecting to that: Toya (and Arata's) feelings about music. Toya's bdtw chapter also focused a lot on his feelings towards music, and how he'd grown to love it again thanks to Akito and VBS after his bad experiences with classical music as a child. Once again we're right back to the partners thing. Toya talks about his feelings towards music in woao as well, which also happens to be the event where Souma explains the story behind Gurney Flap's formation, and how he was able to get Arata to love music as much as he does. The key difference between Toya and Arata's stories though, is that Toya was able to move on from the past and his trauma. Toya seems to realise that Arata's past is affecting him in bdtw, and Taiga also pointed this out in lutf. While his relationship with his family is by no means mended, Toya was at least able to start healing with the help of his love of street music. On the other hand, Arata is very clearly still grieving the loss of Souma as his partner, and it's what's been holding him back this entire time. I could easily see Toya having a heart to heart with Arata in regards to their feelings towards music and their friends/partners. In a perfect world they do what they did in lutf where they explained a lot of the RADder backstory but for Gurney Flap this time, but I don't want to get attached to that idea. I think at the very least explaning what exactly happened to Souma could happen though.

Oh and on the off chance this ends up being An5, it'll be about her feelings towards Kohane. As in, her insecurities that have been showing up since Bout for Beside You about Kohane essentially becoming too good for her. Like with Toya this was heavily foreshadowed in her bdtw chapter and cards, as well as at the end of kiuan over a year ago. Combine An's grief over Nagi with her insecurities over Kohane and Kohane carrying Nagi's spirit in the sense of her singing, and you have an event story.

[novantinuum]

heya! :D I'm so happy I found your blog, I just did a su rewatch this summer and I'm obsessed again! I was wondering if you had some fic recs to share? especially any and all that deal with steven's trauma (whether that be corruption aftermath, his abandonment issues, any of the traumatic experiences he had), anything really, just some nice and thorough hurt/comfort and healing <3 definitely up to any other recs you might have, even if they're about something completely different haha. thank you in advance!!

Ooooh heck yeah I can rec some of my favs! Admittedly, these days I haven't been reading that much new fic, so I'm not sure what new stuff is out there that's gone unnoticed, but I went through my bookmarks and found a few fics that still stand out to me today as ones I remember really vibing with when I read them-

First off, some fics that I remember delving into Steven's trauma (along other things)-

Aid to Navigation, by Ppleater (or @infriga here on tumblr)

Honest to god, this is my favorite Steven Universe fic on the whole goddamn internet. Post I Am My Monster hurt/comfort content galore. Emotional catharsis out the wazoo. Fascinating theorization about how Steven works as a hybrid. Sometimes there's even chapter artwork. ALSO NANEFUA AS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER, WHICH I RARELY SEE LET'S GO NANEFUA

a world for the birds, by @fanfoolishness

Do you like Uncle Andy? Do you vibe with the idea of bird watching? Do you wanna read about Andy's outsider observations of the trajectory of his nephew's bizarre life as he shares his hobby of bird watching with Steven as a bonding activity over the years moving into the events of Steven Universe: Future??

Go read this fic, it destroys me. In fact, just do yourself a favor and check out this author's whole catalogue, because my next fic rec is from her, too.

Comminuted, by @fanfoolishness

Post Growing Pains hurt/comfort focused on Steven and his dad's relationship. I remember this one dropping pretty damn soon after the episode aired and it w r e c k e d my emotions and gave me all the catharsis my sappy little heart desired at the time.

WELCOME BACK TO THE VLOG, steven universe here! by waddlesthejoghog (or @thisisnotacreativeusername here on tumblr)

Here's a story with a COMPLETELY different format than all the others- this one chronicles Steven's life through a variety of videos he posts to his TubeTube channel over the years. (Which, if you watch the SU shorts, is a canonical fun fact about him! He posts unboxing videos and reactions and stuff online, ahah.)

Each chapter sorta like, "transcribes" what's happening in the video, and there's even a little views/likes/dislikes/subscriber count + mock comments section at the end of every one! I found it a very charming and fun read- but also it punched me in the face by the end because it's like a whole microcosm of Steven's character development throughout the entire show mashed into one 59 chapter story.

This one is not wholly focused on Steven's trauma, as it spans the events of the entire show, but that does play a decently big role later on in the fic.

__

As a quick little self-plug, I've also written a good deal of fics focused on various shades of Steven's traumatic experiences, and the following is (probably) my favorite of those:

A Memoir of the Marks Unseen (uhh... by me lol)

This one is focused on the topic of Steven + the headcanon of him having corruption scars like the other healed Gems, and picks up pretty soon after I Am My Monster. It spans months (and later Years) after that, detailing his journey towards accepting these remnants as a neutral part of him. I'm still very proud of finishing it, as I was pulling from some raw personal experience with this one.

__

Lastly, here's two Connie focused fics I remember slapping ass in their own various ways:

Xenopology, by CompletelyDifferent

Some Connie + all the Gems character study pieces!

The Stranger in Me, by Cyberwraith9

Connie accidentally gets perma-bonded with a poofed gemstone retrieved from a corrupted Gem. Hijinks ensue. I remember this one having a legendary level of character development for Connie and her whole family especially ;w;

[pagesandpothos]

The Sins On Their Bones by Laura R. Samotin

I had no idea what to expect when I started The Sins On Their Bones by Laura R. Samotin. I saw that it was blurbed by several queer romantasy authors that I like, so I requested it from NetGalley on a whim and was happy to dive in. I'm so glad I did. It was not what I was expecting but it is an interesting and dark fantasy that I enjoyed discovering.

First of all, if there are things that could trigger you, be sure to read the content warnings before you start this book! This novel deals with some very heavy topics and the author has kindly included detailed warnings on her website (there's also some stunning character art for you to seek out while you're there).

The Sins On Their Bones is inspired by Jewish mysticism and folklore and is a high fantasy set in a world similar to Eastern Europe in the 19th century. Dimitri Alexeyev, one of the main POV characters and a former Tszar, has recently lost a brutal civil war to his vicious and newly immortal ex-husband, Alexey Balakin.

At the story's start, Dimitri is in hiding in the Free States with his closest friends and former members of his royal court: Vasily, his most trusted spy; Annika, who once led his army; Ladushka, his political advisor, and Mischa, his royal physician. Dimitri still harbors a lot of guilt (and other complicated feelings) about Alexey, the war, and the consequences of it. When Vasily brings word that Alexey is building an army to invade the Free States the group hatches a dangerous plan to finally defeat Dimitri's monstrous ex.

The novel cycles through three POVs. Along with Dimitri, we also get chapters from Alexey and Vasily. All three POVs are engaging and each adds different things to the story. Jumping back and forth through their parts of the story moved the plot along steadily while also filling in the needed backstory. Vasily's chapters, in particular, give a lot of clarity to the backstory which was one of the many reasons that his chapters quickly became my favorite.

The plot of this is fast-paced, dark, and full of religious and political themes. I also found it surprising and not predictable at all. Multiple moments shocked me and had me frantically flipping pages to see what would happen next.

The characters are also likable. Vasily, as I've already mentioned, is a fantastic character. Dimitri is sympathetic and has a nice arc of growth and healing. Alexey is a terrifying and well-written villain. Annika, Ladushka, and Mischa round out the main cast as dynamic characters with a lovely "found family" relationship (together with Dimitri and Vasily).

The Sins On Their Bones is a unique and very queer dark fantasy. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys classic tales of good versus evil in their fantasy!

Other Points:

Alexey reminds me of The Darkling from the Shadow and Bone trilogy.

There may be a Doctor Who reference?

There is an asexual character and a non-binary character along with the many same-sex relationships that the book features.

The whole book is delightfully queer normative with most of the main characters and several side characters being casually queer. There's no drama or trauma around their identities.

I also liked how the author wove Judaism into the world.

Did I mention how much I love Vasily?

The last 25% of the book is tense, action-packed, emotional, and surprising. It is almost impossible to put down!

The ending is satisfying while also setting up issues for a future sequel.

My Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tropes/Tags: achillean, queer, Jewish fantasy, dark fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, found family

Spice Level: 🌶️🌶️/5. There are multiple sex scenes (various m/m pairings) that are "Open Door" and mildly descriptive.

Content Warnings: Full list from the author

If you liked this I think you will like The Sins On Their Bones: The Shadow and Bone series for the Eastern European inspiration. This is a much more gory and adult version though!

Links: Storygraph | GoodReads | LauraRSamotin.com

The Sins On Their Bones will be released on May 7, 2024, and is available for pre-order!

This book was made available to me in advance thanks to NetGalley! I received a free digital copy of this book in exchange for this review. The above are my honest feelings on the provided book.

[diabolikpersonals]

I don't mind the direction they took shu's CL route but I do kind of mourn the loss of the "shu tries to get yuma's memory back" scene we never got. it would've been a really tough thing for him to do, but imagine how sweet it would be.

Yuma's sense of self is kinda on shaky ground, right? I'd say he's still recovering from his last "you aren't the person you thought you were" revelation, so if Shu's going to let him know that his entire memory and concept of the world around him is a lie, then he's going to have to be so gentle with him. He can't just invoke guilt and trauma like he did with Reiji. Besides, he doesn't want to linger on negative memories with Yuma anyway. Yuma hates it when he does that.

So he could try to remind him of good times they've had together instead. This is a change of pace for Shu. All of the happy moments they've shared have been punctuated by tragedy, and Shu is so used to fixating on that tragedy. This would be the first time we'd see him sit down with Yuma and talk about the happiness instead. And, even though Shu is talking to a brainwashed Yuma, this would be the closest Yuma's ever gotten to really understanding what a positive effect he's had on Shu. Because Shu has told the audience stuff like "Edgar taught me how to love life" but he's never told that to Yuma before. Recounting it like this could help both of them out! Yuma might get closer to getting his memory back, and just saying stuff like "there were hard times but I had a lot of fun with you" out loud could help change Shu's outlook. we r healing, baby!!

And of course, the thing that I believe that Yuma will appreciate the most is that if Shu did this, he'd be showing Yuma a great deal of trust. Shu has a LONG history of keeping things hidden from Yuma (he didn't even tell yuma that they were childhood friends! yuma had to remember that himself!!) and it wasn't till the end of Dark Fate that Yuma finally convinced him to tell the truth. Shu's scared, and he feels like he's protecting Yuma by keeping the truth from him. But that's not what Yuma wants or what he deserves. Yuma deserves to know the truth about where he came from, his relationship with Shu, how his village burned, etc. So now that Yuma has lost his memory again, if Shu has learned his lesson and listened to Yuma's feelings properly, he should know that Yuma deserves to know who he really is. Even if it's scary, he has to be brave and tell Yuma the truth.

It would be a real indicator of Shu's character development if he did that! But he doesn't. We can see that Yuma gets frustrated when he doesn't, too. In the Labyrinth End, Yuma believes that it's all his fault—he thinks he was left out of the plan because he wasn't trustworthy enough; that's why Shu kept him in the dark. If Shu could've trusted him more and told him that his memories were false, then Yuma would feel so much prouder later :') Because it's like he and Shu overcame a major hurdle together, not just in the plot but in their relationship.

When Shu explains in canon why he doesn't try to get Yuma's memory back, he kinda brushes it off by saying that "it'll make things too complicated." I don't think he's being honest at all. I think being truthful with Yuma is still so frightening to him, and perhaps it wasn't a step he was ready to take. That's fine. Character development relapses happen in Dialovers all the time, and it's part of what makes the characters and their relationships feel so real.

...but imagine how nice it would've been :')

[libbee]

Moon in 8th house mothers: What you see is not what you get.

Natives with moon in 8th house have crazy mothers. Their mothers display symptoms of mental illnesses, NPD/BPD to be specific.

What mother is in public is very different from how she acts in private. Mother is neglectful towards emotional needs of the child. Mother is depressed and frustrated. The child has to cater to the emotional needs of the mother rather than vice versa. House environment is literally like walking on eggshells.

These mothers are unpredictable, people pleasers, deeply insecure and lonely. Their physical circumstances are such that they always wear a fake mask for the world and do not show their real face to anyone. The reason being that the mother is living on survival mode so she never learned who her authentic self is.

Moon in 8th house child eventually comes to realize their mother's reality. They end up on r/raisedbyborderline or r/raisedbynarcissist communities for example. They unlearn the trauma their mother gave them and relearn self soothing and self development skills. These natives also discover occult to understand their own feelings. I have two astro observations about natives who have moon in 8th house and how their mothers turned out to be:

In one astro observation, the mother is a pathological liar, manipulative, self centered. She lies about being religious and wise. She lies about her achievements and her family's status. She is very controlling and frustrated. A saint in public and a demon in private. This mother is the embodiment of 8th house darkness. This mother is not really nice. She sowed seeds of hatred in the heart of his brother against his wife and daughter so that she could control him.

In other astro obersation, the mother is short tempered, controlling, impulsive and self centered. She does not lie though her face is different for public v/s private. This mother is immature and unpredictable. Cheerful in public, though she can be gruelsome in private. This mother does not have much control over her relatives and is not exploitative. This mother minds her own business but is very moody and doesn't listen to anyone.

Both natives have moon in 8th house, but their mothers are different although similar undertones. These natives keep their family life secret because of psychic reasons. People will not trust them if they tell their mother's truth. These natives also realize that their mother's emotional abuse was a blessing in disguise for them. The silver lining is that they venture into occult to discover the truth and secrets of life. They go into emotional and spiritual healing. This privilege is not available to everyone.

[tloubraininfection]

TW: SA and all things trauma

I`m so sick and tired at this point of all the violence talk around every move Ellie makes. Even in this episode when she`s is in the literal cage, fighting for her life, her violence is somehow bad? There is a literal monster about to r*pe and kill her, but it’s her violence that’s concerning? Yes, there is violence and there is pure rage in her actions, but what’s the alternative? If she never had a choice, how is this even about her character? Also why can’t she just rage? Especially when that rage is more than well-founded. Why does the fact that she rages and that is violent, out of necessity no less, determine who she is? We never really see her being violent for the sake of violence, it’s always self-defense, she`s not seeking it, she’s barely surviving it.

I hate that part when David says that she has a “violent heart” and Craig sits there nodding and affirming it (I really need to stop listening to the podcast and the inside). Because no she doesn’t. Her heart is kind, gentle, fiercely loyal and loving. That’s her core. The violence came from outside, its part of the world she had a misfortune to be born into. It’s the part that was forced upon her.

I hate how blatant and shameless of a set up it is. Second season is going to be a shitshow and when people start to complain the creators are just going to be like: “But the signs were always there look, see? She was violent from the very beginning” I hate that! She is not some blood thirsty monster waiting to emerge, never was. No matter how much the second game tried to convince us otherwise. They are actively retconning her whole character to fit whatever Ellie was turned into in the second game. Just so Neil can torture this character as she is forced to go through his little revenge fantasy. Why are they letting his do this again?

Also I see a disconcerting amount of posts saying things like “Ellie is traumatized forever”, “forever changed”, “she`s altered”, “never going to recover from this” etc. and I hate this. Because it’s not fucking true and it`s not how trauma works. Yes, it changes you and changes your life, but it`s not endless, its not incurable, its not forever stuck with you! Its just fucking not, there is a way to heal, to grow past it, to move on and to leave it behind. There is future free from it, so please stop telling people that it’s the end.

And more importantly stop telling people that trauma unlocks something monstruous in them, something vicious and cruel. It`s not only not true, its also fucking stupid and revictimizing for people who are already struggling.

I`ve spent a long long time unlearning calling myself a monster for surviving.  It should’ve killed me, yet I’m still alive, so what does that say about me? The answer is: it says I survived. Nothing more. Things happened to me and I survived them. But it takes time. Its blood, sweat and tears, but there is healing, there is light and there is life. So please, please stop telling people that their trauma defines them, because it doesn’t. Their resilience does, their courage does, their strength does and their vulnerability does.

And let girls and women rage, let them female rage and them human rage - there is a reason for it.

[v3nusxsky]

Please could I request a lady lesso X non-binary reader who is 18 and an ever student. R who refuses to use magic because they don't get along well with their mother who they inherited it from ends up losing control one day unleashing their full power and accidentally killing one of their classmates because him and his friends had been bullying r for a long time because of r being non-binary (physically and emotionally). Recently they have been threatening to sexually assault them which r has experienced in the past so when one of them gropes r they go into fight or flight. R ends up having a breakdown not only having to relive the trauma they went through in the past but also the new fear that they will be expelled or worse. This causes r to run and hide as soon as the boys friends come back with dovey and lesso. Lesso is the one who ends up finding r who is a complete wreck and comforts them while having them explain what happened. Lesso tells r that it's not their fault and she'll make sure r isn't punished. Lesso takes r back to her room since r ended up in the school for evil and cuddles with them in bed letting r play with her hair and giving them little kisses all over their face telling them how beautiful and valid they are.

Perfect as a peach

*Authors note ~ I'm gonna base reader off my oc Isadora of storybrook (ouat) I hope that's okay but I couldn't resist with this prompt.*

Trigger warnings~  non binary reader sexual abuse mentioned and last abuse mentioned bullying

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

Really what is gender despite a social construct. Who says that females can't do something that a man would or vice versa? And why do you have to confirm to one box. There is not a single thing in the world that doesn't have a middle ground or shade of grey so why should gender be any different just because someone says so. Why can't you just be yourself? Truly it made no sense to you but you were all too aware that not everyone saw the world the same way you do.

Magic. Another controversial topic you hated, you were constantly teased on the fact you have the ability to be powerful if only you'd use and own your talents. But you refused. It's not like you asked for the powers, and why would you want them if you'd end up like your mother? That wasn't the life you wanted and you'd do anything to avoid getting it. Even if that meant ignoring the buzzing of your magic every day. Magic was tied to emotion and it was one of the things you prided yourself on, you're emotional control was second to none.

You'd been being teased for months now, at first it was just words, then it stumbled into physical violence. Could of bruises here and maybe a punch or two to your gut. Nothing you couldn't handle, your magic helped you heal quicker than most, so the pain never lasted more than a few days. Although, you never willing used your magic healing came within. You knew kids were cruel, after all you'd been on the other hand of their words and actions most of your life but this time the group of boys had taken it way too far. Threats to expose what lay beneath the clothing, to define you as a man or a women. That's all you thought they were though. Threats and nothing more than that, until it wasn't.

Classes were done for the day and you were particularly keen to get back to your dorm to give yourself a break from binding. You knew how important it was to give yourself breaks. On your way back you got intercepted by the group of boys that had been bothering you, they cornered you and made sure you were full surrounded. The ring leader of the group stood pinning you to the wall as he spewed hurtful words and his mate cheered. Only then you felt it, his hands running over your clothed body coming up to grope your chest. You sobbed and unintentionally tapped into your magic that reacted by throwing his body against the opposite wall. His body hit the wall with a sickening crunch.

It all happened so quickly, the group ran off and all you could do is curl up and sob, his passed out body in direct view of you. A million thoughts ran rampant round your mind. Memories of the past, how it felt what they did and then present worries. What if you were expelled? Forced to go back there. To her. Your mother would be furious with you. The sound of heels and a cane echoed through the halls causing you to flee, you didn't know where you were running but you had to hide, if they didn't find you then there was no evidence you were there right?

Leonora left Dovey to deal with the boys, no patience for all that kind lovely thing, she set off in search of you. When she found you it was truly heart wrenching, you had curled yourself up into a small ball rocking backwards and forwards like a scared child. "Love?" She murmured and crouched in front of you trying to aid you in calming down. You instantly started to ramble a mix of past and present, blaming yourself for the magical outburst. Leonora listened and her heart broke, she was in two minds, to hold you or to go back and torture the boys for hurting you in such a manner.

She did the first option, scooping you into her arms and carrying you to her room, gently you were placed onto her bed as she curled up with you her hands in your hair. Kisses being placed on into your hair in a soothing manner as she reminded you how beautiful you were, inside and out. She'd make them suffer later, right now she had to care for you, her dove with clipped wings

Word count ~ 1029