#yesterday i had a mental breakdown that lasted THREE HOURS.

[steampoweredlovemachine]

fellas i don't feel so hot

[chenziee]

World Economic Journal: Grand Line Edition

Dressrosa Destroyed, Doflamingo Dethroned!!

DRESSROSA, New World | by @/truffyfest

It has been ten years since the infamous Warlord of the Sea Donquixote Doflamingo stepped up as the king of the country of Dressrosa. At the time, it had seemed as if he had saved the country from the tyranny of King Riku Doldo, who had gone mad as he set his own, peaceful country on fire, as well as hurting innocent citizens.

To no one’s surprise—if you have been following President Morgans’ articles and commentaries—nothing was as it seemed!

Just yesterday, the world was shocked by Doflamingo’s sudden abdication and then renouncement of it (“False report my ass! The Government is covering something up, I know it!” President Morgans famously said,) and now, the man himself is in Admiral Fujitora’s custody and waiting to be taken to Impel Down.

So what exactly happened within the past 24 hours?

If you have read yesterday’s issue (and we are sure you have!), you no doubt know about the new alliance between Straw Hat Luffy and Trafalgar Law. Well, now we know what the purpose of their alliance was!

Indeed, it was these two high-profile pirates who had caused the coup in Dressrosa and dethroned its king, bringing king Riku to power once more—as well as uncovering the conspiracy that had been brewing underneath Dressrosa’s brilliant appearance for the past ten years, and destroying most of the country as the result.

Does that make them villains? Or heroes?

We have asked the Dressrosans themselves to bring you their opinions!

The first people we interviewed looked conflicted, obviously still shaken from the sudden chain of events that had turned their lives upside down. “Well, at first I was pi**ed because if they didn’t come, we would keep living in peace! But, well… I guess not being ruled by a pirate is a good thing…” one of the men said before turning to his friend, who looked even more conflicted—dare we say, on the verge of a mental breakdown. “I mean, yeah it’s great we’re not unknowingly under tyranny but you know what I found out three hours ago after I just married my girlfriend last week? I was already married! And my first wife is now threatening to stab my second wife, who obviously isn’t about to sit back and take it, so now I have two wives who are out to kill each other and I might just have to move to another country just to get away from all this.”

(Dear Dressrosans, if you are facing a similar situation, let us recommend the South Blue! It’s a gorgeous sea with wonderful weather, all but asking for a day spent basking in the Sun on the beach! And if lazing about is not your thing, South Blue also has many historical and modern sights to behold! - sponsored by South Blue Tourism Association)

Next, we moved to one of the last remaining intact houses, where we asked the lucky owner about her own impressions. She was much more decisive in her statement, saying, “I’ve been a toy for the past seven years, I owe them everything! They’re Dressrosa’s greatest heroes!” How touching!

Unfortunately, we then made our way to the island’s outskirts, where not a single building was left standing. There, we made the mistake of approaching one of the unfortunate inhabitants, who angrily snapped at us, “My f**king house and everything in it was completely destroyed, what the f**k do you think?!”

Quickly leaving the outer towns, we headed back towards the Flower Hill—the new King’s Plateau—where we got a few very interesting answers!

“Alliance? You mean they’re not dating? I thought—” a young girl said to the enthusiastic agreement of her friends.

“I know! I saw the Warlord picking some sunflowers… I heard from Rebe— Lady Rebecca that Lucy is still recovering so I thought for sure those were for him…” One of her friends hurried with her own observations.

“You know,” a boy added in a hushed whisper. “I sneaked around the house where they’re staying earlier today to take a peak and the Warlord was sitting on Lucy’s bed, touching him all over!! And the green-haired swordsman just watched, it was super weird!”

What scandalous information! But as we all know, despite being a pirate, Trafalgar Law is also a skilled doctor and Straw Hat Luffy is seriously injured right now. So, was he simply performing a check up? Or letting his curious hands wander by themselves? Or something else?

Are there romantic feelings truly involved?! We will keep our ears to the ground and provide you with the newest, best sourced information on this blossoming couple on the pages of this World Economic Journal . 

Don’t miss anything in the next issue!

[ Previous Issue | Next Issue ]

[ileftthehouse]

.

tw: talking about all the things that have been stressing me out!!!!

i literally feel like i'm going to have a mental breakdown. i don't know what qualifies as a literal breakdown, but i feel like if i start crying, i'm going to hyperventilate and wind up having a heart attack. i'm trying to calm myself down because i feel physically ill.

my grandmom has been in and out of the hospital. she went to the er two days ago and got out yesterday. my dog has been sick and i had to leave work early to take him to the vet. i was only supposed to leave for an hour because they were slammed and it took three fucking hours (99% waiting around). they said i didn't need to bother coming back today and i'm antsy because i don't want to get yelled at tomorrow. if they yell at me or give me any kind of attitude, i will start crying on the spot. i'm not even joking. but anyway, the vet said that it's because of the breed he is and, more than likely, he's going to need surgery, which i can't afford. so like... i don't know what to do with him. my grandmom's blood pressure is back up and, the last time it got super high, she couldn't walk. that's the same problem my dog is having (not being able to walk + back pain, not the blood pressure) and it feels cruelly symbolic or something. i just like... i need a nap and some electrolytes.

[pyreflydust]

I do genuinely find therapy helpful most of the time but sometimes it feels like I'm dragging around a bratty teenager who keeps screaming LITERALLY NOTHING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME EVER WAS TRAUMATIC SHUT THE FUCK UP while I have something that literally everyone who talks to me about it says is a Trauma Reaction

Yesterday was the 23rd anniversary of my first psych hospitalization. I keep doubling down on "but it wasn't that bad" (because they didn't drug me.) (because they didn't restrain me.) (because I was only there for three days.)

I was asked if I think about this every year. I do. I don't always have a breakdown, but I'm very Aware of the Date. It helps that this was 2000 and I was obsessed with Eminem. It helped that I had stolen a sticker of him off a teeny bopper magazine at the grocery store. Which sounds like a tangent but

I also think about how old I'm getting and how often that means my care providers are younger than me. I asked the person I was talking about this with earlier how old she was. Rather, I said, "I don't know how old you are, but..." because I was going to make a point about mental health care in 2000. It's got its flaws now, but I was treated so much worse in 2000. That year, she wasn't even 10.

I was 14 years old. I had started cutting myself a few months before and the adults found out. I don't think I had told them that I had already attempted suicide by overdose. Most people will go their entire life without a suicide attempt. I couldn't go fifteen years. (If I can last another four from now, maybe that won't be true anymore.) I don't remember anyone asking why. I remember being told to stop that. Like what I had done was a bad behavior instead of an expression of pain.

The guy from emergency services asked me if I thought I was Britney Spears. I cannot think of a single thing I said or did in the entire history of my mental health treatment up until that point that might've made him think that. I don't know who I thought I was. I was 14 and wanted someone to acknowledge I was suffering.

Instead they strapped me into the back of an ambulance and forced me to lay down the whole time. It was over an hour between my local ER and the hospital they brought me to. I don't remember anything about the ride except that they let me pick the radio station. I picked my favorite rock station at the time, a station that no longer exists. At some point Little Things by Good Charlotte came on.

I was there for three days before my mother felt bad and she and my brother got in my sister's car and they all came to get me. A rare family moment with the four of us, to be honest. We needed to stop at a car shop somewhere in the middle of the trip home because something happened to the brake line that was in urgent need of fixing.

I ask 14 year old me if this counts as traumatic. 14 year old me tells me it doesn't matter if it is or isn't. 14 year old me looks a lot like a gaping open wound when I try to look at him. He's so sure he never mattered and neither should anything that happened to him.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I flew home yesterday, after a week in my favourite place in the world, the seaside village where my grandparents live. Or lived, from when I was two years old until late last year when they moved to a care home. And it’s very close to where they both grew up, where both their siblings and their families still are, where my grandmother’s family has lived for years, where I’ve spent time at least once a year for the last thirty years. So I think I can say my family’s from there. I like the idea of being able to say my heritage is a family from the East Coast, even though I’ve never actually lived there.

Or almost never, since when I was 21 I did one school year in the city out there, which was absolutely amazing. I kept thinking the novelty of being able to walk to the ocean in three minutes would wear off, and it kept not doing that. For eight months I walked to the water very nearly every single night and sat on the boardwalk and listened to music and marveled at how beautiful the ocean looked under the stars with the lights of the harbour. When it rained I went with an umbrella. When I was out doing stuff at night I went after I was done whatever it was, even if I was drunk, even if it was very late. I might have missed two or three nights, but no more than that. I never got tired of it.

When I go back and visit now, I spend as much time as I can by the water, and I remember that technically, there’s nothing stopping me from setting up my life so I could do that every night again. It seems absurd that there are so many places that are walking distance from the ocean, and I choose to live in a place that’s hours and hours away from it by car. And then I remember that when I actually did live in that city, I had some of the worst mental health experiences of my life. Constant moderate to severe symptoms like chest pain and shortness of breath and dizziness, and somewhat regular experiences with severe breakdowns. Four separate hospital trips and more trips to clinics and hours and hours in waiting rooms to try to work out what was wrong, and after many physical tests the answer was always that it’s just caused by my anxiety levels being too high all the time.

I remembered that I’d experienced things like that as a kid, back when my mental health problems were more overriding, but they’d stopped in high school. And they’d started up again as soon as I went to a place where I didn’t have the sport that I’d started right at the beginning of high school. I wasn’t sure how much was about the physical exercise and how much was about the psychological benefits of the goals and purpose and community that went with it, but it became clear that that sport was the reason I’d become a person who struggled with mental health stuff (the words anxiety, depression, OCD, and autism have all been thrown into diagnoses by different doctors throughout my life) while being overall functional in society, instead of being worse off than that. So I transferred to the university in my hometown after just one school year in that amazing beautiful city, moved home and rejoined the team I’d left, even though it seemed ludicrous to willingly leave the ocean and the place where I could go into most bars most nights and hear someone playing the type of music I love live. God, it was so fucking cool to live where Celtic and East Coast folk music is everywhere and not just on my iPod.

I guess the last two years show I am, in fact, capable of living without this sport. I mean, I’ve had rough times in the last couple of years, but I’ve had lots of rough times in the years that my sport has been going with me in it - it doesn’t cure my mental health problems by any means. But I haven’t been to the hospital in the last two years, so that’s something. Maybe I could pick up and move to the ocean. It’s something I’ve thought about. There have been a few times during the darker points of the pandemic when I’ve found myself on my phone in the middle of the night, Googling jobs in my field in Edinburgh and also how hard it is to get a work visa in the UK. Not seriously considering it by any means, and I haven’t done it for over twelve months now. But there were times when I vaguely wondered about it. There was a lot of time to fantasize about the outside world during lockdowns.

I don’t think it would work, though. I think I only got through this time because I understood that this was a temporary break from my life, during which I could replace my usual obsession with a new once (hence... this entire blog), and I’d have my life to go back to afterwards. The going back part is something I’ve been working on for a few months now, and it’s a bit uneven and sometimes tough to re-integrate and to deal with being an outsider in what was my home, but I think it will get back to making it my life again. When I have moments of wondering what it would be like if that never happens, that feels incredibly bleak and purposeless and terrifying, and that’s when I remember why I don’t just pick up and move to the ocean. I think I can only handle a separation from this main driving force in my life if I know it’s temporary.

All this has left me feeling vaguely wistful today, as I’ve just come home from a week of being where I love but I can’t stay there forever. Spent time in the forests and by the ocean and in the ocean and under the stars, the sorts of things that feel meaningful and beautiful and magical. Today, I decided I wanted to ease out of that slowly by bringing up something with at least a bit of that feeling in it, so I decided this is the time to get Daniel Kitson’s story shows. I’d heard one of those before, off of Bandcamp, and really enjoyed it. But the others required me to pay Vimeo to rent them, and even though of course I knew they’d be worth the money, I object based on some principle or other to paying for something I don’t get to keep. And of course I could just pay the fee and then illicitly download it, but I’d feel guilty doing when the artist has specifically written in the video description that he does not want people to do that. Fine, have your artistic whims about how this is better if people only get it for a short time to make it special and all, I see what you’re going for, but I like to keep things. It’s very irritating when an artist I enjoy so much holds the belief that things are better when they’re only experienced once by a select group of people and that’s it. Maybe Marc Maron was right about him (I’m joking, of course Marc Marson wasn’t right about him, but every single comedian in Britain is right about him, since as far as I can tell they all think his brilliance is the ideal for which every human being should strive).

Today, I decided to forget about that and watch them anyway, and I’m really glad I did. I’ve seen two and a half story shows so far today, and I have a couple more to go after these. I gathered all the shows I could find that I hadn’t already heard, which were three from his Vimeo page from small amounts of money, and two from his website. Okay I might have downloaded one, but then I felt really guilty about it so I won’t download any others. And obviously I won’t share the one I downloaded with anyone, I just like to have it. And I did legitimately pay for it first.

They’ve been amazing so far. Honestly, and I barely understand how this is possible given how much I’ve been going on about how everything this guy touches is amazing, they’ve been even better than I expected. In that I’m not normally into theatre or the whole “one-man/woman show” thing (I can love a comedy show that borders on being those things, but if it crosses into pure earnestness it gets difficult), but that was no obstacle at all to enjoying these. I think I’m not normally into that stuff because so much of it is people trying to pretend there’s meaning in something when there isn’t really. This is not that. All of it feels substantive. I’ve spent all day watching these things and getting goosebumps and shivers and down my spine and thinking, okay, it’s not the ocean but it can replicate the feeling fairly well.

While looking up things about Daniel Kitson so I could try to find where all the videos of his shows are, I came across a review that described his brand of theatre as: “slightly racier versions of playwright Alan Bennett’s BBC monologues.” I haven’t heard Alan Bennett in years (not on his own, anyway - I did re-listen to a bunch of Beyond the Fringe stuff in late 2020), but when I was young my dad used to play Alan Bennett monologues in the car sometimes, and I remember them well enough to be quite sure that is a very accurate description of Daniel Kitson. Also, I remember loving hearing the Alan Bennett CDs when I was young. As an adult, I still enjoy stuff like that, but I have also developed a taste for comedy or any other art that has an edge to it of the sort that did not exactly define Alan Bennett, and that I guess is what the reviewer meant by Daniel Kitson being “racier”.

Now that I write that I don’t know exactly what I mean, since Alan Bennett did confront a lot of dark stuff quite directly; I recently re-watched The History Boys and that was a fun coming-of-age story about pedophilia and homophobia and death. So by “edge”, I don’t mean “tackles difficult subjects”, as I think that’s one of the things that actually did define Alan Bennett. But I think I mean more than just “says the word cunt sometimes”, even though that’s one thing Kitson does and Bennett did not (unless there’s a lot about those monologues that went over my head as a kid). There’s something specific about the way Kitson will sharply contrast his whimsy with his viscous streak that I really like. Anyway, the fact that he can be accurately described as a racier version of Alan Bennett is a great explanation of why Daniel Kitson appeals to me so much. You know, aside from him just being a genius who deserves every bit of his revered status in comedy.

“Falling in love is like hearing a new song then going straight out and buying everything in the band's back catalogue; loneliness is baking a cake and then having to spend the whole of the next week eating it.” - That Daniel Kitson quote isn’t even from any of the shows I’ve listened to today; I just think it might be the best description I’ve ever heard of anything so I wanted to post it.

[vividstardustrevolution]

(TWs for suicidal thoughts and mental health stuff; I'm safe now, but yeah.)

...I had a really bad breakdown tonight. I started on a midterm I had a week and a half to do three hours before it was do, and I feel awful about it, especially since I skipped class yesterday specifically so I could catch up on schoolwork (and then proceeded to do nothing), and I just. I've done this since I can remember. The whole "doing things last minute" thing, I mean. I consistently have gotten A's and B's anyway, even though I was an English and Philosophy double major, because I am apparently that good at writing essays. (If you've ever wondered why I'm so long winded, it's the English Rhetoric + Philosophy + Law majors + ADHD. I analyze everything and make that everyone else's problem.) I'm so behind this semester, and it's all my fault.

I was having suicidal thoughts, and it was all my fault, and I just. I try to be kind to others, but I can't be kind to myself. How the hell did I make it this far?

"If only I could do what anyone else could do. The right future unfairly chose the wrong me."

"Mirror mirror, tell me again, if it was fated that I made it or a stroke of luck? Louder, clearer, just say that I'm enough, you lie so well"

It's hard not to think it's a fluke. I mean, how many law students or lawyers do you know with autism, ADHD, or OCD, much less all three? (And if you do know any, *please put me in contact with them.*) I know, I know. "You're 24. It's okay to not have things figured out. It's okay to fuck up when you're 24." Well it certainly doesn't fucking feel like it.

I want to do better. I want to be better. I genuinely do want to finish law school. I genuinely do want to be a lawyer.

But I don't think I can handle this anymore. What if the one place I've felt any sort of belonging in (law school) is a place I don't belong?

What then?

[scoups4lyfe]

Journal Entries. (2)

These are all mood journal entries (so super short / concise) of mine; where I chart my daily moods over a period of time.

These chronicle the time right before I scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist (March) and when I started medication (antidepressants) for my depression / fatigue.

NOTE: These don't contain any long thoughts, literally just mood observations. But I think it does a pretty good job at showing just how inconsistent and sudden mood episodes / switching can be, and why they're so debilitating for trying to live a normal everyday life. I added some gifs / pictures for rando visuals LOL. Truly complete the reading experience 🤪.

Part: [1], [2], [3], [4] Bipolar PPT Essay: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6]

...

March 27th, 2021

Slept: 4am. Woke: 4pm

Mood: 2/10 Energy: Neutral (Maybe a 2/10)

I just feel empty. Like I need to go hibernate/go back to sleep. I’m not hungry. I’m not particularly motivated, and I kind of wish my sister would sit down and watch Hannibal with me and my mom, so it bums me out that she continues to put that off/ignore it.

I’m tired, man. It’s 8:21 pm, and I’m already thinking about going back to bed. When my family hangs out, I can be mindless and just let their good mood and entertainment take over. Other than that, I don’t feel particularly interested in doing anything, though I know I should. I have things to do. I don’t even feel bad about not doing anything. Just empty. Just ready to sleep.

March 28/29th, 2021:

:(

NOTE: Visual reference of what I looked like during this time

March 30th, 2021:

Bed: 6:30 pm. Woke: 4:30 am

Mood: -1/10

My mood can be directly related to how many gluten free brownies I’ve eaten today. (Thee ONLY thing I’ve eaten too might I add.) (it’s 5pm)

…

[Started taking meds]

Tuesday July 6th 2021 (6:03 pm) (12th)

NOTE: The number next to the date is the number of days since I started taking medication

took meds (YES)

I was kinda so depressed from the doctor’s visit and loss of money that even with the meds, it couldn’t stop me from sleeping. LOL.

Thursday July 8th 2021 (12:10 pm) (14th)

took meds: yes

I had enough energy to watch [my niece]

I had enough energy to have a mental breakdown.

Tuesday July 13th 2021 (19th)

took meds: yes (4:44 pm)

I feel so tired…fatigued….

Thursday, July 15th 2021 (21st)

took meds: yes (2:47)

Slept four hours

Overall energy: 3/10

Mood:4.5:10

Napped for three hours, had dinner + caffeinated tea and I feel shaky-awake.

Bruh I did not sleep (for the 16th) at all 💀💀💀.

Friday, July 16th, 2021 (22nd)

took meds: yes (12:06pm)

Haha going to bed right after I took my meds 😛🤷

Friday July 23rd, 2021 (31st)

took meds: yes (11:12 am)

This week idk. It’s been weird? Like tired and then also hyper fixated on nonsense =DD.

Why (2:40 pm) am I so tired? Don’t want to do anything.

(Currently Saturday morning, 6;22 am and I can’t sleep. I’m NOT tired. But I want to sleep.)

This is the WORST.

Saturday July 24th, 2021 (32nd)

took meds: 7:21 pm

I feel wired and tired and just like I can’t do anything even tho I have the energy to

Sunday July 25th, 2021 (33rd)

took meds: yes (11:26 am)

I know I woke up at 8pm today, but man I really don’t want to do SHIT. (And after drinking that nasty ass fiber supplement, I’m feeling tired =o. When will this insanity end?)

Tuesday July 27th 2021 (35th)

took meds: yes (10:04 am)

Mood (10:07 am): 7/10

Energy (10:07 am): 6.7/10

Wednesday July 28th 2021 (36th)

took meds: yes (4:23pm)

Literally went to sleep at 1am and woke up at 4:15 pm. Wtf? (I slept 16hrs LOL)

Mood (6:03 pm): 6.5/10

Energy (6:03 pm): 7.2/10

Today was a good day, I got more work done than yesterday :)).

(3:19, Thursday am): laid down and tried to sleep but now I feel more awake than ever.

Thursday July 29th 2021 (37th)

took meds: yes (4:29 pm)

Went to bed last night at 8am, woke up at 4:33 pm. (I hate not being able to fall asleep. Is it because I slept for 16 hrs the previous night? #sucks.)

Mood (7:44 pm): 7.5/10

Energy: (7:44 pm): 6.4/10

Friday July 30th 2021 (38th)

took meds: yes (8:15 pm)

I almost forgot to take them today ahhhhhh

Mood: 6/10

Energy: 6.7/10

Saturday July 31st 2021 (39th)

I have plenty of energy (I haven’t taken my meds yet) and yet I feel like I’m going insane. I. Can’t do anything right. Why why why why why must I continue to be a failure? I had something good going for me wtf is wrong with me? I don’t want to wake up anymore

Took meds: yes (11:44 am)

(Slept till 9pm, it’s 8:22 am Sunday and I’m still awake. But on the plus side I’m not careening dangerously into another mental breakdown.,,yet)

Sunday August 1st 2021 (40th)

took meds: yes (12:17 pm)

I haven’t slept yet today

General mood: hmmm 5/10 (12:18pm)

I do feel a little tired but that’s probably because I’ve been up since 9pm.

Generally tho I’m feeling pretty okay. (Guess we’ll see how the rest of today goes lol.)

[Prev] [Next]

[apricottah]

First, I used the wrong ‘to’ last thing I wrote and those kinds of things reallllly bug me so what the hell. I think I've worked out what was up basically this new crystal I got I put around my neck and I think it was draining me of all of the negative energy I was withholding so that’s why I kept feeling weird and I had a really emotional time. Now I feel like I’ve been resting more I got it out but Jesus the rest of my family have been mental all week I was late for work on Wednesday because my mum was having a mental breakdown so I had to take my sister shopping for her leavers day, feed them and then my mum just cried in my arms for ages I mean I know I’m empathetic but there’s only so much I can endure too until I have to fold I think it’s gonna be alright though. Omg I finished work the other day and I was sitting at the bar having a drink and this guy who was sitting next to me leans over and he goes, ‘so... single?’ And without even a second thought I turn to him and I'm like ‘oh no mate it’s a double.’ It took like three seconds of awkward silence for me to clock what was going on and I swear to god I have never wanted to just melt from existence more, but to be honest aside from it being really embarrassing in the moment I might start using it as my new technique to pie people lmaoooo. I wanna go on holiday soo bad so I'm trying to save up money but it is so hard I'm such a bad impulse buyer I bought one of those portable crosley record players but it didn't;t even work and it cost me so much just to send it back and now I need to email them to get a refund for the postage and it’s just so much effort I just wanted a cute lil record player to take to uni. I don’t think I'm gonna go out this weekend to save I'm gonna stay in the whole time and watch movies and also I just bought a really soft towel online but I think that’s valid bc I wanna get out the shower and feel like I'm being hugged. also I'm taking my sister out next week bc she finished her gcse’s and there is this super cute place I wanna take her in London but that means I'd have to get a whole new outfit for it. I’d say I should be paid more for all the working I'm doing because my pay is so shitty but me and summer literally spent about two hours yesterday deshelling and eating pistachios and then we finished early and went out to the bar down the road so I really don’t think I should. also fuck this really pissed me off so I wanna get it off my chest iw as with my friend the other day and he goes ‘oh you’ve been looking really good at the moment’ imlike aw thanks and basically he thinks I've been going to the gym bc I did go like 5 times but I’ve sort of been busy and I spent a lot of money on things I don’t need like a kimono and shoes with eyes and a nose and teeth on the front (not real) but anyway yeah he was like ‘yeah u were looking a bit pudgy when u got back from Brazil but ur alright now’ and I just I stg I was speechless the audacity and also when I got home then I actually never felt so good about myself but yeah wtf and then he tried to come onto me so I'm leaving that alone it so fucked me off. I drew a picture yesterday of a man getting eaten by a giant ostrich and the man is caught in a trap that the ostrich made and I thought it was funny bc ostriches are supposed to have tiny brains anyway I'm gonna paint it later. Also I've been sleeping really bad I need to eat more before bed because I keep waking up in the night.

[delfiore]

before sunrise

pairing: florence pugh x reader

synopsis: after having quit your 9-to-5 job, you’re wandering new york city with no real destination in mind when a mysterious woman at the bar leaves you captivated and keeps you company all night.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual content

a/n: hello yes, i am back with another giant boi. i’ve been working on this ever since flo posted tHose pictures and only finished it like yesterday. and yes, if you’re wondering if this is similar to the before trilogy you are right i’m a sucker for strangers falling in love in a night :3 g’day!

now playing:

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It was either Wednesday or Thursday, you couldn’t figure it out for the life of you. Either way, it was quite unusual for you to be waking up alone in a strange bedroom with an enormous headache. The silence made the tinnitus in your ears much more apparent. It was way past 11am and the sun was piercing through the blinds like deadly beams of laser.

You let out a low sigh and sat up on the edge of the bed, being careful not to disturb your sensitive brain any more. You looked around the room. This was a hotel room by the looks of it, with its bland wallpaper and lifeless landscape art on the wall and . . . wait is that a pink flamingo floatie in the corner of the room?

You stood up to take a closer look at the object, that was when the events of the previous night began to flood back.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You had quit your job. It wasn’t an explosive meltdown in which you screamed in your boss’ face about wanting to quit and there were papers flying anywhere. No, you simply submitted your resignation, cleared out your station, and left. Your boss, of course, looked like he wasn’t too bothered about his job either to react, but he didn’t know that you spent hours crying to your best friend on the phone the day before. You had broken up with your ex months before, and you thought that might have factored into your mental breakdown. But the truth was you couldn’t stand your 9-to-5 job anymore, the mundanity and perpetuating cycle of waking up, clocking in, clocking out, go home was beginning to suffocate and imprison you. You didn’t get this month’s pay so all you had in your pocket was some crumpled up $20 bills from last month as you walked down Lafayette.

It was almost way too late for any actual restaurants to be open, and you didn’t have enough money to eat anywhere near without taking a cab anyway, so you opted for the nearest bar. Alcohol would be your sustenance for now.

You ordered for a bourbon and sat by the bar. That was when you noticed her. She was seated three spots away, and was leaning her head on her hand, nursing her own drink. You let yourself look for a while, her mullet the first thing that caught your eyes, then it was the most defined nose you’ve ever seen on a person. She was not from New York, this much you could tell just by looking at her; no one in this bar was not miserable, yourself included, except her.

The bartender set your drink down in front of you and stepped away. You took a large sip. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking glances at the woman.

“Why don’t you take a picture? Might last longer.”

You were surprised at her reaction, all the more reason to affirm your initial guess. Even more so when the accent you heard was not American at all, but British.

You held her hardened gaze for a second, and reached for your pocket. You saw the curious look in her eyes before her eyebrows dipped as you fished your phone out and pointed the camera at her.

“Hey, I was joking.”

“Should have said so.” You shrugged and took another sip from your glass.

Your felt her grab you, her slender fingers wrapping themselves around the fabric of your jacket, the light pressure alarming just how quickly she managed to get to you, yet reassuring, as this was the first human touch you’ve had in weeks.

“Delete the picture.” She demanded firmly, now standing over you.

“Your name first.” You said.

“Rose.” She said.

“Nice to meet you, Rose.” You unlocked your phone and hovered over the ‘Delete’ button on the otherwise quite flattering picture of her. “I’m Y/N.”

“Do you usually go around taking pictures of strangers without their consent, Y/N?” The corner of her lips pulled up.

“Only when they’re attractive.” You beamed, seeing her let out a small laugh and sit in the seat next to you.

Conversation arose naturally between you and Rose, and soon you found yourself getting used to her silvery and sultry voice, the hearty laughs elicited from her lips, and the accent that strung every word together. This woman enchanted you, and you didn’t feel like you had to square your shoulders or amplify any part of your personality just to keep a topic going, because Rose was happy to discuss anything and everything.

“My mother wasn’t very happy when I told her I wanted to become a poet. She was never happy with anything I did anyway.” You said. “And I’ve been trying to satisfy her for as long as I can remember.”

“So you quitted your stable job and spent the rest of your money drinking with a stranger?” Rose quipped her eyebrows and grinned.

You only smiled and put your glass in the air, waiting for her. You weren’t used to doing things without a plan. Your poems were the only thing keeping you sane, and you spent every waking moment reading and writing but then it was back to real life. While you had no idea what would happen tomorrow, you had never felt so free.

Rose said she was an actor. You had known a few actors in your days (one was bound to rub elbows with a few when in New York), most of them were nice people, some of them too conceited to form distinct opinions on anything else.

“Even if you told me, I probably wouldn’t know. I’m not a big movie person, sorry.” You smiled sheepishly.

“It’s all good.” She said. “The hair is actually for a movie I’m shooting in a few days.”

“What was it like before?”

“Longer, sometimes blonde.”

You could imagine Rose with long, blonde hair. In fact, while you liked her current cut, you thought you’d prefer the blonde hair. You’d imagine running your fingers along those bleached waves, Rose in front of a camera with them, her guards down and her emotions outpouring. With a face and a personality like hers, you had no doubt she would be big one day. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had already passed her on a billboard somewhere.

“Do you wanna get out of here?“ You asked, tapping on your half-empty glass.

A slow grin spread its way onto her full lips. “And go where?”

“Anywhere.” You said, shrugging. “You’d never get bored in New York.”

Rose kept that grin on her face, and reached for her purse to pay for her drink. That was when you noticed that you didn’t have any cash left.

“Rose.” You said quietly. She looked up at you, then looked at your hand half wedged in your pants’ pocket.

“I can pay for yours—“

“No.” You shook your head. The bartender was stood lazily at the back of the bar, cleaning a glass with a torn up rag. His back was turned towards you.

“You’re crazy.” Rose whispered. “You trying to get arrested too?”

You slipped her a mischievous grin. You grabbed her hand and sneaked out through the back entrance.

There was an old antique shop down the street when you walked a bit further south. Rose had wanted to go inside. You didn’t really have a choice because she pulled your hand so hard you thought she might rip your entire arm off. She never let go of your hand since you left the bar.

“My mum used to go to these places and bring back the weirdest shit.” She recounted. “One time she brought home a Russian doll of a naked lady. You’d be surprised at how detailed even the tiny ones inside are. I think it still sits in our living room now.”

“That’s cool. See if you can find another naked Russian doll.” You huffed with a smile and looked around the shop.

There were rows and rows of random things, from old clocks to old cutlery; everything in the shop was at least a few decades old, which was why you were surprised to find a fairly new vinyl by the standard of everything else in this store, sitting neatly on the shelf. It looked familiar, and you recognized the album. In fact, this was the exact one that you owned. Yes, this was yours. You recognized the fuzzy dent in the lower right corner of the sleeve, and the obnoxious scratch right over the title.

The shop owner didn’t mind when you asked to use the record player in the back of the shop. Carefully, you put the disk onto its place and put the needle on top. As soon as the music filled the shop and your ears, you were back in the old apartment, the one you shared with your ex.

You heard Rose shuffling beside you and she listened. Only when the first song was over, you spoke. “This was mine. This exact one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s one of my favorites. I left it with my ex when we broke up, thinking that seeing this might stir something inside.”

Rose didn’t say anything, the silence soon followed by Track 2.

You remembered. It would be Sunday morning and this record would be serenading you, providing a blanket of comfort as you watched them make potato soup. It was always your favorite, and you found yourself making it even after you had broken up.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, and took the disk off of the player and put it back into its sleeve.

“Well, they’re stupid for leaving.” The record, you, you thought Rose meant to say.

You turned towards her and gave her a warm smile. Before the night had begun, you might still have been thinking about your ex, but it was as if Rose had filled that void inside your heart, and if she left, she would leave an even bigger hole that you weren’t sure you would ever be able to mend. Warmth of a stranger, in between forever and never.

“Here.” She took your hand, her finger gliding over the bony part of yours, and slid an old ring over your index finger. “Something for you to remember me by.” It glowed in your hand, despite having a few spots of black around the ring and on the prominent rose perched on the band.

The next time she held your hand, there were a rusty metal rose wedged in between yours and her fingers.

By the time it was two o’clock in the morning, you and Rose had walked far enough to had found a party in a high-rise building. “We could sneak in,” she said, “no one would notice.” So you took the elevator going to the 42nd floor, and when the metal doors opened the party was in full-swing in front of you. It was a 26th birthday celebration for some Kelly, by the huge stand that greeted you by the elevator. You only took a look at Rose to know that this was her scene and she soon pulled you inside.

The DJ was blasting the music way too loud, you could hear the bass thumping in your chest, there were too many people even by the pool (which was also littered with people splashing water everywhere), but you looked at Rose and there was this genuine, toothy smile that reached up to the creases in her eyes. You thought this might be the most marvelous sight you’ll ever get to witness. The blue of the pool washed over her face when she turned towards the incoming server, picking up two margaritas and handing one to you.

“It’s free.” She swatted her hand when you gave her an amused look. “Cheers.”

You chuckled. The DJ then spoke into his microphone very inaudibly, yet as soon as he finished the party bursted out into roars and cheers. He was prepping everyone for the beat drop eight bars later, you thought.

It was getting too loud to think, but you looked over to Rose and she was already moving to the music, her drink in one hand. You took another sip, and watched her. You took note of the way her head bopped to the beat vehemently, and the way she swung her arms but not too much so as to spill her drink. Then you took note of her features; her eyes were closed, but her lips were spread into a comfortable smile. You could not look away, and you had had the shape of her lips etched in your brain. Autumn lips, those leaves never die.

“Huh?” You said, and leaned closer.

“I said are you alright? You’re looking a bit pale there.” She shouted into your ear, but with the deafening music, her voice was heard only just about.

You were finding words to make up an excuse, when a couple bumped into you, the force almost sending you in the pool below if it weren’t for Rose grabbing your arm in time, and spilled your own drink over your shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The girl apologized, she hadn’t finished laughing.

“It’s fine.” You said quickly, and looked around for a server.

“You okay?” Rose asked once again, her grip on your arm had softened, yet no less caring. You nodded and shook the dripping water from your hand.

“Hey, wait.” The boyfriend (you assumed) pointed at Rose. “Hey, I know you! You’re that actress from Black Widow! Oh my god, you’re Florence Pugh!”

“No, I’m not—“

“Yeah, you are! I saw the movie! Total badass!” His voice boomed, and your hairs stood up at your nape when he grabbed her hand so hard it squeezed her bicep and shook it.

“Hey! Watch it!” You pushed him back and he staggered.

“Jesus, Bobby! You can’t just go around talking to people like that! I’m so sorry, you guys.” The woman apologized again. “What the fuck is it with you and Florence Pugh! Do you love her or me more—“

They were clearly drunk as fiddlers by the way they kept arguing loudly as they stumbled away. You turned back to Rose, and she looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Are you okay?” It was your turn to ask, and she nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. You could see the white handprint of the man’s fingers around her arm.

“Wanna get out of here? I’m starting to get a headache.” You chuckled in attempt to lighten the mood.

You liked to think you understood what kind of person Rose was. Then again, it was easier to encapsulate a person into a manageable, bitesized frame, lest they break out of that frame and did something that wounded you. But as Rose quickly snatched a flamingo floatie drifting in the pool, and put it over her midsection, you realized you didn’t know her at all. She was a silly, lighthearted goof that took you by the hand and ran towards the elevator, still with a pink flamingo floatie around her hips. No one bat her an eye and she giggled, trying to squeeze into the elevator after you. The latex of the poor flamingo had made an ear-splitting squeak against the metal doors as they tried to close in on her.

You tried to contain your laughter, but the girl beside you looked ridiculous. The floatie was keeping you at a considerable length away from her, but you only wanted to wrap your arms around her and squeeze and never let go. You hadn’t been this happy in a long, long time.

Rose and you walked further until you had reached the piers, when she complained about her feet aching like she had stepped on fire ants. You found a bench by the water over looking Brooklyn Bridge, and you wondered if the heavens set it up just for you because of how gorgeous New York suddenly looked. Maybe it was just because you were happy. It was almost four in the morning when you looked at your phone, and you were sad to know this night was going to end soon.

“What would you be if you weren’t an actor?” You asked.

“I don’t know. I’d probably open my own bakery or something, in my hometown.” Rose shook her head. “I’d name it after my mother and make it so famous that everyone in town would have to know.”

“Sounds nice. I can imagine you as a baker.”

“What about you?” She turned to you.

You let out a sigh. “I never really gave myself the time to think about it hard enough. I feel like most of my life has been chasing things that I just can’t reach. I want to do things that make me happy. I’m quite lowly supplied on that at the moment.

It’s something that I’ll have to work towards. It’s my battle to fight only, and no one else. Not even the person I choose to be with.”

“But you don’t have to be alone in it.” She gave you a meaningful look.

“I wasn’t tonight.”

You were brave and turned to look at her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget this night.” You said.

“Me neither.” She answered, and you looked over to her. Her eyes sparkled in the city light. “Being with you has made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time.“

You were grateful for the dark of the night that hid the blush which would clearly adorn your cheeks. You took her hand, running your thumb over her fingers and kissed them. You treasured the smell of them as soon dawn would break and all of this would be over.

Your heart pounded in your chest when she grabbed your chin and kissed you on the lips.

“Rose.” You whispered quietly, pecking her again. “I . . . actually haven’t deleted the picture of you.”

“I know.” She chuckled. “You aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.”

You smiled and grabbed her face to kiss her again when she pulled away. “There’s something I need to tell you too. My name . . . isn’t actually Rose. Well, it kinda is. It’s my middle name.”

You stopped and looked at her. “What is your name?”

She took a moment before replying. “Florence.”

Florence. The rose blooms. Florence.

Some part of you knew. You had the feeling when the guy at the party was so adamant on knowing who she was, despite his inebriated state. That was why she needed you to delete the picture so badly, that was why she paled when he recognized her.

“Florence.” You tested it out on your tongue. “Pugh.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s just that . . . people treat me differently when they know who I am, and you didn’t know who I was and we were having such a good time together and I didn’t want to spoil that.”

You were starting to put it all together. You realized why she had looked so familiar. You imagined her blonde, you did see her blonde and on a billboard for the newest Little Women adaptation that came out a while back. She was no struggling actor as you had thought, she was a superstar.

“You keep surprising me.” You said, and cracked a smile. “I understand.”

This allowed a relieved smile to spread across her lips as she quickly locked your neck in her arms and pressed her lips onto yours again.

You quickly found a cheap hotel after a few blocks. The clerk looked bored, but you noticed that he had given you a weird look once he saw the floatie Florence had with her. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself even in the elevator ride up to your assigned room.

“Your eyes.” You said, pushing some of her hair out of her face. “They’re green.”

She let out a hearty laugh and, upon unlocking the door, pushed you inside, her hands already looking to pull your jacket off.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You huffed with a smile at the memories. That explained why you were only in your underwear.

You heard the bathroom door click and Florence stepping out with wet hair and her body wrapped in a towel. You watched her with a grin as she made her way over and sat next to you.

“So,” she spoke, “what now?”

You stared outside the window. New York had woken up and was in full swing.

“Breakfast?”

[peachycoreroo]

I got a request! Boys in the morning after having ons, waking up in their bed with her. I feel like reactions would be really something ahahaha.

I was thinking about Oikawa, Miya twins, Satori, Kageyama and Kuroo — make it as a fluff, angst, smut, whatever, it's up to you!

characters: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kageyama tobio

genre: fluff, crack

word count: 0.9k

warnings: gn!reader, hinting at sex the night before

authors note: thank you for the request, i've seen your immense support for my blog and i'm very grateful, but i did change my rules to pls only pick three characters max for a request, so i just picked the three i haven't written for as much!! hope you still enjoy<3 here's a link to my masterlist

miya atsumu:

as atsumu slowly woke up, he didn’t even realize there was someone beside him at first. stretching his long limbs, he immediately retracted his hand as it came in contact with your arm.

luckily, you didn’t wake up, so the setter sat up to look at you properly. it suddenly hit him, that he took you home after he celebrated a win in a club with his team last night.

“wow, hotter than i remember”, atsumu mumbled under his breath, before snatching his phone and spamming the group chat with his twin and suna, about his nightly escapades with you.

ten minutes waiting for an answer turned into half an hour, making the male grow restless. why weren’t they replying? when he checked whether they had seen his messages, he was offended to learn they were outright ignoring him.

you woke up feeling great. who knew miya atsumu, the famous setter for msby, was even better looking in real life than on tv? plus, he definitely knew how to use what he was given.

sighing contently, you opened your eyes, looking at the other side of the bed, where the bleach-blond male slept, just so see him staring at his phone, propped up against the headboard and... pouting?

your eyes quickly scanned his naked, sculpted upper body before concentrating on his sulking expression. “uh, morning? what’s with the face?”, you asked, curious.

“ok, listen. i know i lied to ‘em a few times. sue me. but i wasn’t lyin’ this time! why are they ignorin’ me?”, the tall male whined, apparently distressed about someone ignoring his texts.

“huh?”, you dumbfoundedly asked, not quite sure where he was going with this. out of the blue, he excitedly turned towards you: “oh my god, can you pretend to sleep and i’ll snap ‘em a pic’ of ya? i just need to prove that yer real!”

“i- what?”

“…never mind, that sounded really creepy. so… ya wanna go grab some food?”

miya osamu:

after you came into the onigiri miya shop yesterday, you immediately hit it off with the owner himself, miya osamu. one thing led to another and you both ended up making out behind the counter after the shop closed, later continuing in his apartment.

waking up, the first thing that you noticed, was the delicious smell of coffee and pancakes. you still couldn’t wrap your head around catching miya osamu’s attention. not only was he tall, broad, and extremely attractive, he was also a great cook and a genuine, respectful guy.

you grabbed a nearby shirt of him and threw it on before making your way to the kitchen.

“that smells really good”, you complimented as you leaned against the doorway, trailing your eyes along his figure dressed in grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, not hiding any of his impressive length, and a cute apron tied around his toned torso.

as osamu turned his head towards you and his gaze fell upon you, clad in his shirt, he couldn’t help but smirk. “yer own personal onigiri miya breakfast. that’ll be fifty bucks”, the dark-haired male teased, as he put it down on the table, making you laugh.

while you were busy floating on cloud nine, seeing as miya osamu turned out to be the greatest guy you’ve ever had a one night stand with, the shop owner couldn’t resist sending atsumu a message, bragging about how good he got laid the night before.

after all, he could never pass up the opportunity of showing his twin who the better miya was.

kageyama tobio:

kageyama couldn’t believe his eyes. this was the first time he had a one night stand and it wasn’t to say it was bad, in fact, it was great, but he didn’t quite think it through the night before.

what was he supposed to do when you woke up? ask what you thought about last night? no, that’s douchey. be ready with breakfast? he was sure he would burn the toast because of his nervousness. what if you wanted to leave as soon as you woke up?

while the poor setter almost had a mental breakdown beside you, he didn’t even realize that you were already awake, gazing at him.

“hey, tobio, is everything alright?”, you asked concerned, as you placed a comforting hand on his bicep. suddenly, kageyama jumped out of the bad, making you squeak at the sudden movement. one moment he was mumbling “sorry”, and the next he was already locked up in his bathroom.

kind of perplexed, you decided to make breakfast for you both. what happened to the strong, confident kageyama tobio from the night before?

when he finally got back, he only said a quick thanks, before eating everything in silence. uncomfortable with him pretending you weren’t even there, making you feel as if he wanted you to leave, you decided to head home.

as you put on your shoes, the black-haired male finally seemed to find his confidence, as he scratched his neck, trying to control the blush that was slowly creeping up from his neck to his face.

“can i- can i have your number?”

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Six

this is finally going somewhere! i had to cut this chapter in two otherwise it would have been six thousand words so… sorry for the cut😬

Warning for sucidal thoughts in this chapter.

chapter five // chapter seven

“She did not!” Aelin laughed loudly, still in her nightclothes. “Why do we always miss that?”

“Miss what?” Sam asked as he entered the room, two bowls of cereals in his hands. He gave one to Lysandra and brought two spoons so Aelin could eat in his bowl. Lysandra and Aelin just woke up, it was four in the afternoon and Aelin didn’t eat anything since last night, so she was starving.

Aelin, Lysandra, Nehemia, and Sam might have partied a little too hard last night. So this morning, Aelin and Lysandra decided to stay home. Sam didn’t look happy about Aelin missing class but he didn’t say anything, knowing Aelin’s mind was made. He came back from school an hour ago and woke them up.“Gods, I love these cereals,” she moaned at the taste. Aelin loved food, and it showed on her body. The only good thing about her injury is that now she didn’t have to pay attention to everything she ate to fit in stupid costumes. She might miss dancing but she loved food more.

“I finished the last box, by the way.”

Aelin nodded, making a mental note she’ll have to ask Quinn to go grocery shopping as soon as she could.

“Leave me some, Lys,” Nehemia said as she threw herself on Aelin’s bed. She was glad to have a gigantic bed when the four of them were home, which is almost all the time lately. Nehemia threw her hair behind her shoulder, silently asking her friends to pay attention to them.

“That color suits you, Mia,” Aelin smiled and it was genuine. Nehemia had fresh new braids, they started black but ended in a deep ocean blue. The girl never wanted boring colors in her hair and almost everything suited her. Lysandra and Sam agreed with her, making Nehemia smile arrogantly. But Aelin knew that Nehemia was hiding a real smile behind that.

“Might dye my hair blue to match you,” Aelin said and Nehemia looked thrilled.

“Don’t you dare!” Sam said, turning to Aelin and almost spilling the cereals and milk on her bed. “Your hair is so pretty. Buy a wig but don’t you dare dye it.”

“Excuse me?”

He pouted, “Please?” Even with this ridiculous face, he stayed beautiful. She loved the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation at her, and the kindness that made her feel good, the kindness that made her want to be the best person she could be.

“Okay,” She sighed and he had a victorious smile drawn on his face. “Let’s go for the wig.”

He smiled and kissed her, pout-ring all his love for her in it. She could spend years kissing him. “You two are gross,” Lysandra complained, Sam and Aelin pulled apart and Aelin sent her best friend a vulgar gesture.

“Anyway, Lys, what did we miss?” Sam asked again, this boy was the most curious of the four. He liked to hear gossip about everyone.

“Ansel was high at Nox’s party two days ago.” Aelin was sad they missed a party just to be at a Gala, but her parents were home for once and demanded that she was with them.

“You’re joking?” Nehemia asked and laughed as she took Lysandra’s spoon to eat some cereals. The brunette threw the dark-skinned girl a look that promised violence.

“You’ll never see me taking drugs, that’s for sure,” Aelin sighed and rested her head on Sam’s shoulder. “God, I already regret drinking twice in a week.”

“Good,” Sam said and she rolled her eyes.

The four friends spent hours talking and laughing together. They practically all lived at her home, anyway. Sam and Lysandra’s families were fucked up enough, so they spent their time here. Nehemia’s parents worked too much to notice that she didn’t come home most nights. Aelin’s parents were never here either, so she welcomed the company.

When it started getting dark outside, Aelin’s phone rang. She had no idea who called her but it could be one of her parents, calling her from wherever they were now or even Aedion who had a habit to lose his phone.

“Hello?”

“Aelin?” A deep voice asked and Aelin thought she recognized it in the back of her brain but she couldn’t put a name on who it belonged to.

“I’m not trying to be rude but, who are you?”

The man laughed and the sound gave her chills. “It’s Arobynn Hamel. Your mother was supposed to give you my phone number but I guess she forgot.”

Her body froze. Arobynnn Hamel. Of course, she knew that voice, she had watched enough interviews of him to become familiar with it, she even met him two days ago. She sat straighter in her bed, attracting the worried gaze of her three friends. With a more serious face than they had ever seen, Aelin motioned for them to remain silent.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry, Mister Hamel. She didn’t give me your number, I’m very sorry.” She was so embarrassed, Mala knew how much Aelin would be mad at her mom for it. Her friends looked surprised at who called her.

“Calm down, Aelin. It’s okay.” He comforted her as he laughed softly. “And call me Arobynn.”

“Alright.” She said and waited for him to explain why he was calling her, not that she wasn’t happy about it because she was. She just knew she would embarrass herself if she opened her mouth and started talking.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” He asked and Aelin furrowed her brows. That was weird but exciting at the same time.

“No, I am free. Why?”

“We didn’t have a lot of time to talk Saturday and I think it’s a shame. I am still in Orynth for two days and would like to talk with you. Your mother told me you wanted to be an author or work in the publishing industry, is it true?”

“Yes,” it was the fastest answer of her life. Yes, she had always dreamed of working around books.

“From what I’ve heard, Aelin Galathynius, you are special. I’d like to see that by myself. Allow me to take you out for dinner tomorrow and we can talk about your future.”

If Arobynn Hamel helped her… She could become a successful author. She could picture it, a small house, Sam at her side, a study full of books she wrote, a life away from the spotlight, a happy life. It’s exactly what she wanted. Special, he thought she was special.

“Dress code?”

He laughed again and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. “Something like the dress you had on Saturday should be good. I’ll pick you up at seven, is it good for you?”

“Perfect.”

They hung up and she looked at her friend, still surprised, and smile. She was thoughtfully happy.

“Aelin?” Aedion asked, tearing her from her daydream. “You there?”

“Sorry. What is it?” She was tired and hungover, she didn’t get lots of sleep last night and she was feeling the effects. Dorian had left early this morning, long before anyone woke up. It was better than having to face Aedion’s judgmental looks.

“I asked if your scholarship got renewed for next year, Lysandra got the answer in the mail yesterday so you’re supposed to have yours too, right?” She looked up from her bowl of cereals, confused for a second. When she met Rowan Whitethorn’s face, with the same confused expression as her, she remembered.

Lysandra, Aedion, and everyone else believed she got a scholarship, frankly, she had no idea how they believed her. But they never had a reason to distrust her, that’s probably the reason.

Most of her relation with Arobynn was secret and the money he spent on her was part of the lie.

“Yeah, everything is taken care of.” She smiled, it was the truth in a way. She dared to look at Rowan and she didn’t why, didn’t know how, but she knew he didn’t believe her. She could see it in his frown and eyes.

“Good,” her cousin smiled as he drank his coffee.

She smiled back, he was worried for her, she knew it. It’s exactly why she didn’t tell him anything, he didn’t need the stress. “I’ve got everything under control.”

---------

“What are you still doing here?” Arobynn asked, startling Aelin. She had been too busy on her computer to hear him coming. “It’s past nine, we finished hours ago.”

They both had worked for hours today and she was tired. “What are you still doing here?” She asked.

“I asked first, darling.” He sat in his chair in front of her. She was still in her seat, the chair almost belonged to her for all the time she spent on it. She wanted to be annoyed at him but today had been different. He had been different. He wasn’t the Arobynn she had known years ago but he was close, closer than he usually was lately. Aelin was pretty sure he hadn’t had a drink all day, which could explain his mood. That was a good thing.

“I’m writing and waiting for my cousin to check his damn phone so he can pick me up.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Broken,” she grilled through her teeth. The damn truck had decided not to work this morning, causing Aelin to have a nervous breakdown. “A friend of mine had a look at it and told me it would cost me more to repair it than to buy a new one, so here I am, depending on my cousin.” She hated it, hated to depend on someone. But it seemed to happen a lot lately, so she might have to get used to it. “What are you doing here?” She repeated.

“My meeting lasted two hours,” he said, his voice hard.

“Ah, sucks when you have to actually do your job, right?” She remarked and didn’t know if it was a reproach for the way he over-worked her or a teasing. Maybe both, she didn’t want to wonder about it too much.

“Someone’s feisty today,” he joked and she fought a small smile. “Ready for Monday?”

“I already told you no, Arobynn.”

“Why not? You finish the school year in four days.”

“I have a job, Arobynn. I can’t just-”

“Everything’s taken care of.” He cut her off with a smile. It was the kind of smile that told her he had done something and was feeling rather proud of it.

“What.”

“Did you know Rofle was my friend? After a drink or two, he agreed to let you come back in September, right after your internship at Hamel Publishing.”

“And you did that after I told you no?” Her tone was rising. “And are you friends with everyone here?”

He rose from his seat to stand right before her. She had to raise her head to look him in the eye. One of his calloused hands rested on her cheek, caressing her cheekbone. "You know how powerful I am." She did, Arobynn wasn’t just a successful author or the CEO of a publishing company, those were just hobbies for him. He had grown up in a rich family, had been raised to be like every rich people. He had learned how fake smiles and words were weapons, how to manipulate people. He had a way to manipulate everyone he called his friends, whether it was a picture, a video, or a letter. He had something on everyone. “I once promised you I would make you shine, Aelin. I won’t let a shitty job ruin that promise.” For years he had told her she was special, he had told her she could reach the stars should she just let him help her. And for years she had believed him, so she decided to do it again. She only nodded and it seemed to be enough for him.“I’m calling a cab for you.”

“No.”

“No?” His voice was surprised. “Is it because of the money?”

“For fuck sake Arobynn I can afford a cab ride,” that was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “I just… can’t.”

Understanding and pity flashed on Arobynn’s face and she had to keep herself from yelling at him for it. “You still can’t?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She said voice hard that didn’t let room for questions.

“Pack your things, I’ll drive you.” This was what Arobynn from four years ago would have said, what the Arobynn she had come to know would have said. In a flicker of hope, she said yes. Hope that she could erase what happened between them, that she would forget like Arobynn repeatedly asked her to, and just start again because she didn’t know how to survive another person leaving her.

-----------------------------

It was the middle of the night when Rowan heard her cries.

At first, he had ignored them, trying to give her privacy. It was unusual of her to let someone hear her, so Rowan thought it might be very bad. But after five minutes of cries, he couldn’t stay in his bed anymore.

When he walked into her room, his heart broke a little. She was in bed, sleeping, trashing against the sheets, crying, and trying to talk. Even with only the light from the bathroom, he could see the pain written all over her face.

He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t just walk back to his room and ignore her. So, he shook her shoulder, trying to wake her up but it didn’t work. She kept jerking in her bed as if she was fighting with the pillows and her blanket.

“Aelin,” he said, using both his hands to shake her. “Aelin,” he repeated louder. Her eyes jerked open, she turned her head several times, trying to figure out where she was. Her whole body shook and a second later she leaned over the bed and vomited her guts out. Rowan held her hair back, avoiding touching her directly so as not to overwhelm her.

When she lay back down in bed, she was still crying, her limbs shaking as if she were hypothermic even though Rowan could see the sweat glistening on her skin.

Rowan had only seen one person look so wrecked in his entire life, himself. He saw it every time he woke up and looked into the mirror. It was worse ten years ago because he had no idea how to hide it, in a decade he learned how to conceal everything. How to recognize which night was most likely to give him a nightmare, learned how to stay quiet while he felt like dying inside.

“You should take a shower,” Rowan said, voice softer than he has ever used with her. He had been wrong, so wrong.

“I don’t think I have the strength.”

“To shower?” He asked but there was no judgment, he only wanted to make sure.

“To live.” Her small voice broke and his heart did too. When she looked up at him, eyes filled with tears, Rowan didn’t see anything but desperation and loathing. He knew it wasn’t directed at him but at herself.

“Come here,” he said as he slid his arms under her body. “We’re gonna clean you up, okay?” He lifted her up from her bed, avoiding the content of her stomach on the floor as her weak arms curled around his neck and he guided her to the bathroom.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Lepidoterophobia Prt. Three (Finale)

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: A couple of y’all asked real nice for kisses and you know what, that’s valid. Shinobu is such a tease though so she’s gonna make you work for it! Just not in the way you’d expect. It’s all fluff but get ready for some loving caresses and a massage at one point! It gets a little frisky, but nothing too explicit and sorry for the sub bottom energy but, come on, its Shinobu. I think this will be it for this little series. Thanks for liking it so much! <3 (Part One) (Part Two) Word Count: 4,977

(Y/n) had been recuperating within the Butterfly Estate for only two weeks before she felt as if she was about to lose her mind.

She still hadn’t been allowed to leave her bed. Only limited movement and changes in position to partake in very simple exercises and to avoid bed sores were permitted. What made it even more depressing was how the small movements would take the little energy she had right out of her. Then there was that disgusting medicine as well. (Y/n), quite literally, almost threw up the first time Aoi had given it to her. Aoi had scolded her good after that, going on about a special brewing process and rare ingredients; how Shinobu had worked tirelessly to make it for her.

Shinobu... Now, if (Y/n) had to assemble a list of reasons for the impending mental breakdown she felt coming on, Kochou Shinobu would be at the tippy top of that list.

She was an absolute tease! Lingering touches, no regard for personal space whatsoever. Then there was her downright devious way with words that could make (Y/n)’s skin heat intensely and her brain short circuit, leaving her completely out of commission for the rest of the day in some cases.

That was to be expected though, especially since this was Shinobu they were thinking about, and (Y/n) was fine with that. She wouldn’t want her any other way. However, despite all of the teasing, or because of all of the teasing rather, Shinobu and (Y/n) had yet to kiss, unless one counted nose and cheek kisses of course. There was no shortage of those sweet affections.  And it wasn’t like (Y/n) hadn’t attempted on quite a few occasion to initiate a kiss herself, but her attempts had always been thwarted. If not by the sweet little girls of the estate interrupting the moment, then by Shinobu herself turning her head so (Y/n)’s lips would meet the soft skin of her cheek instead.

There were a few close instances, such as last night when Shinobu had come by to bid (Y/n) goodnight. She hovered over (Y/n)’s face, close enough that (Y/n) could feel the air leave Shinobu’s lips and wash over her own as she spoke. Unfortunately, (Y/n) had forgotten to actually pay attention to what Shinobu was saying, which led to more teasing.

After Shinobu had thoroughly roasted (Y/n), she delicately cupped the side of (Y/n)’s cheek, her cool and calloused thumb had skimmed over her lower lip, pulling it to the side slightly as Shinobu came closer still. Their noses brushed and (Y/n) almost forgot to breathe, her head muddled with the dizzying wisteria scent that clung to the other woman. (Y/n)’s eyes slid shut and her heart beat pounded in her ears. The feeling of Shinobu’s thumb as she made another pass over her lip was electric, fire, leaving a tingling feeling in its wake over the trembling flesh.

And then, a sweet yet chaste kiss to (Y/n)’s hairline and Shinobu rose back to her full height, an undisguised smirk and gleaming, mischievous eyes filled (Y/n)’s vision as her own eyes snapped open to look over the Hashira with a barely contained sense of betrayal. Shinobu’s pigeoned laughter rang in (Y/n)‘s ears for hours after the Hashira had retired to her own bedroom and (Y/n) awkwardly maneuvered herself in her own bed to yell into her pillow.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), are you sleeping with your eyes open? What an unsettling habit.”

“Hm?” (Y/n) blinked, turning her head to see the devil herself smiling down at her. She looked unfairly angelic in the soft sunlight that was streaming through the window. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Shinobu asked, taking a familiar perch on the edge of (Y/n)’s bed.

“Meh,” (Y/n) shrugged, willing the beating of her heart to not betray her, “Nothing. What were you saying earlier?”

Shinobu leveled a look at (Y/n) that could be clearly interpreted as saying something along the lines of, ‘I could easily grill you for the answers I want, but I’m feeling merciful at the moment so I’ll let it be’. “I had said good morning and asked you if you were ready for your light exercises. It was strange to see you look so focused. I’ll admit, I didn’t know your brain could work so hard. Don’t strain it too much though, okay?”

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) huffed, pursing her lips while Shinobu laughed at her cute expression.

“Oh don’t take it too hard, (Y/n). You know I’m just teasing. I think you’re quite intelligent,” Shinobu praised, leaning over to land a quick peck to (Y/n)’s forehead before pulling back up. “Now how about we sit you up, okay?”

“Okay,” (Y/n) couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips in response to Shinobu’s affections, “I’m ready.”

(Y/n) strained her core, and with a little help from Shinobu pushing at her back, she managed to sit upright in bed without much fuss. Still, (Y/n) felt a little light headed from the excursion.

“Take a moment to focus on your breathing.” Shinobu said. She had noticed (Y/n) swallow thickly and rubbed her back in soothing circles. “Let me know when your ready to move to the edge of the bed.”

After a minute passed, (Y/n) nodded at Shinobu and slowly but surely they worked together so that (Y/n)’s legs dangled off of the side of the bed and her arms hung loosely at her sides. It had really surprised (Y/n) how quickly her health had deteriorated in the wake of the butterfly demon’s attack. Even her legs which had been her best asset to her survival that night, felt like lead now. Heavy and weakened like the rest of her body as her energy was sapped away to heal the most damaged areas.

“Let’s begin with your arms, shall we?” Shinobu spoke almost in a whisper, her mind undoubtedly returning to that hard night as well. “Can you lift them for me?”

(Y/n) fought against the heavy feeling in her arms. Thanking the gods for the absence of the snug slings she no longer had to wear constantly. Though she had to fight hard, the burn she felt as she raised her arms felt kind of good, like stretching a sore muscle. She only managed to raise her straightened arms so that her hands were about level with her navel before they started to tense and shake.

“Good, Just hold.” Shinobu coached. (Y/n) held the position for almost fifteen seconds before she let her arms fall back to her sides in a sharp exhale of air. “Well done. Take a couple breaths and try another rep, okay?”

(Y/n) made it through three more repetitions. Blood thrummed in her ears and a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead but she had done better than yesterday and that was all she could ask for. Next were the wrist rotations which were a welcome relief despite the slight discomfort (Y/n) felt reverberate in her elbows. Then the finger flexes and shoulder rolls solidified the poor slayer’s exhaustion, but at least that signified the end of her light stretches. Or so she thought.

“We should really stretch your legs a bit. They feel stiff, don’t they?” Shinobu inquired, inspecting (Y/n) from where she stood in front of her, a finger tapping against her chin as she spoke.

“They have been feeling rather stiff,” (Y/n) agreed, “but I’m sure if I tried to stand up right now I’d buckle over like a sack of rice.”

“No need to stand. Usually I’d get the younger girls to help with such things but it won’t take long, lean back,” Even as Shinobu spoke, she didn’t give (Y/n) enough time to move on her own, pushing her flat on her back with a gentle hand pressed firmly against (Y/n)’s chest near her collarbone.

“Wah- wait. Aren’t you going to talk me through it or— eep!” (Y/n) choked on her words as Shinobu worked her hips between (Y/n)’s legs which still dangled off the bed. (Y/n) felt her blood pressure skyrocket as the space between them completely disappeared.

One of Shinobu’s hands moved slowly, excruciating so, over (Y/n)’s thigh in a way that was entirely unnecessary.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)? I’m not hurting you am I?” Shinobu cooed while her hand disappeared under the backside of (Y/n)’s thigh.

“No!” (Y/n) squeaked, cursing the way her voice rose another octave above her normal cadence.

“Good, I hope we can keep it that way. Let me know if it gets to be too much, okay dear?”

It should be a crime to have a voice that can hold such power over a person like that. Shinobu could have told (Y/n) to climb to the top of Natagumo Mountain and jump off and she’d have done it, no questions asked. (Y/n) released a shuddering breath and nodded her response, unable to trust her own voice to reply without risk of further embarrassment.

Shinobu hummed and pushed up on the back of (Y/n)’s thigh, her hand naturally sliding up to the crook of the slayer’s knee as the leg rose up. Slowly, she began to push the knee inward towards (Y/n)’s chest. (Y/n) winced slightly at the stretch, but it hardly registered in comparison to Shinobu’s extremely close proximity.

Shinobu placed her once idle hand over (Y/n)’s knee cap, her other hand sliding further up to cup (Y/n)’s calf, gently squeezing while she raised the rest of the leg and began to slowly stretch it over (Y/n)’s torso as far as she could get it to go.

(y/n) sucked in a breath, “Okay, that burns a bit!”

Shinobu paused her movements and held the leg in position, “Not bad flexibility, (Y/n). With a little bit of work I bet you could go even further. I think I’d like to see.”

What was (Y/n) supposed to say to that? She made some uncommitted sound and tried not to think too intently about how Shinobu was pressing into her. After a few more moments of holding the position, Shinobu moved the leg outward to stretch it from another angle. The limb cracked near the base of her hip and (Y/n) sighed with relief. This was a lot more gentle than what the younger girls put her through during recovery training all those months ago.

“Oh? Does that feel better, (Y/n)?” Shinobu asked, her voice like honey and silk. Her hands slowly massaging the muscles of (Y/n)’s calf and thigh. (Y/n) nodded, her eyes nearly closing as she focused on Shinobu’s ministrations. “I’d like to hear you say so, just to make sure.”

“Yeah, it feels awesome.” (Y/n) sighed again, unabashed. Shinobu giggled.

“Wonderful, let’s move on to the other one then, shall we?”

“Gods, yes please!” (Y/n) responded eagerly, rubbing her free leg against Shinobu’s side until Shinobu took hold of it and gave it the same treatment as the other leg which was now hanging loosely over the edge of the bed.

By the time Shinobu had brought (Y/n)’s other leg back down, (Y/n) was trying to fight off sleep. However, the loosened and relaxed state of her muscles after the stretches clearly were beating out her efforts.

“Wow, (Y/n). Tired already? You haven’t even eaten breakfast yet.” Shinobu commented while she absently ran her hands over (Y/n)’s thighs, the motion felt comforting.

“I know,” (Y/n) groaned, “It's your fault for being so good at your job. I feel like a limp noodle, a very sleepy limp noodle.”

“Oh?” Shinobu chuckled. Sliding her hands purposefully upward until they rested at either side of (Y/n)’s ribs. The shift in her weight had her resting on her elbows, her chest resting just below (Y/n)’s. “Perhaps I could find a way to liven you up.”

“What do you have in mind?” (Y/n) asked slyly, hoping Shinobu couldn’t hear how fast her heart was racing. She wrapped her legs over Shinobu’s hips, locking her in, in hope to distract her, but also to egg her on.

Shinobu grinned at (Y/n) and shimmied closer. One of her hands came up to cradle (Y/n)’s jaw. She leaned even closer and landed a quick kiss to (Y/n)’s chin, then she pressed another one in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck, making the injured slayer laugh as she nuzzled closer.

“Oh!” (Y/n)‘s eyes shot wide open as the feeling of teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Hm? What is it, (Y/n)?” Shinobu asked, smiling against (Y/n)’s neck. “You seem to be perking up already.” she added, punctuating her words with a quick swipe of her tongue over (Y/n)’s neck, making the girl beneath her shiver.

(Y/n) whimpered quietly, much to her embarrassment, while Shinobu lavished her neck with attentions. Shinobu slowly worked her way upward, kissing her jaw and cheek before connecting her line of vision with (Y/n)’s.

The lovestruck look in (Y/n)’s eyes quickly morphed into an indignant glare as she perceived the familiar, mischievous glimmer in Shinobu’s plum colored irises.

“No.” (Y/n) said, her tone disbelieving. “No.” She said again, this time with a little more force behind it, shaking her head while Shinobu grinned down at her. “Shinobu!”

“I’m sorry (Y/n), but my meeting is starting soon so I must be off. Aoi will be by with breakfast soon. Make sure you eat it all so you can get stronger, okay?”

“But—!” (Y/n) tried to hold Shinobu to her body by tightening her legs around her but they did nothing to help her in her weakened state. Shinobu easily slipped free and (Y/n)‘s legs dropped back down over the edge of the bed in defeat.

“No buts! Let’s get you turned around quick, alright?” Shinobu grunted as she hoisted (Y/n)’s lower half and twisted (Y/n)’s body to lay fully on the bed with very little help from the dumbfounded, disgruntled girl. Then with a quick, teasing squeeze of (Y/n)’s knee, she was gone.

(Y/n)’s arm shook as she painstakingly pulled one of the pillows behind her free and pressed it as hard as she could over her face. “What the fuck?! AHH!” (Y/n) screamed, her voice muffled by the dense material.

***

The next time Shinobu walked into her room, (Y/n) had decided that was going to kiss her. She was going to kiss her full on the mouth or die trying because if she knew one thing, it was that she couldn’t play Shinobu’s games any longer.

For the rest of the day (Y/n)’s head was filled with thoughts of Shinobu getting a taste of her own medicine. (Y/n) had it all planned out. First, she was going to tease and flirt. How hard could that be? Shinobu made it look as easy as breathing. Then, once Shinobu had been thoroughly charmed, she would be practically begging for (Y/n) to sweep her off her feet, metaphorically of course, at least until (Y/n) wasn’t on bed arrest anymore. Then she’d kiss her and it would be Shinobu who would short circuit, Shinobu who would be at (Y/n)’s complete mercy! A foolproof plan!

(Y/n)’s chance came around midday four days later. Shinobu had been sent away on a mission soon after her meeting, giving (Y/n) plenty of time to think of how to execute her plan of action. The slayer sat upright in her bed now that she could do so herself without too much strain. She stared the door down with a determined gaze, gently scratching behind Mochi’s head while the bird stood in her lap. Any minute now she would come through that door. Prepare to be seduced, Kochou Shinobu!

A knock resonated off the door before it slid open a moment later and Shinobu glided in. Mochi cawed happily, flapping off of (Y/n)’s lap to fly around the Hashira in greeting. Shinobu simpered at the overly enthusiastic raven and told the bird about a fresh meal worm cake with his name on it. Mochi screeched and Shinobu laughed, ducking her head as Mochi flew out the door and towards the garden at mach speed. Then Shinobu closed the door behind her. Then, when she turned back and smiled a most dazzling smile that was all for (Y/n), every suave thing (Y/n) had thought to say flew right out the window. Four days of planning, completely down the drain. And all that remained was one lovestruck idiot.

“H-hey... you.” (Y/n) greeted, returning Shinobu’s smile although she was definitely screaming at herself on the inside.

“Hey yourself. You already look so much better than the last time I saw you! You’ve been keeping up with your medications and stretches, right?” Shinobu sat herself down on the edge of the bed. Her back was tilted away from (Y/n) and one leg was tucked and bent over the bed sheets while the other swung off the bed. (Y/n) also noticed that curiously, Shinobu had one hand hidden behind her back.

“Of course I have. I want to get better as soon as possible.” (Y/n) nodded resolutely. “Now,” (Y/n) tilted her head and eyed Shinobu warily, “what have you got behind your back?”

“I have something I want to test with you, a game of sorts, (Y/n).” Shinobu grinned devilishly.

“I have a feeling I don’t want to play this game if that look on your face is anything to go by.”

“Oh don’t be like that, (Y/n). I think it will be good for you. Won’t you please do this? The reward should you succeed will be very sweet.”

“Hrrrmmmm,” (Y/n) winced as she adjusted herself on the bed to sit a bit straighter and looked at Shinobu suspiciously. The Hashira’s eyes gave nothing away and (Y/n) sighed. “I suppose I could humor you. I’ve missed you after all.”

Shinobu simpered, and bounced a bit closer to (Y/n) on the bed, jostling her somewhat. Her hand was still behind her back as the other one lovingly brushed at (Y/n)’s hair. “(Y/n), you’re too sweet,” she cooed, “I missed you too.” She came even closer and nuzzled (Y/n)’s nose with hers, giving it a quick peck before withdrawing. Her face appeared to have morphed into a more serious disposition that had (Y/n) feeling both confused and filled with a sense of apprehension.

“Uh, I don’t usually associate such serious expressions with games.” (Y/n) laughed nervously.

“Perhaps I misspoke earlier,” Shinobu amended, a bit sheepishly, “It’s not a game, I should not have phrased it as such. I’m sorry. I was belittling you without you even knowing, without me realizing. I didn’t mean to, I-“

“Shinobu,” (Y/n) covered the Pillar’s free hand with her own, “it’s okay. What is it?”

“Remember what I said about exposure therapy a while back?”

“Shinobu, no.” (Y/n) backed as far as she could against the headboard, her heart beat picking up pace.

“(Y/n), I think it would be good for you. I’m not saying you have to love butterflies, I just want to help lower the distress and anxiety you feel when they are near.”

“Maybe you should focus on your own fear of furry animals before you start trying to fix my problems.” (Y/n) shook her head, her eyes flickering between Shinobu’s own and the Hashira’s hidden arm.

“I told you, it’s not a fear. I just can’t stand the mess all that shedded fur makes. Need I remind you that I’m allergic to the dander left by most of those furry beasts?” Shinobu easily countered.

(Y/n) thought back to earlier last week when Naho had smuggled in a stray dog to feed it. Kiyo and Sumi had gotten an idea in their heads that if they could hide the dog from Shinobu, they could keep it. Unfortunately, they were not very good at keeping their excitement to themselves. They had already led the dog through most of the estate, including the infirmary just before Shinobu made her morning rounds. By the time they reached (Y/n)’s room to show her the sweet pup, Shinobu was already there, trying to find some solace from the irritants that ransacked her senses. Her eyes were irritated, puffy and watery. Loud, unrefined sniffles and sneezes practically had the poor Hashira gasping for air. (Y/n)‘ s heart went out to her, but the way Shinobu’s voice sounded while she was so congested was insanely adorable.

Shinobu had admonished the girls as gently as she could between ferocious sneezes that seemed impossibly loud coming from such a small woman. (Y/n) felt bad for the girls, for the dog, but at least the dog hadn’t been a stray after all.

Fortunately, it had belonged to the Wind Pillar of all people. Giyuu had apparently been charged with watching the dog while he was away on a mission. He had lost sight of it and had been looking for the fluffy white dog all morning. (Y/n) couldn’t help but chuckle as she recalled how Shinobu shit talked Shinazugawa and Tomioka while sitting at the desk in (Y/n)’s room while she mixed herself some medication between wiping her nose and dabbing tears from her eyes.

“You were so cute!” (Y/n) thought gleefully.

“There was nothing cute about it. I felt disgusting.” Shinobu disagreed, the vein in her forehead pulsed faintly. “Now, back to the subject at hand. (Y/n), behind my back I have a specimen jar. In this jar is a butterfly that is so small, it’s wingspan is only about half the size of my pinky finger,” Shinobu slid her free hand out from under (Y/n)’s and stuck out her pinky finger, “See how small that is?”

(Y/n) had wanted to say something snarky, something along the lines of every part of Shinobu being small, but she smartly kept that comment to herself and simply nodded instead. Shinobu put her hand back down over (Y/n)’s.

“The butterfly can’t get out unless you untwist the lid. All I want you to do is hold the jar for a minute. This is a completely controlled, safe environment for you to explore your responses to butterflies. If you really don’t want to try, I won’t force you. I’m only suggesting because I really wish for you to be more comfortable here, to feel more at home.”

(Y/n)’s heart warmed at Shinobu’s admission. Yes, Shinobu had an air about her that (Y/n) felt powerless to deny, but Shinobu would never want to take advantage of her nor anyone else. Though she provoked and teased like a demon, Shinobu was endlessly kind and compassionate where it mattered.

(Y/n) gave the Hashira a nervous smile and shakily presented her hands over her lap, “Don’t mess this up Kochou. I’m only doing this because I like you so much.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Shinobu said, sincerely. Finally, she produced the specimen jar from behind her back, cupping the bottom with her opposite hand while the other held firmly from the side. She gauged (Y/n)’s expression and observed for any intense discomfort in her body language as her hands made their approach.

(Y/n) immediately locked on to the small butterfly fluttering against the glass and swallowed hard. Her throat suddenly felt unbearably dry. Despite this, she kept her palms, now slightly sweaty, upturned in front of her, waiting.

(Y/n) jolted, feeling Shinobu’s knuckles slide against her palm. The only barrier left between the glass and her skin was slipping away.

“Oh gods!” All too quickly Shinobu’s hands were gone, hovering at either side of the glass, and (Y/n) was left holding the jar. “WhoooeeeEEAH! nooo nonono fuck-!“ (Y/n) scrambled to adjust her hold, only allowing the very tips of her fingers to hold on. Of course she realized that there was a layer of glass between herself and the insect, but she couldn’t help but hastily adjust her fingers every time the small insect fluttered too close. “Shinobu!”

“It’s okay, you’re doing great!” Shinobu encouraged. “Try focusing on telling me what you notice about the butterfly.”

“It looks like it’s out for blood!” (Y/n) exclaimed sharply, not taking her eyes off the specimen jar. Her fingers still dancing clumsily around the glass.

“How about you tell me about what you can physically see that is scientifically sound.” Shinobu tried again.

“It’s blue with black edges that have little white dots and it’s fast as hell! I think it’s tongue thing is flexing at me! Why is it doing that?!”

“That’s the proboscis, (Y/n). Butterflies use it to drink the nectar from flowers.” Shinobu provided helpfully.

“I bet it would drink my blood like a mosquito if it had the chance!” (y/n) thought bitterly.

“It physically can’t, (Y/n). The proboscis is too weak too pierce skin.”

“Is that true?” (Y/n) asked skeptically, “There’s not a single butterfly that would suck me dry if it could?”

“There is not a single butterfly in all of Japan that could do that to you, (Y/n).” Shinobu assured. Of course, she had read about some species of butterflies and moths overseas that did have the capability to drink blood and even presented the salty nutrients to their mates. She wasn’t going to tell (Y/n) that bit of information anytime soon though.

“Okay, that’s actually kind of reassuring, but it still freaks me out!” (Y/n)‘s fingers had finally found purchase on the rim of the metal lid. The butterfly inside had finally calmed down and settled at the bottom of the jar, it’s wings flapping intermittently.

“That’s okay, do you think you can tell me anything else about it? Our time is just about up.”

“Its legs bend weird. Its eyes are soulless. It looks like it’s resting now but it’s just biding its time.”

“Biding it’s time before I let it back out into the garden perhaps, but it has neither the desire nor the means to harm you.” Shinobu assured.

(Y/n) pursed her lips. She was staring so intently at the insect that she hardly registered Shinobu’s movements until she was fully straddling her thighs.

“What are you doing?” (Y/n) mumbled, not taking her eyes away from the jar despite Shinobu’s change in position. The Insect Pillar did not speak, instead lifting (Y/n)’s chin up. “Hey!” (Y/n) exclaimed. She tried to keep her head down, unwilling to let the butterfly out of her sight lest it suddenly disappear. Yet, Shinobu persisted, taking either side of (Y/n)’s head in her hands, drawing closer until all (Y/n) could see was purple. “Shi-“

(Y/n)’s mind went delightfully numb, filled with a fuzzy warmth that radiated all the way down to her toes. She leaned further into the kiss, reveling in the softness of Shinobu’s lips nipping against her own. After a few more moments, (Y/n) could feel Shinobu’s lips part into a smile against her own and (Y/n) couldn’t help but do the same, resting her forehead on Shinobu’s.

“What was that for?” (Y/n) giggled breathlessly, her hands had somehow made their way to Shinobu’s neck, her fingers laced behind her head threatening to pull the Hashira back in at a moment’s notice.

“Hm? Can’t I kiss my girlfriend?” Shinobu teased, landing a quick, a more chaste, kiss to (Y/n)’s lips.

“You can, and you have, but never on the lips. What changed? I thought you were going to tease me about it forever.”

“As entertaining as that sounds, I was actually trying to do you a favor.” Shinobu grinned.

“How do you figure that?” (Y/n) asked, looking at Shinobu incredulously.

“Because now that I’ve got a taste of you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Mm!”

Another kiss more fiery and involved than the last. (Y/n) actually had to slip her hands down Shinobu’s chest and push her away so she could catch her breath.

“Not that I mind, and I really don’t mind,” (Y/n) spoke between breaths, “but what changed, why right this minute?”

“It was your reward.” Shinobu stated plainly.

“For...?”

“Oh my, you really did forget already, haven’t you? I’m sorry, I hadn’t realized I had cut off the oxygen supply to your brain so effectively.”

Suddenly (Y/n)’s eyes snapped down to her lap and yelled loud enough for Shinobu to wince and lean back a smidge. How had (Y/n) forgotten? She picked up the discarded specimen jar by the lid using her index finger and thumb and scanned the inside, shivering once she found the butterfly still inside. Then she reached to place it on the bedside table, it made a little clattering sound as she quickly removed her hand as if the glass had burned her. Pulling Shinobu closer, (Y/n) buried her face in her chest and groaned while Shinobu laughed and patted (Y/n)’s head.

“You distracted me.” (Y/n)’s muffled voice accused.

“Perhaps, but didn’t it feel nice? And look, you are no worse for wear. In fact, I might even say you looked even more relaxed than before we began.”

“So what, are you going to kiss me every time I see a butterfly? Hardly seems practical.”

“Mmm but what a lovely idea. There are certainly enough around that I could get several kisses every day. If we make a habit out of it, sooner or later when you see a butterfly, your first reaction will be to pucker up rather than screaming.” Shinobu mused.

“Can’t you just be satisfied knowing that you’re the only butterfly I have ever, and will ever like?” (Y/n) paused, “Well, you and Kanao, Aoi, Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi.”

“I’m so honored.” Shinobu smiled and rolled her eyes, still stroking (Y/n)’s hair.

“You should be. It’s a very exclusive list. But there is an even more exclusive list that only you have access to.” (Y/n) said, returning to an upright position to face Shinobu once more.

“And what list would that be?”

(Y/n) tilted her head and stole another kiss from Shinobu who eagerly reciprocated, chasing (Y/n)’s lips even as she pulled away, giggling.

“The list of butterflies that I could not be happier to kiss.”

[deepdarkdelights]

Context: this is my younger sister's wedding (I'm the eldest). I am married and another of my sisters is as well, so this is the 3rd wedding in my family. My husband and I live out of state.

First: I don't even like the guy she's marrying, but I also seem to be the only one with that opinion. He's nice but a bit hot-headed and my sister is stubborn as fuck so their arguments are ridiculous and are almost always started by him.

Second: I also seem to be the only one who thinks this is going too fast. My sister got played a lot in high school by top tier douchebags so she swore off dating for a number of years, including just casual dating (completely understandable too) and was at college for like, 2 years before she met him. HOWEVER he's the first guy she's dated since high school- story goes they had three dates in the span of a week, kissed on the second, were exclusive by the third, and were engaged maybe a month or two later. And a very large part of me is very worried that she's latching onto him because he was the first guy to treat her right (or at least better than she had previously experienced) and she thinks she won't find anyone else.

Third: my husband and I live out of state so we had to fly in yesterday, and that came with all its own problems. Our flight was at 6am and the airport is about a 2 hour drive away so we left late at about 3am (staying up until then due to just not being ready to leave in general) and therefore nearly missed boarding our flight and not getting a chance to rest or eat at the airport.

So we land a couple hours later, flight isn't too bad, and make plans to get breakfast before driving to my family's so we have a last few moments together before jumping into wedding madness. We take the shuttle to the car rental place we had paid for and reserved specifically because their website said we didn't need a credit card in order to rent a car. We wait in line for 15 minutes, then get to the counter and the lady working asks for ID and the card we used to pay online. Pull out my ID and the card and she looks at it and goes "this is debit, do you have a credit card?" And we're like, "well, no, your website said we didn't need credit." And she's just "Yeah our policy changed about a year and a half ago and we haven't updated our website, you need credit"

🤬🤬🤬🤬

So we take the shuttle back to the airport where we take the cable car to the train station and then we'll ride up and have someone come pick us up. No problem really, just that we'll be without a car all weekend, but at this point we are so done. We've been up for 24+ hours and hadn't eaten in 12+. We just wanted to get to my family's and eat some food and take a nap.

But while my husband was dealing with the rental place, a friend I had been hanging out earlier in the week messages me and says "hey I got tested positive for covid"

😫😫😫😫

So we're on the train trying to figure out what we're gonna do, obviously we're gonna get tested but if our tests come back positive we're gonna be holed up in a hotel bc we can't get on the flight home and we can't stay with any of our family members- and we won't be able to attended this godforsaken wedding that we've already been thru so much shit to get thru

My dad picks us up at the train station and takes us straight to the store to pick up some rapid tests we can take- I have a mental breakdown bc i am so so fucking tired and hungry and cold (it was raining on and off). My dad takes us back to the house and we take the tests in the garage. While we're waiting my husband gets a call from his mother, who tells us (I can't make this shit up if I tried):

Overnight, an arsonist burned down five houses, and bc they were older the smoke that came from them was super toxic, so the entire town woke up coughing with sore throats (the guy was caught but the police haven't released any other info yet). So we didn't have covid (the tests came back negative too) we had just inhaled toxic smoky air for a solid hour or so while we were driving to the airport

🙃🙃🙃🙃

Fourth: when me and my other sister got married, it was our mom who was kinda the crazy mother-in-law, but for this wedding it's my sister's fiance's mother who's crazy, and after everything I have gone thru in the past pfffft 36ish hours I will not hesitate to slap a bitch. My siblings and i all have this very strong sense of passive aggressive loyalty to each other, where we can be super mean to each other but if you're outside our circle you don't get to be mean to any of us (and since I'm the oldest I have a bit more of that "dont you dare touch my siblings I Will Fuck You Up" mentality).

So to recap: I'm running on a collective 10 hours of sleep and very very little food for my younger sister's wedding to a guy I don't necessarily approve of and who's mother is crazier than mine and might end up in a fight with me if she starts pushing my already tense buttons the wrong way

🫖🫖🫖🫖

The drama and tea have been spilled. I hope this mildly entertained you during your quarantine~~ 😘😘

UPDATE: ITS RAINING

I kinda hope this wedding kills me

Oh wow you have certainly gone through it, haven't you! This was more than entertaining trust me 😂

It raining really was the cherry on top of this whole ordeal. I'm sorry it took me so long to respond to you, my professors have not been very kind when it comes to coursework while I am sick!

Well, now that the wedding is over I hope the rest went smoothly for you (especially with the mother in law) and you made it back home safe!

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - -  - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX

“I realize this is incredibly difficult,” the Nautolan Soul Healer said calmly. “But in order for us to help Obi-Wan, we need to determine the cause of his current disconnection with reality. Based on the drug panel, and convenient surveillance, we have, to the best of our ability, ruled out temporary psychosis brought on by a drug interaction.”

Cody stiffened further, not sure how to react to anything anymore. When a brother tried to end his own life, it was usually obvious why.

Sife Aerdo continued on. “There have, of course, been cases of Jedi Seers giveing into their fears of the future, or losing their sense of reality, but every case study involving such an extreme reaction was the result a gradual degradation over the course of many years. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Obi-Wan experienced a vision, and it may have impacted his breakdown to some extent. The more we know, the more successful any attempts to convince him of reality will be.”

Bant furrowed her brow in thought, trying to replay three decades of increasingly vague discussions of nightmares.

”Considering the high profile nature of his position, we cannot rule out some kind of psychological attack, perhaps even a darksider incursion.

Anakin leaned forward intently, the inside of his skull buzzing with white noise.

"All that being said, we must be prepared to treat Obi-Wan’s self harm as the  culmination of a long and quiet mental health struggle. He would not be the first in the Order to disguise such a thing with durasteel self-discipline.”

At that, Bant and Mace took a moment to release their feelings to the force, while Anakin raised his shields defensively.

Master Aerdo finally hesitated, before continuing in the same smooth tone. “I would ordinarily prefer to structure this kind of conversation quite differently- allow Obi-Wan time to share his feelings first and invite you each separately to support him in the healing process. But he’s gone from fighting sedatives and force compulsions as though the fate of the galaxy depended on it, to a self-induced coma. All while barely lucid, yet still somehow maintaining Master Class mental shielding. We need to get a better understanding of his mental landscape if we’re going to even begin the process of treatment."

It is necessary to note that everyone in that room had led, in one way or another, a somewhat miserable life. This was the main reason none of them could claim that the next five hours were the worst they had ever experienced. 

“But he’s always had terrible sleeping habits.” Anakin said hoarsely.

“Yes, but I think they got worse after Qui-Gon passed,” Bant argued, not sure what point she was making. 

“When I pointed out he couldn’t be getting more than three hours a night he told me that he could manage on meditation” Cody offered irritably.

“That’s technically true,” Mace confirmed. “If the Master in question is well-balanced otherwise”

“So its like his eating habits, crushing responsibilities, and repeated exposure to violence, then? Completely fine for a Jedi, in less it’s not, in which case it’s a major red flag?” 

“I think it would help to establish a timeline.“

Aerdo actually dredged up old mission reports, leading to the group reluctantly contacting Ashoka for her memories of Mortis.

At her Master’s insistence, she told them everything she remembered, hazy as it was, nervously elaborating on her own memories of falling. To her confusion, Master Windu all but brushed past that, assuring her that the important thing with stepping into darkness was the choice to the return to the light. Anakin bizarrely agreed with Windu. Out loud. Unnerved by the cooperation more than anything, she put her holographic foot down and demanded to know what was going on. 

Anakin took the comm-link into a separate room to speak privately.

Upon return, he informed the group (with a visibly red and puffy face) that Kit would be escorting her back from Mount Cala cleanup early, daring anyone to disagree. Windu nodded and the conversation continued on.

Together they rewatched holo-footage of Obi-Wan laughing amongst Ghost company the night before last, and debated reports from psychometric investigators who had scoured the cantina as well as Obi-Wan’s personal quarters for traces of illicit substances. Between that and another drug panel, they were finally forced to conclude that despite the timing, the alcohol at most confused Obi-Wan’s perception of a vision, or possibly simply loosened his tongue.

Bant prodded Cody to repeat every word from the holocar ride to the temple, taking furious notes. Cody was unable to stop the heat that crawled up his face.

Just when the looming horror of Obi-Wan actually preparing to intentionally die started to break over Anakin, Windu interjected.

“You don’t see what I do,” the Harun Kal said grimly. “Something galaxy-sized shattered around Obi-Wan and he didn’t break from it. The closest comparison I have is Master Yaddle’s presence when she meditated on her confinement. He’s chosen to keep going, even when, quite frankly, death would be a release. We’re missing something fundamental.”

“He said there were ‘other dark forces at work.’ Even if the fight was objectively hopeless... there’s no way he would choose to die because of it!” Anakin agreed vehemently, shaking off morbid fears.

“But he did choose to die.” Cody said quietly. And the wind went out of Anakin’s sails.

“Lets go back.”

Anakin gritted his teeth as they picked apart everything ‘unusual’ Obi-Wan had said and done leading up to his visit with Bant.

“What exactly did he...”

“So Plo Koon was able to get a read through his shields?”

“Did he have anything to eat?”

“How did that compare to...”

“When he's mentioned things in the future...did it seem good or bad to you?” Bant asked.

“Bad.” Cody and Anakin said in unison. Remembering the trip to the temple Cody spoke again, “Definitely bad.”

“Right. When we were talking he sometimes used the wrong tenses for things, people. I confronted him on not knowing ‘when’ he was after Knight Skywalker left. He told me that he knew what was real, but he was “enjoying not fully living in the moment” he also said that he intended to “wake up”

“Enjoying? That’s the exact word he used?” Cody asked incredulous. 

“He did seem...mostly happy yesterday. Giddy, at points.” Anakin said, slumping in on himself.

Bant looked at her notes once more before addressing the group.

“This isn’t vision psychosis in any manner I’ve heard of before...but I think I might have a theory. He used to have intense visions when we were kids; plenty of us did sometimes, but Obi-Wan would be unable to sleep after. What terrified him more than anything was the uncertainty that he might make the wrong choice- even when the vision was about something good, or neutral. His visions gradually stopped coming around puberty. We just had a conversation about this a few months ago- how relieved he was to only have to manage flashes of precognition. If he had a random, horrifying vision of a terrible future...suicide wouldn’t be his reaction. It’s too final.”

“Even if he blamed himself for what he saw coming?” Mace asked.

“Especially if he blamed himself.” Bant said. 

“What’s your theory?” Aerdo prodded.

“What if...what if he was telling the truth when he said he could separate out what was real and what was not? What if there was no distortion or blurring between now and then? What if he was just wrong about which was which?”

“That...would be a very extreme and abnormal manifestation of force-induced psychosis. He has training in distinguishing reality from visions. The continued presence of his mental shielding means that the fabric of his mind can’t be so horrifically collapsed in on itself.” 

“What if the vision was actually that realistic?” Bant said, pushing back against the soul healer. “So detailed and vivid that it effectively was a reality in itself, and everything else, all of us...”

“Were just memories” Anakin finished. “It would...actually explain pretty much everything. You said he wanted to wake up and when...when I found him.” He stopped, swallowing. “When I found him, he argued with me...what if he wasn’t trying to hurt himself? If you’re right...that would mean I found him trying to get back to reality.”

“It could explain his behavior in the halls...his desperation to wake...” Sife mused “But it runs counter to every other experience I’ve had with those managing prophetic visions. Master Windu, could that explain the shatterpoints you saw?”

“I’m not certain. It would have to have been extraordinarily real to create the echos of Shattering I witnessed. I don’t know if that depth of vision has occurred before, but then again, many things are possible in the force.”

“You really think he might have been...trying to wake up from dream? By killing himself?!” Cody asked incredulous.

“If that ends up being what happened I am going to give him such shit. That is the worst way to end a vision.” Anakin replied.

“Yes. It is.” Bant said pointedly. “That’s why it’s a last resort, after every other attempt to wake fails.” 

They all sat in silence, processing various implications. Cody was unnerved by another terrifying insight into force powers, as well as the idea that the General might vividly remember Cody being inexplicably mind-controlled into trying to kill him. Anakin was trying to understand what this would mean for them, and the conversations he had thought they had had. Did...any of it count, if he thought he was offering it to a hallucination?

“Alright, this is a valuable working idea, but let’s make sure to examine everything with an open mind before we draw any more conclusions. Anakin, what happened after you left the healers office?”

Obi-Wan’s critique of the practicalities of visiting a soul healer could be and was interpreted multiple ways. The incongruity of peacekeepers in war sparked a rehash of earlier discussion. More apologies. Self identifying as ‘crazy’ inspired new debate, especially in the context of the new theory. 

“When I saw him enter the fountain room I assumed he had had a brutal run-in with  dark force user.” Windu explained. “Based on everything we’ve gone over, I don’t understand when...but some of the more insidious sith compulsions work by taking whatever small anger or hurt you feel and magnifying them until they consume you. If Obi-Wan was already experiencing self loathing...”

Cody sucked in a breath. “Then a Sith mind suggestion would bring him to commit suicide. It...sounds like something he might do, if he was partially in control. Take the blow rather than let himself be used as a weapon against anyone else, even his worst enemy.”

“Hells, it could have been an even vaguer compulsion, driving him to attack the person he hates the most,” Bant added darkly.

Anakin buried his head in his hands, trying to hold it together. He couldn’t afford to lose control or get angry. Hells, getting angry at Obi-Wan for ‘failing him’ when in pain could be the reason Obi-Wan was currently in the healing halls. The man said he loved him unconditionally, then practically had a breakdown over how much Anakin pushed that unconditional love to the breaking point, then killed himself. How was he supposed to-

“Anakin? Are you alright to continue?” someone said.

“Yes. No. There’s more I have to tell you...I don’t know if it will help but - it was hurting Obi-Wan...I...”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time. What happened after you left Mace?”

Apparently even Cody somehow knew more about Bruck Chun than Anakin. Master Windu and Eerin told different sides of the same sad story, which spiraled back into a conversation about Obi-Wan’s inadequacy issues, which somehow devolved into a long rant about Qui-Gon Jinn that Master Windu had apparently been holding back for years. 

“My apologies.” He said afterwards, clearing his throat as the group stared, taken aback. “Old grievances. Go on Anakin, what did happened after you got to the ‘secret spot.’”

“He...was skirting around whatever was bothering him...I pushed him...told him I wanted to help...he said I couldn’t...because it was me...because of what I...”

Anakin stood up suddenly, feeling the walls of the room closing in.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I-” 

He ran out.

He turned around almost immediately, pacing in the small corridor, knowing he couldn’t leave, simply needing a minute to catch his breath.

Master Windu followed him out after a moment, not saying anything, just standing there. Watching him.

“What!” Anakin finally snapped. “What do you have to say that I don’t know already!”

“Knight Skywalker-”

“Don’t call me that! I DON’T DESERVE-” 

Anakin let out a frustrated snarl, punching a wall. The crumble of stone beneath this fist briefly made him feel better, but then he remembered Obi-Wan’s heartbroken expression in the light of an underworldly glow, and the tiny, choked sound he heard when the healers moved him and Anakin just...collapsed, falling to his knees.

Master Windu sank down gracefully beside him.

“Anakin. This isn’t about attachment issues, is it.”

“Not really, no. I mean, maybe you’ll blame attachment but it’s more about...”

“Anger.”

Anakin looked up at that, trying to regain the meditative calm he had felt for a glimmering moment yesterday, right in-between making peace in the cave and everything burning to ash. 

“You know that I have had my own struggles with anger. It is how and why I came to develop Vaapad.” 

“Yes, but you’ve Mastered your anger. And you’ve never...never given in to hate.”

A beat passed and Windu watched some of Skywalker’s familiar breaking points flicker into view. 

“You’ve done something. Something you know the Jedi won’t forgive.”

“Obi-Wan forgave me.” Anakin said, whispering. “He said that even though I couldn’t fix what I did he loved me anyway and I just needed to...to honestly regret what I did and not do it again. I told him I’d get rid of my lightsaber and I meant it and...I thought he forgave me. I was ready to go to the Council with him, come clean about everything. And then I left him alone to get dinner and when I came back...he was holding my lightsaber. My lightsaber.” 

Anakin buried his face in his hands, shuddering with creeping cold.

“I’m not going to critique your and Obi-Wan’s attachment to each other right now. I’m well aware that much of the order has turned to personal ties to maintain their stability given the ongoing horrors of war. I am, for many reasons, wary of the risks this brings us, yet it is also true that risks do not automatically mean failure. I myself have mastered my emotions in a different manner than conventional wisdom councils.” 

Windu spoke carefully. For all that he and Anakin had similar relationships with the force, they rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject. At a certain point, Mace had accepted that the volatile young man was determined to find the worst possible interpretation for anything he said. And Mace was not the order’s most patient diplomat.

“As for your crime, whatever it is, l will tell you this: Unless you choose to renounce the code and leave our number, you will be treated as a Jedi Knight, subject to our protections, as well as our judgement. You will receive appropriate mental counseling. If you are judged to be a danger to those around you, your actions will be curtailed and monitored, possibly through temporary confinement.  The Jedi do not believe in punitive measures for their own sake, but you may be required to provide restitution to those you harmed, perhaps indefinitely. 

Silence hung perilously between them. Windu watched a tremor run through the unfathomable kaleidoscopic of shatterpoints that had orbited Skywalker since he was a boy. A small one broke inward, and an attached tangle of larger, darker ones fell away, crumbling to dust. The rest faded from view, invisible for the moment. A choice had been made, some decision that closed off at least one path to the darkside.

“There’s no one to make restitutions to.”

“...You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

“Let’s go back inside- I don’t want to do this twice.”

They returned to the increasingly hated meeting room.

Anakin spoke in an outpouring of words about love and hate, about misplaced revenge and now uncertain forgiveness. When he finally finished, the room was deathly silent.

The three Jedi sat quietly while Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess this is why Jedi have the no attachment rule, huh? I admit I never really got it, but I suppose even if I-”

Bant abruptly lunged up, fumbling to bring her lightsaber to Anakin’s neck. Everyone jumped to their feet, except for Anakin, who stared at Bant with a wretched expression.

“MASTER EERIN! This is not-”

“Did you do it?” she asked, ignoring the Master of the Order.

“Bant!”

“It was my first thought after I saw him. We all rushed in expecting a fight, or a bomb, only to find you, insane, and him with a hole next to his heart. I didn’t want to believe it of course, but you’ve always had a violent streak that Obi-Wan, force help him, couldn’t quite soothe away. A fight gone wrong. Master Windu said it was suicide, and I believed him, and I’ve been trying to make sense of that ever since. But Mace found you after, didn’t he? After you felt guilty? Did you think he was going to turn on you?”

“Bant Eerin, you are dangerously-”

“No.” Anakin whispered.

“Obviously I might be why. But I didn’t- I couldn’t. I know I’m not good but I can’t even imagine- holding a saber against him like that. Kriff, do you not get how much I can’t handle losing people I love? I was insane when you saw me because I saw someone trying to kill Obi-Wan and I couldn’t even fight them.”  

Bant held his gaze for several lingering seconds, deactivated her saber and dropping it with a clatter. They stared at each other, breathing heavily and not blinking. She returned to her seat, moving jerkily. “I apologize Knight Skywalker. That was uncalled for.” 

“I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes” he responded lowly. Bant made a tiny, unintelligible noise in reply. 

Cody collapsed back into his chair, holstering his blaster.  “Alright then...so after you finished sitting in the fountain room...what happened next?”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re handling Anakin’s confession somewhat dispassionately. We’re simply surprised.” Mace said slowly, returning to his seat at the same time as Master Aerdo fell into theirs.

Cody shifted uncomfortably. “The vod were trained in a wide range of enemy suppression tactics. While we’re extremely glad the Jedi have never asked us to employ them, I’m not...unfamiliar with this scale of deliberate slaughter. At least in the hypothetical, sir.”

“I see.” Aerdo said. “That is a valuable insight to have, thank you. Knight Skywalker-”

“Just...call me Anakin. Or Skywalker.”

“Anakin. When did this happen?”

“About two years ago, immediately before the First Battle of Geonosis.”

“And have you had any similar experiences with giving into the darkside since?” they asked placidly.

“I don’t think so but...we went to war the next day and....I don’t know if I’ve stopped fighting since it- since I did what I did.”

“Hmm. Anakin, would you mind stepping outside the room and waiting in the corridor for a moment please?” 

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and quietly walked out the door while the Masters decided his fate. He leaned back against a wall, desperately wanting to see Padme. 

To his surprise, the door opened barely a few minutes later, and he was politely invited back in.

“Anakin.” Master Windu spoke. “Thank you for telling us this. It’s an important insight into Obi-Wan’s feelings right now, and I recognize that you could have kept it a secret. As Head of the Order, and with the advice of a Senior Soul Healer, I have made a decision. You will be assigned a personal soul healer, who you will start seeing tomorrow. Commander Cody pointed out that over nearly two years of continuous warfare, you have maintained some of the the lowest trooper casualty units of any division, by a significant margin if we evaluate based on mission risk level. Your civilian and enemy casualties will be reviewed, but even considering constant war, since your massacre of the Tuskens, you have clearly managed to at least... direct your violence away from the innocent. We do not consider you a threat to the inhabitants of the world. For the time being, I see no real benefit to limiting or tracking your behavior within the temple or on planet, but you are barred from leaving orbit. I have decided to delay a full reckoning before the council until such time that your former Master is well enough to provide his own opinion. Give me just cause, and I will have you confined to a force-suppressing cell. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, bowing in acknowledgment. All things considered, it was...honestly better than he expected.

“Now, as Cody” Windu paused. “My apologies, as the Commander was saying-” 

“Cody’s fine, sir” Cody said, wrung out in a way different from anything Kamino had trained him for.

“...I think we can all consider ourselves on a first name basis at this point.” Bant said with a snort. She paused. “That includes you Anakin. I really don’t know how to handle what you did but kark it, I don’t want to hate you. For myself.”

Everyone nodded.

“As Cody was saying, what happened next?”

Peace. Comfort. Hunger. A warning in the force...

-

“I tried to pull the saber back but his finger was already on the igniter...” 

“You probably saved his life. Even a second later-”

“I know, that’s almost the worst part.”

-

“-his neck”

“Why would he change weapons?”

“What if-”

-

“He said what to you and Healer Che?”

“That has to support the detailed vision idea, think about-”

“I’m sorry, Emperor?”

-

“I think we’re done.”

Anakin stared blankly at Sife. “But we didn’t figure anything out.”

“Not conclusively, but we’re unlikely to make any more progress, you’ve given me enough information to preform a meaningful meditative scan, or guide a conversation, should Obi-Wan wake, or navigate through his mind, should we decide to make a more decisive attempt at his shields.”

“Master Aerdo... I leave the final judgement up to you, but I strongly urge you to make a more decisive attempt. I am more convinced now than I was...” Mace glanced at the chronometer “five hours ago that this was motivated by a specific, external stimuli, likely dark. Do you disagree?”

“No.” they said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to underestimate how much underlying factors might have contributed to his response to stimuli, including underlying factors that none of you were aware of.”

The Nautolan Soul Healer stood up, tucking their hands into their sleeves to address the room with classical Jedi serenity. It was a little irritating.

“In any case, we all need to sleep, eat, and meditate. Master Eerin, you have the rest of the day off, I've cleared it with Master Che already. Master Windu, I leave the final judgement up to you, and I am aware that your duties as Master of the Order are unceasing, but I urge you to take some time to center yourself before returning to the council. Commander Cody, I would be more than willing to arrange soul healing for you or any of the Vod, please let me know. Anakin, you will receive a comm later today with further details on your future healing sessions. 

They bowed low, then glided out the door.

Bant stood next, bowed individually to each soul, and sped walked out.

Commander Cody cleared his throat awkwardly, “Mace- what should I tell the troops? We’re supposed to have command briefings later tonight.”

“If anyone asks about General Kenobi, tell them its classified.” I’ll schedule a briefing on the subject. Now go find Captain Rex and take care of yourself, that’s an order.”

Cody saluted, first to the high General, then to Anakin.

Finally it was just Mace and Anakin.

“Is there anyone who you trust who I can call to stay with you.” Master Windu asked.

“I can manage on my own” Anakin replied, not willing to give the Master of the Order anything else he could use against him, even after everything.

Master Windu held back a sigh.

He continued once more, making a deliberate attempt to soften his tone. “Anakin- I know we’ve had our differences, but this is not a trick, nor a trap. You’ve suffered a series of great shocks in the last 24 hours and handled them with immense maturity. I myself am struggling to deal with the emotional fallout.”

Anakin looked up at that, surprised. He didn’t seem to be struggling, but maybe that was what made him a good Jedi Master...

“As I told you before, I am not going to begrudge you the comfort of attachment. I’m rather convinced it would do you more harm than good at this point. I don’t want you flying right now, and you don’t have to be alone. I hope we have come to a better understanding today, but I doubt my presence is suddenly a comfort, though please correct me if I’m wrong. Now is there someone I can call?”

-

Padme ended her call with Master Windu extremely discomfited. She had barely heard from Anakin since he ran out on her the night before last to take care of an apparently extremely drunk Obi-Wan. He had messaged her a few times that night, promising to make it up to her, but had been comm-silent since. She had been starting to get worried, and now the Master of the Order was asking her to pick him up from the temple. Fortunately, she had already cleared most of her meetings for the week well in advance (Courascant leave usually meant THEM time, not that she was jealous of Obi-Wan, of course).

The speeder ride back from the temple was silent. All Anakin would say was that he would explain everything once they were in ‘a secure location.’ 

The door to the apartment had scarcely closed behind them when Anakin fell into her arms, shaking.

“Anakin, talk to me love, what’s wrong?” She gently guided him to the couch, arranging him so she could hold him protectively.

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

She let out a harsh gasp, “No! He can’t have, he would never-” 

“I got to him in time, but Padme... he was holding a lightsaber to his heart. It was...really close” He burrowed deeper into the folds of her dress, and she gripped him fiercely.

“Oh gods, is he-”

“He’s physically healing, but he’s still...not all there. I spent all of today locked in a room, trying to figure out if it was a Sith Attack, or an insane vision, or..or me”

“Anakin! What do you mean ‘me’ - Obi-Wan loves you, you-”

“I know.” Anakin interrupted her again, knowing he was being unfair; he was just too exhausted to be patient.

“He told me loved me. He...he...found out about what I did to the Tusken village, You should have seen his face, Padme, he was horrified, but he still told me he loved me, and he was willing to forgive me, even though he shouldn’t”

“Of course he forgave you,” Padme whispered. “You’re not a monster, Anakin, I know you would never do something like that again.”

"And then after we talked, I left him alone and he-” Anakin choked out into her dress.

Tears ran down her face, heart breaking. “That’s- that’s horrible. Anakin...it must have have been a attack, Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that.” she said urgently.

He pulled away, horrified. “I made you cry. I made Obi-Wan cry too. I’m sorry- Padme please, promise me you won’t-”

She grabbed the sides of his head. 

Her nails bit into the soft skin behind his ears as she pulled him down so they were face-to-face, vowing, “Never. I swear by the force itself, I will never choose death over life.”

He let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Now you,” she demanded

“As long as I have anyone to live for, I swear by the force, I will never choose death over life.”

She pulled him the rest of the way in for a bruising kiss. He lifted her, and they desperately clung at one another as he carried her to bed. They continued like that, clinging and grasping, until exhaustion carried him to sleep. She pulled the covers over top them both and curled around him defensively as the day slowly faded away.

Part XI

[ussgallifrey]

Mountain of the Sun [1]

✦ Summary: Sam has the shield at long last, Bucky has been seeing a new therapist, and you… you have a van and a desire to just get away from it all.

✦ Pairing: SamBucky x Non-Binary (AFAB) Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, brief implications of body dysphoria, brief mentions of chest binders, language, minor spoilers for TFATWS, post-TFATWS.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Playlist: Here

There's something to be said about the ethereal feeling that comes with driving at night. How the blurring headlights mix with the stars. The way it stirs your soul and makes you feel something deeply sated in your bones.

What that exact thing is, however, you're not entirely sure. As you're currently downing the remnants of your second energy drink so you can move on to your gas station coffee and complimentary, slightly stale, chocolate frosted sprinkle doughnut. 

It's nearing seven in the morning now and the tops of the trees are bathed in the golden rays of an earthy June sunrise. The windshield is appropriately covered in deceased mosquitoes that the wipers just can't quite reach to properly swipe away, so you know you're heading in the right direction at least.

The road has been relatively clear of other travelers thanks to the time of day and you managed to find a radio station that was actually in range to play a few miles back. The morning hosts are talking up some local story about a water skiing cat named Prince Reggie.

With the weather turning out to be pleasantly warm and the gentle thrum of the tires on the pavement, it was shaping up to be a good day. The coffee, however, is seriously lacking in all things taste.

You had made it all the way down to Charlotte, North Carolina after a late start, a deflated tire, and a series of last-minute snack runs. This was followed by an even later start yesterday afternoon when you decided there was nothing wrong with driving straight through the night to Louisiana. 

Eleven hours now, a racing heart, and a body running mostly off of sugar and caffeine. You were doing great.

There's an ongoing list in your head as you travel further south, you see, of the many reasons why this is an act of insanity. It's followed by an accompanying list of why this is pure genius. They're both neck and neck at the moment, so the trophy is still up for grabs.

Hell, you know that reasonably this all seems like the final piece of the mental breakdown train. Spur of the moment body piercing, followed by the gender crisis, an almost tattoo, a drunken Tinder hook-up with someone who couldn't even remember your name while sober, and a cross-country road trip in a van you bought off a sketchy bidding website; check, check, and check.

Okay, so maybe things weren't going great. Maybe this was a cry for help. But who was judging at this point? Right?

Any higher being who gave a damn was probably just watching you and going we fucked it up, didn't we? We went around and fucked up a perfectly good human again.

Shoving the rest of the doughnut into the back of your mouth, you head onto the empty off-ramp.

Now, next to your should I just go to therapy or nah mental list, there was the actually kind of important - but still untitled as of yet - list. This one was composed on a physical piece of paper, written in metallic blue glitter ink, and it was slowly getting crossed off in red pen.

You were three Avengers down: Tony and Natasha were gone and Steve was full MIA after returning the stones.

Thor and the Guardians were somewhere in Europe or space, maybe, you think? And of course, the Royal family was back in Wakanda. Scott and Clint had families waiting for them. Parker was a literal child living with his aunt and returning to school, so he was good there.

Danvers was a beautiful woman of mystery and therefore stood no chance of being understood by the likes of you, so her name was also crossed off.

Bruce was a strange tall green thing now and you weren't touching that whole Hulk/human hybrid concept with a ten-foot pole. He was nice enough, sure. But like Tony had said to him, the band had split. Thanos destroyed the Beatles and that was that.

Strange was still, well, strange. And kind of a dick, actually. But he was safe and alive back in New York. Not exactly friend material though.

Wanda. Oh gosh, Wanda.

The two of you had stood for a long while after Tony's body was carried away from the torched earth - watching the smoldering remains of the compound you had both called home at one point. Nothing survived the destruction. 

She didn't say much of anything then, or even after the funeral. But that vacant look in her eyes said enough. She went MIA after a week and you exhausted your search after three months. If she didn't want to be found, then there was nothing more to it. She knew where to find you if she really wanted.

With her name crossed out, however, that only left you with two people: Barnes and Wilson.

That last time you saw the super-soldier, prior to the battle upstate, was when he had his hands around your neck in federal custody in an attempt to X you out from existence. 

And Sam, hell, you saw him from time to time when he was on the run with Steve and Nat. They told you Barnes was doing fine in Wakanda and no Tony hadn't reached out yet. Then they would loot your fridge for real food and maybe take a shower before jumping on the quinjet and going off-grid again.

It was because of Sam, however, that you even had a reason to be driving like this in the first place. Because after Tony's funeral, when it seemed like everyone gave their condolences to the grieving Starks and faded back into their own realities at an alarming rate, he found you by the waterfront. 

Wanda had just walked away after a shared moment of quietly existing when he had come over to check on things. Had slipped a scrap of paper into your hands with an address and phone number after a quiet conversation that veered along the lines of purposefully careful small talk. Apparently, he offered this out to a few others in the group too.

But you had folded that paper up and shoved it into your pocket for a rainy day. And you had gone through the moments of trying to carve out a new life for yourself for a few months. It stayed in your wallet until a little less than a week ago when the crazy ideas started setting in. 

The van, a converted church bus (according to the listing), putters at the four-way stop, just outside of the village limits. You lick the leftover frosting from your index finger. 

The seller had been a slightly distraught man with a giant red beard named Preston. He had just bought it and fixed it up after living in a daze of am I really staying at his corporate job when life has been turned upside down for the last four years. Finally decided to go live his true self after the Blip by quitting his job on the spot. And then, surprise, everyone was brought back and his wife was alive and now he didn't want to travel across the western hemisphere in a Ford E350 that he called Merle.

But that turned out alright for you. Now you had the chance to live out your existential crisis in peace. 

A faded metal sign greets you as you manage to roll the beast - you were calling her Hildegard, currently - forward. You decide to stop singing along to the classic rock station on your radio as you drive down the main street after catching the attention of a few locals.

The sailors say, "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl) // "What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl) // "But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea."

According to Google Maps, the address was the last drive at the end of a gravel road with a No Outlet sign peeking out from behind a wall of tall weedy grass. And the white-painted mailbox's house number confirms you're in the right place.

The turning radius is actually shit, but you try not to fault her - she's a big girl, after all. Just like you try not to fault the anxious uptick in your racing heart - not directly caused by coffee and energy drinks, thanks.

Towering trees line the dirt path, and with the driver's side window rolled down (hand crank, of course), you can hear the insistent buzzing of more mosquitoes. And the air that whips through the opening seems far more humid than what you would like for this early in the day.

Those thoughts are quickly disrupted by a sharp clang and bang in the distance. You turn the stereo's volume dial down low to see better.

The driveway finally gives way to an open clearing that must constitute as a front yard.

Switching into park, you pull the cluttered keychain into your center console. A cursory glance at your reflection in the rearview mirror and a reluctant good as we're gonna get after that drive before you get the nerve to hop out. The door slamming behind you draws the attention of the two men a few yards away.

Everyone takes a moment to stare at each other before Bucky calls out your last name with obvious confusion. Sam grabs the flying boomerang of a shield and tucks it against his side before smiling wide. 

"The hell are you doing here?" his voice booms.

You laugh, striding forward and away from the safety of the van. The unknown was always nerve-wracking. But so was getting removed from existence and being replanted into it, so all things considered talking to two ex-teammates wasn't that awful on the scale of things that made you go ick.

"You gave me your address, remember?"

Bucky wipes his sweaty brow with the bottom of his gray tank. When you take another look at him, you realize the man is actually barefoot.

Blinking at the shocking paleness of his feet against the rich green grass, you barely even hear him playfully say, "Hey, no autographs, all right?"

Sam brushes past him with a good-natured chuckle, "Pay the living fossil no attention."

He pulls you into a tight, one-armed hug. A little too tight and too sweaty for your comfort - particularly around the chest area, but who could deny him when he was smiling like that?

"So," he holds the shield just right - he's really stepped into the role, hasn't he?

"What're you doing my way?"

You give a little scoff, plucking at a loose thread on the hem of your shirt, "I'm on an adventure. But I should be asking Barnes the same thing, right? Aren't you supposed to be under full-time surveillance in Brooklyn, Sergeant?"

Bucky finally walks over, sweat still beading up on his new, shorter, haircut. You can't decide if it's the right look for him or not. 

"It's good to see you too, kid."

They both seem to be taking a moment to appraise your appearance. It's stellar after a full twenty-plus hour drive and a mix of chaotic sleep and quick caffeine fixes. The humidity's really doing wonders for your hair and underarm sweat too.

"You hungry?" Sam asks after a beat.

Ignoring the three new mosquito bites on your right arm, you nod eagerly.

"Good, we were just finishing," Bucky makes to grab for the water bottle at the trunk of a nearby tree when Sam clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

"Like hell we are. Got another three sets, Buck," he has his arms crossed and everything. But you're more caught up on the fact that he just called him Buck.

Bucky shrugs his head towards you, "Yeah, and you got a guest. Be hostly and feed 'em."

The other man shoots him a look before tilting his head in your direction with a warm smile.

Sam's got a beige hand towel tossed over his left shoulder as he scrubs at the plates in the sink. The house is just full of life, that's the best way to put it.

A line of shoes by the door and pictures and knick-knacks galore. Kids' drawings and a record cabinet in the living room. Nautical-themed decor everywhere you look. It's a little jarring, to be honest. Considering where you were living up until three days ago in a threadbare studio in Hell's Kitchen. 

It's good though. Between the baseball game playing on the slightly staticky radio and the quiet chatter of two younger boys just down the hall, it's nice.

Bucky points at the piercing on your nose, mouth full of a raspberry scone. 

"That's new."

You nod, scooping up the last bite of syrup-drenched pancakes with your fork, "It is."

"It hurt?" he's got a smudge of the red fruit filling on the corner of his lip that he's completely oblivious to.

A shrug, "Not too bad."

He hums in reply and shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth. Licking his fingers absentmindedly as he peruses the local newspaper. He makes it all the way to page three before he rests his arms on the table and looks back at you.

"What exactly is that thing out there?"

You can see the aquamarine paint of your van just through the kitchen window.

"My van."

His eyebrows kind of scrunch and raise up at the same time, as if trying to entertain the idea, "That's new too?"

With a smirk, you reply, "Her name's Hildegard and she's a beautiful woman."

Sam snorts over at the sink.

Bucky cranes his neck to look out the kitchen window, tilting back on his chair legs, "That thing's a tank."

"A majestic tank," you add, stealing the newspaper from under his hands. The Ask Alice section is of particular interest. 

Dear Alice, my husband claims he is of Asgardian descent and has been trying to do "feats of strength like his brother Thor." He keeps throwing his back out and insisting it's fine. Help. What should I do? It's just embarrassing at this point. 

"Has a bed, a kitchen, and everything," you continue as you glance up from the advice column.

Bucky drops his chair back down on all four legs and squints real hard, "Are you living in that thing?"

You bristle at his annoying stupidity and coolly counter, "Are you really couch surfing with Captain America?"

Sam bends over in a silent laugh, managing to turn off the sink, but still needing the counter to support him while he gathers his composure. After a long moment, he walks over and plops down into the high-back chair next to yours - tossing the damp dish towel onto the other man's head.

Bucky, unfazed, tilts his head back enough to where the towel is covering everything but his mouth, "You need money? Need Mr. America to make things better? A freedom fund or something?"

Sam kicks him under the table and Bucky just laughs in defeat, snatching the towel off his head and stalking over to the counter for a banana.

You eye Sam with a heavy breath of frustration. He, in return, drops his large hand on top of yours. It's warm and comforting and all-encompassing of a distant memory where things were far more normal.

"Come on. Tell Cap how much you need," his sudden shit-eating grin makes you groan and want to clobber him at the same time.

Pulling your hand away, you futilely kick the leg of his chair - it doesn't even budge for your annoyance, "I hate you both. I don't even know why I came here."

"Admit it, you missed this," Sam says with a teasing smile.

You shake your head, dropping your face into your hands, "I must be a masochist."

Bucky chokes on his banana.

The couch is surprisingly comfortable. Bucky was even kind enough to fluff his favorite yellow throw pillow for you to nap on. The crash was inevitable after eleven hours on the road, you knew that much. 

But even then, you don't stir until well into the heated amber afternoon. You try to act surprised by that fact.

The house is too loud. With all the things still in it, but now without the familiar sounds from the morning. There's a puttering fan, rotating in the corner of the room. A pink crocheted blanket had been draped on you at some point. And it's not lost upon you that the curtains in the room have been drawn shut as well. 

But the perpetrators are nowhere to be found. Sam's nephews must be out too because there's not even a sound coming from upstairs. It's just your unsteady breathing and the rotating fan puttering away.

Your skin crawls with the heat of a closed room on a summer day. The tassels of the blanket tickle your exposed knee as you sit up, enjoying the crack and roll of your shoulders as you stretch.

But the silence just drags on. 

When things are this quiet and you're left alone with your own thoughts, you really just want to claw your own skin or run far away. See: leaving New York in a camper van because the feels were hitting too hard in your lonely apartment.

That's why you find yourself gasping for air on the front porch only a minute later. At least you can breathe deeper without your binder on.

The summer air has cooled off from the humidity of the morning and there's enough of a breeze to rustle the trees and cool your heated skin. You're thankful you had the foresight to shuck off your button-up shirt before you passed out as the wind rolling off the lake feels amazing on your bare arms.

It doesn't take you long to spot them from your position on the porch steps.

They're holding back some obvious gibs when you walk down to the dock where they're fishing. Probably some choice words about oversleeping and caffeine addiction just waiting on the tips of their tongues.

You take a seat on the blue cooler behind them.

You're not entirely sure when this happened. This being their obvious friendship.

Probably somewhere between the government taking the shield and Sam taking it back for himself. You caught some glimpses on the news and a few candid shots on Twitter to get a basic picture of the situation. The Walker/Wilson discourse was still burning hot online. You tried your best to scour for the facts and not the obvious propaganda/blatant racism.

They're quietly bickering about something to do with Bucky's cast line. Sam keeps telling him to hush up cause he's gonna scare away the fish. And Bucky just keeps retorting the fact that he knows what he's doing, thanks.

It's funny to see it though. Even as they argue, Sam keeps his ribbing tighter than he used to, a little gentler and softer style of teasing. And Bucky keeps glancing Sam's way as if he's waiting for things to fall apart again.

You feel like an intruder.

Drawing your arms across your chest, now feeling the difference in the way your shirt sits against your torso, "I'll be out of your hair by tonight, Sam."

He laughs, gives a nonchalant alright. Then whips his head back towards you after the words hit him. Rod dropped down at his side and eyes wide.

"Yeah? Where you gonna go?"

Bucky's turned around now too. You squeeze yourself tighter. Even outside you can feel things getting too close and you're not actually referring to the blood-sucking insects for once.

"Not sure yet. But if you wanna tell me where the nearest gas station is, I'll get going."

Sam blindly shoves his rod into Bucky's vibranium hand and crosses over to you, crouching down to your level.

"Yeah, that's not what's gonna be happening. You're staying for dinner and breakfast in the mornin'. And like hell I'm gonna let you drive out of here before I look over that beast in my drive."

Bucky mimics behind him, "Her name is Hildegard and she's a beautiful woman."

Sam catches the glimpse of mischief in your eyes and knowingly ducks to the side as you send a wave of white energy at Bucky, knocking him backwards into the water with a shocked holler. He bobs up after a moment, hair plastered to his forehead, sputtering out lake water, and swearing like a true soldier.

Sam claps you on the shoulder with a barking laugh, barely dodging the arm that flies onto the dock as Bucky attempts to drag him down into the water with him.

Sarah just rolled her eyes when the two of them appeared on the back porch, soaking wet. Throwing them towels through the door before locking it back up.

She refused to allow them in until she had her food safely tucked away in the oven for dinner - because Sam doesn't know how to do it right she had said. Apparently, their momma's mac and cheese recipe was sacred and Sam always had the habit of fucking it up.

The kitchen was lively again - once they air-dried on the back porch and were allowed back in, but Bucky found the head chef annoying as hell and had relocated himself to the Mario Kart game in the living room with Sam's nephews. From the sounds of it, he was either winning by a large margin or losing very badly to the preteens.

Sarah had made a brief reappearance as she grabbed a drink from the kitchen - said something gruff to her brother about the way he was minding the food and his lack of seasoning. To which Sam told her to do her casserole and leave the damn chicken to him. 

She gave him a good punch in the arm for that before heading to the back office to go over the day's work reports.

The prep time is speeding by as the lake reflects the brilliant pinks and purples of sunset. The anxiety that had been building up in your body since the crash nap has started to dissipate as Sam's soft humming soothes your mind.

Despite your assigned task, you can still feel him lingering over your shoulder with a watchful eye.

"If this isn't to your standards, I'll just get out of here like Bucky," you suggest with a slight bite to your tone.

Sam takes a warning step closer, breath warm against your bare neck, "Shut it. You got it going just fine."

He returns to the oiled skillet on the stove, giving his tongs a few test clicks, as you dredge another chicken thigh through the seasoned flour mixture.

"Yeah, well your invasion of my personal bubble was making me think otherwise."

He makes a strained chuckle, "If I didn't want you here, you'd know."

You turn your head in time to catch the warm look in his eyes that he's directing your way.

"Long as you need," he adds after a beat of time.

You let that settle in your mind for a while. The open gesture you didn't know you were so desperately craving after eight months of near isolation.

The rest of the prepping goes well enough, except for Bucky sneaking out to stick his finger in the cornbread batter while Sam had his back turned. But the two hours of working in a hot kitchen is made worth it when you all sit down and tuck into pure heaven.

You have to bite back a moan as you help yourself to another serving of macaroni, "This is amazing, Sarah."

Sam's brows raise quickly. Grabbing a breaded drumstick from the serving plate he points it at you before adding it to your plate, "Yeah, well you should be eating this because it's delicious."

Bucky's dutifully eating his collards when he conspiratorially leans over towards you and mock whispers, "Someone's jealous."

"Someone's gonna get their fancy arm messed with is what's up."

The boys laugh and Sarah doesn't do much to dissuade them from it. Somehow, you end up with another thigh on your plate, but all of your cornbread has mysteriously migrated over to a certain super soldier's plate in the meantime.

Afterwards, you're on leftover duty - stuffing the last bits of food into old Country Crock butter dishes. Bucky was forced into dish duty but has been taking great joy in splashing Cass - who is on drying duty - while his older brother is trying to put everything back in the cupboards as fast as possible.

"So," he calls over the chaos of the younger boys. "Was this on your adventure itinerary?"

You give a quiet laugh as you seal the lid on the leftover casserole.

"Sure was," doing the careful balancing act as you walk to the fridge with five containers stacked in your hands. It takes some finagling, but you get your pinky around the handle and manage to get the door open without dropping anything. 

"I always wanted to see superheroes perform great acts of domesticity," you say with your head in the fridge.

He's got a plate held just out of reach from Cass, who's not interested in playing his stupid you want it? come on and jump for it game, "Huh, if you stick around you might catch Sam doing laundry later."

"Oh," you close the fridge and rest against the door. "A dream come true!"

Bucky smiles, wide and true and - most importantly - genuine. There's a flicker of something in his eyes, but it's gone just as fast as it appeared. It leaves you wondering, later in the shower, just when James Barnes got his personality back online.

You're still musing the change from the soldier on the battlefield eight months prior when you walk out onto the back porch - drying your hair with an old cotton T-shirt. The lanterns emit a golden hue on the patio seating, while the lights from the dock across the lake and the stars in the purple midnight sky dance and flicker off the water.

"Finally got that driving grime off, huh?" Sam's nursing a beer in one of the seats. 

You can just make out the outline of Bucky down by the dock, near a grove of lightning bugs.

Draping the damp shirt over your shoulders, you take a seat in the chair next to him, "Feel like a new person - thanks, by the way."

He waves his hand in a no big deal motion before taking another drink.

With a flick of your wrist, the misty white energy you're able to conjure floats through the air, down the opposite side of the table where the cooler rests. You nab the returning beer from the air, taking a refreshing sip after you pry the cap off on the table edge. 

Sam watches with an amused expression. With a humming question from you, he just shakes his head.

" 'm literally right here. You could've just asked for one."

With a smirk now playing on your lips, you set the bottle down. Condensation already beading up along the sides in the summer night air.

"What's the point of having powers if I only ever use them to beat up baddies? I mean, you never think about taking the wings out when you need to go to the store?"

He knocks his head back in a laugh, "No, I don't think about using my suit to transport my ass to the Walmart."

"Pssh," you chastise. "Gotta start thinking outside the box, Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy," he points an annoyed finger at you that only has a tiny ounce of real anger behind it.

Your hands go up in a show of defeat and he has the audacity to smile at it.

A pleasant moment stretches languidly between you as he finishes his drink and you ultimately find yourself watching Bucky skip rocks along the shoreline. It's a moment you want to sink your teeth into and really savor the feeling of.

To just sit and be with friends again, it's proving to be calming and upsetting all at once.

The table used to be larger and far more crowded. There was pizza and bickering over who ordered what. Steve would try to delegate and Thor would have snuck off with a whole box of Meat Lovers Supreme for himself. Tony would be trying to ridicule whoever got the pineapple and anchovy atrocity. It seems like a lifetime ago when things were that kind of stable.

"You gonna talk about it?"

Sam, with his knowing brown eyes, watches and observes and reads you like a book.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You steady yourself with a breath and lean forward on the plastic tabletop.

"Not sure how you were handling all this…  post-Blip stuff. But, I don't know. I just got this urge to go do something a few weeks ago. You get removed from existence and you get a new appreciation for life, I guess."

He hums softly, "I was just a stop along the way?"

Squinting at his interpretation, you shake your head, "More like a starting point. You know, you two are the last ones on my list that I could get a hold of? Everyone else just… ping, ping," you mimic tiny explosions with your hands.

"They have their own lives to go back to living and the original crew is basically no more. Compound's under new management - " Sam snorts at that, " - and I was just feeling…" don't say lonely, don't say lonely, "... nostalgic."

By now, Bucky's started to wander back up to the house, though his face is still shadowed by the limited natural light from the stars.

"I don't know, Sam. New York just felt - " you rub your forehead with the palm of your hand as a headache decides to start forming for your troubles. 

" - it felt too big and too small. Everyone was gone and I think I was just existing up until a week ago. And I just wanted to get back to living."

Bucky approaches, hesitating at the edge of the patio for a moment before Sam beckons him over with the jerk of his head.

"I want to see the world and do normal touristy things. Get lost and end up at a weird-ass landmark. Eat the greasy diner food. Camp out under the stars. Just more than sitting around waiting for the next big thing to come knocking. Cause if I stayed up there any longer, I was gonna lose it."

The super soldier drums his fingers on the table for a moment, having only caught the tail end of your confessional.

"Where you heading after this?"

You give a hapless shrug, "West."

He nods, though his face looks entirely uncertain.

"And is this a finding yourself solo personal journey trip or…?"

His lips curl up into a smile when you tilt your head back to laugh.

Finally removing the T-shirt from where it had been resting on your shoulders, you shuck it over into the empty chair between you and Bucky. The air feels cool along your skin now and you almost wish you had grabbed an overshirt from your bag.

"I mean, I'm not planning to grab any hitchhikers, but I'm open to some travel buddies.

Sam smirks, "Someone's gotta keep you from blowing that thing up."

The shocked gasp you make only furthers to spur them on.

"What?" he admonishes, "I heard that engine run. You either got old oil, the wrong oil, or no oil in it. Not to mention," he's now leaning forward and pointing at you with each listing.

"Your back tires aren't the same as the front ones. Your exhaust pipe is hanging on by a thread. And I bet you anything that the AC ain't working either."

Bucky gives a low whistle.

Leaning back in your chair, you cross your arms, "Well damn, Samuel. Give me the number for a mechanic already."

"Like hell, I will."

He stands abruptly, his chair screeches as it's pushed back along the woodgrain of the porch. And then he's walking, in the dark, to where your van is parked.

"C'mon," he calls.

Bucky shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile, before following after him.

You keep the swear on the tip of your tongue to yourself as you shoot a beam of white light their way, illuminating the path for them.

It's almost one in the morning and Sam's got his arms covered in grease. Bucky's taken great joy in exploring the interior of the van. Poking and prodding at every little thing: the bobblehead on the dashboard and the beads hanging from the rearview mirror, a collection of crystals on a tiny shelf, the three potted succulents over the counter.

He digs through your pile of snacks on the passenger seat and grabs the unopened bag of gummy worms for himself to snack on as Sam tells you to start the engine again.

By the time your personal mechanic has moved under the van to explore a possible hole in the lines and pipes, Bucky has plopped himself down on your bed. He's finished browsing through your small collection of books now, having exhausted himself with perusing your belongings. 

You had dropped down the mosquito nets at the open doors - held on by magnets so the little bloodsuckers weren't getting in - and turned on the fairy lights along the top of the cab for some ambiance.

"This is nice," he murmurs, head resting on the single decorative throw pillow. 

Perched on the small kitchenette counter next to him, you give a genuine, "Thanks."

After all the teasing they had given you about the van, it was nice to finally hear a bit of praise on something you were actually proud of. He lifts his head enough to catch your expression, his blue eyes soften.

"She's a beautiful woman."

That makes you snort with laughter, slightly drunk on beer and exhaustion. You can hear Sam tapping on something beneath you, followed by a sharp swear, and the general buzz of bugs congregating by the glowing white orbs in the lawn.

Bucky, after tossing the empty bag of candy up into the tiny sink, scooches over on the bed, messing up the blue and gold striped blanket you had bought at a flea market in Virginia.

He extends his right arm out to you, "C'mere."

And after a moment, "I mean, it's… it's your bed and all. You look tired, kid."

Your mouth quirks up into a little smirk as you catch the faint blush on his cheeks.

"Damn right it is," you affirm before plopping down next to him, face down. 

You can still smell the detergent you had used on the bedding. But it's mixed with something musky and masculine. Shampoo or deodorant or sweat, you're not sure.

When you manage to pick your head up, you're met with the dark treeline through the open back doors, though the gentle golden twinkle of your battery-powered interior lights makes it swirl and shift. Your head feels heavy as you rub your face against the blanket, head nudging something solid and warm off to your side.

"Should come with me," you find yourself saying. "Both of you. I like you guys. It'd be fun."

You feel more than hear Bucky's laugh as it reverberates through the mattress, "That so?"

Humming in agreement as your eyes fail to open, "Be like that family. The singing one on tv, with that one song."

Bucky rolls to face you, probably catching on to the fact that you're seconds from sleep. But he keeps going, "We're gonna be singing?"

You're lazily humming the theme song or maybe it's that one hit about thinking about loving someone. 

"The Partridge Family, right?" Sam's voice is like honey as it drips down your body. He's close but somehow so far away.

"The what?" Bucky asks softly, a smile clear in his voice.

You can hear Sam's feet on the floorboards because that one spot by the sink always creaks. 

"Doesn't matter, c'mon and shut it. Sleeping Beauty's almost out."

You shake your head against the blanket, welcoming the warmth that's there radiating on your right side.

" 'm not, jus' sleepy."

Someone teases you with a gentle sure you are.

Things get really hazy after that point. You can hear them talk in low tones about air filters and new carburetors and how bad the oil in the engine was. Something even softer yet about bags and a break and it wouldn't be a bad idea if we just…

But you're still wrapped up in something comfortable and warm and it doesn't take much at all to finally push you over the edge into a deep dreamless sleep.

When you wake to the gentle rays of the morning sunrise streaming in through the windshield, you find that there's a body radiating pure warmth curled up along your back. You can smell the motor oil and faint tinge of Irish Spring soap. Sam sleeps facing away from you, his arms curled around one of your pillows, breathing slow and easy.

After lifting your head up and shaking out the tired brain fog from your mind as you stretch, you also catch the sleeping super soldier sitting in the rotated driver's seat with his feet kicked up onto the fold-away table, snoring softly. His boots are haphazardly thrown on the floor next to Sam's, joined by an open tool bag and a pile of grease-covered rags.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed, sparring Sam a final longing look before shuffling across the floorboards and hopping out onto the cool dew-covered grass without waking either of them up.

The house is quietly buzzing to life with a wafting aroma of fresh coffee and something sweet lingering in the air.

"Morning," Sarah greets gently. Her back is turned as she loads up a cooler with food.

"Good morning," you offer back with a stifled yawn.

She turns her head to give you a once over before pulling a clean mug from the cupboard - moving her things over on the counter to give you access to the coffee pot, which you are seriously grateful for.

That's how the guys find you, not even twenty minutes later. Nursing the purple mug with a baby photo of Sam printed on it, and getting along way too well with his sister for his liking.

After Bucky stopped snickering and Sarah grabbed the boys and headed into work, Sam rolled his eyes and snatched away the mug and tossed it in the sink. It took you a solid minute to stop laughing as he tried his best to act unfazed.

Later that morning, after Sam directed you to the local auto shop where he picked out new tires and talked to the mechanic for nearly an hour about the guy's family, and only after he gave the van his official seal of approval, did you return to the house.

The doughnuts you had grabbed on the way weren't anything in comparison to the breakfast Sam had whipped up the day before. But his easy smiles and gentle quips were just as nice.

He pointed out different stores and houses and a grove of trees that him and his sister used to play in. Having to circle the lake to get back, he convinced you to stop by the dock where the family business is up and running.

Sarah and the boys are hard at work as he glides over and easily picks up some crates to load the boat. You find yourself helping AJ with the buckets of ice, having to haul them across the dock from the interior storage building for the cold tables.

"... might be good for you, after all this," Sarah says to her brother, walking back to the boat.

Sam's got his hands in his pockets, face nearly unreadable in the morning light, "That's what he kept saying last night too."

"Well, if you got Barnes tellin' you to do something…" their conversation trails off when they enter the cabin.

About an hour later, Sam's striding over to you - wiping his hands off on a rag. You've been helping with the cash box in their absence. 

"Didn't mean to get you stuck working."

Lulling your head to the side, you offer him an easy smile, "I don't mind. It's a good change of pace."

"Yeah," he leans back against the plastic table. The sleeves on his white button-down are rolled up to his elbows.

"Slower pace is good sometimes."

You find yourself nodding in agreement, "Can't spend every day chasing bad guys."

He's quiet for a moment, gaze focused on the bright blue water of the lake. And then he slaps your shoulder with the back of his hand, a smile back in place.

"C'mon, before Buck tries to steal my wings again."

You blink.

"Wait, what'd you mean again?" 

Chasing after him, back to the van, he grabs the driver's seat for himself. You don't mind too much as you hop into the passenger's side and toss him your giant keychain.

Holding it up by the Kirby squeeze ball, he gives you a long hard look.

"The hell is this?"

You offer him the look he deserves for such a dumb question. 

"My keys," you spell it out for him.

He has to shuffle through them before he finds one with the Ford logo, "For what? Every room of the compound?"

"Hmm," you shake your head with a small laugh, "something like that."

Sam has the wisdom to say nothing further, kicking the old girl into drive and heading back to the house.

Bucky's lounged out on the front porch steps, working through something in a journal, when you pull up to the house. He tucks it into the duffle bag behind him and walks over just as you both get out.

"Sounds better," he offers.

Sam grins, "We got a hell of a deal with it."

"Superhero discount," you tease as you join them by the driver's side door.

"New tires, good oil, and a new air filter. We're in business."

You catch the slip of the tongue there with the we're instead of the you're and you try not to get too hung up on the idea of it.

"So," Bucky rocks back on the heels of his boots, "you heading out?"

They both look to you, faces pinched and torn between indifference and distraught.

"Well, if I'm bugging you too much then yeah, I'll get going," the teasing tone falls flat.

Bucky rolls his eyes with an easy laugh, " 's not what I meant and you know it."

"In that case," you shuffle your sneakers on the grass as you work yourself up to say goodbye. "Then yes. I wanna get on the road before nightfall."

Sam gives Bucky a look before stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, "Still looking for some company?"

Blinking, you stare at him - trying to find the joke in his features, "You serious?"

"Could use a break," Bucky smoothes.

You look between the two of them, unsure, and not wanting to get your hopes up, "You're for real?"

They nod, humming in affirmation. Sam has his arms full of you in a hot second of bubbling joy as you fawn over the two of them for agreeing to something that was actually crazy. 

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta keep an eye on you two," Bucky teases as he grabs the two duffle bags from the porch steps.

He had packed. He had packed bags for the two of them because they wanted to hop in that van and go somewhere with you. It almost made you want to cry. You missed this.

Sam returns with a solid lock box and a circular leather bag that you have a pretty good idea of what it's containing.

"You never know," he shrugs as he passes them along to Bucky in the cab.

He's got the bags stored in the empty space under the bed, but seems hesitant to put the shield too far out of reach. 

You can't believe your luck here. Hopping up into the driver's seat, you start the engine and your baby purrs. 

"This is going to be amazing," you announce, nearly shaking with excitement. 

Bucky clicks into the third seat, just behind yours, after shoving the shield into the space between his seat and the small shelving unit, "Or the worst idea ever."

Sam laughs, having claimed the passenger seat for himself.

"Maybe a break ain't such a bad idea, Buck."

"Yeah, Buck," you tease as you kick her into drive and turn in the small circle of the drive.

"Live a little!" you say to him over your shoulder, cranking the radio up as you head down the driveway at a speed that's much faster than necessary.

Your backseat driver gruffly swears in another language as Sam starts belly laughing next to you. The sun is shining and the breeze is perfect as you pull out onto the main road.

Sooner or later, love is gonna get ya // Sooner or later, girl, you got to give in // Sooner or later, love is gonna let ya // Sooner or later, love is gonna win.

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[saladejin]

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’ 

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me) 

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :) 

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories. 

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.  

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.” 

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed. 

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

  ~ three months later ~

 “That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.  

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

~

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

~

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

~

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

~

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don’t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

~

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?  

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

 ~

~

 Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home. 

.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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