#it was nice but my back hates me and I really should have worn gloves (I didn’t know where my mom put mine) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aimfor-theheart · 4 years ago

Text

COIN TOSS– PART II

(18+ MINORS DNI)

PART I

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x Reader, a little Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY: As you fall asleep, you wonder faintly, almost sadly, if you’re the first thing he’s fully touched without losing in a long time.

You are Eraserhead’s troubled protege with a Quirk that cancels out others the moment they touch you. Tomura Shigaraki takes great interest in you.

(Enemies to lovers, a lot of angst, some hurt/comfort)

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, age gap/power struggle, violence, gore, Tomura’s trauma specifically, (in later chapters) murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, some blurred lines, rough sex, a smidge of a spit kink, a smidge of somnophilia (let me know if I’ve missed anything!)

If you are under the age of 18, you should not be reading or interacting with this!

A/N: again, thank you @randomrosewrites for beta-ing!! and thank you guys for the support and comments on the first part! here is your part two!! it's tomura heavy, but for those who love shouta, there's a lot of him in the final part! i hope you enjoy! let me know what you thought!

i also am obsessed with making playlists for when i write and i spend far too much time organizing it all and making sure the songs blend together so if you'd like to take a look at the playlist i made for this fic, it's here!

Read on Ao3

***

Shouta, like the responsible adult he is, soothes things out with you. Well, it doesn’t feel very soothed to you, but Shouta’s made his position clear and you’ve both returned to some semblance of normalcy.

He keeps his distance.

You try not to overstep, but you’re aching and furious.

(You’re holding a secret, too, letting it tear apart your insides, letting it turn circles in your mind until all you can think about is the chill of rain, the bite of a desperate kiss).

You hate that Shouta has retreated from you now. You hate that he’ll stop his hand before reaching out to touch you, like he always has to make sure, like he has to decide if that will be good for you. If you can handle it.

You feel shockingly alone.

You lash out at him more, bicker and argue over things you never used to. You don’t even know why you do it, can’t stop yourself from trying to dig into him. You regret it every time when all he gives you is impassiveness, levelheaded coolness. An adult speaking with an unruly child. He’s good at that, unfortunately.

Some days you want to beg him for answers. Why can’t you love me the way I love you? Is it me? How would you have me? If I was older? I can be more mature, I can be better and better and better–

His undercover work grows greater, draws him away from both you and Shinsou more. Shouta seems to ghost around your life now, drawn away from you, keeping a very careful space between you both.

But there are nights where he tells you to train with Shinsou alone now. You feel responsible. Mature. You glow with pride that he can trust you with one of his students, that you could be a mentor to Shinsou, too.

You grow closer to Shinsou because of this, too, when it’s just the two of you in the gym.

There is one evening in particular, when you’re both sprawled out on the floor taking a too-long water break because Shouta isn’t around when he admits that he used to be– still is sometimes– feared for his Quirk.

He tells you everyone expected him to be a villain.

“I used to be a thief,” you admit, “I was a petty villain, I guess.”

Shinsou looks at you and if he’s surprised, he doesn’t entirely show it, except for the lifting of his brows. You don’t sense judgement from him, though, when he asks, “Really?”

You take another swig of water, humming in affirmation. You swallow, “I was homeless, had no money, nothing. I was stealing from a supermarket when Shouta caught me.”

“You were just trying to survive,” Shinsou adds, like he’s trying to justify the crime, like it soothes him to know there was a good reason for a misdeed.

“Sure,” you reply, fiddling with your water bottle, “But I stole things I didn’t need, too. Just things I wanted.”

“But you’ve changed,” Shinsou says and you can’t tell if he’s trying to reassure himself or you more. “You’re a hero now.”

“Only because my circumstances changed. I was given a roof over my head, food to fill me. Clothes of my own that fit and weren’t torn. I was accepted.” You explain, “If it hadn’t been for Shouta, I would never have become a hero.”

Shinsou is silent, watching you.

“I’d probably be in jail. Or still a thief, in the least, if any other hero would’ve caught me.”

You don’t know why, but you think of Shigaraki suddenly. You think of how young some of the League of Villains are. You wonder if it had been them who offered you food and a home, if you’d be with them now, and not here, sitting on the floor of a nice, sparkling gym attached to U.A.’s dorms.

Something strange grows inside you, something a little bitter. It simmers with sympathy for them, for their lives. For kids like Shinsou with their villainous quirks. You wonder if he’d been poor, if he’d been alone, would he be here, too? Or somewhere else?

“But you were good before,” he says, and it almost feels naive, “I know you’re good.”

You shrug, “Good is relative, you know? I thought I was good because I didn’t kill people, I didn’t steal from other poor people, but society didn’t think I was good. I was still a thief.”

“But you were only a thief because you needed to survive.” he says again, “When given the chance, you changed and became a hero.”

“Exactly.” you say, “How many villains do you think just needed a chance?”

Shinsou goes silent now. His brows furrow in thought, pinching together in a way that makes him look a little too old for his age. You think all of the kids at U.A. grow up too quickly, all of them with too much on their small shoulders.

They’re only kids.

You’re barely older.

Shigaraki is barely older than you.

You push him out of your mind, toss your water bottle aside, and rise to your feet again. “C’mon,” you offer Shinsou your hand to help him up, too, “Shouta would kill me to know I let you lay around so much.”

This seems to pull him from his thoughts and he snorts, taking your hand.

You pull him up. And you both stare at each other a moment. You think he looks at you in a different light now and it isn’t bad, no, he seems to be pondering you more.

(And you’ll realize later that he’s become more sympathetic, that he sees you in villains now, reminds himself they’re people, too, with lives and needs and wants–)

It gives you a strange hope, as you begin to train with him again, to know that he’s the future of hero society.

***

Tomura spots you while he’s out stealing with Toga. Usually it’s Twice or Magne with her, but Twice was onto something else and Toga had decided to latch herself onto him for the day. He’s grown to tolerate her.

Besides, she’d managed to steal him a jean jacket, dark, rough, and worn with holes but it keeps him warmer while still being able to keep the hood of his sweatshirt up to hide himself. To blend in. She’d stolen herself something, too, as the weather begins to get colder and they still don’t have a base, wandering aimlessly.

(He feels stupidly responsible for them. But he’s learned good leaders are, in some way, responsible for their people. They don’t have to care in any way that is emotional, but they have to care in some way, make the group feel important to them. And begrudgingly, they are important to him–)

You’re with a boy around Toga’s age. Wild violet hair. You’re laughing at something he’s saying and you’re sharing street food, he thinks, something that’s warm, steaming up into the air.

He feels a vicious surge of jealousy for a moment. It’s so sharp and jarring that he reaches up to scratch at his neck, tearing into his skin.

But the boy looks too young and you tousle his hair like he’s a younger brother, not someone romantic. While there’s familiarity between you two, it’s not overly intimate.

Toga, unfortunately, follows his line of sight.

She looks between him and you. She tilts her head and Tomura can practically see the gears turning in her strange little mind.

“Do you know them?” she asks, almost innocently.

He doesn’t know why, but he says, “Just her.”

Toga looks back at you. She watches as you talk with the boy– the sun through the autumn leaves cast you in tangerine light, all golden and warm.

When she looks back at Tomura, a smile creeps onto her face. One that he knows is going to give him a migraine.

“She’s so pretty,” she trills, eyeing him too closely.

Tomura scratches at his neck again, harder, wincing a little when he feels a cut reopen.

“Do you have a crush, Tomura?” Toga sings, dancing in front of him to force herself into his line of sight.

“No,” Tomura snaps, bristling, which only seems to encourage her.

“Let’s say hi!” she says, about to bound off and Tomura catches her by the scruff of her jacket like a kitten. He’s wearing his partial gloves, but he still keeps a finger away from her.

“No,” he hisses, firmer now, pulling her back towards him. “They’re heroes. Don’t get distracted.”

Toga twists in his hold, wide-eyed for a moment, before her face settles into another enormous and excited smile. “You’re in love with a hero, too?!”

Tomura grits his teeth, snarling out, “I’m not in love with anyone.” He shakes her then and she yelps a little, “Now focus. We need food and I don’t want to deal with them.”

Toga finally squirms her way out of his hold, pouting at him, “You’re no fun.” she whines and all he does is shoulder past her. He stalks ahead, trying not to look at you again, if only to not draw your eye.

“Do you want to starve?” he asks waspishly, glancing at Toga over his shoulder.

She huffs, rolling her eyes, before hustling to catch up to him. She hums a strange little tune the rest of the time, knocking into his side, throwing him new looks as if to suggest they share some sort of commonality or secret. He grits his teeth but suffers through her torment.

When they return to the rest of the League with what they’d stolen, Toga announces to the whole group, “Tomura is in love with a hero, too!”

The migraine that had begun earlier in his temples reaches full force now. He doesn’t bother trying to deny it. He decides he doesn’t care.

Dabi’s laugh grates on him, though, “Is that so? Which little hero?” he asks Toga, and just as she’s skipping past him, he snags her, snatching the granola bar she’d had in her hand from their little raid.

She turns to grab it back and he pulls it out of her reach, “I don’t know! Give that back!” she squawks, clawing at him.

She must really dig at him because Dabi hisses, “You little twerp–” Just before Magne snatches the outstretched granola bar from Dabi’s hand. She hands it back to Toga, who quickly rushes off with it now.

And thankfully, for Tomura’s sanity, you’re not brought up again.

But he hadn’t noticed you– hadn’t noticed the way you’d seen him with Toga, too. Just a girl Shinsou’s age, following after him like an eager puppy.

Shinsou had trailed beside you like that, too, when you’d both walked back to U.A. with full bellies and new coffees in hand, warm and content.

***

There is a night where Shouta is out doing work undercover and you’re left to patrol on your own. You can’t take Shinsou yet, since he hasn’t earned his provisional license. You don’t mind these nights, by yourself, when you stick to shadows and rooftops, watching the city from above.

It’s cooler now and you tuck your face into the high collar of your hero uniform to hide from the wind that brushes past.

It’s been a quiet night so far. There are other, flashier heroes patrolling, too, meandering around the sidewalks to deter petty crime.

You check the time on your phone, noting that you have a little less than an hour until your shift is over, until you can go home and take a hot shower in an attempt to warm yourself up– especially your fingers, the tips of your ears.

You stretch, standing on one of the low roofs of a building. You’re stiff from crouching, so you decide to move around, change position. You use a grappling tool to shoot it onto a higher roof of the next building. You scale the bricks easily and once safely up, retract your grappling hook.

You look out over the quiet city, the golden light of lampposts, the meandering of cars through the streets. Some restaurants and bars are still open, their windows look warm and inviting with the flush of people inside.

You waste most of the last hour of your shift trying to remain warm, keeping a careful eye on the world below.

Towards the end, you notice a familiar figure in one of the alleyways down below. You don’t even see his face, just the back of his hoodie, just the angle of his shoulders.

Just the way he walks.

The thought should frighten you– that you know him like this, that you’re familiar with just the movement of his body.

Shigaraki Tomura walks away from the soft light of the main city, slips away into alleyways and darkness. You glance at the time. Your shift is nearly over.

This counts as hero work, doesn’t it? Silently following after him?

You drop down onto a fire escape– leap off to latch onto a lower window sill, until you’re dropping silently on to the ground a distance away from him.

You are careful to keep away from him, to use everything Shouta taught you about stealth to remain hidden. And you know Shigaraki is observant, you know he’s always looking over his shoulder so you have to stick to hidden places– behind dumpsters, ducking into alcoves of buildings.

He heads back to the part of the city you grew up in, where everything is falling apart, where there are plenty of abandoned buildings for hiding, plenty of places for runaway teens and homeless to sleep. The cheapest apartments, the streets that are the least patrolled by heroes and police alike, where parts of the Yakuza groups are bolder.

These streets are familiar to you. It’s a strange trip down memory lane.

You think of the last time you saw Shigaraki and flush darkly– it was around here, too, what happened that night.

Still, you follow him because you think you still have some upper hand. Maybe he’ll lead you to the rest of the League of Villains. For a heartbeat, you wonder if you’ll tell Shouta, if you’ll tell the Hero Commissions– you’d have to, right? That isn’t some little squirmish. That’s important information.

But he doesn’t lead you to the rest of the League.

He leads you to an apartment building, small and falling apart on the outside. A window is boarded up poorly. There are stray cats that linger around the side, where the trash is. You’re sure there are rats and bugs, too. You’re sure the building is one bad day away from falling apart.

Shigaraki pauses by the door that is nearly falling off its hinges.

He glances over his shoulder, “Are you following me in, too?”

Your heart kicks up, hammering against the inside of your chest. You swallow hard, internally cursing.

For all your effort of stealth, he still noticed you?

Well, there’s no use lying about it now.

You step around the corner you’d been hiding behind, moving towards the glow of a street light that flickers in and out of power to reveal yourself fully to him.

“When did you notice me?” you ask, peering at him, at the shape of him in the dark.

You catch the lifting of his scar when he smiles, just a baring of teeth, “I saw you on the roof.”

Damn, you curse again, you’ll have to work on that, “That bad, huh?”

He shrugs gracelessly, lifting of his shoulders only for them to fall unevenly, “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known. You were silent otherwise.”

It feels like a compliment– a generous one, coming from him. You don’t know why you have to hold off a smile.

He turns back to the door, shouldering it open. He walks through the archway without another word. He leaves it open and it seems there is no light on the inside, just a blackness that swallows up your vision. He disappears inside.

You stand there, beneath the light that flickers in and out, eyeing the doorway. You could go now, run back home to Shouta, to the Hero Commission and tell them you think you know where he stays, you have a lead on him. You look behind you, glance at the alleyway you came from with it’s’ dull, fluorescent lights that splash against the concrete, that barely fight against the shadows.

You look back towards where Shigaraki had been, the entrance to the building.

You’d probably even get extra little hero points for it from the Commission.

Shouta would be proud of you.

For bringing them to this dilapidated, shabby little apartment complex that rests on the streets of the place you used to call home.

You swallow hard, flex your freezing fingers.

Then you step towards the doorway, peer inside carefully. You hold your breath and the door creaks quietly when you cross it’s threshold, into the darkness.

Tomura is mildly surprised when he hears the door creak behind him. He can feel you, even in the dark of this hallway, the tentative steps you take after him. They’re almost shy.

But you followed him, didn’t you?

You followed and followed and followed him– and of course you did, he thinks, you had kissed him back, hadn’t you?

He supposes you could be playing a part, trying to get close to him but his intuition tells him differently, not with the genuine reaction you’d had. Your sudden guilt for giving in to him. Still, he’ll be careful around you.

He’ll probably have to move again, which would be a shame, since he has already killed the tenant of this apartment– he’d been sure they wouldn’t be missed by anyone, made sure he’d have time. He did the work to get it, thought he’d have it for just long enough until the League made another move.

He almost wants to test you, see if you’re going to run and tattle on his location. He wonders how far you’re willing to follow him.

Tomura walks steadily down the hallway, to the apartment he has taken claim to. He unlocks the door, hands in his partial gloves, shoving it with his shoulder to then enter. He leaves it open for you.

The apartment is a studio, shabby and the heat isn’t amazing, but it has hot water and a lack of bugs in this particular room. It has furniture– a bed, specifically, was all he had cared about. There’s empty wrappers of food and cans of energy drinks on the counters because he doesn’t really bother to pick up after himself but otherwise, the space isn’t his. There’s nothing else of his, besides some spare clothes on the floor.

And still, you follow him here, too. But you stand at the doorway, peeking inside.

He glances at you and is reminded of a fox, something with clever eyes but wary, a little skittish– would bite if he got too close too soon.

So he gives you space, just like he let you leave.

If there’s one thing Tomura has learned, it’s patience. Any good plan takes patience. The reward is always sweeter. The longer and harder the level, the greater the wins.

He ignores you, puts even more distance between the two of you as he wanders further in. He flicks on lights. He takes off his shoes, shrugs off his jean jacket and throws it over the couch. He gives the appearance of carelessness, of letting his guard down. Non threatening.

And you take your fist shy step inside. The door behind you remains ajar, though, for escape.

Tomura has to fight a terrifying smile, fight the sudden twisting in his heart, the inhale of his breath.

“I don’t know how wise it was of you to bring a hero to your home.” you finally speak, cutting through the silence. You’re trying to be witty, but he can tell you’re nervous.

“This isn’t my home,” he answers.

Home, with it’s round and warm syllabus, is not what he thinks of this place.

You eye him some more, but before you can respond, he says, “I don’t know how wise it was of you to follow a villain into his home.”

“I thought it wasn’t your home,” you quip and he only gives you a dry look.

Your bravado is wavering, especially when the door clicks shut behind you, your hand finally falling to your side.

And the two of you are sealed away from the outside world.

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask him and your voice is deceptively quiet. Small.

“Why did you follow me?” he asks in return.

You inhale like you’re trying to steady yourself, “Because I’m supposed to.”

Tomura smiles now, something lazy, almost amused. He knows it’s a lie, can feel it slide along his skin, can see the floundering, desperate look in your eyes.

“Why did you follow me?” he asks again, forcing himself not to move, not to step towards you in his budding excitement. Patience, he tells himself, be patient.

“Why did you kiss me?” you ask instead and the question is raw, as if it’s plagued you, haunted you like an insistent ghost. Crept around in the back of your mind, growing teeth and fangs and spindly, lampshade bat wings large enough to terrify you.

The idea that he’s taken root in your mind in the same way you have infested his is near dizzying.

Tomura weighs his answers carefully. He’s silent for a long moment and it’s heavy, charged with something that he can’t name– has never felt before.

When he speaks, his voice is just a rasp of breath, a little more honest than he’d like, a touch annoyed with the truth, “Because I wanted to.”

Another long stretch of silence where you watch him carefully, where he can see your chest rising and falling too quickly. He can see that frightened look in the rounding of your eyes, the high flush in your cheeks.

And when you speak again, it’s hardly louder than a whisper, like it’s all you can manage,“Do you want to kiss me again?”

It is far too gentle of a question for what he wants– it almost feels innocent, juvenile. Out of place between the two of you. But he’ll take it, he’ll take whatever you give him and then some.

He takes a step towards you. You don’t flinch away so he takes another, then another, until he is standing in front of you. You’re close now– so close that he has to force air into his lungs. He reminds himself of patience, of waiting–

He could take whatever he wanted from you now, he supposes, but he doesn’t want to have to wrestle you for it. He wants it given freely, he wants you to kiss back, like you had before. He wants you to willingly submit and it’s taken longer but it’ll be sweeter, so much sweeter.

“Are you going to run away again?” he asks and he can feel his heart quicken, the squeezing of it awful and tight.

You look up at him in a way that reminds him of his dreams, the ones he pretends to hate, where you make those small, soft noises. Where you let him touch you and taste you and have you.

And you shake your head no, just fractionally, the barest hint of movement but it’s enough for him.

The force of his kiss slams you back against the door. You make a surprised noise against him as he crushes himself to you. It’s just as violent as the first, but this time you take back what he gives. You get your bearings quicker, like you’ve learned a lesson already. He grins into the kiss, opening it, when he feels your little hands clawing at his shoulders, at his back.

He groans when you part your lips for him, when you lick tentatively into his mouth. He possesses you, bears onto you, pinning you to the door as his hands, still gloved, curl around your sides, your hips.

Your hero costume is tight, fits the curves of you snugly and in a way that’s making him nearly insane. He isn’t careful, doesn’t care if he’s moving too fast now as his hands roam and grab and squeeze. There’s layers between you, he naturally keeps a finger lifted away.

One of your hands tightens in his hair, pulling when he bites your bottom lip.

But you don’t seem to mind, either, with the way your breath is hitching, with the way you’re trying to pull him closer, desperately fuse him to you.

Your lips are so soft, he notices, even with the forcefulness with which you’re kissing him back.

It feels surreal for a moment, like one of his dreams, when he parts from your mouth only to slot his lips against your jaw, your neck. A whine is loosened from you, which breaks when he sets teeth to the vulnerable line of your throat.

Your hands are in his hair still, body arching into him eagerly. Youthful in your earnestness.

You’re better than anything he could’ve ever imagined, so alive and rosy and warm beneath his hands, beneath his mouth, which is making a mess of your neck. A particular hard suck over the sensitive line of your pulse makes you pull at his hair.

“Don’t leave a mark,” you hush and he thinks you meant to sound more threatening, but it’s softened by the desperation in your voice.

He scoffs into your throat, dragging teeth roughly along your skin.

“Shigaraki–”

“Tomura.” he corrects without thinking, finally pulling away to look at you, which is almost a mistake because you–

You’re flushed, lips kiss stung and pink, all swollen. Your head is tipped back, exposing the column of your throat, hair mussed with being pressed to the door so roughly. Your eyes are hazy and fever pink with your Quirk activated, like spring flowers, glowing in the low light.

He thinks of paintings and colors and dreams, something like beauty, if he knew anything about that.

And he’s so hard it hurts, teeth grinding together as he looks at you because he can’t even fucking stomach this feeling.

Then you repeat his name for him, “Tomura.”

He’s never heard his name like that, bedroom soft, more of a lullaby and less of a tragedy. He feels like he’s going to shake apart, his body to become just old ruins– he feels as if it’ll collapse inwards, topple over to crush his heart.

Where he’s usually seething and livid and clawing ruthlessly, the festering feeling in his chest is replaced with a new energy; something bursting and squirming and warm. His Quirk lies dormant and docile inside of him with your hand in his hair, your other now at his neck, fingers pressing lightly at his jaw.

It’s terrifying, he realizes, to not feel his Quirk at the edges of his fingers.

(It’s freeing, too, he’ll come to find, to not feel it’s weight, it’s demand that had been encouraged and shaped in him.)

You’re both trying to catch your breaths, looking at each other now. His fingers, still gloved, flex and squeeze at your waist, like he’s scared you’ll run off again.

You inch forward instead, rock onto the tips of your toes to press your lips to his again– softer this time, but no less heated, no less desperate.

He thinks you must be starving, too, with the way you pull him close. His mouth slants over yours, demanding more, a little rougher.

You squirm against the door, the slightest rocking of your hips– he can feel it against his thigh, against his waist. It makes him hiss out a breath against your lips, makes him grab harder at your waist, force you to do it again, harder this time.

You whine and it’s the snapping of his patience.

He reaches for the zipper at the back of your hero uniform, gives it a rough tug, pulling it down some. And then you’re pushing at him, nudging him away from the door and it’s a flurry of movement as you yank at his hoodie while he pulls at your clothes. You’re both stumbling further into the room, towards the bed pushed back into the corner.

Tomura feels young suddenly– feels his age. He feels like a twenty something year old with a girl in his apartment who wants his hoodie off. Who's kissing him hard in between every article of clothing that manages to come off.

He sits back on the edge of the bed to ease the rest of your cat-suit down. He watches with interest as you wiggle your hips to help him get the fabric down over you– and it’s nothing romantic, he doesn’t kiss the newly revealed skin, he doesn’t gently run his fingertips over you, but you grow shy under his gaze.

You’re still in undergarments, athletic slips of fabric, but his eyes fly over your face. You’re nervous, he can nearly feel it, with the way you shift, with the way you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and worry it.

A thought strikes him.

“Have you done this before?” he rasps, hooking his hand in the crux of your knee to drag your forward so you nearly fall into his lap.

“Yes,” you grit out, arms coming up to his shoulders to steady yourself. “Once.” you then shakily exhale.

He doesn’t particularly care– your answer wouldn’t have changed how he’d treat you. He’s not going to be gentler nor slower because you’re less experienced.

“Have you?” you ask, eyeing him, fingers nervously toying with the ends of his hair.

“Yes,” he says, perhaps too sharply, but he gives no other information and you don’t press him, which he’s thankful for. He doesn’t have the patience for useless questions.

Rather, he pulls you down harder, so your bare thighs finally settle into his lap. He slides his gloved hands up the notches of your ribs to hitch beneath your bra. That comes off, too, and then he’s got his hands on you more. You gasp, arching into his touch when his fingers curl around a breast, fingers roughly brushing over the peak.

He doesn’t think anymore, just acts, just moves and does as he pleases. All the things he’s done in dreams or in his mind– he sets lips and teeth to your breast, tongue laving over your nipple. He forces your squirming still with an arm banded around your torso, keeping you flush to his eager mouth.

You yelp in pain when he uses his teeth too roughly, trying to jerk away from him but you can’t with his hold on you. He grins, mouth opening, spit slick and wet against your breast again. He groans against you when you pull on his hair.

But then he twists you, throws you down onto the bed only to crawl over you. He yanks at your panties just as you pull him down for another kiss– maybe to distract yourself, to settle your nerves. When you pull away, you’re on your back and he’s over you, your legs hitching over his narrow waist. His hands are on your thighs and you–

You suddenly grab for his hands.

“Take off your gloves,” you get out, breathless, and before he can respond, your fingers are sliding against his wrist, up to his hand, beneath the glove and against his palm.

It makes him shiver, makes him grit his teeth. You pull off one, then the other.

For a moment, he just looks at you all spread out and bare for him, his hands now open and uncovered, too.

You squirm under his scrutinizing gaze.

“C’mon,” you coax and he thinks you’re trying to find your bravado, “Touch me.”

There’s nothing between his hands and your skin now and he settles his palm on your stomach, beneath your breast.

He naturally keeps a finger lifted away.

“Tomura,” your voice is pitched, almost pleading, “You’re not going to hurt me– c’mon.”

He tenses for a moment, eyes flashing over your face. For a moment, his heart stumbles, he grows wary. He thinks of you slipping away beneath his touch, falling away into nothing and all he’d have is a bed of ashes.

But your eyes are bright with your Quirk.

His final finger comes down. Nothing happens, except you smile a little, except you arch up into his touch– alive and vivid and furiously warm.

He feels like he can’t breathe, can’t even function.

He catches a groan behind his teeth, falls forward as his hands become feverish and possessive, suddenly confident, suddenly brash– touching and squeezing and grabbing at you.

His teeth clank with yours as he tumbles into another kiss. You’re needier now, making those higher pitched noises that used to haunt him.

It drives him insane, makes him feel half feral, overeager and desperate. His fingers wander lower, seeking and searching, just as the kiss grows in intensity again. It’s messier, all open mouth and tongue.

When he pulls away, a string of spit connects the two of you and he lets more of the saliva pooling in his mouth drip down with it, letting it fall between your open lips, some on your bottom lip, too. It’s depraved and dirty and his eyes simmer as he gazes down at you.

Your face scrunches up as you go to wipe at your mouth, and he hates it because all he can think of is how cute that face is.

“Gross,” you mewl, but his fingers finally move between your legs and–

And all he finds is that you’re hot and slick for him.

He has to grit his teeth to keep from moaning.

But you nearly cry at the touch, a pathetic little noise, hips jolting like you’re not sure if you want to go towards his touch or away.

“Gross, huh?” Tomura asks, voice low, the pad of his finger sliding easily, teasing you slowly before he goads, “Why are you so wet then?”

He sinks a finger in suddenly– just because he can. Just because he wants to watch your face screw up again, which it does, your mouth falling open, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hm?” he hums, amused with the way you’re gasping beneath him. He starts a slow but deep rhythm and–

And he’s had sex before, a handful of times, but it’d always been for him. He hadn’t cared how the other person felt, hadn’t cared to try and get them off. But now he suddenly wishes he had learned, if only for you, now. He wants you as obsessed as he is, wants you to feel as maddened as he feels.

Thankfully, you’re so expressive. And he doesn’t have to worry about his fingers. He can find the spot inside you that makes you toss your head back into the sheets and moan for him, he can focus on the way you keen when he finds your clit with his thumb.

You’re a sensitive little thing, clawing at his bare shoulders, whining into his neck. He forces in another finger and you start rocking your hips, growing more desperate until–

“Fuck,” you gasp, “Fuck, I’m going to–”

He curls his fingers harder, watching your face as you fall apart, as you try and twist and squirm beneath him. He forces you through it, isn’t gentle, but selfish, wringing everything he can from you.

And when he’s finished watching you whimper and feeling you flutter and gush around his fingers, he takes them out only to force them between your lips.

Once more your face screws up, but you close your mouth around them and he groans low and raw. You look hazy, drooling all over his fingers, lashes fluttering prettily.

He uses his other hand to fumble with his belt, to work his pants down low enough for his cock, aching so bad that he swears he’s going to go insane–

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, watching the mess that comes with it, so wet and slick and shiny. He can’t help the growl he gives, before covering his mouth with yours again.

As you kiss, sloppy and desperate, Tomura slides the head of his cock against you and you’re so slippery and soft and molten for him that his next moan tapers off into a whine.

You pull away fractionally, “Shouldn’t we–”

He thinks maybe you were about to ask about protection of some kind, but he shoves inside you hard, breaches your body and watches as your eyes roll back, just about to cross as your nails turn sharp against his back.

You moan, low and drawn out.

He can’t help the absurd laugh that is wretched from him, his head dropping onto your neck as he snaps his hips forward. He can’t believe he’s actually gotten you here, in his bed, beneath him– let him inside where you’re so warm and soft.

“Fuck,” you gasp, maybe laced with pain, clawing at him, raking your nails down his back.

“Does it hurt?” he hisses, excited, his teeth coming down to close over your exposed neck.

“Yes,” you get out, almost a whimper, “Feels good, too.”

He snaps his hip forwards roughly, grinding deep as he laughs again when you just about sob into his shoulder.

You latch your teeth onto the vulnerable juncture between his neck and his shoulder, where you’d already laid claim to him once before.

He wrestles for your wrist, the one he broke, and forces it down onto the bed.

“Look at you,” he almost snarls, voice low and gravely, “Little hero letting me fuck her.”

You gasp when he angles his hips, when his other hand reaches beneath you, to fist a hand in your hair and pull so your neck is arched and exposed to him.

“I used to dream of this,” he admits roughly, the confession like a curse being spit out of his mouth, “Wanted to stalk you or possess you or–” he groans because he can feel how you’re throbbing around him, how slick you are for him, “Wanted to fucking ruin you–”

He pulls at your hair more, tries to get you to look at him through your wet lashes. The flash of pink meets red and his smile is more a cruel bearing of teeth.

“And you feel so much better than I dreamt– fuck, so much tighter–” he babbles as he ruts into you hard and quick. You keen, high and broken, just as he feels you flutter around him again and he almost loses his mind because–

“Are you going to fucking come again?” he growls, pulling harder on your hair.

“Yes,” you groan, “Please, fuck, please, c’mon–” your voice is high and wrecked and all he has to do is angle his hips a few more times before you’re shattering, nearly breaking apart, squeezing down on his cock so tightly that he shudders, that he let’s go of your hair just to focus on his own pleasure.

He doesn’t even realize he’s drooling into your neck, not as he loses his rhythm, as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can and comes hard. Pleasure races up his spine, turns him white-hot and sensitive, making his eyes roll back into his head, too.

You’re both breathing hard when he collapses on top of you. Your fingers, which were once scratching down his back to cause sharp shooting pain, are now surprisingly gentle, slipping back into his hair.

You squirm, fussing slightly– no doubt sore, no doubt aching with him still inside you but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to.

He mouths at your neck, feels you sigh, before he moves to cover his mouth with yours again. He kisses you languidly now, slow and deep.

You’re making breathy little noises against him, content and surprisingly soft, your other hand tracing over his side.

(He doesn’t like how much he enjoys this part, the afterglow, all that violence slipping away, expelled from you both–)

Tomura feels his cock twitch inside of you again, feels your hips arch up a little, and before he knows it, he’s moving his hips again. It’s a slow rocking, your lips still attached to his, heated and gentle.

“Gross,” you say again, just a breath against him as he fucks his cum further into you, feels himself harden, feels the mess he made of you. But you still hitch your leg over his hip, pull him deeper into you.

He grins lazily against your lips, “You like it,” he says and it’s not a question, rolling his hips until he gets you to shut your eyes and moan against him.

“Yeah,” you reply, nudging your cheek against his, rubbing like a cat until he returns the gesture. Until he’s humming because he’s sensitive and you feel so good, better than anything he’s ever felt in this miserable fucking life–

You whine a little, ‘Touch me again?”

He doesn’t deny you for whatever reason, doesn’t even have something smart to say as he slides his hand down your torso, down to where you’re both slick and connected. He rubs unpracticed, messy circles around that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sighing.

He’s no expert but he doesn’t really care and you don’t seem to mind this time, either. It’s unhurried now, lazy.

This time your peak is a fluttery, soft thing, and he watches as you gasp, as you blink away tears. She’s pretty, he thinks, feeling stupidly young again, she’s pretty like this. Like his dreams.

Tomura spills inside you again soon after, groaning against your collarbones, and this time you force him to slip out of you. Force him to lay beside you as you both catch your breath again.

And he’s not expecting it, but he has the vicious need to be close to you, desperately wants to feel your skin against his. It’s a new feeling– usually after sex, he wants to be as far away from someone as possible. Usually he can’t leave or kick them out fast enough.

But there’s something about you now, hazy and pleasure-drunk, fucked out and dazed, that makes him want to stay close. Maybe it’s just that you’ve soothed all the festering that usually squirms in his chest. Maybe it’s just that you’ve made everything in him quiet for once.

He expects you to find some sort of your regret now, he’s sure that you’ll feel guilty, collect your clothes and go. But you don’t. You stay in bed with him. And it’s strange but he knows he wants to touch you, so he does. He doesn’t deny himself, why would he? He’s always taken what he wanted.

He curls around you, shivering a little with the skin to skin contact after the fog of sex has cleared from his mind. His hands slide over you, touch you fully and without restraint because he can, because you won’t disappear beneath his touch.

And for a moment, as he traces along the dips of your waist, he thinks maybe you were made for him– cut from his rib, isn’t that how the story goes?

He doesn’t know, only that there’s no one else in the world he can touch like this.

You’re surprised.

You’d figured after Tomura had his fill of you, he’d kick you out, send you away. You figured you’d feel guilty, that you would rush out of here and try to wish the whole thing away. But your hero suit stays on the floor and you’re still in his bed.

You didn’t think he’d be a cuddler, you assumed that he wouldn’t want nor care for any sort of contact after. But his arms are wrapped around you now, one of his hands sliding curiously over the curves of your body. All five fingers down, pressing into your skin.

But you suppose, for someone who has to be so careful with touch, that he would like this. That he might want this. You wonder if he ever gets to touch anyone like this, if he ever allows himself intimate touch like this– tender and for no other reason than to soothe or comfort.

You get the impression that he doesn’t, that touch is just a means to an end for him; sex is probably just an itch to scratch. You can’t imagine that he’s very relaxed or enjoying himself when he’s worried about decaying the person he’s with.

But all his crackling, restless energy now seems subdued, sated, as he walks his fingers over you. His hair tickles your bare skin as he nudges closer, nose running along your jaw.

Once more, you feel your age. You don’t feel like a hero, but just someone young, maybe on the cusp of being old. He looks young now, too, with his vivid eyes shut and relaxed, nothing to crease his brow. He doesn’t seem like a villain, either.

You brush a finger over his cheek, touch lightly at the scratches beneath his eyes, drag your thumb down to touch the scar at the corner of his lips.

His eyes flutter open to watch you, half lidded, squinted almost like a cat.

But he allows you to run your fingers over his face, doesn’t protest or jerk away from your touch.

No, his eyes fall shut again. He lets out a deep sigh that you think he has held inside him for years.

He doesn’t have a gentle face, but one that shows it’s angles and sharp edges, the scars and cuts that trail down onto his neck. You’d noticed some on his chest, too. Proof of an uneasy life lived, proof of violence and pain.

You imagine he’s seen horrors, kept them trapped inside for fear of letting them spill out, like maybe it’ll be as gruesome as the memories.

His body hasn’t been handled gently, you can tell, with it’s indents and scars and scratches. You don’t know who was the last person who touched him without wanting to hurt him. And you shouldn’t but you think of yourself when you were a child– desperate for love and affection, desperate for any scrap of attention like the scavenger you always were.

Maybe still are.

So desperate that you’d end up in the bed of your enemy– all because you couldn’t end up in the bed of your ally. So hungry that you’d eat out of a hand that has harmed and killed and destroyed.

Hands that haven’t known gentleness, a body that hasn’t known peace. But he’s being gentle with you now, isn’t he?

So you try to give gentleness to him now, too, with your careful touch. You keep your fingers kind and sympathetic.

Even your own eyes drift shut for a moment, still tracing idle patterns into his skin.

You only slip away from him for a moment, to use the bathroom, to clean up. Your reflection in the mirror looks strange; raw and flushed with color. Honest in a way that makes you turn away.

You slip back into bed with Tomura, let him latch onto you again. You drag your fingers gently over his ribs, over his sides.

You let your eyes fall shut, too.

There’s a sudden, loud buzzing from the floor that cuts through the quiet, which makes your eyes startle open. It’s insistent and you realize after a moment that it’s your phone, caught up in your hero suit on the floor.

You never came home after your shift. You curse softly, almost certain you know who's calling.

You squirm out of Tomura’s hold again, which he huffs at in irritation, but eventually allows you up.

“Where are you going now?” he asks, annoyed, when you climb out of bed to find your phone. Once found, you hold it up to him.

It’s still buzzing in your hand, lit up with Shouta’s contact.

You think the guilt should hit you now.

It doesn’t and that’s what you feel worse over. You swallow hard, frown down at your phone.

(Horribly, you even feel somewhat spiteful, as if you’re trying to prove something to Shouta. Maybe to yourself.)

You don’t answer.

And then you see the several texts from him, wondering where you are. They’re all bland, but you can tell he must be worried. It’s unlike you to not tell him where you are.

“Are you going to leave?” Tomura asks and there’s something strange in his voice, something you can’t place.

“Do you want me to?” you ask in return.

He doesn’t answer right away. But he does eventually give an annoyed drawl, “Do what you want.”

You take that as a no, don’t leave, since you’re certain if he wanted you gone, he would’ve told you.

You send a text to Shouta;

Sorry. Staying with an old friend for the night. Be back tomorrow.

It’s not unheard of, for you to spend time with an old friend from the foster care system.

You get a dry “okay” from him in response. You fight the urge to roll your eyes for some reason, tossing your phone away again.

You end up staying the night with Tomura Shigaraki, one of the most wanted villains in all of Japan.

Its not romantic— he isn’t sweet or funny or caring. But he holds you tight, leaves no room for distance. And it is the first time you’ve ever slept with someone like this, tucked away into a bed, bare, and wrapped up in each other.

Is this what it always feels like? You press yourself into the crooks of his body. You wonder if you’re supposed to fit this well together.

And it’s the first time since his Quirk developed that he hasn’t needed to wear his partial gloves to sleep in fear of decaying something.

He won’t admit it but it’s the best he’s slept in a long, long time.

You won’t admit it, either, but you think you could get used to this, too; this closeness, being held as if you’ll slip away, being held like he doesn’t want you to.

The morning brings rosy sunlight that slants through the windows. Neither of you talk much. You try to tell yourself this won’t happen again, can’t happen again.

But you had kissed him goodbye before you’d left, like he was a boyfriend and not a criminal, and you’d been in a surprisingly good mood for the rest of the day.

Like you had a crush, puppy love you never got as a teenager because you were too busy trying not to starve, only to realize you’d been starving in other ways, too.

But you’re sugar soft and excitable, dropping into bed that night alone, and allowing yourself to admit, in the quiet and privacy of your own thoughts, that you wish you were in his again.

***

One time turns into two which turns into three which turns into so many times you’ve lost count. That little, rundown apartment that isn’t really Tomura’s has turned into another world entirely, some harbor away from the rules of society. It’s almost too good to be true, a dream, a place for a secret as bad as this one.

When you’re here, you don’t talk of heroes and villains. You urge him not to; you think you’ll keep some part of your innocence in this affair if you don’t actually know anything about him or the League of Villains. You’ll feel too guilty, if you know any part of their plans and don’t tell Shouta. And telling Shouta anything about Tomura is beginning to feel like a betrayal, too.

You don’t know anything substantial about Tomura Shigaraki and that’s the way it needs to stay.

You know he likes sour candy, though, and drinks too many energy drinks– they’re sickly sweet and you think kissing him might make your teeth ache. You know he likes video games but no longer has a console. He has trouble sleeping at night. You’re familiar with the scars on his skin, the jagged ones across his neck, the one on his lip. The beauty mark on his chin. You know his moods; from the prickly ones to the downright vengeful ones. You even know the calmer ones, the quiet, contemplative ones.

(In this way, he seems like a normal twenty-something-year-old. In the quiet moments, when you’ve convinced him to watch a cheap horror movie on the tiny, staticky TV in the apartment, he could be anybody. When he’s got his bare hand up your shirt as someone onscreen screams and begs for their life, he’s not the heir to an underground empire. He’s just Tomura, with his face buried in the crook of your neck).

He pretends to get annoyed with you, huffs and scoffs against your lips when you’re being cheeky. You wear his worn down hoodies, slip your thumbs in the holes at the sleeves. He eyes you when you wear them, pulls you to him by the collar.

(He likes to fuck you in them– pushes the hoodie up your stomach to watch you ride him. But he likes things bare and raw, too. Skin to skin. So close it’s terrifying, so close you feel like he’s trying to tear you apart from the inside out. He likes it dirty, you think, because it makes it more intimate.)

You soothe him. You know you do because when he’s festering and angry, all it takes is your hand on his wrist, pulling it away from his neck. Sometimes, when he can’t think straight and there is too much on his mind, he forces you to lay on top of him until his breathing slows and his head is clear.

He can’t talk to you aloud about what’s plaguing him, but you must quiet some part of him. He likes to use you to think, runs his long fingers through your hair as you lay atop him. He pets you until his thoughts aren’t as jumbled, but smoothed out and sharp. Or until he doesn’t want to think anymore at all and he drags you into languid makeouts that always end with him surrounding you, inside you, possessing you.

You bicker sometimes, flash your teeth to make his eyes spark ruby and excited. Mostly, you act your age with him.

You don’t know when his birthday is or where he grew up. You don’t know what his childhood was like or what memories shaped him, don’t know where he’s been or where he’s going to be. You only know him now, in this moment, in this little world you’ve created for each other.

He’s what you imagined first boyfriends are supposed to be; excitable and often immature but fun and new. You never had the luxury of first loves, just odd first kisses with strangers and an uncomfortable loss of virginity with a friend of a friend of a friend who jammed his tongue too far down your throat. You hadn’t had anything stable until–

Until Shouta.

Shouta has grown suspicious of this old friend of yours and how much time you now spend with him.

He questions you about him and you wish you felt worse for lying. The rebellious part of this affair is thrilling, though. Feels like you’re sixteen and sneaking out from under your dad’s nose to be picked up by the boyfriend you’d know he’d hate. Feels like swiping liquor too young and getting sick off it, smashing the bottles and laughing with your friends because sometimes things just need to break.

“Will you at least tell me his name?” Shouta had asked one morning, when you’d let yourself into his apartment after another night at Tomura’s. You had your own hood pulled up around your face to hide the rose blossom hickeys against the skin of your neck.

He’d still poured you a cup of coffee. You’d watched his careful, large hands as they made it the way you liked it.

You’d given him a lie, fed it to him the way he feeds you breakfast, “Shinta. Are you happy?”

He’d slid the mug to you, let you catch in the cradle of your palm. He’d shrugged, but you think his eyes had flashed to you, “You know you can bring him around, right? You don’t always have to go to him.”

You’d had to bite back a painful laugh. It wasn’t funny. It had hurt strangely in the pit of your chest.

You had shaken your head, tried to brush him off, “It’s not like that.”

“Alright,” he’d said, but he hadn’t believed you. “You’re training alone with Shinsou again tonight, I’ll be busy with a job.” Then he’d given you a stern look, “And don’t cut it early to go see Shinta.”

“I’ve never done that!” you’d protested, perhaps a little too defensively. But it was true, you’d never do that to Shinsou, wouldn’t dream of it. The only time you’d cut training early was to share takeout with Shinsou, not ditch him for–

This comment had rubbed you wrong, scratched up against something abrasive and surprisingly fragile inside of you. Maybe because he was questioning your dedication which already felt so flimsy, even if he hadn’t been entirely serious, even if maybe he’d just been trying to take a dig at you. At this new boyfriend.

Shouta had grown cold then, shrugged impassively, took his mug of coffee and brushed past you to keep getting ready.

It had angered you enough to bring it up later to Tomura, when you’re falling into his lap and he’s squirming his cold, fluttery hands beneath your shirt to touch skin, to make you hiss through your teeth.

His lips tilt into a small smile as you fidget while he warms his frigid fingers on your body.

“Eraserhead asked about you yesterday,” you tell him, letting your nose brush against his, “Told me I could bring my friend around– don’t always have to go to him.”

Tomura snorts, eyes falling half-lidded when your lips skim over his. The night is plum dark, presses into this little apartment that’s tucked away from the world.

“How’d you get out of that one?” he asks, fingers walking over the dips of your spine. He likes tracing the bone beneath your skin, likes making you shiver.

“Told him it’s not like that.” you respond, your own hands wandering to his neck. You're careful over the ridges of flesh there, skim lightly to get to his jaw.

“No?” Tomura asks, pulling you closer, pressing his chest to yours, “Don’t want to bring me home to meet Eraserhead?” he sneers and there’s something underneath his voice, lurking, with its hackles raised.

You think maybe it’s jealousy, the same flash of his eyes like Shouta’s when he’d said Shinta.

But then he kisses you deep and drags your hips against his, forces a warbly, surprised little moan from you.

Most of your thoughts melt away then, most turn to something base and desperate, all desire and need. You can’t help but think about it, though, how you can’t ever take him home to Shouta. You can’t ever expect anything more than whatever stays in this room. He kisses you hard, your teeth clinking against his like clashing with the truth of it all.

There’s no happy ending here.

It’s like smashing bottles because sometimes things just need to break.

***

Tomura thinks you would be a good edition to the League of Villains.

You’re clever and capable. He comes to find you’re not just a good thief and pickpocket but an excellent one. You swipe everything from his pockets, right from under his nose, just to play with him. You’re stealthy and sharp; he could use someone like you at his side.

Your Quirk could be useful, though he doesn’t like the idea of you getting so close to people while in battles. You have a reckless streak, but he thinks he could temper that. All you need is a little guidance.

You were a thief once. You give him clues of your past; you didn’t grow up like the other heroes, didn’t come from a warm home with dreams of saving the world. Your head wasn’t filled with fantasies of rescuing the downtrodden. You were the downtrodden. And you learned that there was no one who was going to save you, except yourself. So you stole and fought and survived a world that was willing to forget you.

You’re like him, a very quiet part of him thinks, no one saved you. Not until you were too old, all grown up with sharpened teeth and claws, eyes that see in the dark. That could be now used and extorted by the heroes.

He thinks they’ve leashed you, taught you how to sit and stay and sic ‘em.

He wonders if he’d have gotten to you first, if you’d be with him and not your heroes.

Tomura doesn’t dwell on it, though. He refuses to imagine it. What would be the point? It didn’t happen.

Besides, he is certain he is capable of slowly swaying you to them still. You possess a startling amount of compassion for villains which, perhaps wouldn’t help you as a villain, but that’s fine.

(You’d have him. No one would touch you if you were at his side. You could be as stupidly compassionate as you wanted.)

You meet members of the League with him by accident, times when Toga and Twice’s meeting with him overlap with you arriving. Toga goes on endlessly about you, it seems. Dabi drops by once in the middle of the night, bloody and demanding a place to sleep because he’s tired of sleeping on the streets.

It’d been one of the more insufferable nights, perhaps one of the worst ways for Dabi to find out about you. You’d already been asleep, cocooned beneath blankets and Tomura’s body, just in one of his loose shirts.

Tomura had already been lying awake, listening to your even breathing when he’d heard the handle of the door shake roughly. He’d gotten up then, slipped into clothes, melted into the darkness by the door and waited for the intruder to try and step inside.

The lock had been picked.

He had nearly decayed Dabi by accident before realizing it was him.

A ridiculously quiet but terse argument had ensued then, before Dabi had asked, in a regular speaking voice, “Why the fuck are we whispering?”

Tomura had almost winced when he heard you stir from the bed before your small, sleepy voice had murmured into the darkness, “Tomura?”

You’d said it too soft, too sweet. It’d been for his ears only and something about Dabi hearing you, seeing you, being in this space that had been for you and for him had made Tomura suddenly livid.

He had watched Dabi’s mouth fall open in shock before you’d switched on the bedside lamp to flood the room with artificial, golden light.

Dabi’s face had been near horrific in the light, one side of it all bloody, the stitches mangled or falling out. Part of his face almost looked like it was melting, his eye squinted shut with the damage.

But he’d thrown his head back and laughed when he’d seen you, sitting up in the bed, blinking sleepily at them. Tomura hated a lot of things, but he’d hated nothing more than the sound of Dabi’s rasping laugh in that moment.

You’d narrowed your eyes when you had realized who it was.

“I had no idea you had it in you, Tomura.” Dabi had said.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Tomura had hissed instead, fighting the urge to tear into his neck, fingers twitching agitatedly.

Dabi had gestured to his face with a lazy flourish, “I need medical attention and I’m crashing on your couch.”

Tomura’s teeth had ground together, “Get. Out.”

“No, I’m sick of sleeping on the streets when you’re here playing house with your little hero bitch–”

Before Tomura could even react, though, you had found the small supply of first aid from beneath the sink in the tiny bathroom. You had come up beside them near silently and offered it up, asked, “Do you want help?”

And there it had been– that compassion of yours. Even for the likes of Dabi.

In that moment, he’d wondered how you had ever survived with it. He’d thought that you’d lose your hand if you kept extending it.

Dabi hadn’t let you touch him but you’d gotten a cool rag for him to clean up the blood, watched as he tried to patch up the wound. It was made worse by a mangled staple in his cheek, jutting out strangely.

“Does it hurt?” You’d asked but with the way you were looking at him, at his marred skin up close, Tomura could tell that you weren’t just referring to this one injury.

Does it hurt? You’d asked, like you were asking if it all hurt. You weren’t just seeing a singular part of Dabi, but a series of tragedies that was proudly presented in large, rippling scars against his skin.

“Of course it fucking hurts,” Dabi had spit out, all venom and bitterness. But you hadn’t even flinched.

Tomura had tried to kick him out again once his wound had been treated.

“It’s fine,” you’d said, resigned, tired and rubbing at your eyes.

(Later you’d shrug and tell him, I know what it’s like to not have somewhere to sleep).

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Dabi had drawled, already pulling off his heavy boots, prying the coat from his body to toss onto the floor. “Just don’t do any weird shit.”

And you’d gotten back into bed with Tomura, fit yourself against him, ducked your head down beneath his chin and pressed your hands against his sides, felt the notches of his ribs.

Sometimes he wonders if you can feel the missing one, the one you took from him, the one you’d been made out of.

It had occurred to Tomura that either you didn’t fear Dabi or you trusted him enough to know he’d never let Dabi harm you while sleeping.

Both were acceptable to him, both would aid him in converting you. And they were true, too. You shouldn’t fear Dabi, especially not with him around.

Tomura had brought his hand up then, suddenly covered your mouth with his large palm, letting all five of his fingers come down against your pretty face.

You’d furrowed your brows in confusion, not fear, which made something inside of him grow warm and hungry.

Then he’d slid his other hand down your body, between your legs, just to spite Dabi.

He’d watched as your eyes went wide in the dark, cheeks flushing beneath his hand. He could feel his smirk, smug and sharp, fitting across his teeth like a muzzle.

You’d tried to shake your head, tried to squirm away from his touch, but he’d been persistent and soon enough you were sighing against his hand, melting into the bed he pressed you into. Soon enough you were trying to hold back whimpers, all slippery and soft beneath his fingers, silently begging with your eyes.

He hadn’t denied you that night; no, you were being good, walking the steps he wanted for you. You were moldable and sweet beneath him so he’d give you what you wanted.

He watched in satisfaction as you came hard around his fingers, face scrunching up in that way he loved, fingers easing you through it. He was gentle with you then, taking his hand away from your mouth slowly, letting you nudge closer and cling to him.

(He loved when you clung to him).

You’d wanted so much affection that night and he had indulged you, letting your nose brush against his, or rubbing your cheek against his chest while his fingers wound through your hair.

You’d fallen asleep all tied up in him.

The next morning, you were gone before Dabi even woke up.

Dabi had asked, “What the fuck are you doing with her?”

“Mind your business,” Tomura had snapped, fingers already seeking out his neck again when they couldn't find you. He hated that he wanted your presence so badly now. (Hated that he missed you, but he would never say that, never even dream of it). Then he’d added,“And find someone else’s doorstep to show up on.”

Dabi had scoffed, “Whatever. Just don’t get distracted.” He’d pulled out a cigarette from his jacket still on the floor then, much to Tomura’s annoyance, and lit it with a spark of his fingers. Smoke curled into the air with his first drag. “I’m not about to watch all our efforts fall apart because you wanted to play Romeo and Juliet with some braindead little hero.”

He’d torn into the skin of his neck then. Wished he could tear into you instead.

“Violent delights and violent ends and all that shit,” Dabi had said then, his smile just a curled stitch, smoke pouring from his lips, evidently amused with himself.

But Tomura has never read that play and he doesn’t know anything about poetry in the same way he doesn’t know anything about art or beauty, just that you’re the only thing he’s bothered to compare to a painting.

***

You put Tomura into your phone as Shinta and when you’re too busy to visit him between missions and training, you text him. Though short, he is surprisingly witty over text, something that has you biting back grins and distracted, feeling like a schoolgirl as you try to hide the screen of your phone from the rest of the world.

You grow distracted with hero work, with Shouta. You pay less attention to your life at U.A. You don’t visit Shouta for lunch as often. You haven’t spent a quiet night with Shouta in weeks. You tell yourself you don’t care.

It’s better than fighting with him. It’s better than trying to beg for his love and affection.

Early tomorrow morning you’re supposed to shadow Shouta on a brief mission.

The Hero Commission is trying to train you into espionage and underground work, trying to mold you in the shape of Shouta.

But at night, when you’re alone in your bedroom, tucked away into your own apartment and not with Tomura, he calls you.

You let yourself say his name into the receiver of your phone, hushed and excited.

He doesn’t say I miss you or when will I see you again?

He says, “Touch yourself.”

And you don’t say I miss you, too, or hopefully soon.

You do as he says, let your fingers fan out over your stomach like they might be his. You listen to his breathing turn ragged over the phone. You moan softly for him.

You do what he says in the navy dark of night, bite back frustrated whines because you’ve gotten too used to his touch.

“–Wish it was you, fuck, it’s not fair,” you gasp, tilting your hips up into your fingers desperately.

You can hear the hiss of breath he takes, “Did I ruin you?” he croons into the phone lowly, his voice slithering through to you, making your thighs clench. “Can’t even touch yourself without needing me?”

You groan, high and defeated, fingers slipping against yourself. You’re aching and empty and bereft without him, “Yes, yes–”

He rambles about what he’s done to you, almost seething by the end, when he demands you tell him that you’re his, that he’s the one who made you this way. He’s the only one who can soothe you now. You need him.

He isn’t wrong, you realize, when you still aren’t satisfied after your climax. When it doesn’t feel as good as when you’re with him. You realize you hate sleeping alone now. You miss the press of his body to yours. You coo into the phone about it, lay on your stomach, arms curled around your pillow with your ear still to your phone.

It never gets overly sentimental. You don’t want to scare him, especially as you grow terrified of your own feelings. It doesn’t feel as fun anymore, you realize, only because your attraction to him has now grown serious.

Your crush has grown teeth and claws, ready to tear apart the vulnerable, fleshy parts of you.

But he talks with you until you fall asleep, phone still in hand, heart still on the line.

***

There’s a stray kitten that hangs out around Tomura’s apartment– he thinks there must be a colony of strays in the area, since it’s not the only one. But this one is scrawny, just a messy tuft of grey fur. It’d be sleek and pretty, if it wasn’t so malnourished, if it wasn’t missing clumps of fur or full of scars and scratches.

The kitten likes Tomura a great deal for some reason. It rubs itself against his legs, follows him around outside of the apartment, much to your utter delight.

You coo and fawn over it, scoop the little thing up into your arms and hold it up to Tomura’s face.

He hates it, the face you give him. The face the kitten gives him. He hates that the corner of his lips twitch upwards.

“He’s so cute,” you gush and he can hear now that the little thing is purring furiously in your hands. You wiggle the cat a little bit in front of his face and Tomura finally reaches up to stroke the back of his knuckles against the kitten’s head, if only to appease you.

Your smile is crooked– an excited curve of your lips, your eyes alight.

You’re always so expressive and he used to be livid about it, wanted to teach you a lesson in the worst way possible, but now he just wants to keep you from learning them.

He has to turn away from you at the thought, heads towards the door of the apartment building. You follow after him dutifully, coming up to nudge against his side. He’s become too comfortable with you there, knocking into his elbow.

You’re still smiling down at the kitten in your arms and he wants to look away because some part of this is starting to sting.

The kitten is excitedly looking around, green eyes all round and bright. It’s purring happily.

“Put it down, it’s not coming in with us.” Tomura tells you, his voice rough and soft.

You stop in front of the door with him. Your bottom lip pulls out into a pout. Your eyes get round like the kitten’s.

He gives you a cold stare.

You hug the kitten tighter to your body, “C’mon,” you whine, “It’s just a baby.”

“I’m not taking care of a cat.”

“I’ll take care of it!”

“No,” he responds, harsher, voice a little sharper.

Maybe, in the beginning of this little affair, you would’ve headed the warning in his tone, but now you don’t even bat an eye at him.

“Yes,” you respond indignantly.

You both glare at each other. The kitten’s purr still rumbles on.

Tomura can tell you’re not giving this one up, he can tell by the set of your jaw, the way you’re clinging to that little creature. There’s a determined flush to your face. Your eyes are bright and fiery.

All over this little stray.

“You’re a brat,” is all Tomura says and you take that as a win, because your face immediately morphs, brightens up completely. You duck past him, into the apartment building with the kitten cradled in your arms.

He heaves a deep sigh, following in after you. “I’m kicking it out when you leave.”

“Don’t be mean,” you reply, waiting at the door, and the irony is not lost on him. He comes up behind you, his chest to your back, crowding you against the door.

“I think you need to remember who you’re speaking to,” he says, his voice just a rasp against your ear and maybe at some point, it would’ve sounded threatening, but now you just lean back into his chest. His heart beats against the curve of your back.

Something soft is growing between the two of you, he can feel it. It has no place here, though, in this world. In the two of you. His ugly infatuation with you, all that anger and vitriol he had for you has melted, turned spring soft inside of him after an unforgiving winter.

He unlocks the door, he lets you in.

The kitten ends up coming and going. He opens the window to let it in and out, let’s you feed it. You call it Ryuji. It lives partially in this new little world the two of you have built.

He thinks of it like the pause screen in a video game, somewhere to return to when he’s frustrated or tired or done. Idle, soft music and the freezing of his screen. A moment away from the turmoil or struggle of the game.

But he’ll have to unpause eventually.

He can’t stay here forever, he knows it, but he just has to be sure he plays it right– he doesn’t think he’ll be able to start over this time, with you.

And he wants you there at the ending, at his side like in his dreams.

The ones where it’s all in ruins, the world nothing but his, destroyed, but he gives you his hand to have, and you take it in yours to hold.

***

The distance between you and Shouta stretches and grows until it snaps in the form of a blowout argument. Which, is mostly just you, shouting, crying furiously, and Shouta stone-faced and cool.

It had started with an offhand comment from him about how you’re not focused anymore. You’re getting sloppy. You’re distracted. And usually, you take his criticism with a stiff upper lip and a determined glare.

But you and Shouta haven’t been the same since you tried to kiss him.

You blame yourself, maybe, but part of you feels angry with him, too. Bitter. You thought, in some way, he reciprocated your feelings. He’d acted like it. And when he’d rejected you, he’d pulled away, been more careful with you.

(You wonder if this proves your point, that he was toeing a line with you then.)

And maybe your lies are starting to eat at you, too, starting to rot away on the inside of you. If you focused on them too hard and all that Shouta’s done for you, you think you’d start crying every time you looked at him.

But Tomura has also thrown all you know into question. And you’d already been critical of the life you were afforded by becoming a hero.

You look at all of Shouta’s students and you just get angry. You look at Shinsou, so determined to prove he can be a hero, that he’s good and you are livid. You look at Toga, with her villainous Quirk. She’s near Shinsou’s age and something about it just makes you ache, it makes you sick.

You look at her and see who she could’ve been as a hero– you wonder if they would’ve stuck her in espionage, with the likes of you and Shouta. You wonder if she would’ve gone to U.A. You wonder what it would’ve taken to change her fate.

Even Tomura, you look at him and in the safety and privacy of your own heart, you dare to wonder what he would’ve been like if he hadn’t been a villain.

(He could’ve been a rescue hero, you think, and he could’ve decayed debris to save people. This version of him lives in the quiet, tentative parts of you. It grows soft and underground, a seedling that has sprouted on the inside of your chest, and one day you think this little dream of yours will grow so large inside of you that it’ll breach skin and show the world it’s horror.)

It feels like a coin toss, almost, like the difference between a hero and a villain sometimes is one flip away from changing.

You don’t bother to wonder what would’ve happened if it hadn’t been Shouta that found you, but someone like Tomura. Or All For One. You know if you’d been given somewhere to sleep and a warm meal, you would’ve done what they wanted.

You wish you could say you were a noble, starving person, that there was something shining and golden inside of you. But all you were was starving.

Shouta says you’ve been underperforming lately. He says he’s considering limiting the nights you patrol until you can get it together.

The Hero Commission was supposed to come observe you to see if you’d progressed enough to begin accepting your own missions. He tells you he doesn’t think they should come any longer. It feels like a dig, too, like he’s reprimanding you somehow.

And you snap, “Well maybe I didn’t want them to observe me!”

He looks taken aback for a moment, before he asks, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know! Maybe I’m tired of being observed and used and watching all of these kids be observed and sought after and–”

“Alright,” Shouta sighs, and it makes your teeth grit because he sounds like he’s trying to parent you, “It’s one thing to be upset yourself, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with these kids.”

Your nails dig into your palms as you try to find the words to get him to understand you.

But he speaks before you can, almost patronizingly, “Clearly, you’re struggling through something, so it’s probably a good thing we’ve put this off.”

Tears well up hard and fast. It hurts to be dismissed like this. It hurts to look at him, to think that he’s a part of the ever growing issue that has been itching beneath your skin. You’re a part of it, too, but you have the sudden urge to run. To get out.

Still, you swallow down all of that turmoil and say, “I hardly know what I want now, so how do you expect children to know that they want to be a hero?”

“What is this about?” Shouta asks.

“It’s about the Hero Commission and U.A. and the entire fucking system. That’s what it’s about.” you seethe, looking up into his eyes, trying to find something there.

“It’s not just about you?” he asks, unperturbed.

“Why can’t it be both?” you respond, trying to keep your voice from going high, from going hysterical. There’s so much you want to say, so much that it’s making you sick, that it’s turning your stomach. “I’m– I’m barely older than them!” you say, because all you keep thinking about is how they’re just kids. And you were just a kid. And at one point, Tomura was just a kid.

He’s barely older than you. Closer in age to Shouta’s students than to him.

“I didn’t invent the system,” Shouta says and he sounds weary, “I just try to give my students the best opportunity at surviving being a hero. I try to teach them everything to keep them alive.”

They’re just kids! You want to shriek, kids that were chosen or forgotten or accepted or shunned.

Looking in the face of the system now feels so massive that it’s hopeless; a system that produces shiny heroes from children with their perfect and acceptable Quirks and discards the rest. Even you and Shouta, with your Quirks that aren’t as flashy, are pushed into the shadows to do the Hero Commissions business. And what business is that? You have to wonder their intentions, too, with all the money that’s pumped into it. Into all of these heroes. A system that forgets anyone who doesn’t fit into it’s perfect mold.

“But you see how it’s wrong, right? And just because you didn’t invent the system doesn’t mean you get to throw your hands up!” You say, voice raising.

Shouta levels you with a cool look. He lets loose a sigh. “What would you like me to do?”

You don’t have an answer, it’s too big of a question.

(You see the appeal suddenly, in wanting to get rid of it all, in destroying it since it’s such a mess.)

But you hate his aloofness, you hate that he doesn’t care. You hate that you feel crazy.

“I don’t know!” you shout, tears finally falling down your angry and flushed face. “I don’t know!”

“Are you done?” Shouta asks and it makes you want to scream more. You just want a reaction from him, you realize, you want something more than his impassiveness. You think of trying to shout more, to try and say something cutting or powerful or enough to make him wince.

But nothing comes to mind and you’re just stubbornly trying to keep back a sob.

So you shoulder past him, rush out of his apartment, rubbing at your cheeks and trying to keep back your hiccuping cries.

You have every intention of going to Tomura’s.

But you realize when you’ve nearly made it to his door that it might be foolish to go to someone like Tomura with tears in your eyes. What is the leader of the League of Villains going to do? You have a feeling you might just get your feelings hurt more.

So you pause, rub at your eyes again, try to dispel all the turmoil inside you. It doesn’t work, so you turn away from him, too, and you start moving.

Your feet carry you to the train station, carry you across town, to a warehouse you used to vandalize and hide in when you were young and alone.

You haven’t been here in years.

It feels strange, loping around the side of the building. The alleyways are cast in garnet light with the fading sun. It makes it look prettier than it is. You enter through the same hole in the wall that you used to when you were young; you’re bigger now, though, need to duck lower, curl yourself up to get through it.

You think of yourself scurrying around, knowing the ins and outs of this dilapidated building the way most children know their childhood home.

It’s strange, stepping back into a place you haven’t been to in years. You know, in some way, it has to have changed. It’s falling apart more, there’s larger holes in the ceiling, letting in auburn light, setting everything ablaze. There’s a lot of debris; from torn tents to discarded sleeping bags to spare junk, it’s all spread out throughout the place. Graffiti covers every corner of the walls. You used to look for a face painted in pink, it’s eyes dripping down it’s face in the back corner of a wall. When your eyes slide along all the artwork, it’s nowhere to be found now. No doubt covered up by the years, but you know it’s there, somewhere beneath all that color and paint.

There are a lot of empty bottles, glass laying around that crunches beneath your shoe.

You pick up a glass by the spout, watch as it catches in the light, murky gold and sunkissed.

You feel small again, fragile like the bottle in your hand. You stopped crying at least, but all that’s left is the aftertaste. Just the lingering frustration, the bitter aloneness that settles over you as cold as Shouta’s stare.

Your fingers squeeze around the glass, curling tight, before you suddenly hurl it at the wall.

It bursts on impact, explodes into thousands of shining, glittering pieces that spark in the sun.

It feels good, so you pick up another glass– this one’s mint green, pretty like the sea, reminds you of spring and the stems of flowers.

It breaks prettily, too, the sound ringing and sharp in your ears, your eyes trying to catch all the splinters of it. It explodes in the light. It’s cathartic, letting all your aching frustration and hurt rush out with each breaking, with each smashing.

You don’t get through many more, not before you hear footsteps behind you.

You can’t say you’re surprised to find Tomura, but you can’t say you were expecting it either. Quickly, you turn away, try to school your features. You try to rub at your eyes again, as if this will somehow dispel damp lashes and splotchy cheeks.

“Are you stalking me?” you ask, but there’s no bite to it as he comes to stand beside you.

He doesn’t answer.

You think he might be, but you can’t find it in you to care.

The sound of the distant city is just a hum between you two. Glass sparkles on the floor like stars in the fading, ruby light.

You turn to face him, don’t bother trying to look up into his face, just shove yourself into his chest. You bury your face into his hoodie, rubbing your cheek against his chest. “Creep,” you mumble, “What are you doing here?”

His hands come up, one at the back of your head, the other along your back. He has his gloves on. Not that it matters.

“I followed you from the apartment,” he admits and his voice is quiet, but it seems to echo in this open space. Then he says, “You should be more watchful.”

“Don’t start,” you grumble, letting your fingers curl in his jacket, “Been scolded enough today.”

The hand at the back of your head tugs at your hair lightly, lifting your head from its hiding place against his chest so that he can look you over carefully.

The light casts him in maroon and russet, saturating him, making the dark of him stand out sharply. It makes the silver of his hair seem peach, brands him in all the sun’s honey and whiskey glory.

His eyes are vivid, maybe the most true shade of red you’ve ever seen in your life.

He takes in your face, perhaps your bloodshot eyes, your damp lashes. You aren’t a fool; you’re certain he can tell you’ve been crying. You have the urge to squirm away, to try and hide from his gaze.

But all he asks, in a surprisingly gentle tone, is “What happened?”

You shake your head fractionally, “Nothing. Got into an argument, that’s all.”

He hums lightly, tracking your expression. You want to glance away from him, but he holds you still for a moment longer.

When you can’t take his scrutinization any longer, you ask, “Wanna break some shit with me?”

He lets you go finally, let’s you step out of his arms despite not responding. You pick up another glass, this once an icy blue that reflects light that reminds you of the color of morning skies.

You watch as it explodes against the wall, flashing like a little firework. Glass rains down onto the ground, some of it flinging up into the air or back towards you. Tomura pulls you away from it by the back of your jacket, yanks you back into his chest as glass shards fly past you.

He glares at you somewhat and you can tell he wants to scold you, but he doesn’t. You squirm out of his grasp to do it again.

Glass showers down as you break another bottle. It rains in shards of tangerine and pale yellow, bright pops of cherry in the light. It feels good, to watch it all burst apart in the sunlight, like watching little stars burst and explode at your hands. It’s so pretty, for such a violent act.

You hand a bottle to Tomura, offering him the chance to also act out. Instead, he pulls off one of his gloves– tugs it off with his teeth, the glint of sharp white against flesh pink. You watch fascinated for a moment, catch his eyes, blazing and barbed.

When he takes it with all five fingers, you watch as it first cracks in your palm, before fluttering away into dust. Into nothing.

You make a face, “That’s not as exciting as breaking them.”

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the way the corner of his lips hike up. He takes another glass, this one icy silver, caught peach in the honey light, though. He keeps a finger lifted away delicately as he lifts it up to the beams of scarlet sun that flare through the rafters.

And in that fiery patch of dusk, with the glass reflecting iridescence onto the angular plains of his face, your heart gives a violent lurch, like it’s trying to burst free from your chest.

I think I love you, you think, unbridled, and so suddenly that it feels as if the thought has slammed into you the way a body might fall from the ledge of a roof.

I think I love you, you think again, because you can’t quite believe it, as he lobs the bottle at the wall. It fractures into a thousand little beams of glass and light, like an exploding comet. You feel as fragile as that, like he’ll do the same to you. Maybe you’ll be nothing but shards by the end of this, nothing but dust slipping through his fingers.

He turns to you, no doubt to say something snarky, but you’re already taking quick steps to him. He doesn’t get the chance to speak, not when you collide with him, hard and reckless, throwing yourself up onto your toes to kiss him with a new violence.

He makes a surprised noise, soft, but catches you otherwise. His hand is already up, worming beneath your clothes to press chilled fingers into the bare skin of your upper waist. He likes the way you hiss into his mouth, and you like the way they dig roughly into you. He forces you closer, melds his mouth to yours, rough at the edges, slick and warm at the center as the kiss blossoms into slow simmering heat.

And by the end of it all, when the light has given way to violet darkness, the press of indigo shadows that stretch tall in this abandoned warehouse, there is too much glass on the floor. Everything is shattered or decayed. Your lips are stinging from sharp-toothed kisses and the desperate press of his mouth to yours. You’ve turned molten, fallen apart the way glass does.

You walk home together, hand in seeking hand.

Your eyes flush pink with your Quirk, brightening up in the dark.

You knock into his side like you’re a kid, eagerly trailing beside him. He has the hood of his sweatshirt up, hidden, as you rush into the next train back to the part of town that holds the little, distant world of his apartment.

You sit beside each other on the train, knees pressing into each other. He leans over to crowd you against the cool glass as the world streaks past you in a wash of darkness. He ducks his face to yours, his hood hiding the both of you from any onlookers as he seers his mouth to yours again.

You feel like a teenager, kissing in front of strangers, beneath the flickering light of the train car. You feel young and reckless, letting him have you like this, while the city burns like a blurry halo behind you. But you feel older, too, older and in love, like you finally know the secret of the universe, the one that every adult knows and has only learned in the burn of a kiss, in the messy squeezing of your heart.

He licks into your mouth slow, you curl your small hand into his worn hoodie. If people stare, you don’t know, don’t care.

He pulls away from you, forcing you up when your stop is announced, leaving you a little dazed and dizzy, but you eagerly follow after him. Your hands bunch into the back of his jean jacket. You stumble behind him a little, feet tangling with his as you duck beneath his arm to come to his side.

Ryuji finds the two of you on your walk home the closer you get, follows you both inside, happily chirping at your coos. But he paws at the window to be let out again a short time later, after you’ve fed him something. Tomura opens the window for the cat, but not before you catch him rubbing a knuckle against the kitten’s fuzzy cheek, brief but gentle.

You think he likes Ryuji more than he lets on. You think he loves all this more than he lets on.

Tomura takes his time with you that night, surprisingly languid for once, like you’re not on borrowed time. Like this is an entirely new planet, a version of the two of you that is not bound by pasts and future expectations. No strings puppeteering you both, no invisible hands holding you both back.

He pulls you down into his lap, to sink onto him, fill yourself with him as you please. You twine your arms around his slender neck to pull him close, eyes half lidded and pyretic pink, fiery and soft with the way your Quirk reacts to his. It always hums somewhere inside of you, brushes against his until it quiets, until he’s soothed and relaxed.

“Do you feel powerful?” he murmurs against your lips, eyes flickering up to find yours.

The question takes you by surprise for a moment, pulling away fractionally from his parted lips. And with the way your heart squirms in your chest, looking down at him like this, you want to say no, I feel terrified and new and desperate.

But he drags nails down your back, makes you gasp and roll your hips down onto him, which startles a groan out of him. The sound of it turning your stomach in the best and worst ways, making you flush, making you squirm to try and sink lower onto him. Greedy and desperate, you wiggle your hips to make his breathing come out ragged.

It makes you realize you have one of the most dangerous villains beneath you, as desperate as you are.

You roll your hips again, slow, take what you want of him. You fist your hand in his hair, tilt his head back and watch as his eyes flutter. His cheeks are flushed.

Pretty, you think faintly.

“Yeah,” you breathe, gliding your lips along his, heart a storm in your chest to have him looking up at you like this, “I do.”

His lips tilt into a knife-sharp smile, enough to gut you.

And he lets you take what you please of him that night, and the thief that you are, you take and take and take. You steal from him with deft hands and a smile that he thinks he’d destroy the world for. You take all the love that you want from him, gorge yourself on it until you feel sick.

Until you feel as if you could rot with it, carrying your love for him in the pits of you, coveting in the safe, secret parts of you, for no one else to find.

Just you and him, like this, hand in seeking hand.

***

PART III

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x you #shigaraki x you #tomura x y/n #shigaraki x y/n #tomura shigaraki x female reader #tomura shigaraki fanfic #bnha x reader #bnha fanfic #tenko shimura #tenko shimura x reader #bnha

649 notes · View notes

highdramas · 4 years ago

Text

steady now | b.b.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: language, possible tfatws spoilers, mention of death? sort of? mention of the blip mostly, some angst, references to sexxxx babie

word count: 4.3k wowie

summary: bucky is not the only one with amends to make.

note: here’s another installment in the twalb story <3 again, you don’t have to read these in order, they stand independently, but they do all work together! PLEASE leave feedback/reblog! this is extremely helpful for me writing future parts to know what everyone likes or doesn’t like! i’m extremely proud of this part so i really hope that you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it <3

enjoy! <3

there was once a time where you loved california.

there was once a time where you had a boyfriend with an easy smile and charming demeanor and a family in ventura. his name was felix, and you always told people that he could make anyone fall in love with him with nothing but that stupid smile of him-- of course, you never said how that upset you. you never said how it hurt when the waitress looked at him with dazzling eyes and how he seemed to relish in the attention.

you never voiced how he seemed to eventually bore of the attention that you gave him. you never voiced the way that you wished he would look at you with those dazzling eyes and give you that breezy laughter and that look that said i have you in the palm of my hand.

he did. he didn’t need to give you that look to know that.

sometimes, you wonder if he felt any sort of relief after the blip. you wonder if when you dusted right before him, if he felt like he won in some sick way. of course, you know that he would never admit that. he would never make that known to anyone. maybe even himself. but subconsciously… you wonder if you were simply an accessory that was worn out of convenience, and if your fading from reality was the biggest convenience at all.

it’s sick. you know it’s sick, and likely not true. but still. you wonder.

when you returned, the first thing that you did when you got your hands on a cell phone was call him. you called him and you cried and you said that you were okay, you were here. you asked him what the hell happened. you asked him if it had really been five years.

you heard a voice in the background. it was feminine, light, airy. the voice of a fairy. you’ll never forget hearing that voice. you learned later that she was his fiance.

you’ll never forget the sort of heartbreak that you felt. it was visceral. the knowing-- the knowing that it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anything that you did. it was merely the absence of you. you still wonder how long he mourned. you wonder how long it took. you saw him only a handful of times after you returned. he had cried, and you had stared, unsure what to say.

how do you apologize for fading from existence?

that was the first time you saw him. the second was worse.

the second, you were angry. you were angry and you lashed out. what was supposed to be an easy dinner turned into an explosion of tears and fury, the words this isn’t fair and what was i supposed to do? wait for you? and so desperately you had wanted to say yes. you wanted to say that you wished he had held out hope, that he stayed up and dreamt of you and that he was devoted.

it was a selfish thought. he had told you politely to not contact him again.

you had learned that he had moved back to ventura with his fairy girlfriend from some casual facebook stalking. they bought a house on the coast. they’re planning a wedding.. she is beautiful, and you noticed something from the pictures you see of them together right away. he looks at her not like he was charming her, but like she was charming him.

that’s what made you realize he was never yours to begin with.

now, you’re in california again. now, bucky sits beside you and he drives and you control the music. now, he looks at you like you have hung the stars in the sky and propped up the moon. and you look at him the same way.

bucky has amends to make, but so do you.

when he reaches over and places his hand on your thigh, you smile. you place your hand over his and you squeeze. you’d insisted that you two rent a convertible, and though he rolled his eyes, he obliged. you drive down the pch and it is april and the sun is warm and inviting but not abrasive. he wears sunglasses and he doesn’t wear the gloves. he wears a short sleeved shirt.

it’s enough to make you smile and lay your hand back against the seat and make you think: everything happened just the way it should.

bucky is here to extend his amends to the chaplin family. well… really, he’s here to set them up with the CIA. they’ve been hydra sympathizers for years.

you, on the other hand, are here to extend amends of your own.

bucky knows. bucky knows and he watched you recall the story with tears blurring your vision. you would hiccup and say, “i’m sorry. i’m not sad over him, not anymore. i’m just sad that i could be forgotten so easily.”

he had held your face in his hands and he swiped at your tears and he said, “you’re impossible to forget.”

at first, when you brought up coming with him, he had been hesitant. his endeavors with the amends and with sam, he tends to like keeping separate. you get it. you know he doesn’t want to put you anywhere near the danger that he encounters, even if that maddens you. but then, your face fell and you held out the wedding invitation that had arrived in your mailbox. “i want to go.”

bucky takes it and he studies it and he clenches his jaw. he looks at you through his lashes. “i’m going with you.”

now, the wedding is in three days. you wonder if he was surprise when you sent in your rsvp marked yes. you were surprised that he invited you at all.

once, you remember him saying to you, “sometimes, you have to extend olive branches. you’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

this is your olive branch.

bucky squeezes your thigh and his thumb makes small circles and it instills a calm in you that you haven’t felt since you stepped foot on the plane. he glances over at you. “we don’t have to go.” this isn’t the first time that he’s said this. “we can stay in our hotel all week. i’m sure we can find something to do.”

your jaw drops and you look over at him and he has that smug look on his face. it’s been nice, watching him slip into ease with you. “you are such a pig.”

“i’m just saying, we have options.”

you laugh and you swat his hand away. he grins and he places it on the head rest, his fingers idly playing with a few strands of your hair that blow in the wind as he drives. you pull up to the hotel and you check in and bucky carries all of your bags, which you try to object, but he simply does not care. you fall back onto the mattress and he follows suit and he presses his lips to yours, presses them to your pulse point, your jaw. he whispers against your skin that you are beautiful. he whispers against your skin that you’re an angel.

angel. he always calls you that.

hours pass and you spend most of them beneath bucky, breathless. eventually it is the middle of the night and you have done nothing but fuck and you’ll be the first one to admit that they were hours well spent. he’s propped up on an elbow and he looks down at you, dewy and heavy lidded. “why’d you want to come out here? to the wedding?”

you can’t help but laugh. “that’s what you want to talk about right now?”

he blushes, moves to hide his face, but you beam and you place your hand on the side of his face. you push yourself up and sit criss cross, holding the sheet to your body, facing him. he follows suit.

the two of you do this back home. whether you’re sitting on the living room floor or in bed. it’s easier to talk in the dark, bucky once said. you’d never forgotten. so, this became a sort of unspoken ritual. you would sit with your knees brushing and you would talk and you would laugh and you never wanted this to change.

“i guess i don’t know why i wanted to come.” you reach for his hand and he offers it to you. you run your fingers along the golden grooves, and you swear that you see the hairs on his opposite arm begin to stand up. “i didn’t want to be seen as the bitter ex. i hate-- i hate being perceived. you know? like, i can’t control how anyone views me. i can’t control them thinking i’m crazy or irrational. but… they don’t know anything at all.” bucky’s eyes never leave you. “i wanted to come because i feel like i’m ready to face it. the truth of it. i don’t feel fearful of it all. i used to feel so… gross. gross about how i reacted and how i felt. i felt so selfish. but now…” you can’t help but smile a little bit and you touch the place on his chest where his heart lies in his ribcage. “i’m glad for it. all of it. it’s stupid, but… it brought me here.” you lean your palm into his chest just slightly more. he covers your hand with his and he pulls you in, your hand splayed out on him.

bucky is softening before you. so often you are the one who offers an ear and a comforting touch, but he is happy to repay the favor whenever you need it. “you’re too strong all the time.” his words are definitive, with no room for arguing. “you were hurting. you’re allowed to hurt. you didn’t have a choice in missing out on five years while the world went on without you.”

of course, you know he’s right, but it just feels good to hear it. it feels good to hear it from him. “and he was an asshole.” bucky’s jaw sets. “he had five years to mourn you and your relationship. he barely gave you a month. what sort of guy does that? to a girl he loved?” he shakes his head, as if shaking the thought from his person. “if that were me, i would’ve…”

you watch as he trails off. he looks down and away. you gently take his face and move it up, getting him to look at you again. he gives you this smile that is equal parts sorrow and loving, and you wish you could take away all his pain. “i’d mourn you for life. and i… if i got the chance to have you again? i’d--”

“bucky.” you cut him off smoothly and you shake your head. “that won’t happen.”

he smiles. “i know.” he pushes your hair back and his hand rests on the back of your neck. “i just can’t imagine someone having you and not--” he shakes his head. “he’s a fool.”

gently, your hands lay on his knees and you lean forward. “you asked why i wanted to come,” you whisper, your lips nearly touching his. “i wanted to come because i want to thank him.” you press your lips against his, and his hand goes to splay on your back, pulling you in nearer and nearer. “he recommended the apartment building.”

bucky grins and you connect in every possible place. you roll between the sheets once more and eventually, sleep overtakes you.

the days leading up to the wedding pass by in a relative blur. bucky goes to make his amends and though you offer to come, he shakes his head. “i’ll be quick,” is his promise, and he keeps good on it. he’s gone barely two hours.

you spend time on the beach and sight seeing. you don’t know if you’ve ever seen bucky this… relaxed. yes, he’s always slightly more alert than your average citizen, but you will never fault him for that. you go and get ice cream and you sit on a little bench and bucky stares at you. “what?” you asked and you raise your brows. “something on my face?”

“actually, yes.” he reaches out and swipes your bottom lip, coming back with some strawberry ice cream on his thumb. he pops it into his mouth and it makes your heart plummet to your stomach. “yum.”

you all but drag him back to your hotel.

finally, it is the day of the wedding.

bucky has been ready for hours. he likes unbearably handsome-- you’d gone with him to a shop in new york and had helped him pick out some new slacks and a nice fitting shirt. he had chuckled at the way that the pants hit his ankles and said, “it’s definitely not the forties anymore.”

you had picked out a sage green silk dress, and you smooth it out in the mirror, tilting your head to the side as you looked at yourself. bucky approaches you from behind and you’re so stuck in your own head that you hardly notice him until his hands are on you. they go to your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into tense muscles with his thumbs. “you look beautiful, doll.” he leans forward and he presses a chaste kiss to your shoulder, which makes you smile, because it’s so him. “i wanna kiss you but i don’t want to mess up your makeup.”

“like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“i’m a gentleman.”

a smirk works its way onto your face and some of the nervous, fluttering monarchs in your stomach have begun to dissipate. you turn and he gently holds your face, examining it. he opens his mouth to say something, laughs, and closes it. “i don’t even know how…” he clears his throat. you swear that tears prick at his eyes. “i don’t even know how to say how much… how perfect you are. i’ll never be able to say it properly.”

everything about james buchanan barnes makes you melt, and this is no different. you sigh and you lean your body against his, and he holds you ever close. “thank you for coming with me,” you whisper into the skin of his neck. “i needed you here.”

he holds the back of your head carefully. “i’d follow you anywhere, doll.” he pulls back and his hand holds your face, and the vibranium is like a kiss to your cheek. “may i kiss you?”

your lips part and you nod-- and he takes his time kissing you. he kisses you long and tender, making sure that you feel everything. sometimes you think that this is easier than talking for him-- this is the way that he can show you how perfect he finds you. it’s better than any words he could string together.

the ride to the venue is somewhat of a blur. bucky doesn’t take his hand off of you-- it’s constantly holding yours. from the car to the walk inside to taking your seats-- you can feel the eyes that are glued to you, but you can feel bucky’s hand in yours more. you can hear the muffled whispers of gossiping friends and family, but you hear bucky’s murmured complaints louder, and they make you laugh.

felix is at the altar already. he’s talking with a groomsman and he laughs at something and you smile a bit. he looks happy, you think. bucky’s arm is slung across the back of your chair and his fingers trail up and down your shoulder, his eyes fixed on you.

you turn to look at him, too. you lay your hand on his knee and your smile says your thanks over and over and over again. bucky’s eyes flick to the altar, and he sees that you’ve finally been noticed. felix may be looking at you, but you will never know. you are looking at bucky.

the ceremony is pretty. bucky’s bored, you think-- that thought is enough to make you chuckle. felix’s fairy girlfriend is exactly what you gathered from the pictures-- she is energetic and kind, she is sweet and beautiful. the more you think, the more you watch the way that felix looks at her, the lighter you feel.

a part of you had feared that you would never get over him. that you would never get over the what if. possibilities tended to haunt you, but now, being here… you had known for a long time that not only had you gotten over him, you had found something so much better than what you had. but it’s the thought that thrums through you that you were not expecting.

you can see this for yourself. one day. bucky at an altar in a suit, you in white.

you smile to yourself in your seat. bucky looks over at you. you look over at him, just for a moment. your heart feels full.

felix begins his vows. “carly,” he begins and he clears his throat. you can tell that he’s already getting emotional. “never did i once expect to find you. never did i expect to find someone who fit with me so… completely.” you watch as his hands shake as he holds the piece of paper. “but i did. and i’m so lucky it was you.”

his vows go on, and they are beautiful. through it all, you can sense bucky beside you, entirely attentive to you.

the reception is on the beach. the sun is setting, and it is stunning. the food is good and every gives speeches and toasts and you’ve been placed at a table with some friends that both you and felix had known. of course, when shit hit the fan with you and felix, you hadn’t exactly kept in touch, but they’re kind nevertheless. some recognize bucky, and the questions they ask make you cringe. “so… winter soldier,” one of them, kya, begins. “you actually did all of that bad shit?”

it takes everything in you not to lunge across the table. bucky’s hand finds your leg underneath the table, already knowing what you’d like to do. you open your mouth to interject, but bucky cuts you off. “hydra did.” he gives a clipped smile. it leaves no room for discussion.

they ask about the avengers and about thanos, and all of it makes you roll your eyes. they talk to bucky as if he’s a toy rather than a human being. as everyone is mingling, you see the couple beginning to approach your table. everyone cheers and scoops them up into hugs. it makes a part of you sad. not because of him, but because it’s another reminder of how life went on without you.

you and bucky stand and approach them. you can almost feel bucky’s hesitation as he sizes up felix. the protectiveness in his stance makes your heart swell. carly smiles at you, but you can tell that there’s a hint of nervousness in her demeanor. “hi!” she says and she looks between you and bucky. “we were both so happy when we got your rsvp. a little surprised, but…”

your eyebrow raises and you look at them. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” you place your hand on bucky’s arm. “felix, carly, this is my boyfriend, james. james, felix and carly.”

he shakes their hands and you note the way their eyes flick to the metal one on the other side. bucky and carly begin to make awkward small talk, and you look at felix. he looks at you. there’s something knowing in the stare. “want to take a walk?” he asks, nodding towards the beach.

you nod. felix turns to carly and you turn to bucky, who has a slightly concerned look written on his face. “it’ll be fine.” you lean in and you kiss him, wanting to take any insecurity from him. “play nice, but not too nice. if they say anything stupid, call them on it.”

bucky smirks. “you got it, doll.” he looks to felix and nods to him, and there’s something in bucky’s eyes that must scare him, because you swear felix pales slightly. and then you and felix set off.

for the first part of your walk, both of you are quiet. it’s as if both of you knew that this was inevitable, and now you’re just trying to figure out where to start. both of you begin to talk at the same time, and it causes awkward chuckles to fill the air between you. you stop by a log and you sit, staring out at the ocean. you cross your legs and you look over at him to find his gaze still on the ocean. finally, it moves to you. “i’m sorry.” you both say it at the same time.

a sad smile settles onto your face and you look away. “you first,” he says.”

“i’m sorry.” you look at him again. “i’m not sorry for the way that i felt. i’m not sorry for hurting. but i am sorry that i lashed out. i was… angry.” you suck in a breath. “people who stayed… they’ll always carry the grief and the trauma of those five years. but the people who came back? we came back to a world that had moved on. i can’t… i can’t explain to you how hard that was. it wasn’t just you. i lost everything.” you shake your head. “i took it all out on you. all that hurt. and i’m sorry for that.”

felix nods his head. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t more understanding of what you were going through. that i just… cut you off.” he swallows. “i had five years to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t coming back. even when you were back, it almost felt… fake. like i was looking at a ghost.” he swallows. “but i missed you. i want you to know that i missed you, and i thought about you.”

a small smile works onto your face. “thanks.” you look towards the crowd, where people are laughing and dancing. “she seems great.”

felix looks over his shoulder. “she is. she keeps me… in check. i can be kind of an asshole. i don’t know how either of you dealt with me.” this makes you laugh and roll your eyes. “you and bucky barnes, huh?”

“i have you to thank for that.” he looks at you in confusion. “the building you recommended me? we were neighbors.” you smile, thinking back on the memory of bucky barnes at your door, asking if you needed help building your cat tower. “he is the best thing that has happened to me,” you say it with no hint of hesitation.

felix smiles. “he looks like he’s crazy about you. he barely looks anywhere else.”

you bite down on your lip. “yeah, i’ve heard that before.” the wind ruffles your hair slightly, and you look at felix and he looks at you. “i’ve spent a lot of time being angry at you. i don’t want to be angry anymore.”

he shakes his head. “i don’t want to either.” he pauses. “maybe… maybe, one day, the four of us could… you know, get dinner or something.”

“yeah,” you nod your head. “one day.” you stand, and he follows suit, and you look up at him. “thank you. for inviting me.”

“thank you for coming.”

there’s a level of awkwardness that rests between you, and you think that perhaps it’s inevitable. but also, you can’t help the sense of relief.

part of you thinks that he’s itching to hug you, and you may be extending some forgiveness tonight, but you’re certainly not there yet. you begin to walk towards the party. “c’mon. you need to go to your bride.”

when you return, you think bucky might be ready to drive his steak knife through his eye. you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and bending so that your face is beside his. “miss me?”

he snorts. “you have no idea, doll.”

you watch as felix makes his way to carly, and you meet his eye. he gives you a slight nod and a knowing smile, and you return it.

there’s a weight that’s lifted off of your chest.

“c’mon,” you say to bucky, tugging him up. “we’re going to dance.”

he groans and you laugh, pulling him by the hands to the dance floor. just as you are, you make me feel so young begins to play around you. as you step onto the dance floor, you begin singing the words quietly to him. your dancing slows to a light sway, and in your ear, bucky begins murmuring the words to you.

your eyes flutter shut and a sweeping calm comes over you. “you know… i never thought i would get married. did you?”

bucky’s hands have a firm place on your waist. “i grew up in the forties. of course i thought i was going to get married,” you two spin slightly. “but, after everything… i didn’t think that was ever going to be in the cards for me.”

your breath catches. “and now?”

“now?” bucky asks into your ear. “i can only dream i get lucky enough to have you as my bride.”

your cheeks grow warm. “mrs. barnes…” you lean back to look at him. “has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

the look on bucky’s face, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen that look before. “yes.” his voice is so firm it nearly brings you to your knees. “yes, it does.”

you two slow to a halt and bucky tilts your chin up. “guess i have some work to do,” his lips ghost over yours. “mrs. barnes.”

the world around you stops, and in that moment, it is only you and bucky. it is you and bucky at your ex’s wedding, and there is nowhere else you would want to be.

you’re beginning to understand why bucky likes making amends.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series #the world's a little blurry

371 notes · View notes

it-was-summer · 4 years ago

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 2 (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A/N: I’ve gotten so much positive feedback and a lot of people seem to like so I am so happy to share another chapter with you all! In this chapter I will put Asterisks (***) before anything that might seem triggering to some viewers just to give you all a heads up! I would also like to add that virginity is a concept made by man and if you are/aren’t one that is valid as hell!- much love, Em❤️

Warnings: torture, blood, cursing, distributing individual / content, sex talk, sensitive material ahead.

Plot: The team works to find you before the situation escalates, you spend time in a less fiery version of hell.

Word Count: 2.2k

“This girl made my job easier,” Garcia was logging into your computer with a smile “, It was never difficult, but now I get to skip a few tiny steps.” She was searching through your emails, looking for any messages that could have been from your stalker, there was nothing so far. So she moved to your phone records, unknown calls, texts, anything that could help.

She did find one call from an unknown number that had left a voicemail a few minutes before two in the morning on the night of your abduction, but the only thing that she could get from it was the sounds of sobs before the line goes dead.

The rest of the team was combing your apartment in Richmond. The most impressive thing about this whole case was how you knew something was going to happen and the evidence you left behind for them. Sticky notes decorated your desk, labeling everything from your passwords to the gifts your stalker had left you. Another thing that shocked the team was seeing photos of almost all of them, you didn’t get one of Garcia, with little sticky notes next to them.

The sticky notes contained little comments like “Fine as hell,” that one was for Reid, Morgan teased him about it before he looked at his own picture that had the note of “Arms?? Yes?”

It seemed like you had a sense of humor that you didn’t let on in your videos. It made Prentiss laugh, but as soon as she did her eyes looked down at the carpet, seeing a single rose petal near your nightstand. Instead of being red like all of the others, it was the pale color of pink. “It looks like the Unsub is in love with her,” she bent down to pick up the petal with a glove “, or whatever their demented version of love is.”

Reid was focusing on the books, you had a tiny library growing at your house filled with classics, some fiction, others nonfiction. He took note that you already had copies of the Brontë sister collection in your library, and they looked slightly worn down. He couldn’t help but wonder why the Unsub would give you books you already owned. Was it just for their notes? Why couldn’t they use the copies you already own?

Hotch tore Spencer away from his thoughts “The bed was neatly made and there are no signs of struggle, indicating that our Unsub probably made the bed and had time to clean up.”

“Or that she was too afraid to sleep, either way, they probably drugged her and got her out of here as fast as they could,” Prentiss added as she searched the bed for any other evidence.

Reid hummed as he watched Prentiss flip pillows over “It could have been someone she knew, a friend maybe?”

“We can’t rule out anything.” Hotch said as he looked at his wrist for the time “Ried, go with Morgan to the library. Prentiss and I will visit the family.”

***

March 6, 20XX

The night of your abduction you were sitting on your couch, holding one of the decorative pillows close to your chest as you watched the black screen of your television. You felt numb, after you recorded your video you broke down. It started off as crying and then slowly developed into a panic attack, but now you were on your couch trying to think about anything but this horrible situation. You glanced over at the time seeing it was nearing two in the morning, you had already called your mother. She told you to come home and you said you would in the morning.

You couldn’t think about her right now, you started to cry, finding it surprising that you still had enough water in your body to cry again. Sobs escaped your mouth, then something pricked your neck and the world was gone.

When you woke up it all felt so soft. You felt like you were laying on the softest bed ever created, your eyes fought against you, opening slowly in fluttering moments. The room was illuminated in a wondrous pink light, you smiled in your drugged state before it all registered. You suddenly felt hot, on fire, everything was on fire. You attempted to sit up on the bed, slipping back down with a yell, red rose petals flying up around you as you collided with the bed. You carefully sat up, looking down at the bed, if you hadn’t just been kidnapped you would think was romantic.

You tried to pull your legs up to your chest, but you screamed out in pain. Your eyes darted around the bed, in a terrified attempt to stay calm as you looked down at your leg. Bile found its way into your throat, burning in your esophagus as you looked down at your snapped ankle. You vomited off the side of the bed, your body shaking vigorously.

“Catherine,” A terribly sweet female voice spoke, “ My sweet Catherine, you’re awake.”

You coughed lightly before spitting the rest of the vomit out of your mouth, turning your head to look towards the sound of the voice seeing a familiar and beautiful brunette woman smiling over at you. “My name isn’t Catherine,”

“Yes, it is. You’re Catherine Earnshaw, Jane Eyre,” she walked closer, her hair swaying to and fro gently “ Hell, You’re Emma Woodhouse and I am,”

“Crazy, you’re fucking crazy!” you screamed.

“I’m Heathcliff! I am Mr. Rochester! I am Mr. Knightley!” She screamed back at you, her happy demeanor changing in a second, rage decorating her face for a simple second before she let out a calming sigh and smiled once again. “I’m sorry, my sweet, I didn’t mean to scream at you like that. I love you.”

Tears were streaming down your face as you nodded, slowly “You love me,” too afraid to speak out against her again, you nodded through your tears.

She sat on the edge of the bed, that you were slowly realizing was indeed heart-shaped. She reached her hand out, you flinched feeling it land on your head, her hand petting your hair gently.

March 8, 20XX

Morgan was smiling a considerate smile across the table at one of your coworkers, Noelle. She was a pretty blonde, had a sweet smile. The only thing they got out of her was that you were single, her eyes stayed on Reid when she said that, and that you were nice to everyone. Baked for people on their birthdays, or days they were struggling, you were… you are considerate.

Reid hated to admit that the nicest people always seemed to capture the attention of the most dangerous people. Unwanted, cruel, attention.

Spencer excused himself, stepping away to take a look around the vast library. There was a small cafe in the corner of the library, it was possible that the unsub first met you here, checking out a book or something of that kind. He went back to Noelle, “Would you say that Y/N had admirers?”

“Not really, but there was something in December,” she let out a soft sound as she gathered her memories “,this woman came in, beautiful, said she knew Y/N from college or something. It was a weekend so she wasn’t working, but uh she was nice, wanted to buy Y/N a Christmas gift, and asked what she would like. Y/N likes roses, she likes romantic stuff so that’s what I told her.”

Morgan’s eyes widen, holding back his comments as he thanked Noelle for her time before turning back to Reid “A Woman?”

Spencer nodded, trying to make connections in his head. The books and the roses made sense, why the blood-soaked panties? The roses because of what Noelle said, Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre were classic romance books. He had read them both, but he wanted to see your new copies of the books, your annotated versions.

As for the blood-soaked pair of panties, his mind went to one thing, innocence. Assuming that you weren’t a virgin anymore the blood covering them would mean that your innocence was already taken from you. The unsub might’ve given them to you to remind you what you’d lost or to make the threat that you should have stayed a virgin, that you should’ve stayed innocent. However, despite your so-called ‘ruin’, it seems that she still loves you, hence the gifts.

Spencer assumed that the unsub thought that the two of you were connected through romance, maybe even a taboo type of romance. The romanticism of Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre made that fairly obvious to him, as well as the rest of the team. Red roses symbolized romance, while the pink rose symbolized admiration and grace, indicating that your relationship with the unsub could have been anything but new.

“Can we get a map of all of the florists in the area?”

***

You pressed your face into the cushions, it was a weekday and she had yet to come in. Heather, after a day or two you finally remembered who she was, Heather Alexander, she lived on your floor your freshman year of college. She was quiet, sweet, and, apparently, crazy. In college, she seemed less glamorous, wore glasses, had quirky hair, complete with a babyface. You used to invite her over whenever you would bake something sweet, till one day she was gone. Dropped out.

Now, almost seven years later, she seemed so broken. Living in a delusion, thinking that she was some hero or romantic interest of yours. The two of you were destined to be together, well that is until you live out the fate of Catherine Earnshaw and die.

You found it painful to cry at this point, you were so dehydrated and tired that you didn’t even try to force the tears out. It wasn’t that you were too tired to fight, well that was to be debated, you still had plenty of fight left in you. You were playing it safe, the thing that was holding you back from fighting was your mother. You couldn’t bring yourself to put yourself in danger, you needed to hold on to her, you needed to see her again and you knew she needed to see you again. So, you did what you thought was best, for now, lie in bed and feel numb.

It wasn’t that hard to feel numb, given that Heather had you hooked up to a morphine drip. You learned that whenever she was mad at you she would call you Emma, sometimes Jane, but for the most part you were Catherine. When you were Catherine, she would give you all the morphine you wanted for your broken ankle and when you were Emma or Jane she would ween you off till she saw fit. So if you were Catherine, you would feel numb, feel okay at least for now.

You were staring up at the ceiling, feeling especially stoic, when you heard keys jingle at the door. It opened, showing a glimpse of a regularly lighted room, fluorescent as ever, before leaving you and Heather in this disgustingly pink room. “Catherine,” she threw her keys off towards the counter in the corner of the room. You were too drugged up to think about an escape plan, too drugged up to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. It felt so desperately good to be numb, you barely noticed when she touched you, but as soon as you did her touch felt like fire. “Catherine,” she leaned in close, her lips meeting yours in a second. Heather kissed you with her eyes closed, you always kept your eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling waiting for her harassment to be over. You never kissed back and she didn’t seem to mind so long as she was enjoying herself.

Heather pulled away with a childlike grin “Did you enjoy yourself today? I wish I could have stayed with you, but duty called!” Your eyes traveled down to the name on her uniform, it was the name of a floral shop near your work, the roses.

Your speech was slow and slurred, causing Heather to reach over to the morphine drip, fixing it so you would get lower levels of the drug, but that wouldn’t start working for a couple of hours. Heather seemed to know that so she simply got up, walked away, grabbed her keys, and went towards the door “You can answer in a few hours. Till then, my Catherine.”

***

Prentiss watched your mother as she played with her hands, her mouth trembling as she spoke “Y/N called me when it all started,” she looked up, her eyes shifting between Prentiss and Hotch “I should have listened, oh I should have listened!”

“Mrs. L/N, you didn’t know this would happen. You can’t blame yourself here.” Prentiss offered comfort towards your mother only for her to let out a heartbreaking wail of pain.

“She’s all I have.”

Hotch and Prentiss were walking down the porch steps with a tin of chocolate chip cookies, a habit of her’s that you had picked up on. Prentiss looked over at Hotch, whose eyes betrayed him, she didn’t say anything about the look in his eyes. She knew that he probably didn’t want her to ask. She blew out a sigh as they got into the car

“Need a cookie?”

354 notes · View notes

kaeyazuha · 2 years ago

Note

With all the albedo dentist prompts, I thought I’d write a fanfic for you!

Albedo worked relentlessly, his hand darting against the frail paper with a quill, whilst the other hand remained propped below the lower half quadrant of his jaw.

It would be an understatement to say that he was experiencing dental pain. One of his molars throbbed and ached with a lingering sensation of a stabbing pain. For someone with quite a high threshold for pain, his tooth aching was surely affecting him.

Albedo was certainly meticulous about his dental hygiene. He despised feeling dirtied, especially his teeth. But for some unknown reason, he occasionally experienced severe toothaches.

“Mr. Albedo.. Are you alright..? It’s quite late, you should really obtain at least a bit of rest..”

Sucrose meekly peaked her head throat the exposed crack in the doorframe. Albedo, given the fact that he was in indescribable dental pain, shot her a cold glare that nearly melted her in a matter of seconds.

“I am fine. Please allow me to tend to my own matters.”

He spoke harshly, shutting down her suggestion immediately. He wasn’t in the mood for her lecturing, though in reality, she was only worried for him and his well-being. In all honesty, she was cognizant of the reason Albedo was acting this way. The red tint slathered across his left cheek, and his hand beneath his jaw was a tell-tale sign that he had a toothache.

“Mr. Albedo.. Have you made an appointment..?”

She asked, obviously privy to the reason for his irritable behavior. The blonde sighed, nodding his head.

“I have a dental appointment in thirty minutes.”

He admitted. Sucrose nodded her head with the intent to show she understood before retracting her head. Albedo was not anticipating his appointment.

He needed to gather his things and begin driving, which he in fact did. He begrudgingly began to drive towards his destination, the dental clinic, without error. He was an excellent driver, after all.

Upon his arrival, he was immediately brought in to one of the exam rooms and instructed to take a seat on the dental chair. He complied, anxiously gripping the leather armrests of the chair as the dentist snapped a pit of medical gloves onto their hands.

“I heard that somebody has a toothache. Mind opening nice and wide for me?”

The dentist attempted to humor Albedo, but he was not having it in the least. He only cooperated, opening his mouth to a certain degree before his chair was angled back and the beam of light was fixed to direct towards his mouth.

Once the dentist began to scrape around a bit at his teeth with a metal probe and a dental mirror, he couldn’t help but squirm at the odd feeling of having your teeth prodded at. He was fine.. Until that one particular molar was tapped at with a gentle force. He immediately winced, letting out a small groan in response.

“Ah- I see, your first molar. That’s a pretty severe cavity you’ve got there, I can tell that you will require a crown on that tooth.”

Albedo sighed, nodding in compliance. It was t long before a few x-rays were taken and the anesthesia and numbing was administered to him.

He couldn’t quite feel the drilling. All there was happened to be some pressure.

Once the procedure was over with, he felt at the newly repaired molar with his tongue. It felt.. Odd.

Once home, he was in a truly bitter mood, avoiding others to take the time for himself. Since the anesthesia had worn off, his tooth was a bit sore, but much better compared to earlier.

ANON???!! I LOVED THIS OMG ILY ILY THANK YOU FOR THIS i could picture albedo death glaring the dentist akjgsjhg

okay so i can't guarantee the tags will work because they hate me, but i'll try anyway bc people should see this <3

#kycasual #nonnie <3 #i love this sm thank you #albedo fluff #albedo hcs #albedo headcanons #albedo x you

4 notes · View notes

yanderefer · 4 years ago

Note

C-can you p-please do yandere onceler x reader oneshot but he is evil but still okay?? uwu

since you’re the first to ask whatever you say goes i guess. i’ve only ever seen the lorax movie and am not in that fandom so uh, hope his personality is alright. not a specific ask so i just did a scenario i thought of. i did my best. enjoy. there’s changing perspectives marked by the heart dividers. also i forgot he wears a hat so he is hatless.

Scenario: An Act of Kindness

Word Count: 3.5k

Despite being the town outcast, you were able to observe the daily events of the town square without being harassed. That was mostly because of the people who usually ended up in the square. Quite often would outside people come and try to pitch some crazy new idea; starry-eyed yet full of underlying greed. But, this guy was different.

He’d been coming around pretty often now; the thneed guy. In the beginning, you had just rolled your eyes seeing him setting up in the gazebo. You’d hear him sing about his ridiculous invention, only to be harshly booed by a larger and larger crowd. Now there was almost anticipation from the heckling people, waiting to chuck more tomatoes at the poor, strangely stubborn guy.

Seriously, why hadn’t he given up? He was chased away and made fun of every day and would leave to go to who knows where. Yet he always came back, continuing to sing that stupid song about thneeds.

So that leads to now. You doing something out of character.

The sun was setting as people left the square, bored after a day without tomatoes to throw. This was the first time you had seen him so upset. Although very obviously naïve, the black-haired man was overwhelmingly passionate about his…craft, so you felt sympathy. Looks like his guitar got smashed, which you supposed is why he looked so downtrodden.

You didn’t like seeing the stubbornly positive guy look so hopeless.

“Hey.” With your hands in your pockets you strolled toward the bench he was slouching on. The broken guitar was next to him. “Could I sit next to you?”

He didn’t respond. You frowned. It looks like he couldn’t even hear you. With a loud sigh, you kicked at the bench. “Dude. I’m talking to you. Your guitar is in my spot.” Finally, he looked up, eyes shooting open and staring for a moment too long before stuttering out an apology. You sighed and sat down once he moved the broken instrument. It was amusing how he was fidgeting, obviously nervous, and maybe not prepared for anyone to actually talk to him. “What’s your name?”

“Huh?” He rubbed his arm, still staring at you.

“I’m not just going to call you the thneed guy. What’s your name.”

“Oh! It’s Onceler.” He reached out his gloved hand, and you raised your brow. You gave your name in return and shook his hand, ignoring the dirty glove. After the handshake, he continued to fidget. Onceler would look around then look back at you, almost disbelieving. Were you intimidating or was he just not used to people?

“So, Onceler,” You resisted a chuckle at his name, “What’s got you down?” You rested your elbow on your leg and rest your head on your palm, watching him.

“Oh. Uh. Well, you see…” Onceler fidgeted his fingers, eyes looking anywhere but you. He seemed to still be confused as to why you were talking to him, cheeks flushing red. He kept mumbling out random filler words before letting out a large sigh, deflating. “A little girl broke my guitar.” You nodded, pursing your lips. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. “And, well, you know, this guitar kind of…meant a lot to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now it’s broken and, well, I’ve got nothing to show for it.” Onceler held up the pink piece of clothing that was beside him, frown deepening, “I think that maybe now is the time I should give up. Throw in the towel.”

“What?” You were alarmed. You honestly felt really sad for Onceler. He was just a naïve guy chasing his passions, courageous enough to put himself out there. You couldn’t in good conscience just watch such a positive person become hopeless. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Onceler laughed, gaze sad, “I’m a failure. Everyone hates my thneeds. Everyone hates me. I shouldn’t have moved out here in the first place.” He covered his face with his hands, mumbling under his breath, “My parents were right.”

“Knock it off,” You smacked Onceler upside the head, and he let out a squeak of alarm. He grabbed the back of his head and gave you the most confused look you’d ever seen. “Don’t be all pessimistic. Doesn’t suit you.” You clicked your tongue when he still kept staring at you blankly, looking to have zero thoughts in his head.

You reached over and somewhat aggressively took his thneed, messing around with it in your hands before holding it out in front of you. You first put it on your head as a hat but felt it was stupid. Then you tried wearing it as a scarf...Success! Somehow this is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn.

Onceler sat there staring stupidly, and you turned to him with a grin. “Hey, it’s actually pretty good. You made this yourself, right?” Onceler nodded, eyes wide. “It’s creative, but I’m just going to use it as a scarf. How much is it?” You reached into your pocket, ignoring the spluttering mess beside you.

“Wait wait wait–you…you want to buy it!?” Onceler turned to you in absolute disbelief, making you roll your eyes.

“Isn’t that why you kept coming here? The price. Spit it out.” You snuggled a bit into the thneed, smiling. It gave you warm comfort, like the material was made of clouds, or the sun was being absorbed by it. You saw his face turn completely red, and you raised a brow. “What, did you not think of a price?”

“O–Oh! No, no not that. Um, it’s, well,” He told you how much it cost and you dutifully handed him the bills. It wasn’t that expensive, surprisingly. This was a very good deal, and you were forever comfy now.

“Nice.” You happily lifted the thneed and rubbed it on your cheek, not realizing you were smiling sweetly. You noticed the sun was almost behind the horizon and it was getting dark. Distracted, you missed the strangely reverent gaze the man beside you held. “Well, looks like I’m out of here.”

“Huh?” Onceler jolted, and you laughed. He was kind of an airhead.

“It’s getting late. You should probably head back too.” You stood up and patted your pants, readjusting the thneed around your neck.

“Will you…” Onceler suddenly spoke up, and you turned to face him. He stuttered a bit more then went silent, blushing brightly in shame. You rolled your eyes, putting a hand on his head. You ruffled his black hair, before pulling back with a grin.

“Don’t act so unconfident. I think you have a real future with this thneed thing. I believe in you.” You hoped that gave him some confidence. “So, you better come back tomorrow. I’d be bored if you didn’t.” You gave a crooked grin, tilting your head. Onceler frantically nodded, jumping to his feet and leaning forward before abruptly backing away. He gave a very shaky “goodnight” as he turned tail and ran, lanky body unsteady.

He tripped and fell on his face.

You covered your mouth.

He got back up and shouted an, “I’m okay!” before running off.

Once he was out of sight, you burst out laughing. You laughed more than you had in years.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

Onceler ran all the back to the forest, barely paying attention to the goldfish throwing cards at each other. The bears were mostly retreating since it was night, and he couldn’t see the Lorax anywhere. With a relieved sigh he ran to his–for once animal free–home.

He entered and slammed the door behind himself, before sliding to the floor with his gloved hands over his face. Onceler could still feel the heat from his face despite his thick gloves.

Was that a dream? No, that really happened. Onceler didn’t even imagine it! That really just happened!

You really talked to him!

Since he’d been going to the town he’d been getting harassed left and right. The number of tomatoes and insults was uncountable (today somebody had actually destroyed his guitar!) but he always noticed somebody who actually listened when he presented.

It was you! Onceler smiled, still covering his face. He was so flustered. You always stood to the side and never threw anything or yelled at him. You came by every day for varying amounts of time, but today you actually approached him!

You were one of the reasons Onceler kept going to town because he knew if he went he could see you at least for a moment. He admired you so much. He was always so afraid to go up to you since you were so…unreachable. You were so perfect and confident and nice and flawless. And your name was just as wonderful as you were.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that you would really come and talk to him; comfort him. You pat him on the head and said such nice things. You said you believed in him.

Onceler suddenly jumped to his feet in excitement, dancing around the room with uncontained giddiness. It was his first-ever sale and that was amazing in itself but it was so much more because you bought it. His first ever thneed that he made was sold to you. He didn’t know what to do. He was filled with so many emotions that he thought he was going to explode. This was just the first step. Onceler already thought you were great before, and this just proved his theory. Now he needed to wait for you to feel the same thing for him–and he would start by cultivating a great friendship!

You looked so happy wearing the thneed that Onceler painstakingly made. It made everything worth it. You told him to come back tomorrow so that’s what he would do! He already had another thneed done to present with.

…

Onceler had been playing for a while, using the spare ukulele he found in his car trunk. He ignored the booing and noticed they were out of tomatoes still–like yesterday. He was relieved since now you would see him without all that gross red gunk.

After playing for a long time, looking everywhere, he grew antsy.

Where were you?

Since he’d been coming here you’d at least walk by even if just for a minute. Onceler continued to play but slowly became more disheartened. Did you…not mean what you said? Did you realize that he actually was a failure?

With all those harrowing thoughts he slowly stopped playing and walked off the stage. The smaller crowd was almost disappointed to have their daily harassment cut short, but decided to gossip loudly instead. Onceler sat on the bench from the night before, holding a thneed to his chest for comfort.

“That’s pretty intense.”

“Gosh, I know, right? It’s not like they ever bothered to fit in with us, so I guess it’s almost comeuppance? Really harsh, though.”

Onceler perked up, hearing your name come up in their conversation. Worry washed away the disappointment from before. Did something happen to you?

“They probably won’t be leaving the house for a while, I reckon. I know I wouldn’t. Muggings never happen in this town.”

Onceler gripped the ukulele’s neck, and it creaked.

“What was even stolen? They don’t ever carry a bag or wallet. Not much money can fit in pockets.”

“That’s the funny thing–apparently the muggers tried to take their…what was it…it’s that thing that annoying guy's always selling.”

“The thneed thing?”

“Mhm. That. Anyways, they fought back against the muggers and ended up getting really roughed up. I mean, I heard those muggers also got pretty beat up too, but nobody knows where they are. It’s kind of funny that the muggers even took the thneed thing, especially when that person fought so hard to keep it. They went to a hospital, all for a piece of cloth.”

The ukulele creaked, then snapped. Onceler abruptly stood up, surprising the three older women behind him. “They were…hospitalized?” Onceler’s voice was even, no indication of being upset.

One woman gave him a weird look, before shrugging. “Mhm. But I heard they ran off right back home without being fully treated. They don’t like being around people. It’s why they never are around town.” The woman spoke with slight contempt, before scuttling off with her two friends.

Onceler kept holding the broken ukulele by the neck, mind spinning with the new overload of information. You got mugged. You didn’t comply because you didn’t want them to take your thneed. You got hurt. You got hurt.

And nobody cared. No, from what he could tell, those women were somehow happy about it. Onceler realized you never interacted with anyone when you stood close to the square. Everyone treated you like you were invisible.

An outcast.

Onceler ran through town, going up to random people and asking if they knew where you lived. Most gave him disdainful looks and ignored him, and some just yelled. Finally, a kid actually answered him by pointing in a direction.

“They live in that old house at the edge of town. I heard it’s haunted. You shouldn’t go, my mommy said the person living there is weird.” Onceler grit his teeth, forcing himself not to lash out. After running some more, he finally reached your house.

...A really run-down house.

It was worn down, the wooden walls old and unsafe looking, the grass around the house matted and uncared for. Onceler went to knock on the door before stopping himself. He went to the side and looked through the window instead, seeing you on the couch watching something on TV. You were wrapped in bandages in a bunch of places, with a large medicinal patch on your cheek and a swollen eye.

Onceler was relieved to know you were okay, before becoming enraged at how hurt you were. He saw a variety of medications on the table along with an opened first aid kit. You looked strangely serene in your situation, not upset in the slightest. Like you were used to it.

Onceler backed away from the window and furrowed his brows. He wanted to go in and confront you, ask why you did something so dangerous just to protect his useless work. But then he thought about it.

…This means you like him too, right? Why else would you fight to keep something he made?

Onceler rubbed the back of his head, happy but not fully. You really liked the thneed he made, so he didn’t want to give you a replacement. That one was important. It was the most meaningful since it was his first one. You were hurt and he needed a way to comfort you without being too overbearing. Plus, there was this leftover…anger?...in his chest that he needed to get rid of. Those muggers needed to suffer the consequences. Onceler thought about it a bit, then his eyes light up.

He knew what to do.

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

You were eating dinner when you heard a knock on the door.

That was new.

You dragged yourself to your feet. Only curiosity drove you to open the door, not really thinking if it could be dangerous. Nobody ever visited you. You opened the door, out of breath from walking.

“…Onceler?” You blinked a few times, wondering if you were seeing things.

“Ah–Yup! It’s me!” He smiled brightly, hands behind his back and rocking on his feet. You rose a brow.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard rumors about what happened and got worried, so, well, I, uh, just asked around and, um, I also wanted to help so I decided to–”

“Just come in.” You left the door open and walked back to the couch, plopping down and breathing shakily. You closed your eyes briefly to steady yourself, still weak from the encounter last night. You opened one eye and stared at Onceler, seeing him standing in the middle of the room, staring. “What are you holding?”

Onceler jolted, before revealing the thneed behind his back.

“You got me another one? Thanks.” You appreciated that at least. Hopefully, it was free. You really liked those things and the muggers took your cash.

“O–Oh, no, I didn’t do that,” You frowned at him, “I thought that, um, wasn’t fair really.” You were confused. He saw your face and flushed red, “I got it back! For you. The first one. That those muggers took.” Onceler smiled proudly, walking over and presenting the thneed to you.

“Huh?” You hesitantly reached out a took it, “I–what? How?”

“I! Well, I just kind of,” Onceler twiddled his thumbs, looking away while still blushing, “I just got it back. I…found them. And took it back.” You studied him a bit, watching his jittery behavior. But then you looked at his face and saw two bright, innocent eyes. “Are you happy? Do you like it?” Onceler leaned forward, smiling hopefully.

“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, looking at the thneed closely. You move it around and hold it out in front of you. “Huh. It really is mine.” It had the marking you put on it after you bought it. A little initial in the corner of it. You shrug it around your neck, patting it back into place like it was yesterday.

“O–Of course! I thought you, well, I wanted you to keep my first one.” Onceler blushed and waved his hands. “Not in a weird way or anything! It’s my first sale so…it’s important you keep it.” You nod along, figuring it made sense.

“Thanks. I’m glad you got it back for me. Don’t know how you got it, but it makes me feel a lot better, so I don’t care.” You held it close and smiled, rubbing the soft material on your cheek again. “You can sit down next to me.” You gestured to the spot. Onceler brightened up and smiled before almost tripping as he rushed over. He sat down.

“I’m so glad you feel better.” Onceler rubbed his arm, head turned away shyly. “It really sucks that those horrible people did that.” You listened to him while looking at your thneed, nose twitching.

“Huh.” You tilted your head, “I think that’s a bloodstain.” Onceler tensed next to you, but you didn’t bother looking up. “I should probably wash it since it got dirty in the fight. It’s surprisingly sturdy.” Onceler let out a sigh and relaxed.

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. You should do that.” Onceler sounded strangely relieved. About what? You’ve got no clue.

“I’ll do it later. Want to watch a movie with me?” You rested your legs on the table, grabbing the remote. Onceler flushed with a bright smile.

“Of course!”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

While you watched the movie, Onceler looked at the stained thneed around your neck, tempted to wash it right now. It was dirtied by the blood of those–Onceler shook his head. Thankfully you already came to your own conclusion as to how he got the thneed back.

“You’re not wearing your gloves today.”

“Huh?” Onceler blinked, snapping back to reality. He nervously looked down at his hands, “O-Oh. Well, I usually keep them on since I work with trees a lot…”

“Like chopping them down?”

“Once. I just harvest tufts now. I figure somebody would be mad if I cut down more trees, especially since I’m living in that forest for free.”

“That’s kind of you. But, since you aren’t wearing your gloves, why’d you bring an axe? I saw it on the ground by my door.”

“My axe?” Onceler twitched, looking away. He quickly recouped and smiled shakily. “I thought maybe I could help with your house a bit. Chop down some of the trees on the other side of the town away from where I live and repair the walls. That’s why I brought it.”

“Really? That’s sweet, I guess. You don’t have too. Plus, that axe was the rustiest axe I’ve ever seen so it could never cut down a tree anyways. Once I’m better we can work on the house together–only if you want to, though. I could buy us new axes too.” You smiled, making Onceler turn bright red again.

“That sounds super fun!” Onceler sat up straight and clasped his hands together in excitement. “Maybe I can sell more thneeds so we can keep buying materials.” Onceler’s foot kept tapping, body jittering with giddiness. You laughed into your palm, shaking your head slightly before nudging his shoulder.

“Sure. I’ll hold you to it.”

You went back to the movie, leaning back into the couch. Onceler followed suit but mostly watched you instead of the movie. He was amused at your questions from earlier, realizing you were a lot more unaware than you seemed.

Onceler hadn’t meant to bring his axe with him–he just got so excited to see you after he finally got your thneed back that he just threw it to the side and hoped for the best. At least he was smart enough to take his gloves off too. You bought what he told you, which meant you trusted him a lot. In regard to it being rusted, it was probably too dark for you to see how obviously red it was–the same for his discarded gloves.

It didn’t matter. You were happy you got your thneed back, and he was happy he got more opportunities to be around you. Now you didn’t have to worry about those muggers either, because you wouldn’t see them ever again.

Onceler covered his grin with his hand.

Nobody would.

#yandere male #yandere #yandere onceler #this is cursed #yandere fanfic #yandere oneshot #yandere fanfiction #male yandere #the onceler #onceler x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #onceler #yandere imagines

476 notes · View notes

dialovers-translations · 4 years ago

Text

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Kanato Route ー Chapter 2

ー The scene starts on the Carnival’s venue

Yui: ( We’ve returned to the street from earlier. Kanato-kun’s still holding my hand but... )

Say, where are we going next?

Kanato: You really are such a troublesome person. We will eventually get there if you just keep walking.

Yui: Uu...But I’m curious as to where we’re headed.

Kanato: I see. ...In that case, I’ll tell you.

We’re currently headed towards the dress shop ‘Riz à l'impératrice’.

Yui: Eh? A dress shop?

( I wonder why Kanato-kun would want to go to a dress shop...? )

Say, is there anything you need from there?

Kanato: ...It’s your fault.

Yui: Eh?

Kanato: You get mistaken for a servant because you walk around in rags!

Yui: ...!

Kanato: Can’t you tell by looking around? Your outfit is strange.

Yui: ( Now that he mentions it, my clothes might stand out a little here... )

Kanato: I wouldn’t have had a problem with you wearing those if you hadn’t been mistaken for a servant.

However, this just won’t do!

For one, you are to blame here for giving off such a vibe...So why would you say that?

Yui: ...S-Sorry.

Kanato: If you want to walk by my side, I have to ensure you look the part too.

Yui: ( I don’t really understand, but I’m sure this is just Kanato-kun’s way of looking out for me, right? )

Thank you, Kanato-kun.

Kanato: Hmph...We’re here. This is the place.

ー They enter the dress shop

Yui: ( This is...It’s actually a dress shop. )

( Instead of regular clothes, they have a bunch of formal wear lined up. Every single piece looks extremely luxurious. )

( However, I wonder if there’s something that will fit me at such a wonderful store? )

Kanato: ...Is nobody around?

Dress shop Madam: Fufu...Welcome. I am glad to meet such adorable customers.

Yui: Wah...G-Good evening!

( That startled me...She appeared out of nowhere after all. )

( But...What a lovely dress. I wonder if it’s a piece she made herself? It fits her like a glove... )

Dress shop Madam: Well then...Have you come to choose a dress for this cute little lady over here?

Oh dear, are you...a human?

Kanato: She’s my human luggage.

Yui: K-Kanato-kun...

Dress shop Madam: Right. If she belongs to you, I shall welcome her to my store. Of course, a regular human I would kindly ask to leave.

Kanato: Please prepare some clothes to ensure I won’t have to feel embarrassed to have her walk by my side.

Dress shop Madam: Understood. Well then...Would you please give me a better look at your face?

Yui: Eh? ...Y-Yes...!

Dress shop Madam: You have very cute facial features. Your figure (1) as well...Fufufu, not bad.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( She’s kind of touching me all over...It’s a little embarrassing, even if she’s a woman. )

Dress shop Madam: Thank you. All preparations are done now.

With my dresses, the person who wears it does not choose the dress, but the other way around.

Yui: Eh?

Dress shop Madam: Therefore, could you please give them some time?

I am sure that the dresses are currently amidst a heated discussion, wishing to be worn by you!

Kanato: Fufu...Good for you, Yui-san.

Ah, however, they might actually be quarreling because none of them want to be put on by you.

Say, Teddy? What should we do if we can’t find an outfit for her to wear here...?

Her current look is a crime to the eyes, so should we just have her walk around naked instead? Fufu, that might not be too bad of an idea...

Yui: ( What if I don’t get chosen...? )

*Rustle rustle*

Dress shop Madam: Oh dear? I am being summoned, it seems.

Fufu, I suppose you won’t have to walk around naked.

Well then, let me bring you a dress that will fit you perfectly.

Yui: ...Yes, please.

( ...Thank god... )

( I wonder which kind of dress chose me...? I’m a little excited. )

( Dresses just are something I’ve always idolized. I wonder what kind would be nice? )

Selection

→ A princess line dress (☾)

Yui: In the end, nothing’s quite as cute as a flowy princess-like dress, don’t you think?

Kanato: A princess? You?

Yui: ( Eh? I said that out loud...? )

Kanato: Well, it would depend on the type of princess...How about Rapunzel?

Yui: Eh...Why?

Kanato: Bound to my side forever, you get to spend the night simply living true to your desires...Don’t you think that sounds wonderful?

( Did the story really go like that...? )

→ A short dress

Yui: Classical style dresses are nice too, but I wouldn’t be upset with a shorter one either.

( It gives off more of a casual vibe, but they’re easy to walk around in and they’re cute. )

Kanato: You really have no class, wanting to flaunt your own body like that.

Yui: T-That isn’t exactly my intention though...

Kanato: That’s a lie, isn’t it? To think you’re actually out here wishing one of the short dresses chose you, how repulsive.

Seems like you have already forgotten that this is the Demon World, so you are surrounded by Vampires.

Yui: ( That wasn’t what I meant. )

Yui: ( I wonder what kind of dress it’ll be? I’m a little nervous... )

ー The shop lady returns

Dress shop Madam: Well then, this is the dress which chose you.

Yui: ...!

Kanato: Heeh...Not bad. It’s pitch-black, reminiscent of the dark...

I have taken a liking to it. Let’s take this one. You don’t mind, do you? Yui.

Yui: Yeah...

Dress shop Madam: Oh my, I’m glad it is to your liking.

However, having the customer try on the dress is a set rule at this establishment. Well then, please follow me to the fitting rooms?

ー She escorts Yui to the fitting rooms

Dress shop Madam: Well then, why don’t you try and have a nice chat with the dress? Fufu...You can take your time, okay?

Yui: Yes...Thank you very much.

ー Yui enters the fitting room

Yui: ( I wonder if it’s really okay for someone like me to put on such a beautiful dress? )

( However, I was chosen, so it’d be rude not to put it on, right? )

( Wait, this...How do I wear it? )

( Is this a corset? Also, a hoop skirt...Uu, can I really put this on by myself? )

( I guess I should give it a shot. )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( I-I somehow managed to put on the underclothes but... )

( It’s tight around my waist and hard to move around in since I’m not used it. )

( Okay, now I just need to put the dress on top... )

Kanato: How much longer will you keep me waiting!!?

Yui: !?

Kanato: I tell you all the time just how much I hate waiting, no?

Yet...You have the nerve to make me wait this long just to put on one simple outfit...

Yui: I’m sorry, I’m almost done!

( Right. It’ll be complete once I put on this dress. ...There we go. )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Now I just have to zip it up in the back...Huh...I can’t reach it? )

( Oh no. But it’d be bad if I force my body to turn and rip up the fabric. )

( I could ask someone...Right, perhaps the lady from earlier would be willing to help? )

Say, Kanato-kun?

I’d like some help with the zipper in the back so could you call over the person from earlier?

Kanato: Haah? ...Why are you treating me as your little errand boy now?

Please do that yourself.

Yui: But...

Kanato: But, what?

Please don’t try and make excuses. Just how stupid are you that you can’t even put on a single dress yourself?

Furthermore, you are giving someone other than me the honor of seeing you in it first?

Yui: Kanato-kun, you’re wrong. I really can’t...

Kanato: Fufu...I understand. Well then, I shall check whether you are lying or not.

Yui: ( Eh...? )

ー Kanato enters the room

Yui: Kyaah! K-Kanato-kun!!

Kanato: Hm. So you actually couldn’t zip it up.

...A klutz on top of being a dimwit. You truly are hopeless, aren’t you?

Yui: But...

Kanato: Fufu...Are you that embarrassed?

Yui: Of course I am...! You...You just barged in while I was in the middle of changing!

Kanato: Heeh...? You are rather rude, considering I was going to show my good heart and help you out.

Come on, turn your back this way please.

Yui: T-Thank you...

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( That being said, it really is embarrassing... )

Uhm, Kanato-kun? It still is embarrassing, so could you call the shop la...

Kanato: ...could you?

Yui: Eh?

Kanato: How could you...? I’m actually willing to lend someone like you a helping hand.

Yet, you’re trying to chase me out...You truly are a horrible person!

Yui: Kanato-kun, calm down...!

Kanato: Shut up!!!

Having to listen to you is already bad enough, yet you have the nerve to say such a thing to me!

Please apologize...!

Yui: Uu...I’m sorry.

However, it’s not that I dislike it, it’s just embarrassing so...

Kanato: You reject me out of shame?

I will not let that slide...!!

Yui: ( Uu...What should I do? )

Kanato: But well, I suppose it’s fine. I’ll forgive you this once.

Yui: Really?

Kanato: Yes, however, in return, I won’t let you get away without giving me a proper thank-you in return.

Yui: A thank-you...?

Kanato: Exactly. I zipped up the back of your dress, remember?

I lent you a hand...

Come on, turn this way.

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah!!

*Rustle rustle*

Kanato: Fufu...I wonder if it’s because you’re clad in black, but your skin looks even more fair than usual.

Delicious...Nn...Nn...

Yui: !!

( No way...Right here... )

Kanato: Aah...Blood is oozing out, you look so very cute...

Nn...Phew...Nn...

Come on, I’ll suck your blood...From this side too.

Phew...Hah...Nn.

Fufu, you’re scrumptious, Yui-san.

Even though you’re simply wearing another set of clothes, you almost seem like a different person.

Well...I guess you could say the dress suits you?

A hint of red mixed in...with the contrasting white and black, makes for a very pretty sight.

Yui: Kanato-kun...Please, no more...

Kanato: Heeh, is this all you’ve got to offer me as a reward?

Yui: That’s not...But...!

Kanato: Nn...Hah...Ah...

Then, please let me have some more. Fufu...Okay?

Yui: Ah...

Kanato: Nn...Fufu, it’s sweet. Are you turned on, perhaps?

Yui: No way...I’m not.

Kanato: But your blood is sweeter and more delicious than usual...Would you like a little lick too?

Yui: Eh? ...Nn...

Kanato: Nn...

Yui: ( The kiss...tastes of blood... )

Kanato: Fufu...I tried dyeing your lips a bright crimson too but...It really would be a waste of good blood after all...

Nn...Fufu...

Well then, please let me suck a little longer...Nn...

Yui: ( I can’t believe we’re doing this in the fitting rooms... )

( But...I can’t fight back... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー They return from the fitting rooms

Yui: ( We finally made it out...I was only supposed to try on the dress... )

( But... )

Kanato: Fufu...

Yui: ( I guess the fact it improved Kanato-kun’s mood is the only saving grace. )

Dress shop Madam: Oh dear, you made it. (3) So...How was it?

Yui: Eh...?

Dress shop Madam: Fufu, your impressions. Would you mind telling me how you enjoyed your lenghty ‘encounter' in there?

Yui: That’s...!

( Could it be, she realized Kanato-kun sucked my blood...!? )

Kanato: Yui-san? What’s wrong?

Yui: I mean...

Kanato: ...Fufu. Why do you seem so embarrassed?

Yui: You know, I thought that maybe she heard what we did in there.

Kanato: Fufu. You truly are meek when it comes to pleasure, aren’t you?

While I don’t dislike the fact you are completely enraptured by me...

If you keep on making an absolute fool out of yourself with those reactions, it troubles me as well.

Yui: ( Eh? )

Kanato: ...While I hate to admit this, I thought you looked rather nice in that dress.

Especially that dark black hue...I usually don’t exactly picture you in that color.

I’m glad we chose this store.

Dress shop Madam: Oh my, you sure know how to flatter someone? Thank you.

Kanato: Come on, you should tell her your impressions as well.

Yui: Ah...Uhm, I liked it a lot!

Dress shop Madam: I’m glad about that. I’m sure the dress must be happy as well.

Kanato: You are rather lewd, huh.

Yui: !!

Kanato: Why is your face flushed bright red?

Fufu...Did you recall my fangs, perhaps?

Yui: ( Uu... )

Kanato: You truly are such an embarrassing girl.

Madam, we’ll take this dress please. Can you have it delivered to my room?

Dress shop Madam: Understood. Thank you very much.

Yui: Eh? You can’t!

Kanato: Why not?

Yui: I mean, I can’t accept such an expensive-looking dress...

Kanato: I’m saying it’s fine, so there’s no problem.

Yui: But...

( Hm...I feel bad... )

( Ah, speaking of which, how will we pay for it? )

Uhm, Kanato-kun?

Kanato: You better not be thinking of spouting some unnecessary nonsense again, I hope?

Yui: ...

( ...I’ll just keep quiet. )

Kanato: ...This took longer than I expected. Let’s return to the castle, Yui-san.

Yui: Y-Yeah...!

( Haah...Somehow too much happened, I’m feeling beat. )

( However, the mystery of the ‘Queen of the Carnival’ hasn’t been solved yet...So I wonder what’s still in store for me? )

Kanato: Well then, let’s go, Teddy. ...Huh...?

Say, where are you hiding? It’s time to go? Teddy?

Yui: Teddy...?

( Huh? Now that you mention it, Teddy’s gone. )

( Kanato-kun was holding him in his arms when we entered the shop though... )

( Where could he have run off to? )

Kanato: Where are you, Teddy!?

Dress shop Madam: Oh dear. I saw him leave the store by himself?

Yui: Eh?

( Teddy went outside on his own...!? )

Kanato: That makes no sense!

Dress shop Madam: But I saw it with my very own eyes. He turned around for a second, but then continued walking away.

Kanato: No way...Teddy would never...just disappear on me...

Dress shop Madam: It happened mere minutes ago, so if you chase after him right away, you might still be able to catch up to him.

If I recall correctly, he went to the left after leaving the store...

Yui: ( But this is the Demon World, so anything could happen. )

( Either way, we have to look for him! )

Kanato: I can’t believe Teddy has vanished...Uu...Sniffle...

Yui: Kanato-kun, don’t cry. I’ll search with you, okay...?

Kanato: ...Hic. Teddy...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) The word スタイル or ‘style’ does come from English, but it refers more to someone’s body shape/figure, rather than your actual fashion/clothing style.

(2) A princess line dress is a fitted, long dress which has long seams to create a nice shape.

(3) お疲れ様 or ‘otsukare-sama’ is such a basic phrase, but also one I find extremely difficult to translate at times. It can mean ‘thank you (for the hard work)’ or ‘that’s enough for today’, but also implies that something might have been ‘rough’. In this case, I do believe the shop owner is lowkey referring to the fact Yui just had her blood sucked. :p

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 1

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 3]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ REIJI]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ LAITO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ KOU]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kanato sakamaki #vandead carnival #diabolik lovers translation #vckanatochapter2

61 notes · View notes

saladejin · 4 years ago

Text

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me)

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :)

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories.

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.”

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed.

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

~ three months later ~

“That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don’t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

TO BE CONTINUED

#jimin x reader #jimin angst #jimin smut #bgwdynamitedads #btsghostie #jimin fluff #jimin scenarios #jimin imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jimin fanfic #BTS jimin #bts fluff #bts fanfic #policeman jimin #s2l au #heavy angst #shy jimin #saladejin

271 notes · View notes

closedafterdark · 4 years ago

Text

Past

Dreamcatcher Bora x Male Reader

9453 words

categories: smut, oral, anal, mommy kink, detective! sua

Read on AFF

“... okay oppa, thanks for letting me know.”

Senior Detective in-training Son Jooyeon ends the phone call before sighing deeply. Closing her eyes, she pinches her forehead together as she processes the information that was just received.

“What did he say?” Jooyeon opens her eyes and is met by Lieutenant Hyunjung sitting on the corner of her desk and Detective Jinsook sitting backwards on a chair.

“He was able to rendezvous with the source the Lieutenant provided him. Apparently he ran into one of the prisoners from the high profile Gangnam precinct escape. They’re looking into interviewing her neighbors.”

“So she was the person who lived in that empty apartment we went into?” Jinsook asked.

Jooyeon nodded. “I had a feeling based on this.” She held up the calling card left behind. “But thanks to oppa telling us about what he learned, we might be able to have a solid lead on the case.”

“Hopefully Mudkip’s gonna be alright. That source he asked me to contact did not sound happy to hear his name mentioned.” Hyunjung said, sipping on her bubble tea.

“Did you really have to give him that nickname?” Jinsook asked as she took the bubble tea from the lieutenant’s hand and took a sip.

“He and I are the same age after all,” Hyunjung said as she twirled a pen between her fingers. “I would rather give up bubble tea than call him oppa like the rest of you. Hyunjung hates calling people oppa.”

“That’s probably why Hyunjung is still single…” Jinsook replied, chewing on the soft pearls.

“Hyunjung is single because she wants to be! Hyunjung is not like Jiyeon or Jooyeon who open their legs up for their coworker.” Jooyeon’s eyes widened upon hearing this before her face began to redden with embarrassment.

As Lieutenant Hyunjung and Detective Jinsook began to take turns drinking bubble tea and arguing about the Lieutenant’s love life, Jooyeon stared at the computer screen. It was a series of still images from the CCTV footage of the Gangnam prison escape.

“BlackPink is the revolution…” she said to herself. “Please be safe, oppa.”

“So you’re telling me you slept with this bimbo?”

“... yes. And cut me some slack, how was I supposed to know she was a wanted criminal my precinct is after? It’s not like I go to every woman I meet and say ‘Hey, are you by any chance involved in organized crime?’ I’d probably be left in the hotel room naked and without my wallet.”

“Fair enough. Was she at least tight though?”

“Now I’m starting to remember how much of a pervert you are, Kim Bora.”

You and Detective Bora were currently en route to the apartment Jooyeon and Jinsook searched. Both of you went to the hotel you and Chaeyoung stayed at and unsurprisingly found it completely empty. The concierge informed you that she checked out twenty minutes after you left. The barren streets of Seoul at night made it a lot easier for you to drive without being pressured to increase your speed by someone behind you like during the daytime.

Arriving at the location Jooyeon told you about, Bora got out of the car and winked at you before swaying her hips as she entered the apartment complex. Sighing deeply, you followed suit.

Hearing a firm knock from the outside, a tenant opens their door to be greeted by Bora flashing her badge.

“Sorry to disturb you so late, ma’am. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your neighbor across the hall.”

“Ah yes, Park Chaeyoung. Such a sweet girl. She kept to herself a lot but always greeted me and asked how my day was going whenever we saw each other. Is there something wrong?”

“We have reason to believe she may have gotten kidnapped.” Bora said, deciding to withhold the information from the elderly tenant.

“Oh my… Chaeyoung is a sweet girl. I don’t know why anyone would try to harm her. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help, detectives.”

“It’s okay, ma’am. Thank you for your time.” you replied.

“Oh, wait!” The two of you turned around. “Chaeyoung hasn’t been home for a few days. Normally she lets me know when she’s going to be away so I can watch her dogs. But I found it strange she didn’t tell me anything this time.”

You placed your hand under your chin, deep in thought. Bora wrote down the woman’s statement on her phone.

“Are you two a couple?” she suddenly asked, getting your attention. As you were about to say something, Bora immediately responded.

“We are, thank you for noticing! We’ve been together for almost six years now.” She said, taking her arm into yours.

“It must be nice to work with someone you love. Although I can only imagine it gets stressful thinking about them whenever you’re not together, especially in your occupation.”

“It does, but we always promise to come back to each other. Isn’t that right, honey?” Bora asked, blinking her eyes quickly as she flashes you a hauntingly sweet smile. You looked at her and the elderly woman, unsure of how to respond. You end up scratching the back of your neck before smiling back at Bora.

“Have a nice evening, detectives. Make sure to eat something filling.” the woman said as Bora dragged you away, clinging onto your arm tightly.

When the two of you reach your car, you remove Bora’s arm from yours. She gives you another mischievous smirk as you look at her, annoyed.

“Did you really have to tell her we are a couple? And what’s with the whole six years thing?”

“Calm down. It’s not like she’ll do a background check on us. And I did it just in case she’s one of Chaeyoung’s informants. You and I were friends six years ago, remember? Plus, six is one letter away from sex. The very thing I offered you many times in that same timeframe.”

It was a chilly November evening in Seoul. You were playing a video game on your phone as you sat in a parked car outside of an apartment complex. Frustrated at being unable to clear the last part of the mission, you jumped slightly when you heard a knock coming from outside your mirror. You turn your head and are greeted warmly by Kim Bora’s smile and her waving excitedly at you. Motioning her to come inside, you unlocked the passenger side door.

“Hi, Bora.” you said to her the moment she closed the door.

“I’m so excited, I haven’t been to the amusement park in forever!” Bora squealed as she squished her cheeks with her gloves before turning on the seat warmer. Shaking your head, you smiled as you reached over and put the seatbelt on Bora. Her face started to redden from your close proximity to each other, something you failed to notice. After hearing the clicking noise of the seatbelt locking, you turned on the car and headed off.

“Bora, slow down! Hey, wait for me!” You couldn’t keep up with the happy, ball of energy that was Kim Bora as she immediately ran inside the park after getting her ticket scanned. You managed to catch up to her, panting heavily and remembering just how out of shape you were. Bora stood before you in a pair of dark jeans, knee high boots, and multiple layers of clothing under a tan coat. She complimented the look with a thick scarf protecting her neck.

“Hurry! I want hot chocolate!” Bora said to you, smiling widely.

“We… should rest… a bit. About… to die.” you replied.

Bora puffed her cheeks and pouted at you, kicking your leg softly. You laughed in response and removed Bora’s scarf. Before she could protest, you wrapped it delicately, making sure she would be warm. Her cheeks reddened once more as Bora stared at you wide-eyed, looking at how intensely you were focused on making sure her scarf was worn properly. Satisfied with your work, you tapped Bora’s shoulder and walked away.

“Aren’t you coming?” You said to Bora, turning around as she noticed a considerable amount of distance between the two of you. Rubbing her cheeks once more, she quickly ran to catch up with you.

The two of you walked throughout the crowds of people, a mixture of families taking out their children and young couples in love on a date. Colorful lights and various sounds filled the path you were going through as your eyes scanned where to begin. Bora meanwhile was behind you, happily sipping on her piping hot chocolate.

“I was so close!”

The sounds of a target being hit bring your attention to your left as you see a young man disappointed, putting down the pellet gun. His girlfriend next to him is rubbing his shoulders, slightly hugging him and telling him it’s alright. You saw a stuffed teddy bear tied to the wall and realized he was planning on winning it for her. As the couple leaves, you approach the stand and pay the small fee in order to take your shot. Bora catches up to you, slightly confused.

“I thought we were going to go on the roller coaster?”

“We are. But I wanted to see if I have what it takes here first.”

You’ve never played this game before, your only experience with guns being through various video games. But you were certain this wouldn’t be too difficult. Closing your left eye, your right eye focuses on the target ahead. You pull the trigger, only to be disappointed as the ball released from the gun misses and hits the wall behind. Coughing slightly, you turned around to see Bora staring at you intently as she continued to sip on her hot chocolate. Never one to back down from a challenge, your pride got the best of you as you spent an unnecessary amount of money in order to try and win the stuffed bear for Bora. Try being the keyword as by your final chance, you managed to only hit 7 out of the 9 necessary targets. Sighing, you scratched the back of your neck as you approached Bora. She hands you her hot chocolate cup before paying the attendant. You watched as Bora grabbed a hair tie from her wrist and made a quick ponytail. She grabbed the pellet gun and mirrored your earlier actions.

Your mouth was agape as you watched Kim Bora simultaneously hit 8 targets before missing her final shot. You expected her to be sad afterwards, but she surprised you with her patented smile as she took back her cup and walked away. You bowed to the attendant before catching up to her. The two of you ended up going on the roller coaster ride along with many others.

A few hours later, you tell Bora to wait at a nearby bench as you have to quickly use the restroom. She happily hums to herself, before taking out her phone and going through the photos the two of you took together. Visibly smiling in each photo, Bora takes note of the small things you did for her throughout the evening. Buying her a hot chocolate, fixing her scarf, taking off your beanie and putting it on her. With her focus solely on her phone, she failed to notice you creep up behind her.

You tapped her shoulder, causing Bora to jump slightly. She turns around and doesn’t see anything until she is met face-to-face with a giant white teddy bear. Her eyes widened as she saw you smiling at her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“I didn’t actually have to use the restroom.” you said.

“How did you get this? We spent so much money and the attendant told me they don’t sell the prizes.”

“What can I say? I used my patented charm to convince him.”

You handed Bora the teddy bear. She held it in her hands, her eyes beginning to well up with tears. She looks at it for a few seconds before getting up and hugging you. You pat her back, a bit surprised at her sudden action, but happy she likes the present you gave her.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

The two of you were outside the entrance to Bora’s apartment complex, Bora tightly squeezing the teddy bear you got her. The rosy tint of her cheeks failed to hide the feelings she had the entire evening.

“Happy Birthday, Kim Bora.” you said.

“Thanks.” she replied, still blushing.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait!” You turned around and were met with Bora standing on her tiptoes and planting a delicate kiss on your lips.

“Do you… want to come inside for ramen?”

“How was I supposed to know ramen was codeword for sex?” you asked.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I actually dressed up to see you? Maybe because you took me out on a date for my birthday? Or is it because I gave you a kiss and told you I liked you? God, you were such a dense asshole back then. How much more obvious did I have to be?”

“Bora, I…”

“Save it. Let’s just focus on the case.”

Bora had you drive her to her apartment, the very same thing you did six years ago. The two of you have changed since then. She was no longer the shy, timid person you remembered. She was still playful, but had a much more mature aura around her. Bora was no longer doubting every decision she made. As the two of you entered her apartment, Bora tossed her bag on the dining room table before removing her coat and tossing it onto the couch.

“Make yourself at home.”

Taking a seat on the couch, you observed her apartment. It had a modest, intimate feel to the place through the use of warm colored furniture and various stuffed animals throughout. Bora made sure guests knew who lived here, with various photos of her framed and placed on the walls.

Hearing a door close, you looked up and were met with Bora sitting next to you. She wore a simple white sleeveless dress, which complimented her curvy features and highlighted her breasts well by displaying a prominent cleavage line. Her hair flowed freely down her beautiful shoulders like a dark brown chocolate fountain, her bangs styled thinly. Bora wore a white snowflake pendant on a pearl necklace that paired nicely with her dreamcatcher inspired earrings. Rounding out the look was a bright red colored lipstick that showed off her triangle shaped upper lip, something you never noticed before.

Despite her cold demeanor, Bora’s soft smile and her warm facial features made you feel welcomed into her home. You found yourself awestruck by her beauty, something you find yourself having taken for granted looking back. Bora brushes strands of hair behind her ear with one hand - a simple act that entrances you.

“So… what did you want to talk about?” you asked, clearing your throat slightly.

Bora grabs a tablet from the nearby table and hands it to you. Unlocking it, you see various case files on the screen at once. Each has a photo and brief description of the information you saw at the cafe earlier.

“They’re split into two subgroups - Black and Pink, hence their name being BlackPink. Kim Jisoo and Park Chaeyoung are the “black” subgroup. Deadly, special forces trained. They execute the plans and are not above using whatever methods it takes to get the job done, including using their bodies to seduce their targets. But I’m sure you know that since you just fucked one of them not even six hours ago. I have to give you props though, that Park Chaeyoung looks like one tight slut.”

“Focus…”

“Right. Kim Jennie and Lalisa Manoban are the “pink” subgroup. By appearance alone, you would think the subgroups should be switched. They are the masterminds of the group. Do you remember that high-profile robbery that caused every traffic light in the metropolitan area to cycle through each color every second? That was them. It was a way to create a distraction so that officers would be assigned to direct traffic as they commenced their heist.”

“Well, now we know one of them is not afraid of being caught undercover.”

“More like caught under your covers, am I right?”

“Kim Bora.”

“Okay, fine. You’re no fun.” Bora said, pouting at you.

“How’s Minji?” finally asking the question that has been on your mind for quite some time.

Bora sighed. “It wasn’t easy for her when you two broke up. She cried for days. You owe me money for the amount of ice cream and tissues I had to spend on her. It took her awhile, but she finally stopped feeling sorry for herself and ran her parent’s shop. We both got into the academy at the same time. She worked her butt off to become Captain. Me… I’m fine being a Senior Detective.”

“Bora, she was the one who broke up with me.”

“And she regretted that decision every day. It’s just… you didn’t only break up with her. You and I were best friends. I never got a text or call from you. Even putting aside my feelings for you, you were always there for me as a friend. I really needed you.”

You processed what Bora just said. The reason you were distant from her was because you didn’t want to accidentally run into Minji. To be reminded of why you weren’t good enough for her. Bora wiped the tears away from her eyes before smiling at you.

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, Bora.”

“Just tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Was Minji a good kisser?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Was Kim Minji a good kisser?”

Before you even had a chance to respond, Bora gives you a mischievous smirk and climbs onto your lap, her soft thighs resting comfortably on either side of your own. You felt her arms draped behind your neck as her fingers interlocked themselves together.

“You haven’t been able to keep your naughty eyes off me ever since I changed into this dress.”

“Bora, I…”

“Shh. You still haven’t answered my question. How good of a kisser was Minji?” Bora bit down on her lower lip as you feel her slowly grinding against your lap. “Was it like this?” she said, leaning down until you feel her soft lips finally press against yours.

Your mind goes blank, unable to think about anything but Bora’s lips against your own as she continues to create friction between the two of you.

“Or was it like this?” Bora said, her first kiss followed up by another. The second kiss was a bit deeper than her initial quick peck. Your eyes widened, stunned at how quickly things escalated. You felt your own lips slowly being to reciprocate. It was as if you acted on instinct, wanting to savor the taste of Bora’s sinful lips and the unhindered lust that built up inside you as you fall under a spell cast by the beautiful woman currently on your lap who confessed her feelings to you all those years ago. You haven’t had a drought from the soft touch of a woman, in fact you might have had too much these past few days, but the gaze of pure lust and sexual desire etched upon Kim Bora’s face when her lips part away from yours made you feel like you haven’t been intimate with a woman in years.

“Bora…” you whimpered, a bit frustrated at the loss of her lips against yours.

“You like the taste of my lips more, don’t you?” Bora asked as her tongue licked your lips before she moved in for another kiss. Her soft, creamy lips tasted sweet against your own. When you pulled away from her, Bora planted kisses on your jaw before reaching for your hands and placing them on her chest.

“Oh fuck…” a soft, erotic moan escaping from your lips. Bora’s breasts were perfect, each one seeming to fit perfectly in your hand. You massaged them as you have hunger in your eyes from the delicious looking sight of her cleavage line. You planted kisses on her left breast, each leaving an electric feeling on her body. Bora’s erotic moans of pleasure aroused you even more, as the both of you can feel your cock rapidly hardening underneath her crotch. Once you cover her exposed skin with saliva, you repeat the stimulation on the adjacent breast. Bora’s moans repeatedly fill your eardrums as she pushes her tits on to you, smothering your face. Her lower body is grinding against your lap once again. You caress the feeling of Bora’s soft, silky smooth thighs until your sinful hands find their way to her ass, their favorite place to be on a woman. You gently squeeze both cheeks, causing her to release a steady stream of moans before you give her ass two hard slaps, her body slightly jumping in response.

Kissing her breast tenderly, you continue to stimulate her by massaging the other before making eye contact. Both of you had lust in your eyes, wanting to satisfy each other. Bora’s lips reconnect with yours, the intensity making your head spin. Her lipstick taste was addictive, Bora smiling throughout as she sees the marks she has left on your lips and neck. As your tongues fought for control, Bora’s overpowered yours. She pulls away when she begins to run out of breath. The lust-filled smile never leaves her face as she kneels on the ground, unbuttoning your shirt and removing it off your body along with her to use as a cushion. Making quick work of your belt and pants, Bora tosses them far away from you both. She licks her lips upon seeing the noticeable bulge poking from underneath your cotton boxers. You stared down and caught Bora’s gaze, a hauntingly erotic and almost animalistic hunger in her eyes as she grabs ahold of the hemline of your boxers and pulls the very thin fabric down. Your erect cock almost slaps her in the face, the cool air providing you a sense of satisfaction as her eyes widened with excitement.

“Your cock is so nice, baby.” Bora said, her eyes feasting upon your shaft like it was the only thing that could satisfy her cravings. Wettening her lips in preparation, Bora admires your cock, grabbing the base of it before painting a long, saliva-filled stripe until she reaches your tip.

“Oh god…” you moaned as Bora’s tongue continued to drag across the underside of your shaft, lathering your length until she returned to your tip once more. She needily collects the precum leaking out of your slit, exchanging it with a generous amount of her own spit. The liquid reflects nicely against the lighting above as Bora uses her tongue to spread it across your cock, making sure you were fully covered. Seeing your cock glistening with a uniformed coat of her saliva, she begins to stroke you.

Her soft hand feels wonderful on your throbbing cock, the feeling of your length pulsing in her small hand along with the steady stream of moans being released by you motivate Bora to increase her pace. Her hand travels up and down you with ease thanks to her earlier lubrication. She gives you tightly gripped strokes until she reaches the underside of your tip, her delicate fingers tracing your slit and drawing out more precum. Your moans get louder as Bora giggles at the pleasure she is giving you.

“You like that, baby? How I stroke this hard cock of yours?”

“Bora, I do… fuck.” you managed to reply as she continued to use her hand to give you pleasure. “That feels amazing.”

“Do you want me to suck it now?” Bora asked, winking at you while licking her lips. You were unable to speak from the pleasure, merely able to give her a weak nod in response. Bora knew she had you under her control. Any previous resolve or thoughts to fight her off were long gone as the two of you made eye contact and Bora sees you have succumbed to her lustful temptation. Normally, it would have been easy for you to resist a sinful act of seduction like the one Bora has done to you. But deep down, you wanted Bora. You wanted to make things right, make her forget about your obliviousness all those years ago. And now, as Kim Bora is on her knees between your legs, the last thing you see is a devilish smile on her face as she lowers her head and finally parts her mouth with the tip of your cock.

Bora’s lips form a tight seal around your cock, providing you with a euphoric sensation of being inside her mouth for the very first time. Bora slowly begins to bob her head up and down, her tongue dragging across the underside of your shaft as she takes the top half of your cock in and out of her warm, wet mouth. You bring one of your hands to Bora’s head, running your fingers through her dark brown locks before it rests against the back of her head. Despite having a mouth full of cock, Bora looks up at you and does her best to smile sweetly as she feels your hand following along to her bobbing motions. You feel her spit a large amount of built-up saliva inside her mouth onto your cock before using her tongue to apply it onto you.

“Fuck, Bora… that feels amazing.”

Bora spread the spit across your hard shaft, before removing her mouth and giving you another cute pout.

“Baby, I’m upset.”

“H-How come?”

“Are you only going to call me by my name?” she asked, stroking your cock while placing soft kisses on your tip. “I’m on my knees giving you an intimate act of pleasure and you keep just saying Bora.”

“Do you want me to call you Senior Detective then?”

“No, we’re not really roleplaying yet…” Bora said, pretending to think hard. She sucked on your tip lightly, yet applied a suction-like force before releasing it with a loud pop. “Oh, I know! What really turns me on is being called mommy.”

“Mommy?”

Bora nodded her head. Her sweet smile and soft, innocent features were a fierce juxtaposition to the sinful act she was currently performing on you. You would never say this out loud, but Bora looked even more beautiful with your cock in her mouth. Bora’s head bobbed up and down your shaft, earning her soft moans and cries of pleasure from you. As much as you wanted her to continue, you held onto both sides of her head and regretfully removed her from your cock. A bit disappointed, she looked up at you and saw where your attention was at.

Kim Bora distracted you with her breasts.

Out of the women you’ve been intimate with these past several days, Bora had the clear size advantage. You felt yourself almost drooling at the sight of her delicious cleavage, wanting it to be freed from her white dress. Bora straddles your lap once more and instantly feels your lips pressing against her neck, planting soft kisses on her smooth skin that elicit soft gasps from her. You move lower with your kisses, forming a trail downwards as your hands return back onto her chest and cup the one thing that has had your attention ever since you arrived. You assist her in freeing her of the silky dress.

Bora wraps her arms around your neck as she arches her back and allows you to tilt her head as well. You hold onto her wide hips for support as she reaches behind her and undoes the latch of her strapless bra - letting the undergarment fall onto the ground and giving you the perfect view of her round, full breasts.

“Taste me, baby. I know you’ve been dying to.” Bora said as she brought her chest to your face. Having an affinity for left breasts, you bring it into your mouth first. Capturing her right breast and not wanting it to be unattended, you squeezed the soft flesh, reveling in the feeling of the large mound.

“Oh, baby…” Bora said with a long moan that gradually increases in volume as you explored her chest, sucking on her hardening nipples. You make sure to give each breast adequate attention before switching, making sure each was left soaked by your saliva.

“D-Do you like mommy’s tits, baby?” Bora asked, knowing full well what your response was going to be.

Your mouth was muffled by her warm breasts. As such, you gently bit on her nipple as your response.

Bora removes her chest from your face minutes later. You were thankful to finally breathe properly, but saddened by the loss of her warmth. She straightens her back, leaning down and planting a tender kiss on your lips. She slides her body down yours until she is back to her initial position on her knees between your legs. Taking your cock inside her mouth to lubricate you, Bora releases you with another loud pop before the anticipation builds up inside you of what she is going to do. Giving you another playful wink, she takes both of her breasts in her hands and traps your erect shaft in between her soft, pillowy flesh.

She grinds her chest against your lower body, your cock pumping in and out between the slit of her delicious breasts. The saliva she used from her quick blowjob provided just enough lubrication, as the head and upper half of your shaft appeared and just as quickly disappeared in between her warm flesh.

“You like that, baby? The way mommy’s warm tits snuggle your cock between them?”

“Fuck, mommy… that feels amazing.”

Bora continues to push your hard cock in between the warm, comforting embrace of her breasts as her hands squeezed the flesh tightly. She tries her best to lick the head of your cock as if it was a delicious treat. Making eye contact with you throughout, you watched her heavy, seductive eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

“M-Mommy, I’m gonna cum.”

Bora is too focused on trying to lick the head of your cock that she fails to hear your warning as she rubs her breasts up and down your length.

“Mommy, I’m cumming…”

“Cum for me, baby. Paint mommy’s tits with your cum.” Bora replied, increasing the pace at which her breasts moved, using her hands to squeeze them even tighter around your cock as it appears and reappears from between the soft, pillowy flesh. You moved your hips upward in rhythm with her breasts as you fuck them at a rapid pace.

“Mommy… I’m cumming!”

Your orgasm relieves the heavy weighted pressure that was building up inside you. Your cock throbbed in between her breasts as you felt a burst of semen erupt from your tip. Her breasts covered the head of your shaft as it sent hot, thick cum into her cleavage and lubricated you with each subsequently weakening thrust. Wondering if Bora was going to open her mouth and try to lick your cock like earlier, she instead lets your load splash against her chin and face, the thick liquid coating her creamy skin and beautiful features.

Bora’s innocently sweet smile betrayed the fact her chin and part of her cheeks were covered with your cum. She grinds her breasts against your cock as your orgasm mercifully subsides.

Letting you finally escape her warm, wet cleavage, you watch as Bora’s tongue runs across the base of your cock until she reaches the tip. She draws circles of pure pleasure that send post-orgasm shivers running through your body. Tracing the slit of your cock, she catches the dribbling leftovers of your cum and puts it on her tongue, tasting your sweet nectar. Bora straightens her body to allow you a perfect view of your work. Her smooth, perfect skin and large breasts displaying the large amount of semen you released.

As she rubs the cum onto her skin, the light above you both creates a shiny, slick appearance on her wet chest.

Bora smiles, kissing the tip of your cock deeply as she captures a stream of dripping semen from her cheek and brings it to her mouth, savoring the taste of it. You struggled to catch your breath, having received one of the most powerful orgasms in some time.

“Rest up, baby. We have six years worth of sex to catch up on.” Bora said to you as your eyes began to carry a weight to them. Struggling to keep them open, the last thing you remembered seeing was Bora blowing a kiss at you before heading to her bedroom.

You wake up some time later, unsure of what the current time is. Your body feels heavy and sore. Waiting for your eyes to refocus, you looked down and realized you were currently naked on a couch. The orgasm you had thanks to Bora did a number on you. Seeing that she is not within your range of vision, you slowly get up and begin to look around the apartment.

“Baby!” Bora yelled.

Running for the door, you quickly open it. The bedroom was completely dark. Your hands searched for the light switch. Turning it on, you see Bora tied to the outermost part of her bed frame. She wore a black leather jacket over a black crop top that showed off her trademark cleavage. Her leather material shorts were complimented with black thigh highs. Bora’s simple eyeshadow and red lipstick makeup were highlighted by her soft facial features. She chose to equip herself with a choker and thin necklace running through the bridge of her nose.

She tilted her head up and looked at you, her eyes pleading.

“Bora? W-What happened?”

“Baby…” Bora whimpered. “Minji found out what happened and tied mommy up like this.”

“What?”

“Come closer, baby.”

A bit stunned, you nodded and leaned your ear close to her mouth.

“I want to roleplay. Minji didn’t actually come by, she doesn’t even know my new address.”

Getting back up, you looked down at Bora who shot you an air kiss and winked playfully.

“So Minji learned mommy is a bad girl, right?”

Bora nodded. “She said bad girls deserved to be tied up.”

“Oh yeah? And what else did she say?”

“That since my mouth releases nothing but lies, it should be cleaned properly.”

“Did she say what you should use?” you asked, your cock hardening with each passing moment. You felt it twitch upon hearing Bora’s words.

“She wants you to fuck mommy’s mouth, baby.”

You smiled. “Just wanted you to say it.”

Bora smiled back, shaking her head slightly. “You jerk… you’re lucky I like you.”

She gives your tip a quick peck before you caress both sides of her head and part her lips with your cock. Your initial thrust is anything but soft, slamming your cock into the back of Bora’s wet and anticipating mouth with exceptional force. Gags escape her mouth as your length strikes her throat repeatedly. Tears of joy spill out of the corners of her eyes as you liberally use her for your own personal pleasure. The sight of your cock disappearing into her natural orifice is a sight to behold - a copious amount of spit begins to leak out of her lips and coat your shaft. The messiness of the entire thing arouses you even further, encouraging you to be relentless with your thrusts.

With both of your hands tightly holding the sides of her head, you grab onto her hair and push her deeper to your base. Bora takes every inch of your cock into her mouth as her throat has to quickly adjust to your sudden rapid thrusts. You let out a long and satisfied moan, the feeling of finally being intimate with someone who was once very important in your life made the entire thing even more pleasurable.

You pushed Bora’s head deeper, giving her several more thrusts until you released her, allowing your cock to slide out of her mouth. The saliva glistens in the light as you disconnect the thin string that connects you and her mouth together. You squeezed her cheeks, causing her to look up at you.

“Mommy liked choking on my cock, didn’t she?” you said, giving her cheeks a tighter squeeze.

“As if. You weren’t even fucking mommy’s mouth hard enough. Is that how you fuck Minji’s mouth?” Bora spat back.

Anger welled up inside you, but you decided not to say anything. You went to the mini fridge inside Bora’s room and grabbed a bottle of water. As you took a sip, you processed your next move.

“Is baby mad mommy teased his facefucking skills?” Bora sneered.

Taking a quick swig of water, you let out a satisfied hum and wiped the remaining droplets from your lips with the back of your hand. You kneeled down and untied her wrists. The cloth-like restraints were bound tightly, but were able to be removed with the help of a bit of pressure. Once unraveled, you gently massaged the tender skin.

“Is this a new technique? I’ve never seen someone not have marks.”

“One of the detectives from a different precinct showed me it.” Bora said, rubbing her own wrists more. “Said she learned it from her Japanese colleague.”

“I should keep that in mind.” you said, laughing.

With your cock still glistening thanks to Bora’s juices, you take a moment to catch your breath before turning Bora around and rubbing your cock against her inner thighs. They instinctively sandwich your shaft between them as you begin to thrust once more. Both of you let out a satisfied moan as your cock grinds against Bora’s lips and her delicious thighs.

Her muscular thighs possessed a unique softness to them as you felt her slowly leaking onto your cock between them. And while you certainly enjoyed fucking her breasts, Bora’s thighs were thick, wide - and warm. Your cock was nuzzled comfortably between them as you squeezed Bora’s breasts as support. This allows you to increase your pace, her natural wetness allowing your cock to glide between her suffocatingly thick thighs. Bora’s body was taking the euphoric feeling of sex to new heights - the two of you echoing each other in loud moans. You savored the feeling of her creamy thighs jiggling against your body with each thrust. The tip of your cock grazes against her lips while your balls slap each side of her thighs, causing Bora to whine out in pleasure as you continue to revel in your own. Feeling the build of pressure inside you, you gradually lower the speed of your thrusts and allow the both of you to catch your breath.

Bora smiles sweetly at you, and although you have seen it many times from her throughout the day, this particular one fully displays her genuine feelings for you. Taking her into your embrace, you bend slightly to kiss her. Her lips were soft, inviting and contained a certain playfulness that made you happy to have her in your arms.

The two of you managed to find your way onto the bed. Bora’s back was against her soft mattress, her arms still wrapped around your neck as you both looked at one another. No words had to be said - you two knew the main event was about to begin. Capturing her lips once more, you quickly go about removing her leather jacket and shorts, leaving Bora in just her crop top and laced purple panties. Unable to breath, Bora eventually breaks the kiss first and presses her forehead against yours. As the two of you heave, your hand makes its way down and begins to spread her legs open before you feel your hand being trapped.

Bora gives you a mischievous smirk. “Now now, baby. Mommy isn’t a convenience store like Minji is. You won’t be able to fuck me that easily. You have to earn it.”

You traced her underwear with your fingers, earning yourself a soft moan from Bora. She was wet, her panties damp with her arousal. Quickly removing it from her wide hips, you were greeted with her moist, wanton flesh. Although you preferred slow, gentle lovemaking, you wanted to prove to her that you could be as rough as she wanted.

“Oh fuck, baby…” Bora said, accompanied by a long, drawn out sigh as you give her a wide lick from the bottom of her slit and go upwards. Despite her earlier claim, it seems the pleasure she seeks allows her to lean back and spread her legs for you. You gave her a knowing snicker, causing Bora to roll her eyes as you see them with drunkenness and need for you as you delve in between her soft thighs.

Her juices were sweet on your tongue. You moved to her dripping clit, using the tip of your tongue to give her several licks, each causing her body to squirm and become a writhing, pleasure-filled mess. You blow hot air in front of her moist cavern, causing goosebumps to form on Bora’s lower body. Satisfied that you have teased her enough, you captured her clit with your lips, using the tip of your tongue to swirl around it with soft circles.

Bora’s earlier demeanor is long gone. Replacing it is need, pleasure, and the desire for an outlet to the copious amount of lust fueling her body.

Her hot, wet flesh is wonderful. You savor the feeling of it on your tongue as you watched Kim Bora give in to the pleasure. You strengthened the pressure on her clit, bringing your right hand to her opening. You teased her splayed, drenched lips, pushing them apart slightly before using two fingers and entering her body.

A long, erotic moan escapes her lips - one that you were sure the entire floor heard. Her hands pushed on the back of your scalp, her hips and thighs quivering with pleasure. You were working magic between Bora’s thighs, as evident by the suffocating feeling her walls are providing on your fingertips.

“Baby… put your fingers deeper inside mommy.” Bora moaned, as failed to keep any resemblance of composure.

You smiled, sliding your fingers deeper inside her body. You curled them, your palm facing upwards. Bora lets out a heavy breath the moment you find a certain piece of flesh inside her pussy. Her fingers dig into the back of your scalp in response.

“Fuck, baby… fuck!”

Upping the pace on her clit, you leave Bora wanting more. Your fingers swirled circles inside her, rubbing and pressing against the specific part inside her pussy.

“Oh my god… baby!”

Bora screams at an octave you’ve never heard from anyone. Her body jerks uncontrollably as the orgasm courses throughout her body. Her thighs instinctively wrapped tightly around your head and covered you with its warm softness. Her juices flowed from her beautiful slit and onto your palm, drenching it in a familiar wetness. You were no stranger to strong female orgasms the past few days, but Bora’s may be the strongest one so far.

Your fingers were still inside the tightness of her body, teasing her before you slowly withdrew them from her body. Her walls had other plans - seemingly not wanting to let you go. Bora’s thighs were flushed with satisfaction. You bring your right hand to your mouth, savoring the taste of them being drenched with her juices.

Bora was an absolute mess, lying in front of you with her legs spread open. Her large chest heaves as she struggles to regain her composure. You smiled at the sight, satisfied with your work on her. You bent down and gave her a kiss, her tongue entering yours as she tastes herself in your mouth.

“Baby…” Bora moaned. “Baby, mommy wants you to fuck her now.”

Bora quickly wraps her legs around your thighs and flips you onto the bed, both of you now switching positions. The lust-filled smile etched on her face caused the baby hairs on the back of your neck to rise as she takes your hard shaft in her hand, stroking you several times before impaling herself on your cock.

Feeling how tight her walls hugged your fingers, the same sensation being on your cock this time was an indescribable feeling. Her hips meet yours, causing Bora to gasp loudly at the feeling of being filled. She arches her body and in an instant, taking you in and out of her wanton body. Your hard cock slides at a pace with zero regard for you or your comfort.

Bora braces herself on your chest with her hands, creating the wonderful side effect of her breasts being pressed together, giving you a delicious looking sight of the very same cleavage that made you salivate when she wore her white dress earlier. Bora’s breasts bounced up and down as she rode you. Her previously satisfied face was now replaced with a determined, almost angry look. She seemed to be working out the frustration and anger that had built up in the workplace, using your cock as an outlet with each thrust of her hips.

She bites her lip in a seductive manner, doubling as a way to prevent herself from releasing a gasp or moan. Bora wanted to show you how hard she wanted to be fucked, how hard she wanted the pleasure your cock was giving her.

“Fuck, mommy…” you gasped, your mind being overwhelmed with pleasure. Based on the pace she was riding you, it was clear that Bora cared little for how hard or fast she was going. Your comfort meant nothing to her, the only thing on Bora’s mind was her own pleasure.

“Mommy, you’re so good at riding.”

Bora slaps your cheek in response, the attack surprising you slightly, but making the sex even better.

“Shut up, baby.” Bora moaned. “You’re just mommy’s little fucktoy, understand?”

You gritted your teeth as Bora grinds hard on your crotch, swirling her hips around while you were fully inside her.

“Fuck!” you gasped. Moving your hands from her hips, you take both of her breasts into your hands. Fondling them, you take her nipples into your fingertips and squeeze them, savoring the feeling of them growing erect. Raising your palms, you deliver a harsh slap onto both of her breasts simultaneously.

“Holy shit… slap mommy’s tits again, baby!”

You raised your hands, slapping them again. And again. And again. You repeat the process several times, watching her milky skin begin to turn a light shade of red.

Bora’s body shook with pleasure, her breathing becoming more erratic as the sensations of stimulating her breasts and pussy were causing her to go insane. The moment the tip of your cock reaches a certain spot, Bora screamed loudly. Her body tenses up as she feels an overwhelming sense of pleasure flow from the top of her head to her toes which were buried under your thighs. Her body shaking once more, you feel your cock flooded by Bora’s juices. Her orgasm hit with such force, it almost pushed your cock out of her.

You bounced Bora’s hips on your cock slowly several more times to allow her to ride out her high. Her muscles loosen up and she looks at you with a fully satisfied smile. She leans down and captures your lips, continuing to be fucked tenderly. Your hands reached behind her, slowly traveling down until they rested firmly on the soft skin of her butt. You squeeze each cheek gently, her round bottom feeling wonderful against your thighs.

“Fuck!” Bora screamed as you slap her ass loudly. “Baby, your cock feels so good inside mommy.”

Bora leans down and presses her lips against yours, moaning inside your mouth as you give her ass another loud, erotically charged slap. The two of you are locked in a heated, passionate kiss.

“Baby… I want you to fuck me.” Bora said, her eyes half-lidded yet filled with emotion. “Please fuck mommy. Can you do that? Can you fuck mommy?”

You smiled, caressing her ass with both hands as your lips connected once more.

You move your hands back onto Bora’s hips, getting ready to bounce her body on your cock once more when she moves her hips forward, allowing your shaft to leave her body completely.

Your cock pops out of her body, covered in her slick juices. As you get ready to re-enter the drenched lips of her pussy, you feel her hand gripping your cock.

“Mommy doesn’t want to be fucked in her pussy, baby.”

Slightly confused, you watched Bora lower her lips slightly, letting your cock rest between her pillowy ass cheeks. You felt it brush against the tight ring of her butt.

“Fuck me here.” she said. “Minji never let you fuck her ass, right? That slut’s always complaining about ‘how much it hurts’. Amateur.”

“A-Are you sure?”

“To tell you the truth, I’ve never done this before. But she said to do it with someone you trust. And I trust you, baby.”

Bora leans her body down and reaches for something under her pillow. Taking it out, you see that she is holding a small vial in her hand. And while you knew what was going to happen, you were filled with a desire you never knew you had.

Bora takes the vial and squirts a generous amount onto the fingertips of her left hand. She spreads the lube around her rear entrance. You would have done so, but thought she was applying it onto your cock. Bora moaned as her fingers dipped into the tight ring of muscle. She does her best to spread it as far as she can. You have never had anal sex before, but made sure she is okay with this.

“We don’t have to do this, Bora. You can get on your hands and knees and I’ll just fuck you from behind.”

“N-No…” Bora said, her voice shaking with nervousness. “I… I want this.

Bora smiles softly, rubbing her thumb across your cheek. It is soon replaced with lust and need as she places her hands back onto your chest.

“Fuck mommy’s ass, baby.”

Figuring she prepared herself for this, Bora grabbed onto the base of your cock and pressed the head against her outer ring of muscle.

To say it was tight was an understatement - Bora’s vaginal juices mixed with the lube you placed around her ass helped your cockhead penetrate her. Despite the resistance, you are soon able to enter her ass.

“Fuck…” Bora gasped, a mixture of surprise and pain as she experiences a new sensation of you entering her body through a different hole. You do not move a muscle as the tip of your cock impales her. You placed one hand on her ass cheek and the other on her hip, trying your best to comfort her.

“Are you okay, mommy?”

“I… I’m fine.” Bora replied in a nervous tone. “It’s okay, I want this. Don’t stop, baby. Keep going… deeper.”

You raised your hips, inserting more and more of your cock into her backside entrance. The intense tightness of her ass around your cock provides a delightful feeling. While Bora’s pussy was tight, the tense ring of muscle you were currently inside made it seem like loose in comparison.

You managed to get your cock halfway inside her body, wanting Bora to adjust to the new feeling of having something inside her ass. Once you feel she is comfortable, you carefully withdraw your cock until only the tip remains before thrusting back in.

“Oh fuck, baby… you feel so big inside me. S-Slow down… oh!”

The moans and gasps that escape Kim Bora’s lips are at a higher frequency than when you two were having normal vaginal sex. The experience is still a bit uncomfortable for you both, but you are happy that Bora wanted to share this intimate experience with you. You were mindful of Bora’s feelings, not wanting to hurt her. As you only enter her body with half of your cock, Bora’s moans gradually begin to soften.

“Baby… y-you can go a bit faster, if you want.”

Bora’s words inspire you to increase the pace, the both of you enjoying the pleasure radiating inside your bodies as you held her hips and bounced her on your shaft.

Your shaft enters and exits Bora’s ass a little bit easier, the tight ring of muscle gripping onto your cock even more so than her pussy did. The combination of her juices and the lube allowed you to enter her sacred hole.

Bora rocked her hips forward, her clit rubbing against your torso. Her ass cheeks felt silky smooth in your hands as the two of you tried to make the experience comfortable for one another. Bora runs her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it back as her eyes are half-lidded in pleasure and is unable to contain the widest grin on her face.

“Mommy…” you said, your eyes closing as she begins to increase the speed at which her ass was riding your cock. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

“Baby… your cock feels so big inside me. I want to feel it deeper… keep fucking me… keep that big cock inside mommy’s ass.”

Unlike her pussy that made it easier for you to enter her after she adjusted to you, you were lucky enough to feel her ass expand mere millimeters. The tightest part of Kim Bora provided a new feeling of pleasure the two of you never experienced before. Her hips bounced on your body, and soon enough, your entire cock is inside her from tip to base. Your balls slapped against the lower part of Bora’s pussy, making each bounce of her hips create a wet sound as they hit her wet flesh.

Bora’s nails dug into your skin as the two of you savored the feeling of fullness. A lust-filled growl escapes her lips as her ass squeezes your cock even tighter. The pleasure was beginning to overwhelm you, as you felt her asshole begin to pulse.

“Oh fuck…. Baby, you feel so good inside me. Don’t stop! Keep stretching mommy’s tight ass.”

Your cock leaves her body until just your cockhead remains before fully re-entering her once more. Bora’s soft pleas fo you to fuck her harder do not fall on deaf ears as the intense tightness of her body wraps around your shaft.

Bora’s ass slaps against your thighs with each bounce of her body. Her skin is glistening with sweat, her damp hair clinging onto it. She tries her best to arch her back as the feeling of her tight ass wrapped around your cock and the sounds of her moans to keep fucking her has become too overwhelming.

“Mommy…” you said. “Mommy, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum for me.” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Cum inside mommy…”

Holding onto her hips, you pushed Bora’s body down on your cock as you let out a sharp exhalation of breath. You were buried deep inside her as your orgasm quickly arrives. Your hands gripped her waist tightly as your cock throbbed inside her and released wave after wave of hot, thick cum into her wanton body. At that moment, nothing else mattered. All you could focus on was emptying your balls inside Kim Bora’s asshole. The pleasure radiating from your crotch was so heavy, you thought you were about to black out.

Bora lets out a long, sultry moan as she feels your hot seemen flooding the inside of her body. And while you were sure she’s felt cum inside her pussy, this new experience was not something she could prepare for. Despite the discomfort and uneasiness of you both, Bora was satisfied at the warm feeling of pleasure that you claimed the most intimate part of her body.

It takes you awhile to come down from your high, but the two of you let out a satisfied moan. Nothing more needed to be said. You opened your eyes and are met with Bora’s, hers still filled with heavy lust - and also genuine satisfaction. Kim Bora loved you, and deep down you think you feel the same way. Her dark brown pools capture your very soul inside them.

Bora leans down and kisses you, seemingly confirming the newfound love you two have for each other despite the past.

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #dreamcatcher smut #dreamcatcher #sua #kim bora #male reader #reader insert

219 notes · View notes

bold-writing · 4 years ago

Text

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 7 || Simplicity in Normalcy

Warnings: Swearing.

Words: 3700+

Previous || Next

~7~

Iris tried to support the basket that was draped over one of her arms; the weight of her groceries was making her wish that she had decided to get a cart that she could push instead. Trying to take some of the weight off, she leaned the basket against her hip as she looked at the display of crackers. A snack of cheese and crackers was on her list of cravings at the moment, and she was really hoping to get home quickly. The weather report was calling for thunderstorms and Iris did not want to worry about running home through a downpour while hauling bags of food.

Finally selecting a slightly pricy brand of vegetable crackers, Iris turned to head further down the aisle for the coffee and tea section—she was so stocked up on tea that she was desperate to get something different and Barry told her he liked sweet coffee so she was planning to get some just in case he spent the night again.

The thought of having him over caused a blush to rise to her cheeks, so Iris hurried down to the coffee section and looked over the shelves to try and find the tin of coffee that she had bought in the past. A huffing sigh passed her lips when she noticed that it had been raised up to the top two shelves, making it impossible for her to reach even when on her tip toes.

Taking a step back for a better reading on the height difference, she only ended with another sigh. It was probably just out of reach of her fingers if she stretched.

“Damn.”

“You look like you could use a hand, Sweetie.”

Gasping in surprise and turning quickly, Iris nearly dropped her basket as the words that were across her back were spoken in a deep, accented voice—was that a Southern accent?—that was shockingly familiar. A hand darted out to catch the basket as it slipped precariously on her arm, nearly losing some of its contents. Iris’s attention lifted to the familiar face of her soulmate, but one brief glance confirmed her assumption that this was not Barry.

A pair of slightly worn black jeans and a soft looking blue shirt was exposed through an open leather jacket, startling Iris into leaning back slightly. Having the image of Barry still quite fresh in her mind, she hadn’t really been prepared for the appearance of another personality. This one was more casual, less focused on fashionable clothing while still looking extremely attractive in what he was wearing.

“Wow, hello,” Iris blurted out before she could think of her words. Her cheeks immediately grew hot as she realized what had come out of her mouth, while the man before her laughed heartily, the laugh lines on his face more prominent than they had been with Barry. Iris immediately pushed the thought of Barry aside, feeling bad that she was thinking of him while another soulmate was standing in front of her now.

“Hello to you, too, little one. So, need a hand?” he motioned to the coffee tin that she had been stretched for a minute ago, causing Iris’s eyes to finally flick away from him as she glanced back to the shelves.

“Oh…yes, please.” Ducking her head in embarrassment, the man deeply chuckled before he stepped up beside her and easily grabbed the tin and offered it to her slowly, as though he didn’t want to startle her.

“Iris,” he began carefully, taking the encounter very slowly. Did she look like a frightened animal? Those whiskey eyes finally looked up at him, the soft rose in her usually pale cheeks making his smile grow. “I believe I have you at a disadvantage. My name’s Luke,” he introduced, holding his hand out to her. Iris dropped the tin into her basket and reached out to shake his hand as a timid smile touched her lips.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

“That looks heavy,” he commented as he motioned to the basket. “Give it here, Sweetie. Barry’ll have my hide if I make you carry that.” Surprise must have shown on her face, because another laugh sounded from him as he gently extracted the basket from her hold. “He makes sure we all stay in line, and he’s absolutely smitten with you.”

He must have enjoyed watching Iris blush because he was on a roll at this point. “Well, do I need to bring up that you were following me or is this a coincidence?” Iris retorted, courage in her words showing more confidence than she actually felt.

Luke, however, seemed greatly amused with her comment and the smile on his face grew. “Rest assured, Sweetie, this is a complete coincidence.” Luke motioned behind, turning the small woman’s attention over to where there was a shopping cart piled with food. “I haven’t done the groceries for a while, so I was forced out today.”

Amusement flittered across Iris’s face as she took stock of the cart. There was such a mixture of things that it was easy to tell it was for many different people’s preferences. “Wow, that’s a lot of candy,” she commented offhand, noticing the amount of chocolate and sugary goods that were piled at the foot of the cart.

Luke rubbed the back of his buzzed head bashfully as he nodded in agreement. “I wasn’t given a list, so I kinda just grabbed everything that I’ve seen in the place before. Hedwig’s gunna be running around like a lunatic, though, so Patricia’s gunna kill me when she finds out I bought all this.” The introduction of two new names made Iris look back at him with shining eyes, filled with curiosity.

“Hedwig and Patricia?” she repeated. The way he spoke about them made Iris all the more curious about the many different personalities within this body. Hedwig sounded like he was much younger than Barry or Luke, and the fact that Patricia was distinctly female was another interesting thought.

“Yea, they’re quite the pair. You’ll understand when you meet them,” he dodged, looking mildly worried that he had said more than he should. “So, are we finished or do I need to rescue anything else from top shelves for you?” he teased instead, walking them over to the cart that he had stocked full.

“Nope, coffee was the last thing on my list,” she answered easily. She technically needed more, but she never bought too much at once since she always carried it home. “What about you? As someone as small as me, I can make it easier to get things from the bottom shelf.”

“Aren’t you clever today? I was just gunna make a stop in the cereal aisle, then I’m off.” Placing her basket of food in the top section of the cart, Luke began to push it as Iris stuttered behind him. Was he actually holding her groceries hostage? “You did offer your help. For all I know, Hedwig’s cereal is on the bottom shelf!”

“You’re terrible,” she stuttered, hurrying to catch up to him.

Admittedly, Iris had researched Dissociative Identity Disorder after she had found Dr. Fletcher’s articles and essays on the topic. However, she hadn’t been sure what to expect when it came down to actually meeting someone who had many identities for one body; especially now that she knew for certain that Kevin’s body housed men, woman and possibly children. Barry and Luke were already drastically different, so it made her a mix of excited and nervous to meet the other soulmates that she was sure was ten-fold what normal people felt when meeting their soulmates.

This was one face, twenty-three different ways.

The twenty-forth mark hadn’t developed any further since it first appeared, stuck as a blurry one-word mark that looked like a black smudge beneath her collarbone. While thinking of the mark, Iris’s hand came to rub over the spot subconsciously.

“Hey, you alright?”

Luke’s sudden question drew Iris from her thoughts as she looked up at the concerned blue eyes that were level with hers. She’d stopped walking mid-aisle and was staring into space, prompting Luke to turn around and bend in front of her so they were the same height. “Yea, sorry,” she mumbled out while dropping her hand from the mark. “Just got lost in my thoughts for a second; I used to worry that I was…broken, or there was some kind of mistake with my marks and I would never actually meet any of my soulmates. Now, in little more than a week, I’ve met two of you and learned the truth of why I have so many. It’s very…”

“Overwhelming?” Luke supplied with a soft look of understanding in his eyes; seeing that look relieved the tension that had built in Iris as her thoughts progressed.

“Yea,” she breathed. “But I am happy, so that definitely makes it worth it.”

Luke’s expression immediately brightened before he was reaching for Iris’s hand, tugging her after him as he made for the cereal aisle. Iris went silently this time, her expression growing soft as Luke began to rant about how much he hated when he was the one who had to go and get groceries. She listened closely the entire time, wanting to absorb all of the information that she could about the alters.

“And Barry, love the guy, but he is so picky,” he groaned, snatching box of Lucky Charms—even though it was on the bottom shelf and he had to bend to get it. Iris was half surprised that he hadn’t followed through and made her get anything that was lower on the shelves.

“He didn’t seem picky when I was with him,” she admitted, “But I’m not the one who’s lived with him so long,” she added a moment later, absentmindedly adjusting some of the items on the shelves near her—something she’d picked up from all of her years of retail.

“Lucky you,” Luke retorted with a snort, glancing up and down the aisle as though to make sure that he wasn’t forgetting anything.

“What about you? If I asked Barry, would he say you were picky?” Iris asked in return, pulling at her sleeves as she glanced back to him. With Barry, she had allowed herself to relax when it came to her marks, but that was in her home. Now, in an open place, it was very different. She wasn’t wearing gloves, so it made things very different about her comfort level and who was looking at the mark on the back of her hand.

Even if people thought it was her only one, there were still unmarked out there who would be violent or rude toward those with marks.

Luke didn’t seem to notice the movements, beginning to push the cart—and her basket—toward the cash registers. “Oh, I’ll eat anything,” he admitted with a broad grin. “Patricia’s happy about that, at least when it’s good food; isn’t always happy that I’ll go for just about any junk food out there.”

“I don’t blame her,” Iris admitted. “Please tell me you don’t eat fast-food.”

Turning to look at him with a slightly desperate look in her eyes, Luke opened his mouth as though to deny it, but then snapped his jaw shut and looked away sheepishly. Iris’s eyebrow quirked up as she paused at the end of the aisle, while stepping aside as an older woman squeezed past them to get into the cereal section.

“Only sometimes,” he finally admitted quietly, peaking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Mhm,” Iris hummed in understanding, though still sounding doubtful. “Barry might be picky but you’re junky,” she blamed, pointing at him while turning the corner to continue on without him. Luke’s jaw dropped as she walked away, somehow not having expected her to actually tease him. As someone who had run off when Barry first met her, he hadn’t thought she would be so comfortable with the rest of them right off the bat.

Following after her, he fought a smile as he saw a flash of her true colours. She was definitely a quiet person and much more timid than either him or Barry, but there was a bold streak within her that he definitely wanted to see more often.

Glancing down at the basket of her things that was still sitting at the front of his cart, Luke wondered if that was really enough for her. She’d told Barry that she didn’t have any food left in her apartment, and this sure as hell didn’t seem like enough to fill a kitchen. Knowing as little about her as he did, he could definitely say she was a practical person, so she was probably only getting enough to get by that she could manage to carry.

He barely knew her, she was very new to having people to rely on, so he wouldn’t say anything about her meager shopping. There was a specific way she was used to doing things. Barry had said that she may seem underweight, but she was actually just really skinny; her arm was rather muscular beneath the skin. Looking at her, he found it somewhat hard to believe, but Barry wasn’t known to lie. Sometimes, he was brutally honest.

When he turned the corner to find Iris, she was standing in front of a display of flowers that were already prepared in individual bouquets. Her fingers traced over the petals of one, feeling the silky texture as she looked over the pale violet of the bloom. He didn’t even know what the flower was, looked like some kind of daisy, but it brought a smile to Iris’s lips as she took in the details and feel of the delicate plant.

“Any chance your favourite flower is an Iris?” he asked as he came up behind her, leaning over her shoulder to see the flower arrangement better.

The woman in question laughed, releasing the bloom from between her fingers. “No, I think those flowers look rather strange, if I’m being honest. I used to like lilies most when I was younger, but then I successfully grew marigolds and they kinda got a special place in my heart.”

“Aw, still room for the rest of us, I hope,” he teased, leaning on the handle of the cart.

Iris’s cheeks flushed at the question while she looked back at him over her shoulder; even leaning as he was he still had a couple of inches on her. “No one else is so close to me,” she answered softly, looking up at him with those whiskey eyes. It damn near melted his heart. “I was made your soulmate for a reason. Maybe that’s why my heart’s been kept empty for so long; to provide more room for more people in my future.”

Luke’s expression softened as he just watched her for a moment. There wasn’t heartbreak or sadness in her expression as she spoke of her lack of family, or love in her life, but it still pained him to know that she’d been alone for so long. Barry had chosen not to share all that he knew with everyone, saying that it was her story to tell. And in time, when she met them, she would tell them, too. So, Luke only knew basics, but it was easy to know that someone with her timidity and fear had been through hell. Abused by parents, as Fletcher had suspected, was something they were aware could leave serious damage behind.

Reaching out for her, Luke wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew in her against his chest. Iris looked surprised at the suddenness of the action, her head tipped back to look him in the eye. “Sweetheart, I promise your heart will never be empty again.”

Her somber expression faded with a smile as she leaned into him just slightly, accepting his embrace. “I’m coming to understand that truth.”

Giving her another tight squeeze, pulling her in close to his chest as her tiny form nearly disappeared into his leather jacket. “So, let’s go check out,” he offered instead, not one to stick to serious topics if he could help it.

Nodding in agreement, Iris stepped reluctantly away from him.

Luke and Barry may have shared a body, but they definitely were different people. Even their smell was different, and she knew that it wasn’t because of differing brands of cologne. Barry had smelled clean, like crisp clothing and a fresh shower. Luke had more of a musky smell to him, like leather and wood-smoke. It was an interesting comparison, yet it suited their personalities perfectly as well.

Luke didn’t let her wonder too far away from him, instead he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her in closer to his side as he pushed the cart with one hand. Even though a blush warmed Iris’s cheeks, she was relieved to be near. Being with to a soulmate was the greatest comfort she could ever have; that anyone could have.

“You stay close to me, Sweetie—you’re so tiny someone could carry you away from me.” Somehow, Iris wasn’t surprised that he combined a tease with a protective action and statement. Even having only been around him for a few minutes, the backwards complement/tease was right up his alley.

“I haven’t blown away by wind yet, so I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Iris teased back. The laugh that she received in response warmed her heart and had a smile blooming across her face.

Luke smirked down at her and squeezed her shoulders as he parroted, “Yet.”

“Oh, shush you,” she laughed, nudging his side with her elbow as she turned her attention ahead of them to see which of the check-out lanes was free, or almost free. “Come on, so I can have my groceries back.”

“I dunno, those crackers are calling to me, I might have to-”

Before he could even grab them from the basket, Iris’s small hand snapped up and slapped the back of his with surprising force. He jerked back and stopped walking as he looked down at the small woman in shock—the back of his hand actually stung slightly with the suddenness of her slap, and the force behind it. Her cheeks were still flushed but there was a faint upturn to her lips that made her look like she was smirking coyly.

“No touching my crackers.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Luke was definitely looking forward to knowing Iris better over time; and if how relaxed Barry had been when he’d returned the night before had been any indication, she was going to be good for all of them. Her judgement of his food already reminded him of Patricia, but much less…scary. Even though her eyes held a haunting past in them, he was sure that they were all going to make one big weird, perfect family. Hedwig was already spending most of his time out of the light raving about her, but they all knew that he wouldn’t meet her until she was comfortable enough to come to their home—body of a man or not, they would never allow a nine-year-old boy out on his own. Regardless of how badly he wanted to meet Iris.

“Although, I may have to hold your groceries hostage a little while longer,” Luke continued a moment later, pulling himself back to reality as he snatched Iris’s basket before she could.

“What?” the small woman stuttered in surprise; she had not been expecting him to continue the whole charade now that they were checking out.

“Until I have safely walked you home, I will not let you have your groceries.”

Iris frowned faintly at him. “I can’t let you do that, Luke. You have a ton of things yourself, and I’m just down the block. I’ve done this a million times before.” Her eyes scanned over the cart, knowing that Luke was going to have several more bags than her and as strong as he seemed, she didn’t want to cause any trouble for the man.

“Well, good thing I was planning on calling a cab—and Barry spilled the beans, I know that your place is near that little café that Jade loves, which means you’re on my way home. So, we’ll take a cab and both of us are saved from that.” As he finished speaking, he pointed to the front window of the store. Iris followed the direction of his finger and gasped at the sight of the absolute downpour that was happening outside. The few people out there had umbrellas or bags over their heads and they were madly rushing for the nearest cover. It was enough that she nearly missed his mention of another name. Jade.

“Oh, no,” she grumbled, already dreading the simple thought of walking through that.

“By that tone, I’m guessing I win,” Luke whispered dramatically, bent forward so that he was right next to her ear. Iris sighed while her shoulders dropped, defeated. “Ha! Victory!” he called, celebrating.

Iris couldn’t help but to laugh at his antics, shaking her head while she moved forward to place a divider on the cashier’s belt, then reach out for her basket with a strict, no nonsense look that was usually reserved for rowdy children that were brought into her store. Luke grinned somewhat sheepishly and finally returned her basket so that she could empty it out onto the belt, placing another divider to separate their things.

The simple, everyday routine allowed them both to relax after the initial excitement of meeting. Luke had nearly fled the aisle when he’d first seen her, having thought that there was no possible way that it could really be her. He’d never had such amazing luck before, but it seemed that it was finally his time because she’d been just as Barry had told them.

The mark on the back of her hand, and the trace of another on her wrist like Fletcher and Barry had explained, just confirmed everything.

Iris, on the other hand, was already reeling from having spent time with one soulmate, who even slept over at her apartment, and now she was meeting another. It almost made her dizzy, especially since they wore the same face but had such differing styles and personalities. It made her wonder if it would get easier with each of the identities, or if she would always feel that strange mix of familiarity and nervousness that boiled over into timid excitement when she met them.

Previous || Next

#Split #Split Movie #Barry Split #Barry #Dennis Split #Dennis #Barry/OC #Dennis/OC #Barry Imagine #Split Imagine #Dennis Imagine #Split Fanfiction #The One With Whiskey Eyes #Hedwig Split #Patricia Split #Luke Split

60 notes · View notes