#i have loved detectives fiction my whole life

[starshipblueberry]

They’re here!!!! Myka and Helena meet again! I never get tired of the first meeting.

Our heroines make their dramatic entrances!

[arthur-lesters-spinal-cord]

Rip Noel you were just too pretty and Kayne couldn’t deal with the competition

[borathae]

The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.” He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him. 

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.” 

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you. 

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles. 

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed. 

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him. 

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape. 

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will. 

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you. 

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good. 

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way. 

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found. 

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands. 

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!” 

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?” 

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent.  You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat. 

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to  conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?” 

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke. 

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily. 

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore. 

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence. 

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?” 

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?” 

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him. 

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside. 

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you. 

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten. 

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry. 

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.” 

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.” 

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.” 

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.” 

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off. 

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work. 

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly. 

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt. 

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing. 

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps. 

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum. 

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip. 

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp. 

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave. 

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!” 

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.  

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes. 

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments. 

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut. 

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave. 

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?” 

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?” 

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking. 

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name. 

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come. 

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer. 

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain? 

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V. 

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone. 

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes. 

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.” 

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same. 

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head. 

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser. 

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly. 

He cradles your face, wiping your tears. 

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt. 

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt. 

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss. 

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle. 

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat. 

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk. 

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it. 

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved. 

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.” 

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop. 

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him. 

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you. 

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see. 

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed. 

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection. 

You nod your head. 

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob. 

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better. 

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back. 

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily. 

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!” 

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms. 

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you”,  he sobs, hugging you close. 

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it. 

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy. 

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t. 

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek. 

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face. 

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful. 

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in. 

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi. 

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling. 

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin. 

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly. 

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug. 

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms. 

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you. 

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you. 

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests. 

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other. 

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest. 

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do. 

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him. 

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection. 

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

[perseidlion]

There's a lot that has been made of the Cat King and whether he's "bad" or "problematic." Putting aside that's a silly conversation to have about a fictional character (who is there to add conflict and drive the story forward) it also misunderstands Cat's Whole Deal (TM.) Think of him like one of the fae. He's very decidedly not human, and although he isn't called a fae canonically (and I don't think he actually is) he is called a spirit. And there are some things he does that are decidedly fae-like.

He strikes bargains.

He protects his domain.

He punishes those who transgress his domain.

His punishment is a curse combined with a task.

He has aspects of a trickster figure which is common in fae mythology.

He has his own unspoken rules, but if you break them, you still need to be punished.

Edwin slights Cat by forcing his will on one of his subjects. In Cat's world, that is a crime that needs to be answered for. He offers sexual favours, which Edwin refuses, so he gives him another option. It isn't an impossible task, but it is an inconvenient one. In Cat's world, letting Edwin off with no punishment is simply not something he would do. So all the questions about whether he's problematic or that he violates consent are silly in this context. Of course if he was a real human man and he forced Edwin to stay somewhere against his will, that would be bad. But that's not what's happening here. He's a spirit with a domain and Edwin misstepped and had to pay the price as a result.

It is also important to keep in mind that he is an ANIMAL spirit who just happens to be able to take human form. That also explains some of his behaviour (including the horniness and the cowardice to some degree.)

This also makes the age gap discourse moot, too. It's the same kind of dynamic as a teenager and an ancient vampire. Except in this case, Edwin is not really a teenager and has existed for over 100 years.

I love Dead Boy Detectives but man, those characters are not teenagers. They don't act like teens, they don't look like teens and they run around, cross international borders and live on their own. They are at the very least out of high school, if not in their early twenties. It actually feels silly that the show keeps calling them kids when the story doesn't treat them that way.

BUT that is really neither here nor there and is a topic for another day! My point is just that it is silly to apply human morality to Cat and condemn him based on that.

If you just don't like him, and/or don't like him and Edwin, that's totally fine. But there's no need to condemn him/that dynamic based on how his behaviour would be interpreted in real life. That's frankly, pretty silly.

[guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy]

i know the end - vettel

(gif not mine @usersewis)

pairing: sebastian vettel x reader

summary: Sebastian came into your life in 2015 and left in 2020 - but you fell in love with him and he just wanted a championship.

themes/warnings: alcohol, ANGST, no use of y/n, description of a panic attack, unrequited love, waxing poetic about ferrari - can you tell they're my fav team, kimi mentioned, charles is here too !! THIS IS FICTION

wc: 3.6k

a/n: someone on tumblr said that ferrari is a haunted house with a picket fence and i have never stopped thinking about it since. i have also never stopped thinking about sebastian vettel - subcategory of seb thoughts is seb in ferrari. also still open to do requests - trying out this whole fic writing thing. will also need help with organising my blog if anyone is keen :)

read on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/60713827

Sebastian joined Ferrari in 2015. The team were ecstatic to have the four time world champion join their ranks, determined to bring Ferrari back to its former glory. 

You were working on the strategy team, fairly new but established enough to be listened to on the rare occasion. 

You met Seb in the pre-season at his factory introduction. He made his speech, charming the floor with his near perfect Italian. He popped into the strategy meeting room during his tour, a war room that had become home for you with its laptops and papers spread out. Sebastian was the perfect gentleman, shaking hands with everyone, though you thought he may have held on a bit longer with you.

The season started soon after, the entire garage working overtime. You were given the opportunity to accompany the team at races, rather than being stuck at Maranello.This is how you became Sebastian’s favourite strategist. 

You’re not exactly sure when it happened. You made a good strategy call in Malaysia, a well timed pit stop in Hungary and by Singapore, the lion knew your coffee order from the Ferrari cafeteria, ensuring to always pass you some before a long meeting. 

Falling for Sebastian was drawn out, comprised of lingering greeting hugs, good conversation at team dinners, long nights at the factory and searing glances across foreign nightclubs. 

You didn’t realise it for a while, and you wouldn’t realise it until it was too late. The attention you received was perhaps just part of Seb’s charm, and he had the whole motorsport world wrapped around his infamous finger. 

2016 brought on a winless year for Ferrari, both Kimi and Sebastian unable to make it to that crucial top step. 

You found Seb at the back of the Ferrari motorhome after a particularly tough race, hiding between tyre stacks. You overheard his PR team scrambling to find him - you slipped out to the back unnoticed, knowing exactly where he was. 

The tyre stacks were sort of a shared place for you and Sebastian, free from the prying eyes of the world. The only person who knew about it was Sebastian’s head mechanic, who accidentally stumbled upon you two sharing champagne after a podium last year. 

I’ll be there soon. Sebastian recognised your footsteps before even looking up. 

You sat down beside him, trying to find the words while he absentmindedly played with his water bottle. 

I’m sorr-

I don’t want to hear it. 

Sebastian had never snapped at you. You knew the strategy calls were bad today, resulting in an ill timed pitstop and Sebastian falling through the other. This Seb, this was completely foreign to you. 

Seb stood and left, sparing no further glance at you. It was a punch to your gut. Did he blame you? Drivers were always temperamental, that you knew, but Sebastian had always been nothing but kind and mature with you. 

Your body went into autopilot mode, packing up what you can before the team debrief. 

Sebastian barely spared you a glance as everyone settled in for the debrief. Perhaps a sign that he calmed down during media duties, but you knew better than to play detective with another man’s emotions. 

Strategy seemed to be the biggest issue to tackle with your boss taking the lead. You half listened, taking notes occasionally until he mentioned your name. 

One of the plans you brought up in pre-race meetings was bold and daring. It was entertained, but ultimately shoved aside for what ended up happening during the race. However after witnessing what happened in the race, it would have gained the team some higher positions. 

Ferrari is a team, one where we win and lose together. Every aspect is just as important as each other. Admitting mistakes and learning for them is how the team gets stronger. 

The strategy admission had Sebastian sneaking glances at you for the rest of the meeting. You felt it, but you weren’t exactly ready to forgive yet. 

You returned to your home in Maranello without so much as another word to Sebastian. You were, however, greeted by a bouquet of peonies on your dining table, along with a note from the man you were so desperately trying not to think about.

By 7PM the same day, you and Seb were sharing a blanket on the couch and watching a romcom, having devoured pizza and now working your way through a giant bag of chocolate wafers. 

Unfortunately, Seb knew the way to your heart. As you tucked yourself into bed that night, you realised that you never shared a conversation with him about Sunday and an even scarier thought, you had forgiven him. 

2017 saw you and Sebastian grow even closer. Movie nights at your apartment became the norm and Seb often took you to dinner on race weekends, despite your protests that the dinners were too fancy. He had to spoil his favourite strategist would always be his response. 

Sebastian returned to the top step of Monaco that year, the Italian anthem blaring across the track along with a chorus of devoted Tifosi. He sneaked off after the celebrations, pulling you with him to the tyre stacks, champagne bottle on the other hand. 

Seb passed you the bottle and you took a large sip, pushing down the thought that his lips were on it mere moments ago. 

Are you coming to the afterparty?

Yes, but I don’t have anything to wear? 

No party dress packed? Ye of little faith. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved the bottle back into his hands. The endless banter and teasing simultaneously made you forget about your feelings for Seb but also made you fall harder for him. 

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. He kissed your cheek and walked away. 

Cheek kisses weren’t new for Seb, having evolved from greeting hugs long ago. But “take care of it”? Well, he better not be doing what you were thinking. 

You returned to your hotel room to a large black box on your bed, an extravagant red bow tied around it with a handwritten note, definitely scrawled on by a tipsy Seb. 

The box revealed a red dress, and on top of it, another small box. You opened it and out dangled a small necklace with a heart charm. Engraved on one side was the number 5. Sebastian. 

Sebastian knocked on your door two hours later, dressed sharp and ready for the night ahead. He took you in, the dress he picked out was the perfect fit against your skin. There was however, one missing detail. 

The necklace? 

It’s a bit much, no?

Nonsense. 

Sebastian walked into your room and spotted the necklace on the bed. He took it out of its pouch and motioned for you to stand in front of the mirror. He stood behind, putting the necklace on you. His fingers ghosted over your neck, raising the tiny hairs on your skin. 

Team number 5. 

Sebastian kissed the side of your head and his fingers trailed down your arm to grab your hand. You followed him out in a daze to the elevator. 

The dim light of the elevator and Sebastian’s intoxicating cologne enveloping the cramped box. The elevator dinged, letting in more people. The sound woke you from whatever spell Sebastian cast. You counted down the floors until you had to leave the warmth of Sebastian’s side and his calloused hand around yours. 

Ground floor. The air was clearer as you exited the bubble - reality. Because despite everything, Sebastian wasn’t yours. He is Ferrari’s. You are Ferrari’s. For now, sharing a home would be enough. 

You never left Sebastian’s line of sight all night. Between partying with your girlfriends, sharing a drink with your boss and a few dances with Seb, the clarity in the haze of the club was Sebastian. 

As the night began winding down, Sebastian approached you at a booth. He was holding a mystery drink and his pupils were blown wide. He began blabbering about something Kimi did, the Finn possibly to blame for Sebastian’s current state. You took one look at him and began arranging a cab back to the hotel. 

You managed to drag a half asleep Sebastian back to his room. You sat him on the edge of the bed while you filled up a water bottle. You came back and found him spread eagle on the bed. At least he took his shoes off. 

Goodnight Seb. 

You were halfway out the room when you heard it. 

I love you.

You froze. Looking back, you saw Seb snoring peacefully, hugging a pillow to his chest. No, he’s drunk and sleeping. It wasn’t for you. It could’ve been for his bed for all you cared for. It didn’t matter, despite your heart wishing it was for you.

2018 was another successful year for Ferrari. Sebastian came home with five wins that year, placing second in the drivers standings and Kimi in third. All in all, you were quite proud of the team’s efforts that year and you knew you could unlock more of that potential. 

However, you could feel something bothering Sebastian. An itch that had been present all season. You had asked a few times, but Seb always insisted it was nothing. You knew Sebastian well enough by this point. You could read him, to an extent. But if he truly wanted to hide something, you would be helpless at getting it out. 

Sebastian invited you to stay at his farm in Switzerland for a week during the winter break. You happily obliged, having not seen him since wrapping up in Abu dhabi. You could use the tranquillity of farm life for a bit. 

Your days there were spent helping Sebastian with the animals. He taught you horse riding and you taught him baking. You let yourself get lost in that life, if just for a mere moment. Perhaps in some alternate universe, this was your home with him, that you weren’t only playing house for a week. 

You and Sebastian were laying on the carpet in front of the fireplace, sharing a bowl of attempted smores. It was your last night there before you had to jet off back to Maranello to begin pre season work. 

Seb got quiet, not exactly rare but it was different when something was on his mind. 

Would you ever leave? 

Leave where?

Ferrari.

No. Ferrari is home. 

Sebastian hummed, adding nothing more but deciding to bite into another smore. A bit of chocolate dripped onto his chin. You chuckled and wiped it off with your thumb.

Besides, you don’t need to worry about that new French kid. You’re still my favourite, world champion. 

Sebastian laughed, but you missed the melancholy in his eyes and the smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

Being a Tifosi came with many highs and lows - any balding Italian man can tell you that. It was felt even more within the team, especially for Sebastian this year. 

2019 saw the meteoric rise of Charles Leclerc, the predestined. He cemented his place as not only the future of Ferrari itself, but of the sport as well. 

Charles was full of energy and light. You grew fond of the kid and it was nice to have his company amidst the turmoil surrounding the team that year. 

You went into that year determined to get Sebastian his championship he so desperately craved. You were instead met by cheating rumours, bad calls, power shifting and well, an increasingly frustrated Sebastian. 

Sebastian who has been chasing that championship feeling for years. Sebastian who bleeds Ferrari red. Sebastian who is determined to bring the team back to the top. Sebastian, who is not quite yours, but you devoted your red heart to. 

Perhaps that’s how you ended up in this position. 

Sebastian pulled you into his driver’s room after a race. The habit has raised a few eyebrows from passing crew, but none have said a word. 

Nothing ever happened anyways. 

Seb would sit you on his couch and you’d listen. Listen as he rambled in a heinous mix of German, Italian and English. Listen as he let out his emotions after a race and all the lows he went through that weekend. 

You’d bring up some of these points to relevant crew members. It would be worked on and by the following race, it would be better. But it was never enough for Sebastian. 

You understood, he was supposed to bring Ferrari back, follow in the footsteps of his mentor and hero. It was an immense pressure and responsibility that has been carried for years. Now, the Italians have put their faith in his teammate, throwing him aside like an old toy. 

It was draining for you too, being subjected to this almost every weekend. It wasn’t your burden to bear, but this was Sebastian. He is still Rosso Corsa, and you weren’t one to deny a cry for help. 

Singapore rolled around, one of Sebastian’s favourites. He crossed the line in first place that night. You haven’t been so happy in months. 

Sebastian found you at your desk after media duties. You were still on the adrenaline high, but the tiredness began seeping back into your bones. You knew you weren’t sleeping well, the stress of the season getting to you and your eyes looked darker than ever. For Ferrari, the pain was always worth it. 

Come out tonight. 

Seb, I feel dead. 

And the race winner is personally inviting you. 

You could never resist him, which is how you have an extremely plastered Seb on your arm as you walk back to the hotel. Apparently being part of Team 5 also meant babysitting when he’s had one too many. 

I LOVE FERRARI! I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE! FORZA FERRARI! 

Sempre. 

May 2020. F1 was still on the break. The only place you went was your home in Maranello and occasionally the factory. You hadn’t seen Sebastian in months and to be honest, you haven’t heard from him as much as you wanted to. 

Then, the announcement. Sebastian Vettel to leave Ferrari by the end of the 2020 season. 

It came as a shock to you. Seb’s contract was up for renewal, you knew that. But he never said anything about leaving, at least, not to your face. And to find out from Instagram, rather than from the man himself, that was a whole other issue. 

You left several messages on Seb’s number over the next week, all remained unanswered. You knew he was a bit of a recluse sometimes, preferring quiet company over the glitz and glamour other drivers seemed to surround themselves with. Ignoring you however, that was unheard of. 

You asked some of Seb’s mechanics, but none have heard from him. You even asked Charles, but all he received was a polite thank you message. 

After a while, you gave up on contacting him. You knew better than to beg for a man’s attention, even Sebastian’s. It broke your heart to walk away, but you had to keep pushing and Ferrari needed to keep pushing. 

Red Bull Ring, Austria. The first race back was a much quieter environment than what you’ve been used to. Despite wanting to stay in Maranello, mainly to stay safe but also to avoid a certain German, your boss wanted you at the races. Who were you to deny the call of the Prancing Horse. 

You ignored him all weekend, refusing to make eye contact or be in his general presence at all. It was perhaps a bit petty, but you deserved to be after the last two months. 

Charles placed P2, a great result from the team for the first race back. You chatted to him at your desk after the race. Charles was a young man that had raw talent, immense passion and was wise beyond his years. You were lucky to call him a friend. 

Mid conversation, Charles glanced behind you. You knew exactly who was standing there, but he could wait his turn. 

You finished up with Charles, giving him a hug before he left. 

You stared at Seb standing awkwardly in the doorway. He shifted on his feet, for once not knowing what to say to you. 

Please say something. 

I have nothing to say to you. You’re the one who went radio silent for months. 

I’m sorry. 

You shook your head and looked away, not wanting him to see how much this affected you. 

I didn’t know how to tell you. 

Seb moved closer, stepping into your space. He reached out a shaky hand to yours. You gripped his, you couldn’t help it. A silent sob escaped your body. 

Come with me. 

You whipped around, searching his pleading eyes. 

Come with me. To Aston Martin. 

His other hand came up to the side of your head, cupping your cheeks and wiping away the tears on your cheek. 

Come with me. I need you. 

His hand brushed down the side of your neck, fingers finding the necklace he gifted all those years ago. 

Team 5. That’s our home. Please. 

Sebastian fiddled with the charm. He found the engraved 5 turned around, no longer facing outward like how you’ve always worn it. 

You took Sebastian’s hand and pressed a tender kiss to it. 

Ferrari is my home. I can’t come with you. 

You dropped his hand and looked anywhere else but him. You couldn’t bear to see the tears welling in his eyes. 

Please leave. 

Sebastian walked out, hesitating at the door. He took a last look at you and left. 

You let the cries come out. Every emotion you’ve kept the last few years came out in a tidal wave. 

You felt an arm wrapping around your shoulders, recognising Charles’ hand. He helped you to the floor and let you lean against him. 

I’m sorry. 

You requested to be transferred to Maranello for the rest of the season, citing health concerns. The team was sad to see you go, many of them enjoying your company on long race weekends. 

You only saw Sebastian in passing for the rest of the year, heard about him from mechanics, through strategy feedback and once from Charles. He knew not to press, but you didn’t miss the occasional flicker of sympathy from his eyes. 

Sebastian came by the factory after the season ended, a formal goodbye to Ferrari. There was food and drinks passed around and some quick speeches made. 

Sebastian was the last to come forward. 

It has been my dream to race for the Scuderia since I was a boy. Here I stand now, as a Ferrari driver for six incredible seasons. It still feels like cloud nine everytime I get to walk into this beautiful place and be greeted by the passion from every single one of you. I thank you all for the hard work you’ve put in all these years. 

Sebastian took a breath, as if hesitating on what to say next. You found yourself waiting, a small part of you hoping for him to say something, anything that would allow you to forgive him. 

I want to say a special thank you to those who have been by my side. You know who you are. I know I haven’t always made it easy, and I am sorry for that. But I am eternally grateful for you. 

Sebastian’s eyes found yours in the crowd. You found yourself fiddling with the necklace for comfort, forcing your eyes to hold back tears. 

Thank you all. Forza Ferrari sempre. 

The crowd erupted in cheers, applauding Seb as he made his way back into the crowd. 

Your ears were ringing, vision blurry and the swell of the crowd was suddenly too much. Your feet relief on instinct, turning you around and leading you towards the exit. 

A hand found your arm as you reached the lobby. Charles. The youngster took one look at you and said something about a car and to wait. Your body curled into a ball as you heaved. 

This was it. Sebastian was leaving. Leaving Ferrari and the home you built in it, with him. And neither of you could muster the courage for a proper goodbye. What an irony, Ferrari who creates heroes and legends but two of their best and brightest are cowards with each other. 

A sleek black Ferrari pulled up to the front. The rumble of the engine was enough to push yourself to stand and stumble your way to Charles who had opened the door for you. 

You turned, taking a look at the building. Ferrari is always going to be home, but the people in it give it meaning. Sebastian left, and your sun set, but it will rise again soon. 

You were at the door and hesitated for the briefest moment. That was enough for Sebastian to come running into the lobby. 

You stood in the moonlight with windswept hair and teary eyes. From the distance, Sebastian could just make out the glimmer of the necklace he gave you all those years ago and the most important thought - you were still the most beautiful woman he ever got the chance to know. 

He loved you. Loves you. It was real all along, not some drunken stupor that he convinced himself it was all those years ago, hiding because it would be easier than to let himself fall. 

He understood. You were always by his side, and he was too late to notice it, much less be grateful for it. You can't forgive him now, and he’s caused too much harm. It would be selfish of him to keep you tethered.  

 He needs to let you go. 

Sebastian nodded at you from his frozen place in the lobby. This is the end. You touched your hand to your heart, where your necklace fell. In another life. 

[strawberry-jan]

Back in late 2022, I started working on a long story about Ishin: a tale of two dummies whose weird one-night stand blossoms into a surprisingly caring relationship even as a (mostly) canon-compliant series of tragedies plays out around them. It’s a now-complete series in approximately 125,000 words and three parts, and you can read the whole thing right now on AO3: The Glorious and Bloody Deeds of Okita Soji, Volume 1: Okita Soji Versus the Scoundrel Saito Hajime; The Secret History of Saito Hajime, Volume 2: The Shiraume Incident; and, finally, Brief Notes on the Domestic Life of one Saito Hajime.

Taken as a whole, it's a story about identity and history and the stories that people tell each other and themselves about those things. And it's a story about one guy getting way too into weird Edo-era egg dishes, and another guy finding himself embroiled in an extended detective sequence, and a third guy composing a series of corny haiku that (almost) nobody wants to read. And, of course, it's also a story about people who are shamelessly and sometimes explicitly in love (so you probably shouldn't read it at work).

This whole big, sprawling thing has been a labour of love on my part: it turns out that I adore writing historical fiction and finding excuses to read books and journal articles in order to write it better. In addition to making not one but four little illustrations to celebrate the fic's completion (and please look at them up-close; I hand-inked all those kimono patterns), I've drawn up a list of some of the sources that I consulted for my writing, and you can find those under the cut.

This is not an absolutely exhaustive list of sources; I don’t think it’s super useful to catalogue the extremely nitty-gritty stuff, like that time that I felt compelled to find out what the state of strawberry cultivation was in 1860s Japan, or when I needed to picture exactly what it looked like when Haruka was repairing Ryoma’s kimono. That being said, I’ve added a couple of things that are really particular to my stories but that I thought were cool enough to share.

Foster, Michael Dylan. The Book of Yokai: Mysterious Creatures of Japanese Folklore. U of California P, 2015. (This one was a really fun read – it combines a short history of yokai in folklore with a little catalogue of yokai.)

Jansen, Marius B. Sakamoto Ryoma and the Meiji Restoration. Stanford UP, 1971. (Super useful as an introduction to the Bakumatsu era and for biographical details about Ryoma and the figures around him.)

“Japanese Wiki Corpus.” https://www.japanesewiki.com/. (This is a machine-translated collection of articles on the Japanese side of Wikipedia related to Kyoto. As with a lot of things on Wikipedia, the citations on these articles tend to be poor or nonexistent, but it’s a useful starting point for information on figures and events that don’t have an English wiki equivalent. Definitely more useful if you can then head over to the original wiki articles and parse them out yourself.)

“Kabuki21” and “The Noh.” https://www.kabuki21.com/section.php, https://www.the-noh.com/en/plays/index.html. (I’m lumping these two together because I tended to consult them in tandem. Without getting too much into my personal details I am – among other things – a non-practicing theatre scholar, so whenever I wanted to have characters in my old-timey fics refer to something cultural, my first stop was old plays. These sites have, respectively, summaries of kabuki plays and full texts of Noh plays available for you to browse. If you’ve read my other fics you will probably have seen that I referred to the kabuki play “Fuwa” in 亀が如く.)

Katsu, Kokichi. Musui’s Story: The Autobiography of a Tokugawa Samurai. Translated by Teruko Craig. U of Arizona P, 1988. (A book that needs to be taken with a grain of salt because it’s an autobiography written by a guy who sounds like a real blowhard, but it’s still a really fascinating look into the daily life of a low-ranking samurai.)

Leupp, Gary P. and Tao, De-min. The Tokugawa World. Routledge, 2022. (Of particular interest is Kimura Sachihiko’s essay, “The Shinsengumi: Shadows and light in the last days of the Tokugawa shogunate” [1104-1124], which gave me a bunch of incidental details about the Roshigumi that I incorporated into the sections of this series that were told from Inoue and Hijikata’s perspectives.)

“Old Photos of Japan.” https://www.oldphotosjapan.com/. (Pretty self-explanatory. Very useful as a resource for picturing scenes!)

“Shinsengumi Archives.” https://shinsengumi-archives.tumblr.com/. (A long-running tumblr dedicated to cataloguing resources about the Shinsengumi. There’s an absolute wealth of information collected here, and best of all, the creator cites their sources and even provides links to the original texts. Although it’s focused on the Shinsengumi, it’s impossible to overstate how useful this site is for prospective Bakumatsu-era fic writers in general. The collection of Hijikata’s poems with links to others’ translations and commentary is here: https://shinsengumi-archives.tumblr.com/post/683071924948058112/hijikata-toshizos-haiku-poems. The creator of the blog also links to a translation of Nagakura’s and Shimada’s diaries, and while the document is machine-translated, it’s still a great source of historical details: https://shinsengumi-archives.tumblr.com/post/678083336614428672/where-can-you-read-the-memoirs.)

Smits, Gregory. “Warding off Calamity in Japan: A Comparison of the 1855 Catfish Prints and the 1862 Measles Prints.” EASTM 30 (2009): 9-31. (Okay, this one is highly specific to my fic – it comes up in Part 2 when Okita tells his story about Kashima and again a couple of chapters later when his pile of remedies includes a crudely-drawn picture meant to ward off indigestion – but I love little details like this so I did want to make a point of sharing it here.)

“Tamago Hyakuchin” and “Tofu Hyakuchin.” http://codh.rois.ac.jp/edo-cooking/tamago-hyakuchin/recipe/, https://toyama-tofu.jp/tofuhyakutin.html. (These are collections of Edo-era egg- and tofu-based recipes. They’re two of the sources cited in Cookpad’s collection of modernized Edo-era recipes: https://cookpad.com/recipe/list/14604664.)

Vaporis, Constantine N. “Linking the Realm: The Gokaido Highway Network in Early Modern Japan (1603-1868).” Highways, Byways and Road Systems in the Pre-Modern World. Ed. Susan E. Alcock, John Bodel, and Richard J. A. Talbert. Wiley-Blackwell, 2012. 90-105. (Some of the works cited in this article also sound interesting, but I didn’t have a chance to dig any deeper as I just wanted to know a bit about the Tokugawa-era roads. Also interesting in this vein is Jilly Traganou’s book The Tokaido Road: Travelling and Representation in Edo and Meiji Japan [2004].)

Wert, Michael. Meiji Restoration Losers. Harvard UP, 2013. (Not directly useful as a source for writing about Ishin – it’s about later events and it mostly tracks the posthumous construction of one specific Tokugawa magistrate’s history – but it was an engaging read and I found it interesting as an exploration of how people continue to look back on the Bakumatsu era and the Meiji Restoration, which is something that the game is, of course, also doing.)

Yamakawa, Kikue. Women of the Mito Domain: Recollections of Samurai Family Life. Translated by Kate Wildman Nakai. U of Tokyo P, 1992. (Another one of those bits of essential reading on everyday life for low-ranking samurai, this time with a focus on women’s lives and households more generally. I didn’t use a lot of from this book in my fic, but it has everything from translations of songs to records of families’ financial transactions, and it’s fascinating to read about all the turmoil in Mito playing out in the background of these families’ lives.)

“Yokai.com.” https://yokai.com/. (The creators of this site make a point of not going into detail about their sources, and they’re very careful to state that they don’t intend for the project to be “the final authority” on yokai, but I enjoyed browsing the site to get some ideas for Okita’s stories – and once you know the name of a particular yokai that you’re interested in, it’s easy enough to go look up other sources on them.)

[fey-ax]

What to play while we're waiting for touch starved Recommendations Part 2. :

“Creme de la Creme” and “Royal Affairs”

I'm putting both these together because they resemble each other so much.

Ceme de la crème is an interactive novel in which you play as a student at an exclusive private school for socialites.

It's a slice-of-life game in which you make friends and rivals, choose your club activities, and attend lessons.

A unique feature of this game is that you can choose not only the gender of your player character but every romanceable option you encounter.

I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. It is an interesting idea even if I'm not sure if it's a good one.

Some people have accused “Creme de la Creme” of being “Harry Potter with the serial numbers and magic filed off”, but it is my understanding that “ fancy boarding school” is an entire genre in itself. Harry Potter did not infect or invent it. So I can't say I agree.

“Royal Affairs” is a sequel of sorts made by the same creator. It is set in the same world as “Creme de la Creme” and is also about attending a prestigious school for rich kids, but with different characters and in a different school.

As interactive fiction, there is no art, music, or sound. And the presentation of the text isn't the most appealing. But if you can get on board with it then “Creme de la Creme” and “Royal Affairs” are a good time.

2. Forbidden Magic

This is an urban fantasy detective/ Police procedural story.

You play as a paranormal agent trying to catch a magical arsonist and solve a mystery.

It's cute. A cute little interactive fiction game.

I don't have a lot to say about it.

3. OVERBOAED!

Guys, I love this Game!

By far my favorite out of all my recommendations, but it is also a bit of a wild card.

While all my recommendations had a romantic subplot until now, I can not say the same about this game.

In Ovearboard you play as a femme fatal who just murdered her shitty husband and is trying to get away with it.

It is so much fun.

It made me think a little of the ace attorney, except that you don't play as the detective but as the suspect who keeps getting caught in their stupid lies. And you can't even be mad about it because you chose that dialogue option.

Getting away with murder isn't all that difficult. The real challenge is getting the insurance money. (Otherwise, what was the point of killing the shitty husband?)

That's when the game opens up.

All the charterers have secrets of sorts and many are not what they seem.

The presentation is also great! May interactive fiction games lack in that department. But here you have music, visuals, sound, the whole package!

[kingofbodyrolls]

Coming Home (m) | PJM | Part one

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

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

Cross posted to AO3!

→ Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings

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

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

Clothes cling to your skin, suffocating, strangling. 

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

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

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

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

Why did things have to turn out this way? 

Could you have done something differently?

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quicken your pace, stumbling forward, almost there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should he open it and scold them? 

Or maybe he should just yell from inside? 

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

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

What greets him, he had not expected at all.

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin isn’t satisfied with that response. 

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

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

“She was assaulted…” 

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

“How?” 

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

“... Sexually” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What!?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes” Taehyung responds firmly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze at the mention of your parents.

Jimin looks at you, sensing your sudden unease. 

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

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

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

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

The conflicting emotions inside you are overwhelming. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin’s eyes soften with understanding. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’re taken aback by his suggestion. 

How could he know what you’re going through? 

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

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

He nods, his eyes filled with sorrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s been through a lot, Hyung.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You declined, trying to keep calm. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The action sends a weird tingle down your spine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” he reassures gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever seen his face?” as the Detective inquires further, memories flood back, and you nod slowly, acknowledging that you had seen his face. 

The room grows tense as both detectives exchange meaningful glances, sensing the gravity of the situation.

“Would you be able to describe him to a sketch artist?” Yoongi asks, his voice steady but his eyes filled with concern.

You take a deep breath, mustering the courage to relive those horrifying moments. 

“I can try,” you reply, feeling the weight of the task ahead. 

Despite the fear that grips you, you know that providing any information could be crucial to catching the man who tormented you. Detective Yoongi then asks about the perpetrator’s name, and you recount how he demanded to be called ‘Hyun’. 

The room falls silent for a moment, filled with a heavy tension as you recall the haunting memories.

Exhaustion settles in, and you yearn for a moment of respite to process the traumatic events you’ve just relieved. 

However, your desire for peace is interrupted when there’s a knock at the door. As it slowly opens, your parents enter the room, their faces a mix of worry and relief.

Tears well up in your eyes as you see your parents, and you reach for them, seeking comfort in their embrace. 

You feel a mixture of emotions; relief to see their familiar faces, but also anxiety about possibly explaining what had happened. As your parents approach you, their eyes filled with love and concern, your heart swells with mixed emotions. 

It has been so long since you last saw them, and their presence brings comfort and a sense of home. However, the burden of the truth you carry prevents you from fully embracing their warmth. 

You don’t want to burden them with the horrific details of your ordeal, afraid that it will shatter their perception of you.

Your parents greet Jimin with warmth and confusion directed towards the other man in the room. Detective Yoongi introduces himself and explains that he’s here to help with the investigation. 

“He’s the detective in charge of my abduction case,” you explain, watching their expression shift from curiosity to shock and then concern. 

They eye him cautiously at first, but the firm handshake seems to ease their worries a bit. Jimin stands up, feeling a pang of guilt for not being able to protect you, even though he knows it was not his fault. 

Your parents look at Jimin, grateful for his presence. Jimin gestures for your dad to take the chair, and your heart swells with gratitude for your best friend’s support. With a soft smile, your father sits down beside you, and you appreciate the familiar comfort of his presence. 

Jimin steps back, giving you and your parents some space, but you can see the concern still etched on his face.

Detective Yoongi, now realizing the delicate dynamics, reassures your parents that they are doing everything they can to find the perpetrator and bring him to justice. He explains that your statement is crucial in the investigation and that they’ll do their best to support you throughout the process. He hums in approval and leaves the room.

Amidst the lingering tension, your parents turn their focus back to you, showering you with affection and love. They express how much they have missed you and how glad they are to have you back home. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” your father asks, his voice filled with love and worry. You nod, attempting to mask the pain and trauma that still lingers within you. 

You don’t want them to see the broken parts of you, fearing it will break their hearts too. Tears well up in your eyes as you feel the weight of their love, and you wish you could tell them everything, but you can’t bring yourself to share the horrors you’ve endured.

You squeeze their hands gently, offering a grateful smile.

 “I missed you both so much too” you say, your voice quivering with emotions.

As your parents speak, telling you that you can have your old room back at home, a mix of emotions floor your heart. Relief, fear, and uncertainty clash within you. 

You had imagined returning to your apartment, your sanctuary, after being rescued, but reality dawns on you like a heavy cloud. Your apartment is gone, leased to someone else while you were missing, and the truth hits you hard.

Your wide eyes betray your uneasiness, and your mother picks up on it immediately. 

Her comforting presence beside you offers a glimmer of reassurance, but your mind is still racing. She begins to explain the situation, how your absence resulted in losing the apartment. 

You can’t help but feel a pang of sadness and nostalgia for the place you once called home.

“I understand, mom” you say, trying to put on a brave face, but the disappointment lingers. Deep down, you had hoped to return to your apartment, to reclaim a piece of your past. Yet, it seems that life has moved on without you, and the reality of it stings.

Your dad’s explanation about them not paying the rent during your absence makes logical sense, but it adds to the weight on your shoulders. You don’t want to burden them further, and you know they have their own lives and financial responsibilities to take care of.

The conflicting emotions within you intensity. On one hand, you appreciate your parents’ offer and their unconditional love, but on the other, you crave a sense of comfort, independence and the familiarity of your own space. 

You long to heal and rebuild your life on your terms, without feeling smothered.

Taking a deep breath, you gather the courage to express your feelings. 

“I appreciate it, mom, Dad. I really do,” you start, your voice wavering slightly. 

“But I think I need some time to find my own footing again. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, but… I need some space to heal and find myself again”. 

Your parents exchange a glance, a mixture of understanding and concern evident in their eyes. They love you deeply, and they want what’s best for you. After a moment of silence, your mother speaks softly, “We understand, sweetheart. We’ll support whatever decision you make. Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what”.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you feel the weight of their love and understanding. 

In that moment, you realize that while you may not have your old apartment, you have something more precious - a family that will stand by you through thick and thin.

As your parents express their concern and worry about your safety by staying by yourself, you try to reason with them, emphasizing your independence and adulthood, you’re almost twentynine years old! 

However, your mom’s heartfelt response tugs at your heartstrings, making you realize just how much they care about you. “I know you want me close and safe, and I appreciate that more than you can imagine,” you say, trying to convey your love and gratitude. 

“But I also need to find my own way and regain some semblance of normalcy.”

You explain as Jimin interjects, “She can stay at my place.” 

You whip your head to look at Jimin, feeling tears fill your eyes at his caring offer.

The tension in the room escalates as your parents ponder Jimin’s offer. They are cautious about trusting someone else with your safety, especially considering the circumstances of your disappearance. 

However, Jimin steps in, ready to prove his dedication and reliability.

“I understand your concerns, and I promise, I will do everything in my power to protect her,” Jimin says firmly, looking straight into your parents’ eyes. 

“I blame myself for what happened, for not making sure she got home safely that night, and I will not let it happen again. She will be safe with me” he assures them with a stern yet comforting look. 

His sincerity and determination leave a lasting impression on your parents. You can see their hesitancy gradually giving way to trust. Jimin’s gesture of holding their hands and expressing remorse further strengthens their belief in him.

“I will never be able to forgive myself if something happens to her again,” Jimin adds, his voice laced with regret. “I promise you, I will be her guardian and protector.”

Your parents eventually agree to the arrangement, recognizing that Jimin’s dedication to your safety outweighs their concerns. 

They also think that Jimin will be able to keep you safer, with him being a cop now. They thank him for his commitment, and you can see a sense of relief wash over them. 

Your mom still wants to make sure that you are completely comfortable with the situation, and asks if you are fine staying at Jimin’s place.

“I promise you, I’m okay staying at Jimin’s,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “He’s been there for me since I got back, and I trust him completely”.

Your mother’s worried expression softens as she looks into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. “Are you sure, sweetheart? We just want what’s best for you”.

You nod, giving her a small smile, “I know, mom. I know both of you worry about me, and I appreciate that. But being at Jimin’s feels… comforting. It’s like I have a sense of security there,” you give a small smile. 

Deep down you know you won’t feel safe or comfortable with your own place like you initially thought, but this was a good compromise.

Your father places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If you ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe, don’t hesitate to call us, okay?” we’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“I will, dad” you promise, feeling grateful for their understanding. 

“But please know that I need some time to myself too. I want to try and rebuild my life, and I think being at Jimin’s will help me with that, until I feel comfortable eventually getting my own place,” both your parents nod, accepting your decision while still trying to protect you. 

They express their love once again, and you can see the worry lingering in their eyes as they bid you goodbye.

As they leave, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of emotions settling in. Jimin returns to your side, looking concerned as he takes the seat beside you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and you blush at the touch.

“I will be,” you reply honestly, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s just… it must be hard for them, you know? To see me like this.” 

Jimin wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. “They love you, Y/N. And they’ll do whatever they can to protect you. It’s natural for them to worry.” 

You nod, feeling comforted by his presence. “I know. But I also need to figure things out on my own. I need to feel like myself again.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Jimin says firmly. “I’m here for you, every step of the way. We’ll face this together.”

You look up at him, finding solace in his unwavering support. “Thank you, Jiminie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles softly at his nickname, his eyes filled with warmth and love, “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always be here for you.” 

With Jimin by your side, you know you have someone who truly understands and cares for you.

As you prepare to leave the hospital, haven met with the sketch artist too, the weight of what lies ahead settles on your shoulders. You’ve endured so much, and now the road to recovery stretches out before you like an uncertain path. 

Jimin stands beside you, his presence a constant source of strength, but you can’t help but feel the apprehension growing inside you.

Taehyung approaches you with a sympathetic smile. 

“Y/N, I’ve arranged a few appointments with a psychologist for you,” he says gently, handing you a small card. “She specializes in sexual trauma and can help you work through everything you’ve been through.” 

You take the card, trying to hold back the emotions that threaten to spill over. 

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you say softly. Feeling your heart warm at his kindness, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

Taehyung nods, his eyes filled with empathy, “Just take it one step at a time,” he advises. “Healing isn’t easy, but you’re not alone in this journey” he assures you and bids you goodbye with a soft smile and wave of his hand.

You know he’s right, but the fear of facing your trauma head-on still lingers. The thought of reliving those harrowing moments again fills you with dread. Jimin senses your unease and pulls you into a comforting embrace. 

“You don’t have to do this alone” he whispers, his voice soothing.

You find comfort in his words, knowing that he’ll be there every step of the way. As you leave the hospital, you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you; relief to be out of that place, anxiety about the therapy sessions, and gratitude for the support you have gotten so far.

As you step into Jimin’s home, a mixture of relief and vulnerability washes over you. The walls seem warmer, the air more comforting, and the thought of having Jimin nearby offers a sense of security you haven’t felt in a long time. 

You can’t help but feel grateful for his unwavering support.

Jimin leads you to the guest bedroom, its inviting decor and cozy atmosphere offering a stark contrast to the horrors you’ve endured. The room feels like a sanctuary, a place where you can begin to heal. You thank him softly, words barely escaping your lips as you try to convey the depth of your gratitude.

“I want you to feel at home here,” Jimin says with a tender smile. 

“Take all the time you need, and remember, I’m right across the hall if you need anything, okay?” 

His reassurance soothes the residual anxiety that clings to you like a shadow. You nod, a sense of trust growing between you and Jimin, knowing that he’ll always be here to catch you when you stumble.

“I’ve taken a few days off work to help you settle in. I hope that’s okay” he explains as you follow him into the hallway. 

“That’s very sweet of you Jimin” you feel a blush creep up on your face, as your heart feels full of love with his kind actions.

As Jimin gives you the rest of the tour of his home, you can’t help but marvel at the simple yet elegant design that surrounds you. 

Each room holds its unique charm, and you find yourself drawn to the minimalistic aesthetic that exudes a sense of tranquility. 

The bathrooms feel like a serene oasis, adorned with white and blue tiles that create a soothing ambiance. You imagine yourself soaking in the bathtub, letting the worries of the day dissolve in the warm water. 

The guest rooms, tough simple, offer a cozy retreat. 

His home office is a testament to his dedication and hard work, with a touch of understated elegance in the dark gray hues that enhance the room. It’s a place where he has likely spent countless hours diligently pursuing his career as a police officer and now detective. 

Moving into the heart of the house, the open floor plan of the kitchen, living, and dining room leaves you in awe. 

The kitchen, with its white and wooden accents, feels like the heart of the home, a place where love and warmth fill the air. The wooden tabletop and thick black metal legs of the dining table strike a perfect balance between rustic and modern, inviting you to gather around for shared meals and laughter. 

The living room, with its magnificent dark green couch, beckons you to sink into its comforting embrace. As you envision spending cozy nights here, watching movies or simply enjoying each other’s company, you feel a sense of belonging settling in your heart.

Throughout the tour, Jimin’s excitement and pride in his home are palpable. 

It’s evident that he has put love and care into every corner, turning his house into a home - a place of comfort and refuge, not just for himself, but for those he cares about.

As you continue to explore the rooms, you can’t help but appreciate the changes he’s made since the last time you visited. It’s a reflection of how he’s grown, just as you have, over the years.

“This place is beautiful, Jimin,” you finally say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “I can see how much effort and love you’ve put into making it your own.”

A soft smile graces his lips and he looks around the familiar space with newfound pride. “Thank you, Y/N” he replies. “I’m glad you like it. And I hope you’ll feel at home here too.”

You nod, feeling the burden of your past gradually lifting as you step into this new chapter of your life. This house, with its comforting embrace and the man standing beside you, promises a future filled with hope, love, and healing.

“Did you renovate it? I don’t remember it looking like this when we were kids” you inquire, genuinely curious about the transformation.

“Yeah, I did it myself,” Jimin replies with a proud smile, his hands finding refuge in his pockets.

“It’s really stunning! I also liked how your parents kept it before. But this looks so modern,” you point out, acknowledging the aesthetic choices he’s made.

As you stand in the kitchen, you can’t help but notice the emotions flickering in his eyes when you mention his parents. Sensing there’s a deeper story behind the changes, you ask, “How come your parents don’t live here anymore?”.

His eyes hold a mixture of nostalgia and pain as he reveals, “My dad died of cancer three years ago. My mom couldn’t keep up with the big house, so I bought it from her, and she lives in a small apartment in the city insead.”

You feel a pang of sorrow for him and his family, realizing the significance of this home in their lives and the changes they’ve had to endure. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” you say, offering genuine condolences.

“How were you supposed to know?” Jimin chuckles softly, his laughter carrying a hint of vulnerability. “It’s okay, really. You couldn’t have known.”

His ability to lighten the mood in such a sensitive moment surprises you, but it also speaks volumes about his resilience. Jimin seems to create an atmosphere of ease around topics that could be emotionally overwhelming, and you can’t help but appreciate his ability to find comfort even in the face of loss.

The rest of the day rushes by in a blur of conversation and laughter, leaving you with little time to process the burden of your emotions or even the movies you watched together on Jimin’s TV. The comfort of his company and the safe haven of his home envelop you like a warm embrace.

As the hours pass, you find yourself relaxing in Jimin’s presence, your guard slowly lowering. 

When a low rumbling sound fills the living room, you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Are you hungry, Y/N?” Jimin asks, amused by the hungry protests of your stomach. 

He tries to suppress his grin with his hands, but the laughter bubbling from him is unmistakable. Cursing your traitorous stomach internally, you can’t help but nod in defeat. It seems your body is making its desires known without your consent. 

Jimin assures you that he has some leftover lasagna, and your mouth waters at the thought. As he brings the steaming dish to the table, the savory aroma fills the room, making your stomach growl even louder in anticipation.

Taking your first bite, you’re pleasantly surprised at how delicious it tastes, and a satisfied ‘mmmmh’ escapes your lips. 

Jimin cuckles in response, his eyes twinkling with joy at your enjoyment. You can see the genuine happiness in his face as he watches you savor the meal.

“I take it you like it. I’m glad,” he says with a hint of pride, his own plate half-empty as he eats alongside you. 

You nod enthusiastically, your mouth full, and give him a thumbs-up to emphasize your approval. As you continue eating, the conversation flows effortlessly, and the laughter comes easily. 

Jimin’s ability to make you feel at ease and comforted shines through, and you find yourself opening up more than you ever thought possible. As the evening wears on, you realize that time has flown by, and you can’t help but wonder how you could feel so comfortable and at home with someone you’ve been apart from for so long. 

But in Jimin’s presence, it feels like you’re rediscovering a piece of yourself that you thought was lost forever.

As the night deepens, it becomes apparent that sleep is elusive, no matter how much you try to coax it. 

An odd sense of anxiety grips you tightly, and you find yourself restless and uneasy. 

You can’t quite understand the reason behind these sudden jitters, especially since you’ve slept over at Jimin’s place countless times in your younger days, but together is different; the weight of your past trauma seems to be pressing heavily on your mind.

Jimin, ever the perceptive friend, picks up on your unease. 

He offers a comforting reassurance, assuring you that you can always knock on his door if you need anything. His touch on your hand feels like a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty, offering a sense of calm amidst the turmoil of emotions.

With a grateful smile, you bid him goodnight and retreat to your designated room. 

But once you’re alone, your mind becomes a battleground of thoughts and emotions. The reality of what has happened to you, the journey of healing that lies ahead, and the uncertainty of the future all bombard your consciousness like a relentless freight train. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, you mind spinning with questions and fears. 

How will you find the strength to heal? Will you ever be able to overcome the haunting memories? Can you ever trust again after such a traumatic experience?

The silence of the night only amplifies the cacophony in your head. The ceiling above you becomes a canvas for your restless mind, and you find yourself staring blankly, unable to shut off the overwhelming thoughts.

Every creak and rustle in the house feels magnified, and your heart races with each little noise. Despite Jimin’s presence just across the hall, the fear of facing the darkness alone feels suffocating. 

You try to remind yourself that he’s there for you, but your mind is stubborn, refusing to relinquish its grip on the fear that has taken root in your heart.

Hours pass, but sleep remains elusive. 

The minutes stretch into eternity, and you’re left feeling like a prisoner of your own mind. 

The night feels like a never-ending struggle between the desire for rest and the fear of letting your guard down. 

The morning sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over everything in the room. 

The pleasant aroma of pancakes fills the air, offering a momentary distraction from the weariness that clings to your body. But no matter how hard you try to revive yourself, the undereye bags and puffy eyes persist, bearing witness to the restless night that robbed you of much-needed sleep.

You walk into the kitchen where Jimin’s cheerful voice breaks through the haze of exhaustion, greeting you with a bright smile as he expertly flips pancakes on the stove. 

“Good morning, Y/N, did you sleep well?” he asks, his voice a melody of kindness and warmth. Despite his cheerfulness, his eyes widen in concern as they meet your tired gaze. 

He instinctively knows something is amiss.

You can’t help but sigh in response, slumping onto one of the wooden bar stools. Your body feels heavy, burdened by the weight of a night spent wrestling with haunting memories. 

“Not really,” you admit, your voice tinged with fatigue and vulnerability.

Jimin’s eyes soften with sympathy, and he gently scolds you for not reaching out for company when sleep eluded you. 

“My brain just wouldn’t shut off,” you confess, a hint of frustration seeping into your voice.

“I kept thinking about the past and all the stuff that I missed… about my future too,” you bury your face in your hands, seeking solace from the exhaustion that permeates your body.

In this vulnerable moment, you find comfort in Jimin’s presence. It’s as if his caring demeanor and genuine concern create a sanctuary for your weary soul. He doesn’t push you to talk about the details of your thoughts; instead, he simply stands beside you, a steady pillar of support.

As the pancakes sizzle on the griddle, the aroma fills the air, intertwining with the tender atmosphere between you and Jimin. The morning light casts a gentle glow, and for a moment, you feel a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm inside you.

Jimin places a plate of warm pancakes in front of you, garnished with chocolate and jam. He offers this simple gesture as a balm for your tired spirit. 

“Here, have some breakfast. It’ll give you some energy” he says, his voice tender.

In that moment, you realize that this is more than just a shared meal. It’s an act of love and care, a way for Jimin to nourish not only your body but your soul too. And as you take a bite of the pancakes, you can’t help the blush that creeps on your face and feel grateful for having someone like him in your life - the kind of friend who stays by your side, offering comfort and understanding.

“It smells really good and looks so yummy, Jimin,” you remark with a genuine smile, appreciating not only the food but also the effort he’s put into making you feel at ease.

Jimin’s own smile widens, pleased to see you enjoying the meal he prepared. He joins in, savoring the taste of the pancakes alongside you. The moment is filled with a sense of calm, a temporary respite from the tumultuous thoughts that have been plaguing you.

But even in this tranquil moment, Jimin’s concern for your well-being doesn’t waver. 

He clears his throat gently, drawing your attention. 

“Maybe you should make an appointment with the psychologist, like that nurse Taehyung suggested,” he suggests softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. 

The sincerity in his words touches your heart. You can see the earnestness in his eyes, the depth of his care for you. His genuine concern is both comforting and overwhelming, reminding you that you don’t have to face your pain alone.

With a small chuckle, Jimin adds, “Of course, you can talk to me too. I wouldn’t mind lending you my ear.” 

It's an offer that comes from the heart, a promise to be there for you in any way you need. You feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, grateful to have Jimin in your life.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you reply, recognizing the wisdom in his suggestion. 

“And thank you so much, Jimin. It means a lot to me, all that you’re doing to help me,” a lot more than you would ever know, you almost want to add.

Later that day, as the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue through the windows of Jimin’s living room, as you stood there with Jimin, you found yourself facing an entirely different challenge: self-defense. 

Jimin stressed the value in being able to defend yourself, should you ever need it (especially with your perpetrator still at large). 

It is a practical and necessary step, given the circumstances. Jimin’s concern for your safety is evident. And you appreciate his determination to empower you. The seriousness of the situation loomed over you, but Jimin’s presence was a reassuring anchor.

“Alright, pay close attention,” Jimin says, his voice steady and encouraging. His arms gently wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against his solid frame. Feeling his heartbeat against your back brings a sense of flutters and comfort as you listen intently to his instructions and you already feel your breath quicken.

“First, if someone tries to choke you from behind, you need to act quickly,” he explains. 

“Use your elbows to strike their ribs or stomach. It forces them to loosen their grip.” 

As he demonstrates the movement, his arm guides your own, helping you to mimic the motion. His warm touch feels electrifying, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Your elbow hits his arms, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he adjusts the pressure. 

“Good job” he praises you, a smile evident in his voice. Jimin’s encouraging words spurs you on, and you feel your confidence growing with each practiced movement. 

“Remember,” he says, his tone becoming more serious, “Don’t hesitate to use your elbow, knees, and even your fists if necessary. Your safety comes first.”  

He demonstrates the proper stance, weight distribution, and how to strike effectively without injuring yourself. As he continues to teach you, you find yourself amazed at his patience and skill. 

He moves with fluidity, demonstrating each technique with precision. It must be his dancing major, that gives him so much grace. You are entranced by his elegance and register your heartbeat quicken and your breath shorten. 

While the situation was serious, his lighthearted spirit shone through as he let you practice some kicks on him. 

“Nice kick!” he grinned, clearly impressed by your progress. 

“But keep your balance steady. You don’t want to lose it and give your attacker an advantage.”

With Jimin’s guidance, you practice each move diligently. It was physically demanding, and hard to keep your mind off his strong muscles, but his presence and encouragement made the experience far more manageable. 

He patiently corrects your posture and movements, helping you understand the importance of control and awareness.

As the session is nearing its end, Jimin demonstrates one final move. 

“And if you ever find yourself cornered,” he said, “A quick powerful kick to the groin can create the opening you need to escape.” 

With a nod you chuckle nervously, and take a step back and mimic the movement from earlier, visualizing the scenario in your mind. 

“Trust me,” he says, meeting your eyes with a serious expression, “It’s a highly effective move.”

Jimin’s eyes twinkle with pride as you execute the move with determination. 

“You’re doing great, Y/N,” he says, his voice gentle yet resolute. “Learning self-defense is about feeling empowered and in control. It’s not about being invincible, but knowing you have options.”

As you walk into the living room, a sense of excitement fills you. 

“I’ve made an appointment with the psychologist, and she actually had a spot for me tomorrow morning because someone canceled theirs,” you share with a bright and hopeful tone, eager to let Jimin know about the progress you’ve made.

Jimin’s attention shifts from the movie he’s watching, and he turns to face you, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness for you. 

“That’s nice, Y/N,” he responds with a warm smile. But it doesn’t end there; he takes it a step further, showing his unwavering support and care for you. 

“I can drive you tomorrow and wait for you so you don’t have to go alone,” he offers, reaching out to envelop you in a comforting hug. His embrace feels like a safe haven, grounding you amidst uncertainties that lie ahead. He is warm and soft, making your heart flutter. 

It’s a gesture that speaks volumes about his dedication as a friend, and you feel grateful for having him by your side during this journey of healing.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you murmur, your voice tinged with sincerity. 

“Having you there with me means the world,” you hug him back, relishing in his embrace longer than friends probably should, but you can't help yourself.

He pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he gazes into your eyes, his own filled with compassion. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N,” he replies softly. 

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what”. In that moment, you know that his words are not just empty promises; they hold true weight and meaning. He’s proven time and again that he’ll go above and beyond to support and protect you, and his presence has become an anchor in your life.

As Jimin’s arms envelop you in another warm and comforting hug, your heart races with a mixture of emotions. The familiar touch of his hands against your back sends tingles down your spine, and you can’t help but yearn for more. 

But as much as you cherish his affection, you know the depths of your feelings go beyond mere friendship. Throughout the years, you’ve hidden your unrequited love for Jimin, fearing that revealing it would jeopardize the precious bond you share. 

You’ve watched from the sidelines as he laughed, smiled, and even dated others, all the while silently nursing your love for him. Now, being back in his embrace, your feelings resurface with a vengeance, and it’s becoming harder to suppress them.

Jimin’s genuine kindness and the way he selflessly cares for you only deepen the chasm in your heart. You find yourself yearning for more than just his friendship, craving a connection that goes beyond what you’ve ever shared. 

But the fear of rejection and the potential loss of his friendship weigh heavily on you.

As his scent fills your senses, you can’t help but wonder if he could ever feel the same way about you. 

The thought of confessing your feelings terrifies you, and you push it to the back of your mind, trying to focus on the present moment instead. 

Yet, the trauma you’ve endured has left a mark on your soul, casting a shadow over your emotions. The assault and abuse have stirred up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, making it harder to decipher what is real and what is merely a product of your pain.

As you bury your face in his hair, you cling to the familiar comfort he provides, but you can’t help but feel the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. 

The tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, and you take deep breaths to regain control.

As the movie’s scenes play out on the screen, you find it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything but the warmth of Jimin’s body pressed against your own. 

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and each breath feels shallow as his proximity sends a surge of electricity through you. It takes all your willpower to remain composed and not let your feelings betray you.

Jimin’s closeness is both a blessing and a curse. 

On one hand, you relish the feeling of his body so close to yours, a sensation you’ve secretly yearned for. 

On the other hand, it intensifies the turmoil of emotions within you, making it difficult to keep your composure. 

As the movie’s plot unfolds, you find yourself stealing glances at Jimin’s profile, mesmerized by his features and the way the flickering light of the TV dances across his face. 

You wish you could be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection and the potential loss of his friendship paralyze you. Every fiber of your being longs to lean into him, to feel his arms wrap around you in a warm embrace. 

Yet, you fight the urge, knowing that doing so would only deepen your emotional entanglement and make it even harder to keep your feelings hidden.

Despite the inner chaos, you manage to keep a facade of calm, smiling when appropriate and nodding along to the movie’s plot. 

But inside, you’re a jumbled mess of emotions, and you can’t help but wonder if Jimin can sense your turmoil. As the movie comes to an end, you take a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing heart. 

You’re grateful for the movie's conclusion, hoping that it will give you a moment to regain your composure. But even as the credits roll, Jimin doesn’t move away, and you find yourself torn between the desire to stay in his embrace and the need to escape the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

In the end, you opt to remain where you are, cherishing the closeness you share with Jimin and savoring the fleeting moments of intimacy. Though unspoke, the unrequited love you hold for him lingers in the air, creating an invisible bond between you two that goes beyond mere friendship.

The hours pass by in a blur, filled with laughter, heartfelt conversations, and a marathon of movies that bring moments of joy and escapism. You find solace in Jimin’s presence, his genuine care, and the comfort of being so close to someone you’ve admired secretly for years. 

Yet, as the day draws to a close, a looming sense of emotional exhaustion settles over you like a heavy fog.

The impending therapy session hangs over your head like a dark cloud, filling you with both anxiety and hope. You know it’s necessary, that facing your trauma is a crucial step toward healing, but the thought of reliving those painful memories is daunting.

As the night deepens, you find yourself sitting on Jimin’s bed, lost in thoughts. The room is bathed in a soft glow, emanating from a small lamp on the nightstand. Jimin, ever observant, sits next to you, his warm presence a source of comfort.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, remember?” he says gently, his voice tender and caring.

You look into his eyes, seeing the genuine concern in them, and you feel your heart clench. 

How much you long to pour your heart out to him, to share the burden of your emotions, and to finally reveal the depth of your feelings. 

But fear holds you back, and you keep your emotions tightly guarded. 

“I appreciate that, Jimin,” you reply, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your voice. “It’s just… I’m afraid of what might come up during the therapy session.”

Jimin reaches out, placing a comforting hand on yours, “I understand. Facing the past can be overwhelming, but remember, you are not alone in this. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

The tenderness in his touch and the reassurance in his words almost break the dam you’ve built around your emotions. 

You want to lean into him, to finally confess your hidden affection and to seek true comfort in his embrace. Yet, the fear of jeopardizing your friendship keeps your heart in check.

As you lie in your own bed that night, sleep eludes you again. 

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and the weight of unspoken words feels almost unbearable. 

You wonder if Jimin can sense the depth of your feelings, if he has any inkling of the unrequited love that resides within you. 

The therapy session looms ahead, and you can’t help but feel both apprehensive and hopeful about the healing it may bring. You know it won’t be an easy journey, but having Jimin by your side, even as a friend, gives you the strength to face the painful memories that haunt you. 

As you drift into a restless slumber, the turmoil within you persists, leaving you torn between the desire to hold onto your feelings and the fear of what might happen if you reveal them.

The morning air is crisp, and the first rays of sunlight gently kiss the edges of the sky as you step out of the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. Jimin’s consideration never fails to amaze you, and as you get dressed, you can’t help but think of all the little ways he has shown his kindness and care.

With the appointment with the psychologist looming ahead, you’re both nervous and eager to finally start the healing process. As you make your way to the kitchen, the aroma of freshly cooked breakfast fills the air, and your stomach growls in anticipation. His culinary skills are impressive, and you can’t help but appreciate his efforts to make your morning special.

He hands you a green smoothie, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles warmly. 

“I know you need all the energy you can get today,” he says, his voice gently and encouraging. You take a sip, savoring the fresh and invigorating taste of veggies and fruits, while feeling a rush of gratitude for having someone like Jimin in your life. 

Together, you sit at the dining table, and with every bite, you feel the warmth of his presence seep into your soul. 

The connection between you and Jimin grows stronger with each shared meal and conversation, yet there’s still an unspoken understanding that hangs in the air. 

As you finish breakfast, you exchange glances, and it’s as if the unspoken words are dancing on the edges of your lips. You want to tell him how much he means to you, how his kindness and friendship have been a lifeline in the darkest of times, but the fear of jeopardizing what you have holds you back. 

You find yourself lost in his gaze, unable to look away, and it’s in that moment that you feel a flicker of hope. 

Maybe, just maybe, the unspoken love between you is not one-sided. 

Maybe Jimin’s tender gestures and caring ways are more than just friendly acts?

But before you can delve deeper into your thoughts, Jimin’s voice breaks the silence. 

“Are you ready for today?” he asks softly, his eyes full of concern and support.

With a small nod, you find your voice, “I am, and I’m grateful you'll be there with me.”

His smile widens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand in his, the contact sending a warm shiver down your spine. 

“I’ll always be there for you, no matter what,” he says, his words carrying a deeper meaning that you can’t ignore.

As you sit in the car, the silence between you and Jimin speaks volumes. It’s not the awkward silence you had anticipated; rather, it’s a comforting one. You find solace in the familiarity of Jimin’s presence, and his unspoken support eases some of the anxiety building up inside you. 

As Jimin pulls up to the tall building, its glass facade reflecting the city’s hustle and bustle, you feel a mix of nerves and determination. Jimin follows you outside and you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping inside. 

As you grip the handle to the tall building, your heart races in your chest like a wild stallion. 

The weight of unfamiliarity and the daunting prospect of sharing your innermost thoughts with a stranger collide, setting off an explosion of anxiety and nervousness within you. 

You take a deep breath, knowing that this is a pivotal moment in your journey to heal and move forward. 

This is uncharted territory for you, but you’re determined to brave this new experience.

The reception area is modern and welcoming, but your heart still races as you approach the front desk. The green plants add a touch of serenity, momentarily easing the tension coiled in your body. 

The receptionist smiles warmly, and you check in using your new social security card, a symbol of your newfound strength and resilience.

Taking a seat, you try to steady your breath and silence the thunderous pounding in your ears. 

Your palms feel sweaty, and you quickly wipe them on your things, hoping to dispel any signs of unease. 

You remind yourself that it’s normal to feel nervous, but you won’t let it deter you from seeking the help you need. 

Just as you’re about to give in to the overwhelming anxiety, you feel a gentle hand on your thigh. You turn to Jimin sitting beside you, his presence like a comforting anchor in the storm. He gives you a reassuring smile as he lightly squeezes your thigh, his eyes filled with support and understanding.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” he says softly, and you feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

The fact that he’s willing to stay by your side, even in the face of your inner struggles, makes your heart swell with affection. As you sit together in the waiting area, you find solace in Jimin’s presence. 

The unspoken bond between you grows stronger with each passing moment, and you feel a sense of reassurance that you’re not alone in this journey of healing.

Your heart skips a beat as you’re abruptly brought back to reality by a woman’s voice calling your name. 

You quickly stand up, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through your veins. In your haste, you extend your hand to greet her, feeling a little self-conscious about the volume of your response, as you say ‘yes’. 

Her warm and reassuring smile puts you at ease, and you can’t help but notice the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“I’m Chin-Sun, your psychologist,” she introduces herself, her soothing tone like a gentle wave lapping at the shore. 

You exchange a fleeting glance with Jimin, silently acknowledging the strength he’s given you. With a deep breath, you follow the therapist into her office, leaving Jimin behind in the waiting area. 

You feel a flutter of apprehension in your chest, but knowing that Jimin is just outside waiting for you, gives you a sense of security.

As you enter the therapist’s office, you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. But with Jimin’s reassurance still lingering, you know you can take that first step towards healing and finally find the courage to confront your past.

Outside, Jimin waits patiently, knowing that you’ll come out stronger, and that he’ll be there every step of the way.

As you enter her office, you’re immediately drawn to the inviting atmosphere that surrounds you. Chin-Sun gestures gracefully towards the plush couch adorned with an array of soft pillows. 

It beckons you to sink into its comforting embrace, and you oblige, feeling a sense of calm wash over you already. 

The small table in front of the couch catches your eye, adorned with candles, tissues, glasses and a jug of water, a thoughtful touch to create a soothing ambiance. 

Seated on a chair in front of the table, Chin-Sun's serene presence envelops the room. Her warm smile and kind eyes put you at ease, and you find yourself feeling more relaxed in her company. 

The office is a perfect balance of tranquility and professionalism. One wall, painted a soothing navy blue, adds a touch of depth and serenity to the space, while the rest of the room remains in calming white tones. 

As you take a moment to glance around, you notice her neatly organized desk, equipped with a computer and other therapeutic resources. 

Chin-Sun picks up her pen and paper, explaining her preference for taking notes. It gives you a sense of comfort to know that your thoughts and feelings will be heard and respected. 

“It’s natural to feel nervous,” she assures, her gentle voice like a lifeline amidst the storm of your thoughts. “This is a place of healing, and there’s no judgment here. You have the power to set the pace, and if it ever becomes overwhelming, don’t hesitate to let me know.” 

As you grapple with the knot of nerves in your stomach, you can’t help but apologize for your nervousness. She leans in, her empathy palpable, and reminds you that there’s no need to apologize. This is your journey, and the feelings you’re experiencing are entirely valid.

“I understand how unfamiliar this may be,” she acknowledges, validating your emotions. 

“But remember, you’re here because you want to explore these emotions and experiences. It's okay to take your time and ease into it.” Her encouragement emboldens you, and you find the strength to meet her gaze. 

You realize that this therapeutic space is not about judgment or quick fixes; it’s about embracing vulnerability and allowing yourself to heal at your own pace.

As you sit in the cozy confines of Chin-Sun’s office, her gentle encouragement puts you at ease. You feel a mixture of relief and vulnerability knowing that she has your medical report from the hospital and will be guiding you through this process with sensitivity and understanding.

She leans forward with a calming presence, offering you both empathy and professional expertise. 

“When you are ready,” she begins, her words a gentle invitation, “can you start from the beginning?”

With each breath, you find the strength to speak your truth. 

As you begin recounting the events that led to your trauma, you focus on the broad strokes as Chin-Sun suggested. The weight of the memories may be heavy, but you remind yourself that sharing them here is an essential step towards healing. 

Chin-Sun listens with unwavering attention, her pen moving gently across the paper, capturing your words with care. She refrains from interrupting, giving you the space to voice your experiences without judgment. 

Her approach allows you to navigate the emotional terrain at your own pace, and you feel seen and heard. 

As you speak, you find solace in her empathetic eyes, and the vulnerability in sharing your story with a stranger gradually dissipates. 

You appreciate that she doesn't pry or push for more details, respecting your boundaries and giving you the freedom to share as much or as little as you feel comfortable with. 

The moments of silence that punctuate your narrative become opportunities for reflection. You appreciate that Chin-Sun doesn't rush to fill the void but rather allows you to gather your thoughts. 

As the session draws to a close, you can sense Chin-Sun's genuine sadness for what you've endured. 

Her compassion has created a safe space for you to share your experiences, and you appreciate her understanding demeanor. With just ten minutes left, Chin-Sun offers you the opportunity to ask any questions or discuss topics you'd like to explore in future sessions. 

You feel a flicker of curiosity and decide to seize the moment.

“Actually… I do have some stuff that’s been on my mind. Can I ask you those questions?” you say, sitting up straight, determined to confront the thoughts that have been swirling in your mind.

Chin-Sun's gentle nod and sip of water give you the encouragement you need to voice your concerns. You share your lingering worry about your captor and whether he might still be out there searching for you. 

The fear in your voice is evident as you whisper your words, as if speaking any louder might draw danger closer.

Understanding the weight of your concern, Chin-Sun responds with empathy, “I understand that. Do you have anybody that can help you feel safe while the police are looking for the perpetrator?”

You take comfort in her soothing smile as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. 

Gathering your thoughts, you find the courage to speak about the one person who has provided you with a sanctuary – Jimin, your best friend and the detective who has taken you into his home. 

Chin-Sun listens intently, acknowledging the significance of having someone like Jimin by your side during this trying time. 

She allows you to express yourself fully, creating a space where your emotions and thoughts are validated.

As the floodgates of your emotions open, you find yourself pouring your deepest fears and vulnerabilities to Chin-Sun. 

The weight of your trauma is overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill. Though she tries to offer calming words of reassurance, you feel unable to listen. 

The pain and trauma inflicted on you have shattered your trust in men, and you express the feeling that sex is now ruined for you. Images of your horrifying ordeal flash before your eyes, making it hard to escape the haunting memories.

In a desperate attempt to shut out the distressing visuals, you press your hands against your eyes, your body trembling as you curl your feet up onto the couch, seeking some form of comfort and safety. 

Recognizing your anguish, Chin-Sun gently hands you tissues and moves to your side, offering a comforting hug.

“It might be incredibly hard in the beginning. But it is possible to trust again. It’s also possible to have sex again, if that is something you want. Just take your time and progress slowly. Do what you are comfortable with and stop and voice your feelings if you ever feel like it or if it goes too far,” she says, her comforting presence providing you a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

As you struggle to regain your composure, you take deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and shaking body. 

Gradually, the storm of emotions begins to subside, and you feel your body easing into a state of relaxation. The tears eventually stop flowing, leaving you emotionally drained but also somewhat relieved.

Before you leave her office, Chin-Sun offers valuable advice, emphasizing the importance of taking things slowly and not rushing yourself into anything. 

She encourages you to communicate your feelings and boundaries with utmost honesty and to seek out the support of people you trust.

As you step out of the session, the burden of your trauma is not fully lifted, but you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. 

Trusting again may be a daunting journey, but with Chin-Sun's guidance and support, you are determined to embark on the path to healing and rebuilding yourself.

Your resolve to take each step at your own pace, honoring your feelings and emotions as you move forward. 

The thought of having sex again is something that both frightens and intrigues you, but you know that with time and support, you might find the strength to explore intimacy once more. 

As you contemplate the future, you recognize that healing is not a linear process. There will be ups and downs, and that's okay. With Chin-Sun's encouragement, you feel more hopeful that, one day, you will reclaim your sense of security and find solace in the arms of someone who truly cares for you. 

Maybe you have already found that one person, currently waiting for you in the waiting area.

As you enter the waiting area, Jimin's concern is evident on his face. 

He takes in your swollen and red eyes, the dried tear streaks marking your cheeks, and he knows that the therapy session must have been emotionally taxing. 

You sink into the seat, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion.

“Are you alright? How did it go?” Jimin’s voice is filled with genuine concern as he looks for your eyes seeking reassurance. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before speaking.

“I’m okay, Jimin. The session was good, but I’m just so emotionally drained” you say, your voice heavy with weariness. You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently, seeking comfort and connection.

“I’m here for you, always,” he responds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. His unwavering support brings a flicker of warmth to your heart, and you find solace in the knowledge that you have someone by your side who truly cares for you.

“I’d like to go home and rest now,” you add, feeling the need to retreat and process the emotions that have been stirred up during the session. Jimin seems to understand, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, let’s head home,” he says as you walk out of the building, turning on the engine and shifting into gear. The car ride is quiet, but it’s a comforting silence, one that allows you to collect your thoughts and emotions.

As you arrive home, Jimin accompanies you inside, his presence a soothing balm to your weary soul. He lets you rest and recuperate, offering his unwavering support from the sidelines. 

In the comfort of his home, you find a safe space to process your feelings and begin the healing journey.

It’s already Jimin’s last day off and he decides it’s a good idea to go grocery shopping so you don’t starve to death while he is working. 

You are not really the best cook, so it was a good idea. 

As you and Jimin stroll through the supermarket, filling the cart with groceries, the atmosphere is light-hearted and fun. Jimin seems to have a talent for turning even the most mundane tasks into enjoyable adventures, and you find yourself laughing and joking along the way.

“Hey, Jimin, remember that time we tried to cook together in college? It was a disaster!” you chuckle, recalling the disastrous attempt at making a simple pasta dish that ended up in a kitchen full of smoke.

Jimin grins, his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Oh, how could I forget? We set off the fire alarm!” he laughs at the disastrous memory.

You both burst into laughter, drawing a few curious glances from other shoppers, but you don't care. It feels good to let go of the burden of the past and embrace the present moment with your best friend.

As you reach the fresh produce section, Jimin playfully challenges you to a ‘vegetable picking’ contest. You both pretend to be food critics, carefully inspecting each vegetable, making exaggerated remarks about their texture and flavor profile. 

It’s all just silly fun, but it brings an undeniable joy to your heart.

With the cart now filled with a colorful array of vegetables, starch, meat, canned goods, and some treats, you make your way to the cashier to pay. 

With the grocery shopping done, you head back to Jimin's car, where he skillfully begins to load the bags into the trunk. 

“I promise not to let you starve,” Jimin says with a grin, pulling more bags in the trunk and giving you a playful wink. 

“We’ll make some delicious meals together. Who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden chef in you,” he sticks out his tongue playfully. You laugh, knowing very well that your cooking skills are far from impressive. 

“Well, with your help, I might just become a master chef,” you tease back, enjoying the playful banter like old times.

As you stand next to Jimin, watching him load the groceries into the trunk, a sinister presence seems to linger in the shadows, shrouding you with unease. 

You can't shake off the feeling that someone was there, watching, but when you glance back, the dark hooded figure has vanished without a trace. 

Your heart races, and you try to shake off the feeling, not wanting to worry Jimin.

“Hey, are you alright?” 

Jimin’s concerned voice interrupts your thoughts. 

He looks at you with a hint of worry in his eyes, sensing that something might be bothering you. You quickly put on a facade, mustering a bright smile and nodding, “Yeah, I’m good to go home.”

As you get into the car, your mind is preoccupied with the mysterious figure you saw by the carts. 

Who was it? What were they doing there? 

And most importantly, why did they vanish so suddenly? 

The questions swirl in your mind, but you keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to burden Jimin with your sudden discomfort.

The car ride back is filled with an awkward silence that wasn't there before. You steal glances at Jimin, trying to gauge if he senses anything amiss. 

He's focused on the road, but his brows are slightly furrowed, indicating that he's concerned about you.

You decide to break the silence, attempting to distract yourself and Jimin from the unsettling encounter. “Hey, what do you think we should cook for dinner tonight?” you ask, trying to sound casual. You hope that talking about something mundane will help ease the tension.

He glances at you, a small smile forming on his lips, grateful for the change of topic. 

“Hmm, how about that pasta dish we tried to make in college? I think we can ace it this time,” he suggests, trying to bring back the lightheartedness you both had earlier.

You chuckle, glad he’s playing along, even though your mind is still preoccupied with the mysterious figure. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan. We’ll make sure to avoid having the firemen drop by for a visit” you reply, trying to match his playful tone.

Jimin can't shake the feeling that something is amiss with you ever since the grocery store. He tries to play it cool, giving you space to open up if you wish, but his concern gnaws at him like an itch he can't scratch. 

He wishes you would confide in him, knowing that you could share anything with him if you wanted to. But as much as he wants to stay by your side indefinitely, reality beckons, and he knows he has to return to work tomorrow. 

The thought of leaving you alone with your worries gnaws at him, but he trusts that you'll reach out to him when you're ready.

As Jimin prepares to leave for work, a mixture of concern and guilt gnaws at him. He hates the idea of leaving you alone, especially when he senses that something is still bothering you. But he knows that pushing you to talk won't help; you need the space to process your thoughts and emotions.

He stands by the door, hesitating for a moment before finally stepping outside. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he assures you, trying to put on a brave face despite his inner turmoil. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he gives you a small hug.

You nod, offering him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’ll be fine” you say, your voice soft and uncertain. He wishes he could read your mind, to understand the depth of what you’re going through, but he respects your boundaries.  

As the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

The silence that fills the house feels overwhelming, and you find yourself wandering aimlessly from room to room, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that linger in your mind.

You spend the day with Jimin's laptop on your thighs scouring YouTube for funny animal videos which gives you a few good laughs. 

It helps keep your mind off the haunting feeling you feel inside. Your laughter is suddenly interrupted when you hear a knock at the door. 

Startled, you place the laptop off to the side on the couch. It couldn’t be Jimin, because it was too early for him to be home yet. 

You feel panic run through your body, but you force your feet to carry you to the door, unlocking it and opening it. 

In front of you stands a man in a brown uniform sporting a yellow logo that reads ‘UPS’ on his left upper chest. You let out a relieved gasp as you place your right hand over your heart giving out a low chuckle at your reaction. 

The UPS delivery man gives you a friendly smile. “Good morning Miss! I have a package for Mr. Park, is he home?” he asks politely. 

“Oh, uh, no, he’s not home yet. But I can sign for it if you want?” you reply feeling a bit flustered by your initial panic.

“Sure thing! Just need your signature here” he says, handing you a small electronic device. You sign your name with a shaky hand, still trying to shake off the lingering nerves.

“Thank you. Have a great day!” he says cheerfully as he hands you the package. You see that your name is on it too.

“Thanks, you too,” you reply, managing a smile as you close and lock the door.

You lock the door and walk back to the couch, dropping down with a heavy thud. 

You turn and twist the package to get some kind of information about its contents. You decide that you might as well open it, as it is also addressed to you. 

You go to Jimin’s home office and find a pocket knife that you use to delicately cut along the tape to reveal its subject. It’s a phone. A brand new one at that! You take it out of the brown package and inspect the case that reads ‘Google Pixel 7A’. 

You unbox the snow coloured phone and find a SIM card and the charger. In a matter of seconds, you have placed the SIM card in the phone and put it in the charger to power it up.

You let the phone charge in peace as you go to the fridge to grab some of the leftover food Jimin had been sweet enough to make for you yesterday. 

Then you go back to leisurely browsing through YouTube on Jimin’s laptop while getting comfortable on the couch. You have already spent hours on the laptop, watching random videos of this and that. 

But it had definitely helped keep your mind off things, so you hadn’t even noticed the time. It is already around dinnertime and you expect Jimin to be home soon. 

You hear a key being inserted in the lock, twisting, and then Jimin enters with a tired smile dorning his face while he drags his body inside. 

You jump to your feet, a burst of energy rushing through you, banishing the remnants of sleep from your body. With giddy feet and a spring in your step, you dance your way to Jimin, your heart warming at the sight of him. 

“Did you have a good day?” you chirp, eager to bring a smile to his tired face.

Jimin lets out a tired sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He runs his hands through his tousled hair, ruffling it in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“Yes, but tiring” he admits, the weariness evident in his eyes.

You pout at him playfully, determined to lift his spirits. 

“Well, you’re home now, and that’s all that matters” you say with a soft smile, hoping to convey your genuine happiness to have him back.

His exhaustion seems to melt away as he gazes at you, and he nods, “And being home with you makes it even better.” 

You reach out and embrace him in a big warm hug, feeling the comforting strength of his arms around you. He leans into the hug, his tiredness fading as he draws comfort from your presence. His scent, a delightful blend of musky vanilla and woody notes, envelopes you, making you feel safe and at home.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

His warmth and closeness ease the tension in your body, too, as if you're sharing the burden of the day together. For a moment, you both stand there, just holding each other, finding solace in the simple act of being there for one another.

“I missed you” he whispers into your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. 

You can feel your cheeks flushing red, grateful that he can't see your reaction with your face buried in his chest. You nuzzle your head against his sturdy pectorals, seeking comfort in his embrace, and he chuckles softly at the movement.

“I missed you too,” you murmur, looking up into his eyes. His tired gaze meets yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. You think you catch a hint of longing in his eyes, but you're not entirely sure. There's a depth to his gaze, a hidden emotion that leaves you yearning to unravel the mystery of his thoughts. 

Still holding you close, he presses you gently against his body, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart. His embrace is both protective and tender, making you feel safe and cherished. 

The world outside fades away, and it's just the two of you, lost in the comfort of each other's arms.

You feel your body relax in his embrace, the tension of the day melting away. And then, in a playful gesture, you give him a gentle pinch on his side, right above his hips.��

He jumps slightly, letting out a surprised, yet endearing, small shriek.

“I got your package” you giggle, pointing towards the new phone charging on the couch table. It's your way of breaking the momentary intensity, adding a touch of light-heartedness to the air.

He adjusts his head, following your gaze to the living room, where the package lies.

“Ah, right,” he says, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I hope you like it, princess” he adds, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. 

But as he utters the last word, your body tenses, and a wave of discomfort washes over you. His hand on your back feels heavy, and you take a step back, trying to create some distance.

He notices the sudden change in your demeanor and takes a concerned step forward, studying your face for any sign of distress. His playful expression fades as he sees pain and agony etched on your features. 

You struggle to find your voice, your body still frozen in place, as if trapped in a moment of overwhelming vulnerability.

The room feels suffocating, and you try to take a deep breath, but your lungs refuse to cooperate. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat resonating with fear and unease. 

Your mind races, unable to escape the grip of rising panic. 

In that moment, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, unable to flee from the intensity of his gaze. 

His concern only amplifies your discomfort, making it harder to find the words to explain what's wrong.

You realize you've been holding your breath, and you force yourself to exhale, hoping to dispel the growing tension within you. 

But the freckles of a panic attack linger, threatening to engulf you in their overwhelming embrace.

Jimin takes another step closer, his hands reaching out gently, as if trying to touch the pain you're hiding inside. But you step back again, creating more distance between you. 

It's not that you don't appreciate his concern; it's just that you're not ready to confront the tumultuous emotions swirling within you.

As the tears flow freely down your cheeks, your voice trembles with each syllable, making it difficult to articulate your feelings. 

Jimin's grip on your shoulders loosens, his concern evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead. “I–, I'm sorry,” you manage to stammer out, your breath still uneven. 

“It's just... a horrible memory came over me.”

Jimin's eyes soften with understanding, and he pulls you gently into a comforting hug, allowing you to bury your face in his shoulder. His embrace feels warm and secure, offering solace and safety in the midst of your turmoil.

As you regain control of your breath, you find yourself locking eyes with Jimin, his gaze filled with concern and regret. 

The atmosphere is charged with emotions, and you can feel the electricity between you two. Your boldness surprises even yourself, but it's as if a newfound courage has taken hold of you in this vulnerable moment.

“That's what he called me,” you repeat, your voice steadier now. “It's a trigger, I guess...” you gulp the realization down your throat as you try to regain composure.

Jimin's eyes soften, and he nods understandingly, his hands gently holding yours, reassuring you that he's there for you.

“I didn't know,” Jimin repeats, his voice soft and remorseful. “I would never intentionally hurt you, Y/N.”

“I know you wouldn't, Jiminie” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “It's just that... that word brought back memories I've been trying to forget.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” he says, his voice filled with empathy. 

“You don't have to face this alone” with his presence, the haunting feeling starts to subside, and you find comfort in his unwavering support. You're grateful for the breathing technique you learned in therapy, but it's Jimin's presence that truly grounds you. 

Jimin's hand finds its way to your cheek, gently caressing it as he looks at you with unwavering support. 

“I'm here for you, Y/N. You can tell me anything, and I'll do my best to understand and help.”

His words resonate deep within your soul, making you realize how lucky you are to have him in your life. Despite the pain, there's a warmth in knowing that Jimin genuinely cares about you and wants to be there for you.

As you lock eyes with him, you feel a surge of affection and gratitude. 

“Thank you” you whisper, feeling the weight of your vulnerability lessen with each passing moment. Jimin's embrace tightens, pulling you into him as if he never wants to let you go. 

“You don't have to thank me,” he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. 

“I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

→ Author’s note: I don’t know what happened! I planned to write like 5K words to get back into writing and then boom 40K+ 😆I don’t really know how I feel about this story, but I wanted to post it because I finished something 🎉If it’s shit, I’m really sorry. Also, I just couldn’t decide which hair color to give Jimin, because I love all colors on him, so I settled with black 😊

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[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 8/13/2024

i think i'm going to take a break from scifi written by men for a bit

listening

Ahmed Malek's Les Vacances de L'inspecteur Tahar, from the 1972 film of the same name.

if i can be really really real for a minute here the only thing i've listened to more than twice this week is GUESS by charli xcx but i don't want to have the same tuesdaysong twice in a row. this would make for an annoying end of year playlist.

i got an ad for a collected set of Ahmed Malek's Algerian jazz music on instagram. a session musician in Algiers, he made his name as a soundtrack composer with this comedic detective movie and was in demand for the rest of his life-- he's still really beloved in the African jazz scene, his works are super collectible, and his daughter gifted all his masters to a tiny record company so they could rerelease and preserve them.

it sounds exactly how you think a 70s cop movie should sound. impeccable example of the genre. instantly evocative. i wonder if it influenced the wider cop drama soundscape or if it's just an early example?

-

reading

many books disappointed me a great deal this week.

thank you philip.

the only comic i did like was Marauders (2019-2022), trying to get a little bit more into the xmen since my bestie has decided we're watching all their movies. this is really fun bc i knew who kitty pryde was, and she's a privateer captain who looks beat to shit the whole book. extremely fun and gay and swashbuckling, i placed holds for the other volumes already.

the two rogue and gambit books assumed i knew more about those characters than i already did, and had a heavy reliance on flashbacks and references to other issues.

the magic order was insufferable and did not stick its landing. made me worry about the characters and then feel really fucking stupid for worrying about the characters. i don't know why i keep trying mark millar books and thinking i will like them.

HOTELITOR had a very fun concept (mech hotel), but was a little more middle-grade than i was expecting, even from a teen book. very calarts visual style. very power of friendship will undo an evil corporation, which, i wish.

this little mermaid manga was not for me. and that's fine. most manga isn't for me.

we have to take a brief detour into how i store my books (poorly). these big middle shelves hold an unsorted mass, mostly of stuff i'm not sure i want to keep. i'm trying to be more thoughtful about which books i keep bc realistically i do not reread very often (if at all) and i am running out of space. as much as i love weird little scifi and fantasy paperbacks it would be cool if they all fit on one shelf.

here are four books i rapidly cycled through this weekend that are going to be donated.

Michael Moorcock's The Black Corridor, 1969, about a man slowly going insane in a spaceship fleeing a politically violent Earth with his friends and relations in cryosleep. not a very beloved Moorcock book among the Moorcock fans. this has a heavy focus on the rise of British fascism and i'm not now, nor will i ever be, in the mood for this. a shame bc this slim hardcover has proportions that were very nice to hold.

Thomas Burnett Swan's Where is the Bird of Fire?, 1970, three not quite short stories but not quite novellas about mythical creatures at the founding of Rome, Xerxes the Great's empire, and Britain near the fall of Rome. states very clearly exactly what it is on the tin and delivers it, unfortunately i don’t like any of the flavors on offer. every single one of these has the half-coy kind of sex scene common in historical fiction, where in order to represent the past accurately and with full verisimilitude we Must convey that they fucked nasty and had fun doing it. many times. unfortunately a middle aged man wrote these and our erotic sensibilities are Very far apart.

Glen Cook's Cold Copper Tears, 1988, a noirish urban fantasy. there are fourteen books in this series so clearly people like them. i found a lot of the Noir Similes a little tortured. "but kay isn't that the point--" yes but these annoyed me. also there's a rape joke i didn't enjoy on the fourth fucking page. i have very few hard outs in fiction and one of them is on-screen or on-page sexual assault or rape jokes in chapter one. i am slightly less likely to drop a book if it has rape jokes in chapters that are not the first but like. it’s still almost a flat line at 100%.

and the only one i got two-thirds of the way through, and which i partially liveblogged here,

Eric Kotani and John Maddox Robert's Between the Stars, 1988, the third in their Island Worlds series. it stands alone fairly well, which is impressive.

this book is good at differentiating a very large, very clannish cast, which is a hard thing to do in a political opera. people are often differentiated by little physical movement quirks, which a spy later uses to identify someone. it’s a lovely bit of business and definitely the authors’ strong points.

also props for two of the most capable people, an ill-liked matriarch/scientific genius and a femme fatale Russian, for being two of the most interesting characters with the most screen time, both on their own and in other character’s thoughts. unfortunately, with such a large cast and so many factions, the action is often split and meandering. racist in the very specific orientalist way cyberpunk eighties fiction often is, but uncommonly, they remembered Turkey existed and included in the orientalism?

severely suffered from a second act where it tripped over its own feet a lot instead of continued forward motion, quite honestly i got bored and tired of being hit over the head with various points. a very whedonesque quality of needing to comment on the political implication of something the instant after it happens.

this is not a subtle book, and it smacks less of an urgency to get a point across in as few words as possible and more an uncertainty in the authors of getting their point across at all. this is confusing to me bc this was their fourth book together and the third in this series. have some more confidence in your writing abilities. like, if you've already established your baddie as a fascist torturer who literally owns slaves and plans on taking over earth, you don't need to have him also say "Hitler was much-maligned" at a dinner party he's holding in a room full of hunting trophies where the only things on the table are red wine and whole game birds. you've more than established him as evil. the whole book is like this. it's exhausting.

not a book for me! many such cases!

-

watching

my brother was really singing the praises of vampire hunter d's animation and i was like, postapoc roaming vampire bounty hunter? say less! im already getting in!

i watched the 1980s version with some bemusement until he was like "why did you watch that and not the 2000 version." well that would have been so cool of you to be more specific, my boy!!! vampire hunter d (1985, dir. Toyoo Ashida) was still fun but clearly had way less of a budget than Vampire Hunter D Bloodlust (2000, dir. Yoshiaki Kawajiri)

i enjoyed bloodlust a little more bc it had a postapoc style i enjoyed a little more: showed me big manta rays that hide under the sand, big ruined radio dishes, and lots of beautifully ruined skyscrapers and fucked up highway overpasses. every time you see me post about a BIG!!! FUCKING!!! DISH!!! you should hear this schoolchildren "YAAAAAY!" sample from Jet Set Radio

-

playing

nothing much to report, a lot of grindy genshin impact shit as i try to clear all my map markers before the new nation drops at the end of the month.

-

making

the girls have three litter boxes available to them (laundry room/spare bathroom/utility closet), all in the correct and recommended locations, all with good sightlines and escape routes and all out of the main hustle and bustle of the apartment, all open top, all with the same kind of litter and the same kind of litter mat. they only use the one in my laundry room. since phil has had free roam of the house she has not used the one in the office bathroom. i asked my vet about this and sent her pictures to make sure i was doing everything right and the diagnosis was "yeah that's a little weird of them". can we spread the wear and tear out a little more, girls? so i don't have to deep clean the same litterbox every week?

[hidden-snow]

This was an old request I'd gotten on my old account. I don't remember the requester, though.

ꨄ︎ Love's A Disease ꨄ︎

Warnings // Angst, reader almost dies, reader just has a simple case of Hanahaki Disease

Word count // 1,926

Dictionary: Hufwe / air instrument

"You made flowers grow in my lungs and, although they are beautiful, I cannot breathe." ~ Author Unknown

He’d always been the center of your attention, the reflection in your mirror, the reason to keep going. Your crush was major, filling your heart and soul with life every time you looked at him. And yet, it’d always been rejected, unreciprocated, unappreciated.

As a child, you’d grown up fascinated in the world of the sky people, following the scientists around all day before returning home to your family and people. Seeing your curiosity of the world they knew, Norm had taken it upon himself to teach you to read. And you took off, learning to read at a fast pace.

One particular subject had caught your eye, though. Something that described what was happening between you and Neteyam. The Hanahaki disease, caused by one-sided love, where the poor, lovesick victim begins to cough up flower petals from their lungs until they die. The only way they survived was either if their love was returned or the flowers were removed from their lungs. And if that happened, the love for that person would be removed permanently as well.

Even as your obsession over this subject grew, Norm and Max often told you that this disease was fictional, something that many people had been obsessed with when it came to writing. It was purely used to twist the reader’s emotions like a knife to the chest, a subject that would never come true.

Sometimes, you could swear you felt the flowers growing in your lungs, clogging up the space meant for oxygen. Hidden in the privacy of your home, you’d find yourself hunched over, coughing as small bioluminescent petals fluttered into your cupped palms, tainted with traces of scarlet red liquid.

It was hard to believe this disease was fictional when you stared down at these petals that had emerged from your throat in your attempts to clear it. When your parents or friends questioned you, you’d hide the petals, claiming to have just found them while walking through the forest and that you thought they were pretty.

When Jake first caught you coughing up these pretty petals, he’d immediately raised an eyebrow at your nervous excuses, unconvinced by the pretty little lies that tumbled from your lips, upturned in a sweet, innocent smile.

He watched you closely when you were around him, as if he were some kind of detective on a mission to find out where the petals truly came from. Little did he know that his eldest son was the cause of the petals randomly appearing in your hands, overfilling your cupped blue fingers until they fluttered to the ground around your feet.

As time went on, your condition only worsened, yet you were unable to find a way to solve this problem yourself. You wanted the growing flowers in your lungs to be removed, but not in a way that would cause you to lose the reason for your whole existence; your love for Neteyam.

In the mornings and evenings, you’d find yourself choking on whole flowers, watching as the bright blue rose-shaped blossoms tumbled from your mouth to your hands. If they weren’t plastered with your blood, they’d almost be pretty in a way, glowing blue that faded into a purple at the base of the petals, bright white dots speckling each petal.

Beautiful and deadly. That was the perfect description of the Hanahaki disease and your case was no different.

You didn’t understand why he treated you the way he did. You were loved by his family, his people, even his friends. With your spunky, sweet personality, mixed in with a surprisingly twist of stubbornness, you were a perfect match for him. Your mother often commented about how good of a couple you’d both be.

Not that she needed to point that out to you. You already knew it yourself.

And yet, anytime you’d ask him to hang out or spend time with you, he’d pass, using the excuse of training with his father to inherit the title of olo’eyktan one day. Then he’d stroll away, as if he already led the entire clan, head high and back straight. He’d never look back, even when you were coughing up the flowers, choking on your own love for him.

You didn’t know what you did wrong to make him dislike you so much.

Why did he avoid you as if you had some catchable disease.

You often thought he was stupid if he thought that he was keeping himself safe if he kept his distance. Hanahaki wasn’t infectious, after all.

Still you tried to catch his attention in anything you did, hoping for a glance your way, maybe even a smile or nod of approval at whatever it was you were doing.

Many nights, during clan meals, you’d volunteer to dance for the clan, something you’d mastered as a child, and your eyes were always on him. Yet, as you moved graceful to the beating of the drums and the occasional whistling of the hufwe, his gaze was pointed to someone else, anyone else, but you.

You were nonexistent to him and it was killing you.

Literally.

“Come on, Neteyam! Just one second of your time!”

You were getting pretty fed up with the way he seemed to be avoiding you when all you wanted to do was spend time with him like you’d done when you were both children.

Neteyam turned slowly, ears pinned in frustration, and he moved back towards you in that eye-catching swaying stride that only belonged to him. You couldn’t help but back away, practically feeling the waves of anger radiating from his body. He followed after you and you found yourself backed into a corner, your spine brushing against the rough bark of a tree behind you.

His hands slammed down on either side of your head as he leaned in, his golden amber gaze meeting your own, a trace of annoyance and disgust lacing those gold orbs.

“Why can’t you ever get a hint, Y/n? I know you’re just trying to pull some stupid prank on me. You and Lo’ak always think it’s so funny to play around with people’s feelings. I don’t want to be involved in it. So find someone else to follow around like a lovesick nantang pup!”

He straightened his back, giving you one last look over, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest softening of his gaze before it was returned to a strict, cold expression.

“Eywa, women are so fickle. It’s as if you’ve never known how to get a clue,” he sniffed over his shoulder before continuing on his way through the clan common ground towards his family.

You watch him leave, hot tears spilling over your pale cheeks, following the creases of your lips to drip off your chin. And with the tears came the pestering petals that always seemed to show up after he blew you off.

You could tell your little disease was getting worse, blowing up to a proportion so big that you didn’t know how to solve it. Neteyam wanted nothing to do with you. He’d made it very clear that he didn’t want you.

So why did he come rushing to your sickbed when he heard of your diagnosis?

Laying on a mat, too weak to move, you choked on the flower petals that clogged your throat, bloody little flowers flowing past your lips. Norm sat beside you, helping to clear them out as quickly as he could, apologies falling from his mouth as he desperately tried to figure out why this was happening. He knew what it was. So did Max. And Jake…

You couldn’t meet his worried, disappointed gaze. If only you’d found help sooner.

It was obvious that he knew. He understood exactly what your condition was when Norm murmured that dreadful name.

“What is it? What is wrong with her?”

Neteyam was pushing forward, shoving past the gathered people to sit by your side, witnessing with horror as you are struck with another coughing fit. The flowers were starting to get bigger and you were terrified. Terrified that, with each coughing fit, it’d be your last breath.

Your last chance to tell Neteyam just how you felt about him.

His hand slipped into your own, his palm warm and calloused, polar opposite from your soft, yet cold hand. He was on his knees, clutching your hand to his chest as if this was the last time he’d ever see you again.

As if he truly cared about you and your health.

“Hanahaki Disease,” Jake breathed out, moving to sit behind and slightly to the side of his eldest son.

“What is that? Is there a cure?”

The man you’d always seen as a father figure seemed to hesitate then, uncertainty overshadowing his golden gaze.

“It’s… kind of like a love sickness. We always thought it was fake, though. After all, the only cases ever known were always in fictional books.”

Neteyam scoffed, turning to look at his father, mouth open to try and dispute how ridiculous his father sounded. You were dying from a made up disease? How stupid did he think his son was?

But as he stared into his father’s eyes, words withered away like a dying plant, cut off by the despair that sat in those tired eyes.

“Dad, is there a cure?”

“It’s caused by one-sided love, Neteyam. The one who loves is the one affected. There is only one option. It’s too late for surgery. The one she loves needs to have feelings for her too.”

Neteyam turned back to you, clutching your hand tightly in between his.

“I need you to be honest, Y/n. Who is it? We need to know. Or you could die.”

You don’t know whether to laugh in his face or not. The irony of his words stung in your brain like thorns on a vine, not noticeable until it’s rubbed the wrong way.

Instead, you squeeze his hand back.

“You, skxawng. I love you.”

He’s taken aback by your words, doing a quick little double take. It’s as if he had never expected himself to become the target of your affection.

“Come again?”

His non-existent eyebrows are raised high on his forehead, mouth parted a couple inches as he watched you tug his hands towards your face. You brush your lips lightly over the calloused knuckles, trying to tell him that you weren’t joking or lying.

You loved him. So much so that you’d caught a disease for him. So much that you refused to have the flowers removed. You didn’t want to lose that love for him. You couldn’t do that to him.

“You love… me?”

His words are soft, hesitant, and you nod, which is more or less a flop of your head. You squeeze his hands lightly, staring up into his gaze.

“I can’t… I never thought you’d love me. I thought… I just thought you were playing with me. I…”

He looked away, as if just seeing you in this state hurt him. When he looked back, he was crying, tears following the crease of his cheeks to drip off his chin.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

What?

You couldn’t help but take a double take. All this time, you’d thought he’d despised you. That you’d been some kind of throw away person that he couldn’t care anything about.

“Say it again. Please? Say it again for me.”

He moved around a bit closer, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“I love you, Y/n. To the stars and back, I love you.”

[ipatrichor]

dead boy detectives episode seven thoughts

hey what if i cried. what if I lay down on the floor and curled up in a ball and wept and wailed my little heart out?? what then???

ohhh my god. oh my god. i've said like twice now that this show keeps giving me everything i've ever wanted but it just keeps being true!!! i'm going to sob how does every episode just keep getting better How do the writers know exactly what i want and then do it better than i thought of are they in my head??? oh my godddd this episode was devastating

hey i'm gonna cry. what do you mean edwin died scared and alone so he made sure charles didn't. that's devastating actually!!! he died in the dark and he was scared and he had no one, so he brings charles a lamp and answers his questions about ghosts and reads him a detective story with silly voices. what the hell that's so. i do not have words for this it hits so deeply!!! edwin is so deeply kind in a way that doesn't always come across because he's also a prickly bitch, and i love him so much holy shit

hell was genuinely so unsettling what the fuck. the spider MADE OF DOLL HEADS(??!!!?!?!?!?!) was bad enough, but it was such an incredibly good choice to have it appear empty on the way in and only be able to see all the suffering on the way out. it really upped the creep factor in the first part, and then really made the escape feel frenzied. very well done!! the imagery was insane, i really Believed that this was Actual Hell

actually on that point. there was one detail that meant so so much to me, in a way i'm not quite sure how to explain but will give my best effort. after edwin's conversation with simon, after they reach some kind of closure, the blue light implying that simon is able to move on in some way and maybe leave hell... if someone wasn't raised christian & subsequently deconverted idk if that stands out to anyone else, but. okay basically there's a conversation about how hell, by definition, cannot be just because it's infinite punishment for a finite crime. and that wasn't necessarily the point of the scene, but as someone who's been doing a lot of unpacking stuff around this recently it just. it hit hard man. in a good way! that scene actually means so much to me... god this whole episode is fantastic

crystal confronting daniel!!! my god i am so proud of our girl!!! yess take your agency back and regain control of your life!!!!! also jenny frequently being annoyed by crystal but still following her to a spooky abandoned area with a knife just so she won't have to face her abusive ex alone... god i love jenny. like yeah she's abrasive and kinda a dick but also she truly cannot stop herself from providing support to these two weird as hell teenagers living above her shop.

AND NIKO!!!! god niko was absolutely brilliant this episode... absolutely the mvp of the entire show goddamn, she really read the rules and made that the night nurse's problem <3 i love that for her so much. however i will say something has been worrying me. that magic 8 ball that's supposed to tell you when you're going to die has apparently been consistently saying 'outlook not good' and it's been mentioned twice now. and given that this show doesn't establish things like that and let them go to waste... i am Concerned. not to mention, the scene where it was her and the night nurse talking about zombies?? like idk it could be nothing!!! but also that is classic foreshadowing so i am simply concerned!!!

alright i got most of the immediate thoughts CONFESSION SCENE. HOLY SHIT. okay so i know i'm not super into confessions and i tend to nitpick when fictional characters behave certain ways pertaining to romance depending on whether the narrative promotes it or not (yes, i have a complicated relationship with romance, it came free with the demiromanticism. but also my partner is amazing so if written characters aren't that's just kinda a skill issue? lol). ANYWAY. this scene though was amazing. edwin tells charles how he feels, putting no pressure on charles to respond or feel the same. and charles clearly isn't sure how he feels- it doesn't seem like he's ever thought of edwin in that way before, and he's awkward about it but still assures edwin that even if he doesn't know if he can return those feelings, edwin is still incredibly important to him and nothing's gonna change that.

god it's just. such a good way to handle that scene!! literally everything i hoped for ^^ even if charles doesn't feel the same (which i didn't think he would given they've been hinting at romance with crystal and not building romantic feelings towards edwin the same way they've been building edwin's feelings for him but as always who knows) he still reaffirms how much he cares about edwin, because like i've been saying they're the most important person to each other and it truly does not matter if it's platonic or romantic!!!

i also love how well this lined up with established characterization haha. like, of course charles made a deal with the night nurse and leaped into hell headfirst and alone to rescue edwin, he's impulsive even when he isn't emotionally compromised and he'd never abandon his best mate. of course niko tries to connect with the people around her and ends up being incredibly helpful with a unique insight, that's what she's been doing this whole time! of course crystal runs off to find her own way to hell after being stopped from accompanying charles, she hates feeling useless and consistently endangers herself for the sake of her friends. of course edwin tries to convince simon to escape hell with him, he's heartbreakingly good and has spent the whole show trying to help people no one else can. it's all so... god, they are who they are and i love them so much

anyway i will leave u all with a funny thought i had. i haven't engaged with the fandom outside of my pal noble sorry if this is a joke everyone is already making

the cat king: i'll be here waiting when he escapes hell again, god i'm such a romantic meanwhile, charles breaking into hell:

[wondrouswendy]

Why Fictional CaseyWake Is Interesting

Back by popular demand (one person asking me to continue my essay), I will continue promoting my Fictional CaseyWake agenda. The Fictional CaseyWake tiger has escaped its cage (and is doing just fine, if a little tortured).

DISCLAIMER: While some of this post involves media analysis, I am not an expert by any means. I am just a fan interpreting things. Don't take what I say as gospel. Also, I am only working with canon presented to us through the video games.

Further, this post is not to discredit or attack FBI Casey/Alan Wake. This is just my way of explaining why this other version of CaseyWake is interesting to me. Don't come at me with a pitchfork.

As a reminder, this post was made with fun in mind.

With that said, this will be a much longer post than those I usually make, so buckle up buckaroos.

I. What's the Deal With Fictional Casey?

The Casey we meet in the Dark Place in Alan Wake 2 is not the same as FBI Agent Alex Casey. There are certainly parallels between the two men, they of course share the same name, the same face, the same voice, a handful of the exact same dialogue lines, but their perspectives on life, Alan Wake, and everything in between is extremely different.

In Abhi Jha's interview with Sam Lake, Lake describes how he decided to revive his love of hardboiled fiction through the Casey we see in the Dark Place. Alan has received visions he doesn't understand of the real Alex Casey which he has then interpreted and curated into becoming his own character named Alex Casey. At the time of this creation, Alan believes Casey came from his imagination. We later learn in Vision 02 that Alan was receiving visions of the real Alex Casey as his inspiration. In Lake's words, this is "an echo of Casey he has molded... turning the knobs more, going more into that hardboiled inspirations." He is a "fictional character coming to life" who is different than the "actual FBI Agent in Washington with Saga who does have similarities and potential of being pushed in that direction but not quite. More three dimensional. With real worries and all of that."

From this, we can extrapolate that Fictional Casey is an exaggerated version of the real Alex Casey and not necessarily a one for one copy of him. Fictional Casey's worries are therefore extremely different than his source material's worries. They live in two entirely different contexts and have vastly different people around them. FBI Agent Alex Casey had an ex-wife and currently has a partner he has a close relationship with. Fictional Casey essentially only has Alan.

Also, Fictional Alex Casey has a little hair floof whereas FBI Casey does not. Their wardrobes are completely different. FBI Casey prefers coffee as his poison of choice; Fictional Casey prefers whiskey.

II. Tropes of Interest

A. Hatemance/Enemies to Lovers

If you’re looking for a hatemance, the pairing has you covered given the whole “Alan killed Casey off for shock value” situation. There’s sex appeal in that alone, but I also think there’s this tender bond between Alan and his character which I will continue to go through later. Alan calls on Casey for help in the Dark Place later on. Maybe it’s on a subconscious level, but it’s certainly there.

In the QR code videos released by Remedy and added into the remastered version of the game, Alan brings up the importance of his character, Alex Casey several times.

In Vision 01, he describes how the Dark Place tapped into his "unconscious mind." Taking things and twisting them to ultimately create a mystery for him to unravel. He specifically writes, "I needed a detective to guide me. Echoes of Casey haunted me."

From Vision 02, he writes, "I saw visions carried by the ebb and flow of different dream states, they seeped in from the reality beyond, things I had a connection to but also things I couldn't possibly know. I used them in my writing to make it real so the parts that weren't would become so. And there were visions that I knew were not real. Ideas I had lost. Often of Casey. I had written about him for years. I use them as well."

In Initiation 2: Casey from Alan Wake 2, Fictional Casey introduces himself with no aggression. To me, in this scene, he is almost acting like a questgiver, an NPC you'd meet in a game whose purpose is to be the guide for the protagonist. There's no immediate malice. In fact, he sacrifices himself to the monster that threatens them.

Casey, who's supposed to be the hero in the narrative, is killed by the Dark Presence. Alan doesn't protect him. You could argue that Casey's final lines of dialogue in this chapter are a moment in which he's breaking through the narrative, implying that he's tired of being used as cannon fodder to protect Alan and to further him on his quest to escape the Dark Place.

B. The History Between Alan Wake and Fictional Casey

For six books, Alan exclusively wrote Alex Casey's story. I would argue that most authors do not stick with a character as long as this. Authors tend to write trilogies if they stick with one character. Often, authors tend to write a story with a character for the course of one novel and then in their next novel, they may shift that character to the background to let another character take the spotlight (this happens all the time in romance novels, for example).

For Alan to write six books worth of Alex Casey, he must have enjoyed it in some way. Something must have appealed to him. His character, the universe, the mysteries. However, something changed with Alan to cause him to not only kill off his star character, but to then proverbially shit-talk him during an interview with Harry Garrett (though the argument could be made that because this interview is shown in a dream sequence that it isn't necessarily something we can reliably trust happened in the real world; if this has been confirmed to be real canonically, please feel free to tell me).

You could argue that Alan killing off Casey in The Sudden Stop threw his marriage and his life out of control. Alan experiences writer's block because Casey's gone. Now this could simply be because the well of inspiration with real life Casey ran dry, because FBI Agent Casey's life had become warped because of Alan's novels.

Alan spends an undefined time with his character Alex Casey. Six novels worth and then thirteen years in the Dark Place. That's a lot of time together.

C. Hurt/Comfort, Angst, and Whump

Alan hurt Casey, personally. He killed him off. Not once, not twice. Several times. He sacrifices Casey over and over.

Casey's echoes in Alan Wake 2 are familiar to Alan. They guide him along to create suitable plots for his escape attempts.

Even though Alan has hurt Casey so much, Casey can't help but assist him with escaping the Dark Place. Even when Casey begins to question his existence, even when Casey starts breaking the fourth wall, he doesn't stop helping Alan.

This lends itself to juicy Hurt/Comfort, Angst, and Whump potential.

D. Alan Wake: Dude in Distress

The bodyguard trope. Casey arguably functions as a bodyguard to Alan in the Dark Place. Casey is always there for Alan.

I hear what you're saying. Is it because he has no choice in the narrative? I would argue no. He has a choice. We see moments where Casey questions his state of being, he breaks the fourth wall. He acknowledges his status as a fictional character as Alan leaves Zane's theater. He knows there will always be another case for Casey. he walks off into the night's loving arms and cheekily says, "Roll credits."

In my interpretation, there's a part of Casey that enjoys this life, fucked up as it may be sometimes.

E. Forbidden and Star-Crossed Romance

There is potential for forbidden romance between these two. After all, you aren't supposed to fall in love with your creation. It isn't real in the physical sense.

If Fictional Casey isn't important to Alan, if he isn't a threat, then why does the Dark Presence continue to kill off Casey? Why does it continue to separate them, as it does in Initiation 5 when Scratch takes over Alan's body to shoot Casey? It knows that Casey is Alan's guardian angel in the Dark Place. It knows that Casey has been useful in creating plot points to help Alan figure it out.

Further, there is the potential for no happy endings with these two. Of course, that could be a turn off for some and a delicious morsel for others.

F. Sexual Tension

In culmination, these elements of their relationship create sexual tension between Alan and Casey. There's so much potential in their history for romance. Charged moments in the Dark Place.

One could argue there's a will they/won't they moment in Initiation 5 - Room 665 when Casey is pinning Alan to the alley wall. Freud did say, after all, that gun's have phallic imagery. Take that as you will.

On a more superficial level, Alan can shape his fictional character to be his vision of the ideal man, the ideal partner. Or, conversely, his ideal fling. His ideal hot mess. Maybe Alan's version of the manic pixie dream girl is a hardboiled detective.

III. The Act of Creation as a Form of Love of the Self, the Creative Process, and the Creation Itself

Prepare yourself for a bumpy ride through my philosophizing. Sorry in advance. I'm sure others could dive deeper into these particular subtopics better than I could, but I want to just throw this spaghetti at the wall and pray something sticks.

A. Love of the Self

Loving yourself is hard. It's a platitude to say it, but it's true.

Alan and his character Casey do share some qualities. Depression, alcohol abuse. Often as writers, we do draw inspiration from ourselves to add dimension to our characters. Alan doesn't need to be a hardboiled detective himself to share similarities to his fictional character. Alan is destructive, angry, confused, self-loathing, and dysfunctional all throughout Alan Wake 1 and 2. Much of Alan's worst qualities are in Fictional Alex Casey.

In Initiation 5, as Casey lays dying from Alan/Scratch shooting him, he says,

"I was dead tired. I just wanted it to be over. It was all my fault."

Circling back to Alan's writer's block, arguably Alan being in the Dark Place is Casey's fault to an extent. Something happened to cause Alan to want to quit telling Casey's story. Perhaps if Casey had continued to be a source of inspiration, Alan would have continued writing his books?

Going back further, if Alan had never created Casey, his life could have taken an infinite amount of turns. But because Casey came to life through Alan's writing, because of their history, Casey feels some degree of responsibility for how events in the Dark Place have shaped up.

Continuing, he says,

"...I'd had this dark place in my head for so long. Sometimes I'd forget the pain was there. Like it was the way you were supposed to feel. I was not in a dark place. I was the dark place, the source of it all, the vessel. Me and the writer, we were the same."

Casey's final monologue in this chapter echoes sentiments Alan is experiencing. The overall metaphor of the Dark Place as not necessarily a physical or supernatural realm, but a state of mind. Some days are better than others. Some days, you're used to your pain that it feels natural.

This then relates to Fictional Casey's potential guilt. What broke down between Alan and his character to cause Alan to want to kill him off? Did writing Casey's story leave Alan feeling too depressed? Too gloomy as he tells Harry Garrett? Was it early signs of writer's block? A lack of direction?

Relating back to Alan, Alan and the Dark Place are largely one. He finds out Scratch is him. Scratch is Alan + the Dark Presence. Alan/Scratch has been the one haunting Alice, tormenting her. He is the source of it all.

Thus, there is a recursive relationship where Alan's self-loathing feeds Casey and vice versa.

However, there are positive elements of Alan's character in Fictional Casey and vice versa. Casey solves mysteries, he protects others, even at risk to himself. Alan has goodness inside him, but it is cloaked by his own self-doubt and self-loathing.

Alan so badly wants to be the hero all throughout Alan Wake 1 and 2 to save Alice (from the Dark Place and later Scratch), but he's struggling against his own narrative and the meta narrative at large. Fictional Casey is arguably the idealized hero-fantasy he has for himself, which is later realized when he sacrifices himself. He willingly goes back to the Dark Place to save Saga, her daughter, and FBI Casey from the Dark Place and its jailor, the Dark Presence.

B. Love (and Hatred) of the Creative Process

To quote a great tumblr post for the 100th time, the act of creation is like sticking your hand in a cylinder of irradiated water full of piranhas. At the bottom is a button, that when pressed, will give you the best orgasm of your life. However, the irradiated water is obviously toxic and the piranhas are constantly biting. In short, the act of creating something is a struggle. But when you manage to hit that button...

Ask any writer (and any creative person at large), there's nothing more enjoyable than being inspired and filled with energy. Writing a new story is exciting. It's often why people tend to have a backlog of WIPs, because sometimes creatives are always chasing after the next new rush of endorphins. Sometimes we fall in love with a universe, sometimes it's a character, an idea of ours.

On the other side of the coin, hating the creative process, I'll quote a tweet from one of my favorite Youtube video essayists, "I hate literally every step in the filmmaking process. The only thing I hate more than making a film is not making a film." Similarly, most authors state that the worst thing about the writing process is not writing.

Alan can't write because he has writer's block, and he has writer's block because he killed off his character, and he hates that he isn't creating. See the vicious cycle? He can't psych himself up for whatever new book he was supposedly going to write prior to the events of the first game.

C. Love of the Creation Itself

Even in Alan's nightmares, he has copies of The Sudden Stop stuffed into his car's trunk like that meme about the person who trips and has pictures of their senpai shoved up their sleeves.

Art is subjective. It's tailored to our personal experiences and vision. Alan (and on a meta level, Sam Lake) enjoy hardboiled detective fiction. Alex Casey is the realization of that love come to life.

Understandably, there are elements of this style of relationship which are not equal in power. We see these elements repeatedly with how Alan uses, yes even abuses Fictional Casey to further his own goals.

Yes, you could say that loving your own creation (no matter the medium) is masturbatory. It's self-aggrandizing. But loving something you put time, effort, blood, sweat, and tears just feels good. We as creators have a right to feel proud of our works.

IV. Interesting Parallels

I'm sorry to all my English major friends for the fumbling I'm about to commit with literary analysis.

A. Biblical

It wouldn't be a deep dive analysis if we didn't bring up the Bible. Of course I'm talking about God and Adam. Anyone creating their own original universe with their own original characters is playing God. Alan creates Alex Casey through the divine act of turning his imagination into tangible writing.

Will someone PLEASE draw Alan Wake and Fictional Casey in the vein of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam already???

B. Literary

John Milton's famous lines from his work Paradise Lost:

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould Me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?

Of course, Paradise Lost is an epic poem about the story of Genesis, but this stanza in particular, spoken by Adam to God can easily be applied to Fictional Casey towards Alan. Casey didn't ask for any of this. He didn't ask to be created, he didn't ask to become Alan's guide in the Dark Place.

I’m a sucker for Frankenstein by Mary Shelley so I regret to inform everyone we're bringing it up.

I think there’s some Frankenstein/His Monster vibes with this flavor of CaseyWake. I think there were moments where Casey resented coming to life, certainly much later on as he lives and dies over and over.

From his dying moments in Initiation 2:

"I remembered dying in this alley in a dream I had. He was just gonna keep killing me here, loop by loop. You're not gonna get what you want. You think you know. You know shit. You don't really wanna know. You're gonna get what's coming to you."

And then from Frankenstein:

"Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good – misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous."

Unlike his real counterpart, Fictional Casey has no one other than Alan. He has no friends, no found family. Arguably, even FBI Casey wants nothing to do with his fictional self. He is completely reliant upon Alan. I suppose you could say we the audience are his only true friend, as we function as voyeurs into his fictional life, much like Alan (but we seem to want to take better care of him than Alan does).

C. Mythological

Pygmalion and Galatea.

The Greek sculptor Pygmalion fell in love with his sculpture of a woman. He asked the goddess Aphrodite if his sculpture could become real, and somehow the goddess of love was like "yeah sure bud." The sculpture, Galatea, comes to life, and they live happily ever after.

(This is the part where I'll make a brief Weird Science shoutout since it's a somewhat similar premise).

V. Conclusion

If you have somehow made it this far, thanks for reading.

There are likely things I've forgotten that I wanted to talk about at some point. Maybe I'll have to make a part two if I end up remembering them.

Hopefully my essay will help inspire others to create fanworks featuring this particular version of CaseyWake. I would love to hear what others think, so please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!!

And finally,

[williamrikers]

The Undeniable Queerness of Enchanté the Series

(thank you @ranchthoughts for letting me ramble about this in your inbox before turning my thoughts into a post)

there are bls and then there are bls. right? there are dead fish kisses and there are characters who kiss each other like their lives depend on it.

and enchanté firmly belongs in the second category. 1,500-word essay under the cut.

there is such a consistent and tangible queer undercurrent to everything that's happening on this show and i'm not just talking about the fact that several scenes look like they could be the opening scene of a gay porno. or the surprise bondage. or force in drag. or proposing marriage in front of the eiffel tower. no, there's this aching, desperate desire underlying everything. theo has--in addition to his main love interest--four very hot gay suitors who all very obviously desire him carnally... this is some sort of gay manic pixie dream boy wish fulfilment fantasy and i am absolutely eating it up.

there is a vibe to the show that @ranchthoughts called "fanfic-like", and i would argue that that's because enchanté is actually fanfiction of the little prince. (i'm planning on making a separate post soon about how the book was referenced on and used as inspiration for the show.)

enchanté is fully aware of its own fictionality. it is on-the-nose fictional. but that's what makes it so much fun--it's not trying to be something it isn't.

take the reading memories segments in episode 4 [3/4] for example: these scenes were incredibly cringe, like, full-on bad-green-screen terrible-costumes-and-wigs hilarious-acting cringe, but fully aware of their own cringe-ness. (also, gawin was both in drag and naked in the same scene as two different characters, like. get on enchanté's level.) (incidentally, can anyone tell me what character aou/phupha was supposed to be? i got detective conan, monkey d. luffy and momotarō for the others, but i'm stumped on phupha's character.)

and that self-awareness makes it camp! there is such a level of camp to the whole show which feels extremely intentional (especially in the first two thirds), almost like a meta-commentary: "this is the genre. we know it's stupid but we love it here", and i adore that. they know the tropes, they know the bl landscape, and they're just having fun with all of it.

and the whole set-up in itself is a queer allegory, isn't it? theo and akk are "from different worlds", so to speak, hindered in their love not just by their complete inability to communicate but also by their forced separation as children. when they meet again, theo doesn't really belong anywhere, he's an outsider both in france and in thailand, he is unable to act the way thai society expects him to act (e.g. failing to show the proper respect to the seniors), unable to get his parents to understand him while being actively lied to by them (the whole ocean of miscommunication in that family deserves its own post), harboring feelings for his childhood friend his whole life but unable to voice them in a normal sort of way, instead falling back on concocting the most convoluted, immediately backfiring plan to try to make akk jealous and get him to confess his feelings first.

theo is fundamentally isolated because he grew up between two cultures, and neither one quite fits him: when he's in france, he is comforted by thai food and the only people he's close with (his grandmother and sun) are from thailand like himself; but when he's in thailand, he can't quite get used to the social conventions and makes social blunders, he is very slow at writing in thai.

it's such a poignant queer allegory in my opinion. they didn't end up making as much a point of it on the show as they could have, but it very much informed my whole reading of the show and the characters. there is a sort of inability to articulate his experience surrounding theo that makes him even more isolated and screams "baby gay in need of a community" to me. having akk share his experience at the end is something that i'm not a big fan of for other, unrelated reasons (might make a separate post about enchanté's ending and why it fell flat for me), but when looking at it through this lens, it is the only way for akk to really get theo, to really understand his struggle on a fundamental level.

which brings me back to that desire i mentioned earlier: theo desires akk, very much so, there are a whole handful of scenes where akk gets close to him and theo closes his eyes, expecting to finally be kissed by him, but more than that, he desires understanding. he often brushes off his own difficulties and has a tendency to be emotionally clueless (for example about his parents' divorce), but what i see most in his character is the desire to be understood, to be seen by akk, for akk to see him for who he is and to love him for who he is. (akk, of course, has been doing both of those things all along. he's constantly taking pictures of theo, he's watching him through his window--with theo's full knowledge--he is always looking at him, he's always loving him.)

it's not inherently queer to want to be loved as we truly are, i believe heterosexual people experience this, too, but in the context of queerness itself, being perceived as queer by other queer people is indeed a fundamental aspect to experiencing queer love (maybe not in gay for you bls, but i haven't heard of much gay for you happening in real life). not to be unscientific about this, but the vibes of the perception aspect of enchanté are just very queer to me, you know?

oh, and speaking of desire: enchanté in general is very physical. there is a level of intimacy between the actors and the camera that seems incredibly intentional: there are several shower scenes, scenes of theo and akk shirtless, TWO (2) nude gawin scenes (though one of those is sadly a fake-out and he is actually wearing shorts), many, many scenes that include bare feet, which is not something i see super often in bl, at least not to the point that i notice the frequency of it.

enchanté is very rooted in the physical reality of desirable bodies: theo is allowed to openly, physically flirt with saifa, even though that's not even his endgame love interest, phupha uses physical touch in his pursuit of theo, natee shows his obsession with theo by drawing his face/body about a hundred times, and akk and theo are wholly unable to keep their hands off each other. i've joked about the intricate rituals, but seriously, they are constructing so many intricate rituals. there are two separate scenes in which they make up excuses to kiss each other's elbows/arms/backs. they keep touching each other in a thousand ways, in every possible way they can that is still plausibly deniable as physical desire--until they kiss while watching that movie and then it's just a game of chicken of who will confess first. because their physical attraction to each other is undeniable. it's obvious. this was really refreshing to see in a genre that so often plays with the blushing maiden trope, and one character is so often made to pursue the other: on enchanté, akk and theo are equally horny for each other. it's not their lack of physical attraction that keeps them apart for so long.

(sadly, the show then shies away from actually getting very sexually physical: after their desperate, stunning, amazing balcony-kiss, they aren't allowed to be horny for each other in the last two episodes, when they're actually in a relationship. this is just one of the many aspects that i didn't like about the conclusion of the story, because you simply cannot tell me that these two as we got to know them in episodes 1 to 8 would really be as chaste with each other as they're shown in episodes 9 and 10.)

leaving that aside for the moment, let's talk about that kiss. as mentioned right at the beginning, when these two kiss each other on the balcony, it's desperation in its rawest form. these two--and especially theo--crave each other. theo kisses akk like he will die without him. theo kisses akk like he can finally breathe. theo kisses akk like he never wants to do anything else ever again.

i'm a bit obsessed with book's acting here, because of all the kissing scenes i've seen him in, i think this is THE most desperate one. force plays it a bit more subtle, but book's expression is full-on anguish. theo waited his whole life to be kissed by akk, and book portrays that so beautifully, with such depth. it's one of my favorite bl kisses for sure, it's played with so much heart, so much feeling, that it's hard to even think of kisses that compare, apart from the bad buddy episode 5 rooftop kiss.

anyway, all of this to say that enchanté to me is deeply, lovingly queer, and it's a shame that so many people are sleeping on it. (and that includes myself, i was wary about watching this show for a long time because i'd heard so many negative things about it.)

but i'm here to tell you: watch enchanté. it's wonderful, it's hilariously funny, it's endearing, it has book and force in it, and it is extremely queer.

[sid-the-sandwich]

The Obey Me! Anime but as a Mockumentary

This is part 3 of stealing stuff from other franchises (LOL), but this time I'm writing about the anime because I was bored and had another thought that needs to be set free onto the world.

I want to preface this by saying I LOVE the anime, its funny and cute; its very 'slice of life'-ie and the boys are all so silly in this version. but I want something different, and hopefully longer episodes.

So, what is a 'Mockumentary'? essentially its a mix of the words 'Mock' and 'Documentary'. Google defines it as 'a type of film or television show depicting fictional events, but presented as a documentary which in itself is a subset of a faux-documentary style of film-making.' Think of shows such as 'Modern Family' and 'The Office'.

i'm going to try and follow some of the plots in the actual anime but trying to get it to fit 22 minutes which is how long episodes usually are of this type.

i try to keep it condensed or we'd be here all day <3

I tried my best

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

i've decided to write episodes down with a formula of:

Ep 1- No Motivation to Study. (All brothers)

Ep 2- Ruri-Chan Viewing Party. (Leviathan)

Ep 3- For Whom the Belly Rumbles. (Beelzebub)

Ep 4- Princess Asmodeous is in Another Castle. (Asmodeous)

Ep 5- Mammon and the Dog. (Mammon)

Ep 6- Detective Satan. (Satan)

Ep 7- Camp Lucifer. (Lucifer)

Ep 8- A Trip for 7. (Belphegor)

Ep 9- Beach Babes (All brothers)

Ep 10- A Bunny Boy's New Years' (All brothers)

Also, i thought it would be funny if MC was the one doing the interview portions; of course, we'd never see MC, but it is alluded that they are behind the camera.

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

Ep 1: No motivation to study

Main Plot points:

A plot- The brother's are studying for an exam

B plot- Mammon's makes the 'miss em' doll

Story flow:

Plot A:

The brothers are introduced

the brothers are studying for an exam

Mammon is slacking off as usual

the brothers cant concentrate as they keep getting distracted

they want MC to come back to the devildom

The brothers goof off

Plot B:

Mammon makes the Miss 'em dolls and sells them

Ep 2: Ruri-chan viewing party

Main Plot points:

A plot- Levi grabs all the dateables for a viewing party

B plot- the rest of the brothers are hiding from Levi

Story:

Plot A:

Levi squeals in excitement which means there's a new Ruri-chan movie.

he tells the camera in the 'interview' how much he LOVES the movie he wants to show them today,

he continues talking and talking

Levi tries to find his brothers around the house but can't

he decides to find ANYONE who will listen

He finds Simeon who was badly hiding behind the couch, Simeon rats Luke and Solomon out.

Levi even takes Diavolo and Barbatos

keeping the dateables in his room, not letting them leave

he over-explains everything to them

He stops them from leaving multiple times, Luke even tries to fake an illness to get out

Even Levi's snake hides from him

Plot B:

All the brothers try to tiptoe around the house, trying to avoid Levi who is constantly listening to find people who would listen find others

The brothers express in the interviews how they love Levi... but they cannot stand another one of his movies

Ep 3: For whom the belly rumbles

Main Plot points: (I got inspired by the episode of 'Modern Family', 'Connection Lost')

A plot- Beel is lost in some sort of island. the whole ep takes place on the DDD interface.

B plot- Lucifer, Satan and Asmo are at Diavolo's castle

C plot- Levi, Mammon and Belphie are in the HOL

Story:

Plot A:

Beel scrolls through apps on his phone, somehow having internet access

he then opens his contacts and dials Lucifer on facetime

Asmo pops into facetime on Lucifer's laptop

Beel dials Belphie who is asleep, then he dials Levi who is always on his phone.

they all try to find out what and where Beel is

they offer suggestions but Beel keeps getting distracted

All it ends up, is that Beel accidentally sent himself into a game world after eating a game disc

Plot B:

Lucifer has to give a speach on behalf of Diavolo

when Beel calls on Lucifer's laptop, Lucifer was going over his speach as Asmo does his makeup and Satan was checking who attended.

they try to help Beel out of where he is before Lucifer gives his speach

Plot C:

Levi was chasing Mammon around the house when Beel calls

Belphie was asleep

Ep 4: Princess Asmodeous is in another Castle

Main Plot points:

A plot- Asmodeous gets sent into Levi's game as the princess, he loves it a little too much

B plot- Lucifer giving Mammon a driving lesson

Story:

Plot A:

Asmo and the other brothers are sent into a game

at first, Asmo is annoyed but then he realises he is the princess and forces everyone to do his bidding

he wants to be saved in a certain way, dressed in a certain way, etc

Asmo likes it

Asmo becomes like an evil dictator

the brothers revolt against the prince and they win the game

Plot B:

Mammon got a parking ticket and it turned out his license expired a few months ago

Lucifer gives Mammon a driving lesson

Ep 5: Mammon and the Dog

Main Plot points:

A plot- Mammon was turned into a dog, and Mammon runs away

B plot- Levi and Asmo had a previous fight but also Satan and Belphie had a previous fight

Story:

A plot:

Starts with Mammon having a dumb look on his face, his lips not moving but he is talking with the camera zooming into Mammon's face, Mammon then says "Hey over 'ere!", the camera zooms out and shows Mammon sitting next to a dog. Mammon is the dog.

Dog Mammon explains how he got cursed and then it plays out like the anime for the first 5 minutes

The brothers go out to eat dinner where they tease Mammon like usual

Mammon mishears something Lucifer said

Mammon leaves when no one was looking

The brothers in groups look for Mammon (Group 1: Levi and Asmo, Group 2: Satan, Belphie and Beel), they go to Casinos, clubs, bars to try look

Lucifer finds Mammon in MC's bedroom, they talk

Everyone resolves their conflicts by the end

B plot:

Asmo and Levi are fighting because Levi didn't include Asmo on a stream

Satan and Belphie are fighting because of an understanding when talking about the Anti-Lucifer defense league

Ep 6: Detective Satan

Main Plot points:

A plot- Detective Satan with the younger brothers

B plot- Mammon, Lucifer and Levi are taking Mammon to his driving test

Story:

Plot A:

Satan solves his brothers mysteries, expanding on 'Detective Satan' 1 and 2.

Plot B:

Lucifer and Levi take Mammon to the driving center

When Mammon is having his exam with Little D no. 2 as the examiner, Mammon is chased by a guy who he owns a debt to

Mammon tries to out drive the debt collecters

Levi and Lucifer chase after them in a third car

Mammon somehow passes his test

Ep 7: Camp Lucifer

Main Plot points:

A plot- Lucifer takes his brothers to a camp

B plot- Mammon and Asmo want to go to a party instead

C plot- Levi, Satan and Belphie just want to go back home

Story:

Plot A:

Lucifer is overzealous about camp, he's doing everything

All the brothers gather around the campfire, and each brother wants to get away.

When Lucifer goes away to deal with an argument Beel caused because he ate the next door camp's food

When he comes back all his brothers except for Beel have gone

Beel is eating all the food at the campfire, Lucifer pets him on the head

after a while of Lucifer and Beel alone, where Lucifer is just watching Beel eat, Lucifer goes away to wash his hands

the rest of the brothers feel bad, and return

Lucifer returns and sees ALL his brothers back around the campfire again roasting marshmallows

Lucifer joins them

Plot B:

Asmo and Mammon have big plans to escape for the night because they heard that a devildom celeb was at a club

they sneak out when lucifer is distracted

but eventually they return after a while

Plot C:

Levi, Belphie and Satan hide in the tents wanting to just rest and get away from all the insects and flies

Ep 8: A trip for 7

Main Plot points:

A plot- Belphie is sad because his brothers are treating him different

B plot- Road trip with all the brothers in a caravan

Story:

Plot A:

Part one and two of 'A trip for 7'

Belphie is just watching as his brothers interact

but most of the trip takes place in a caravan as they going to their destination

Plot B:

The brothers have a pillow fight and play cards without belphie because things are still awkward with him

Ep 9: Beach Babes

Main Plot points:

A plot- Mammon trying to get pics of Lucifer shirtless

B plot- Asmo takes Beel as his wingman to pick up some 'babes'

Story:

Plot A:

Mammon wraps up each of his brothers to help him in his endeavours

he asks Levi to dress like an octopus to catch Lucifer off guard

he asks Satan to place a curse of Lucifer that raises his body heat until he is so warm he wants to take his shirt off

he asks Belphie to create an elaborate trap but Belphie just throws crabs at Lucifer while not even moving from his place under the umbrella

Plot B:

Asmo takes Beel with the promise of food to find some 'babes'

Asmo tries flirting with some people but Beel is somehow doing better than him

Asmo finds someone from behind

the 'babe' is actually Solomon

Ep 10: A bunny boy's New Years'

Main Plot points:

A plot- Brothers as Bunny boys

B plot- the dateables come to the Bunny boy restaurant for New Years

Story:

Plot A:

the brothers have to be bunny boys to make up for Mammon's debt

they attend to the dateables

Plot B:

Season finale where the dateables recap the whole season

-----------

Yh... idk what this one was- i think i hallucinated half of it <3

[heartstringsduet]

5x08 reflections for mostly me

There's honestly a lot of things I didn't love about TK and Carlos during this episode. I really enjoyed the episode and them too and I always view everything through a lense of: people are complex and I hate nothing more than a universally good character. Still. - Did not love the way TK went about the adoption: this is not a decision he can make for his husband. Benefit of the doubt, he wanted to talk to Carlos about the day before, but Carlos was at work and came home late as he said. And I get there is some resentment building up subconsciously even as Carlos IS trying to be a better husband which I believe after the dedication last episode and the way he made a point of bringing up their day off. But those issues don't resolve in a short span and TK says he made his mind up about Jonah, and fair, he can, but he might have to consider doing it without Carlos then. - I get bringing up Gabriel's murderer even if it's unfair to keep on harking on something that hurts Carlos this much. I wish he would have said instead that Carlos should try to find peace with never finding the killer, should be able to live a life he wants but not in the same vein as the kids question. I think that part of the fight felt very in line with this season's conflict but then the birthday feels really disjointed. That is my biggest thing with all of this is how rushed it all has to be. It makes understanding why TK shut Carlos out for this hard to understand. - Carlos asking Wyatt to help with the case. Okay don't at me because this show is ridiculous about breaking protocol but I kept thinking Grace would have voluntarily helped Carlos. Wyatt had to be convinced and it felt like manipulation to me. Yes, it helped Carlos be involved in the case and he kept his name out, but if the Detective would have really been irked by it, he would have easily gotten the name of the informant and Wyatt would have lost his job. Idk why but I keep on getting hung up on that. Carlos has always been a cop and that is just something I can deal with in fiction, but the narrative of Carlos knowing no bonds in finding his father's killer doesn't have to sit right with me when it affects people I like. That's just my double standards and I can live with it. - The whole "Julio got justice" by his killer getting shot ... not prescribing to that form of justice but I do think it's in line with Carlos' values as a ranger/cop. So I will give them that. I will also plan TK and Carlos talking about justice one day because I doubt TK agrees. DID LOVE: -Jonah and TK playing together

-TK asking "who's gonna hug him"

-Carlos missing TK in bed

-Carlos checking in with TK and TK checking back in with him too

-Carlos HAVING to smile at the mere mention of his husband

-Carlos looking at the photos of TK and Jonah

-Carlos looking SO FUCKING FINE this episode. Like extra portion of beautiful sprinkled on him

Loved ALL of the 126 stories! And ultimately enjoyed the episode a lot but needed to get those thoughts out. Again, all said with an attitude of: loving complex characters and fights and drama.

[definitely-not-lying]

Opinions on everyone from the 78th class? :3

Mukuro Ikusaba:

I don’t really have an opinion on her... Never understood her actions, y'know? But I love her Ultimate! Being the Ultimate Soldier sounds so cool—just imagine what I could do with someone like that in my plans! Nishishi~

Sayaka Maizono:

She’s always so cheerful and supportive! Ugh, it’s almost too much! But her music? Totally awesome. Perfect for plotting my evil schemes! I went to one of her concerts once, and it was amazing! Can’t believe I actually liked it. :)

Leon Kuwata:

He’s pretty amusing! So impulsive and carefree—like, does he even think before he acts? I doubt it. I wonder if he’ll ever actually become the Ultimate Musician he dreams of... but hey, a guy can dream, right?

Chihiro Fujisaki:

She’s too pure to dislike! Honestly, she’s like a little cinnamon roll. And her programming skills? Way better than I expected. She’s so sweet, I bet she doesn’t have a single enemy! How boring~

Mondo Owada:

I gotta admit, he’s cool. Good leader and all, but not as cool as me! He’s got skills on that motorbike, and I can respect that confidence. But he’s a little too... predictable for my taste!

Kiyotaka Ishimaru:

I don’t hate him, but he’s sooooo boring. Like, come on, live a little! Doesn’t he know how fun it is to break the rules every now and then? But he seems like a good guy, I guess. If you like the boring types, anyway.

Hifumi Yamada:

No. Just no. He’s a creepy weirdo to me! I don’t even wanna imagine the kind of fan fiction he writes... Gross. And honestly, maybe he should think about eating a little less. Just saying!

Celestia Ludenberg:

Now she’s interesting! Manipulative, deceptive, totally my kinda person! She’s kinda like me but with a gothic twist. I mean, her whole vibe is cool, but I think I’m still a little more... entertaining. :>

Sakura Ogami:

Eh, I don’t really have much to say about her... She’s kinda boring, but at least she’s got that whole loyalty and justice thing going on. I guess I respect that, in a way.

Kyoko Kirigiri:

The detective, huh? She’s always on my case! So annoying! She’s smart, sure, but she could chill out a bit. I mean, what’s wrong with a little harmless crime? Nishishi~ :3

Makoto Naegi:

I don’t get how he’s so optimistic all the time! It’s almost gross, like, how can anyone be that nice? But I gotta admit, he’s kinda like a sunshine cinnamon roll, all soft and kind. Bleh, too likable!

Junko Enoshima:

Now she knows how to stir up some chaos! But she’s a little too obsessed with despair for my taste... Like, come on, there’s more to life than just despair! But her Ultimate definitely fits her!

Aoi Asahina:

The swimmer girl, right? She’s super talented! And I really wanna know how she eats so many doughnuts and stays so fast. I could use that secret! :D

Byakuya Togami:

The Ultimate Affluent Prodigy? More like the Ultimate Bigmouth! He’s so full of himself, it’s almost impressive. But I gotta give it to him—confidence is important. I mean, just look at me!

Toko Fukawa:

I’m kinda neutral on her. She writes some pretty good stuff, but she’s way too shy! She should really talk to people more... She’s probably super lonely. Kinda feel bad for her, but not really. Heh.

Genocide Jack:

Her over-the-top personality is hilarious! She loves chaos and violence—what’s not to like? She’s a murderer, sure, but I don’t take her as a real threat. Unless she decides to come after me... then we’ll talk. :|

Yasuhiro Hagakure:

He’s so simple-minded, it’s almost sad. And what’s with that whole 30% prediction accuracy thing? That’s basically just guessing! I could probably do better flipping a coin! :^