#just glad i finished it cause i spent Hours looking up references for this only to stop at a rough sketch

[crunchchute]

this was in my wips since september because i cant draw cars but my fave brush saved me today kinda

full and closeup under readmore

[zoros-bandana]

Hi <3

I really love your content and i know i already texted you about this but i really need some Zoro comfort stories.

I am just thinking about y/n and zoro dancing in the rain on the Sunny in evening or night.

Love you and your stories, i really just read yours cause they are the best.

Hi lovely I'm so glad to finally be able to get to this request for you :)

Summer Rain

Zoro x reader fluff/comforting words

Warning: N/A

Summary: A wash of heavy rain flooded the sunny for days on end, turning the one bright and cheerful ship into a hidden cave. Stuck inside by Zoro's side, you express your woe of the weather, only to find yourself swept into a unexpected array of affection.

Word Count: 1,600

You watched the rain trickle down the window, slumping back in your seat with a heavy sigh. You caught the attention of your lover, averting his eye away from his vigorous training. There were few things that Zoro would pour his attention into in an instant; yourself being one of those few things.

"What's with the drama?" Zoro questioned, referring to your exhale. He dropped down the weight that once hung over his head, wiping away the beads of sweat that clung to his forehead.

"This weather is just so..." you fumbled for the right word, being careful not to pick something he wouldn't understand. You could tell he was watching, the cogs in his head slowly working, attempting to pick up on what you were trying to spit out.

"Wet?"

Well, at least he tried.

"Well yes" you admitted, turning to face him. You cupped your chin into your palm, leaning against the arm of the chair, carefully situated for your convenience when joining Zoro in the crows nest. You had proudly marked your space with a corner of your own, knowing the endless hours spent here to keep yourself occupied.

"But this weather also makes me feel sad"

"Then don't look outside"

"Gee, thanks" you rolled your eyes. "Why didn't I think go that?"

There was a beat where neither of you spoke, Zoro turning back to his weights as if the conversation had finished. He was hopeless on pressing for more questions, concluding if you wanted to talk you would state your mind; as much as it interrupted him.

"I feel like the weather and my mood are connected. When it's bright and clear I am happier, almost lighter, and when it's like this..."

"You sulk in a chair?"

You sighed again, agreeing with his statement.

Again it grew quiet, the patters of rain soothing over some white noise, the presence of Zoro the only stable item to keep you from drifting off. In a more perfect world you would love him to help, to question your sadness and make you feel more at ease. But why wait for perfection when you could have him, just the way he was. Because truely in the end there was nothing he could do to waver this feeling inside you, as much as you wished he could.

Or so you thought.

Continuing to watch, your eyes followed Zoro around the room, keeping track of his repetitions and calling out when he needed you. It was a quiet and rehearsed routine, one both of you had encountered many times before. You both fell into a rhythm of your days, intwined in a peaceful marriage that fit your lives in perfect harmony. It eased him to have you in his presence to support him, still unfamiliar to him in all aspects of his relationship with you; wishing to support you just as vividly.

Finishing off his session Zoro made his way to you, picking up his towel on the way. He gave a knowing look as he wiped his face over, gently bowing down to your level, pressing a swift peck against your lips. Despite his poor hygiene his scent was rather addicting, his natural odour underlying with sweet musk and metallic undertones from his swords. The closeness of his body never angered or disgusted you, despite what your friends thought, letting your bond become closer, almost soul-binding.

The grey of his eye swerved away from your face, glancing out the window with a smooth hum that vibrated against his lips. "I do have an idea".

Zoro stood back up, his smile now etched into a smirk, outstretching his hand to you. He was a man of few words, and when he had a look of confidence you knew better than to argue against his plan. Taking his hand in yours you could feel the harsh grooves and callouses tickle your skin, his finger wrapping around you to squeeze tight. He worked to pull you up, holding back his strength to let your rise naturally, showing his caring and nurturing side.

You followed Zoro as he lead you outside, the snap of cold wind whipping around you both as you stood on the wrap-around balcony. The rain came over you both in a stream, peppering your skin in delicate kisses of life. The ship stood grey, not a single body in sight, the wind whipping over the deck in a cloud of harmonious whistles. It was hauntingly beautiful, acting out like you were the only two still aboard the forgotten ship.

Your attention drifted as Zoro's body turned to you, letting you meet his face, beautifully lit by the cautious light behind the clouds above. He stayed unbothered by the pelting rain, like he needed the refreshment after his training. And you had no doubt he would count this as his weekly shower.

"Zoro?" you laughed, his body pulling you into his. You were still clueless of his plan, hoping he would give you some clarity to his strange behaviour leading you to both become soaked.

"Just trust me"

His hand found its way to your other hand, linking together in a hold. There was a bit of curiosity in his eye, looking around down below for any trace of your friends; hopeless to him in the thick of rain. Zoro had hoped nobody would dare embrace the rain as he did, giving you both the freedom and peace he was after.

Returning his gaze back down to you, Zoro stepped back, letting your arms swing out before returning you back to him, your body stepping forward. Pausing he waited for you to pull away to protest his idea, a slight squeeze of your hands assuring you would stay put.

Zoro's right hand let go of you, carefully holding his arm above your head as he moved, letting you spin under his arm and return back for him to hold you. His body swayed close to you, your bodies turning around in a small circle, stumbling to hold his grip at the rain picked up.

If it were anyone else, you were sure this wouldn't work, heightening your mood more by the uncomfortable damp that surrounded you. But Zoro acted as a shield, his body so large and comforting as he stood close, giving off a warmth that felt like fire running through you. His presence was enriching, showing you sides to himself that acted alien to his usual persona, feeling your love for him more. He was cautious and kind, making sure you knew how loved you were with him, and if he was to act a fool and dance for you that was something he was prepared to do.

Joining in his now obvious plan, you decided to match his dancing, a slight shiver encouraging you to move. You moved more clumsily around each other, tiptoeing around the balcony as you slipped. A string of laughter encapsulated you both as your twirled, your body spinning as you moved under his arm, retuning back to have him hold you before spinning once more. You were dizzy, unable to keep up with your changing surroundings, however, you didn't mind. It had been days where you had felt this happy, this content and free, wishing to stay trapped in this bubble with him.

Finding the way to the small of your back, Zoro placed his hand, attempting a rather incoherent slow-dance. He had no sense of rhythm or keeping in time but that refused to stop him taking charge of the dance. Your feet hopped over his, balancing over the caps of his shoes for stability, letting him move around in an out-of-time circle. The wind acted as a song, carrying you around in a sweet escape, unknown to anyone but the two of you; your own private paradise.

Zoro's back slammed into the wall of the crows nest, your face diving into his chest with a heavy smack. Laughing at your fall, he wrapped his arms around your body, keeping you still against his bare chest. His skin was now damp, ragged breathing indicating his refusal to continue, uncomfortably worn out. Reaching out you tightened your arms around his back, your head tilting up to rest your chin against him.

Instantly he was looking at you, that same loving and direct smile that warmed your stomach. His face was soft, unrecognisable, searching your own with every ounce of adoration as the first time he admitted he loved you.

Bashful, you looked away, luring yourself in his chest with a coy yelp. His chest quivered, leaning down to reach you as if you were too far away; his lips falling atop of your head.

"I love you, yeah? Whatever happens I will try and make the best of your struggles and help you to see there is nothing to be fearful or sad about"

He squeezed you, reassuring his words as he spoke louder, wishing to be heard over the rain. "I will always be here no matter what, and I will always make sure you are my priority, Y/n. I know I may shrug off your feelings somethings but I deeply care, and I will always love you, my girl"

[spaceorphan18]

5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part Two)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

Btw - for this one, I reference one of my other fics - With Every Broken Bone. You don't need to have read it or anything - but if you're wondering where I pulled the idea that Kurt had a one-night stand, that's where.

****

Conversation Two: Elliott

Kurt finishes the rest of his bagel and throws the paper wrapper into a nearby trash can.  He still has a full cup of coffee to enjoy, and even though the stand’s regular roast is a bit bland, he’ll still take all the cheap coffee he can get in a day.  

“You’re late,” Kurt says as he sips from the styrofoam cup.  It’s nearly eleven and he does have lunch plans, but he and Elliott have been taking a Saturday morning walk in Central Park for half a decade now, and Kurt isn’t one to change his routine so easily.  

“Yeah, I know, I know…” Elliott looks a little haggard.  Despite the spring sun shining around them, Elliott’s lacking his usual energetic demeanor.  “This guy I hooked up with didn’t want to leave the apartment.  He kept wanting to snuggle.” 

“Oh, the horror,” Kurt deadpans.  He motions to the stand but Elliott brushes it off, not seeming interested despite having the knowledge that this little food cart has the best cream cheese in the park.  Instead, they start down their usual path.  

“Yeah, and then he spent an hour telling me about his antique birdhouse collection,” Elliott says.  “I mean, you do you and everything, but I’ve got places to be.” 

“Why did you even pick this guy?” 

“Kurt, seriously…” Elliott stops them in their tracks a moment, and waits until an older woman walking her dog passes by.  “He had the most beautiful cock that I have ever seen.  I thought, when he sent me a pic, that he had doctored it somehow. But nope - good god, it was a work of art.  Okay, why the look?” 

“C’mon,” Kurt shrugs a little as they pick up walking again.  “Let’s not kid ourselves.  I may be fond of them, but the penis, by design, is hardly a work of art.” 

“This guy’s was.” 

“Fine, let’s say it was.  Did you really think the most artistically designed dick was really going to be attached to the world’s most perfect human specimen?” Kurt asks.  

“You know, you can judge me all you want - and, sure we only had, like, a sixty-seven percent match on the app,” Elliott continues.  “But I got to play with the most beautiful cock, possibly, in North America.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes a little, as he shakes his head.  All these stories seem to run the same after awhile, and it’s times like these, he’s glad he’s married and settled.  “Well, maybe next time you should downgrade a little and try a dick attached to a personality that better suits you.” 

Elliott eyes him sharply.  “It’s not like I’m expecting you to understand.” 

“Understand what?” 

Elliott plays it coy a little, which is unlike him.  “The allure of just wanting to enjoy a beautiful cock for what it is.” 

Kurt snaps his head abruptly. “I’ll have you know that Blaine has a--” 

Elliott holds up his hand to stop him.  “I have no doubt that whatever Blaine has is lovely.  But Kurt, how many actual pensises have you seen in real life?” 

Kurt scrunches his nose.  “More than I’ve ever asked for.  I’ve seen yours.” 

Elliott grumbles.  “Yeah, cause you don’t know how to knock before entering a room.  No, I mean, how many have you seen actually up close? Two?” 

“It’s been more than two,” Kurt says defensively. 

“Has it?” 

Kurt grumbles into his coffee, wondering why numbers are even important.  “Fine, if we’re really going to go there… I mean, Blaine, obviously.  Myself.”

“You can’t count yourself.” 

“Ug, alright, well when Blaine and I broke up the first time I dated this British guy named Adam.”

“Oh god, you would date a British guy,” Elliott chuckled.  “Did he also have a tattoo of the queen on his thing?” 

“No,” Kurt shot back.  “He was really pale though.” He slowed his walk to think about it further.  “There was that one-night stand I had the summer after I called off the engagement.  But, you know, I can’t even remember it all that well.” 

“What about that dude who was older than your dad?” Elliott asks, wiggling his eyebrows as if it was a scandalous secret Kurt had kept all these years.

“Oh my god - I had forgotten about Walter…” Kurt replies.  That had barely been a thing. “Yeah, we may have messed around a little.  You know, his dick was much nicer than you’d expect.  But my god, he did not know what to do with it.  I honestly felt really bad for his ex-wife.”

“And…if my calculations are right, that’d bring us back to Blaine, so unless there’s a threesome in there that I don’t know about that brings your total to five.” 

Kurt continues to sip his coffee, still mulling it over.  “I mean…there was the one time I had to do a sex scene in a play, and I caught more than my fair share of my scene partner’s junk.  But he had some weird stuff going on under the hood, so probably not even worth mentioning.  I mean, like, weird piercings weird.” 

“Ew.” 

“I know.” 

“So, there we have it,” Elliott says. He holds his hands out wide, as if some great conclusion had been stumbled upon.  “My point stands.” 

“There was a point to this?”

“What I’m saying is this,” Elliot says.  “You’ve tried, like, five flavors of ice cream and decided you were done when there’s a vast array of ice cream flavors just waiting to be tasted.  And, sure, some may leave you bloated and gross and won’t shut up about endangered birds of North America but my god it was worth it while you were eating it.” 

“Why do people always use ice cream when making their sex metaphors?” 

“Who doesn’t love ice cream?” 

“Lesbians, probably.”

“It’s a multipurpose metaphor, Kurt, and you’re intentionally getting off topic.” 

“I just think it’s a ridiculous point,” Kurt says, a layer of irritation in his voice.  How is this a conversation they even ended up having?  “Have you ever stopped to think about quality over quantity? How many guys, on average, do you think you pick up a week?” 

Elliott thinks it over.  “I don’t know, maybe one or two on a good week.”  

“Wow - I didn’t realize it was that many.” 

“You’re being judgy again, Kurt…”

“Anyway…” Kurt says, with a long gulp of his coffee - lamenting that he’s almost done with the cup. “On average, I’d say Blaine and I mess around three or four times a week.  So, comparatively, I’m having my expensive, always satisfying sweet treat twice as often and always at my disposal while you scrounge around trying to engorge yourself on any freezer burned dessert in a decently wrapped package, trying to trick yourself into thinking that the ice cream sandwich stuck at the bottom is marginally better because it has that chocolate cookie included, but once you try it, it’s not nearly as edible as it initially looked. Well, you can keep your most likely chemically encrusted, cheap ice cream.  I want my gourmet vanilla with caramel sauce every time. ” 

Elliott remains quiet for a long beat.  “I think you killed the metaphor.” 

“Well, it was your metaphor,” Kurt shoots back.  “Besides, would you have preferred me to say that my husband might not be breaking the art world with his cock but his is the most beautiful to me and I would rather be fucked by that than by anything else?” 

Elliott lets out a hearty laugh. “Kurt, I love it when you're poetically crude."

Kurt grumbles again as he tosses the empty coffee cup into a trash can on the side of the path.  “And for the record, there’s nothing wrong with liking birds.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Nothing - Don’t worry about it.”

[missjaystone]

Inescapable

Summary: Even in the middle of the ocean, your alpha manages to find you, even if it was an accident. Pairing(s): Alpha!Helmut Zemo x Reader Word Count: 3,640 Warning(s): NONCON! DUBCON! A/B/O Dynamics! Forced Claiming! Manipulation! Implied Stalking! Miscarriage mentioned! Death mentioned!

Everything around you froze when you looked up and met a certain pair of brown eyes, a certain sparkle when they looked into yours. The contact was brief before he was led around the corner by the Dora Milaje but it felt like it would never end. You worked on the Raft as a therapist to put as much distance between the two of you as possible but now that he was here, where could you go? The way he smiled at you as he walked by, it wasn't comforting like the first time you'd seen it, it made your heart stop in fear. It made his claiming mark on your neck throb in pain, a reminder of how much power he'd had over you before and how much he'd always have. It reminded you that he was your alpha, whether you wanted him to be or not. The man that passed by you wasn't the man you'd met, he was much worse.

The battle was over, your husband was dead, the child you were growing followed suit not long after you got the news, like he couldn't bear to even be born in a world without his father; you couldn't even blame him, you'd contemplated ending your own life to join your husband in whatever afterlife awaited. You'd just gone back to work after your allotted week of bereavement leave and another week of personal time. You weren't sure if you were ready to go back to work or not, but at the very least it would distract you. The first thing you noticed when stepping into your office were the pictures of you, your husband, and his family. You turned the picture frames face down before you could stare for too long, everyone in the pictures was dead; your husband, your mother and father in law, your two brothers-in-law, everyone.

Your first patient came exactly at 9:30 for their appointment. He was a brown-eyed brunette man of average height, dressed surprisingly nice for a therapy appointment. You greeted him with a soft smile and a handshake. "Welcome, Mr..." you trailed off so he could introduce himself. "Zemo," he answered, his thumb running over your knuckles gently before he let go of your hand and took a seat "Baron Helmut Zemo." "Would you like me to address you as Baron Zemo or Mr. Zemo? Or just simply Helmut if that would make you comfortable?" You asked him. "You can just call me Helmut, Doctor, but thank you for asking," he returned the same sad smile you'd given him when he came in. "Well, Helmut, I'm glad you came in. It's never easy dealing with loss and having someone to talk to is far better than bottling it up. I'm proud of you." He gave a single nod after looking around the office, motioning to the overturned picture on your desk "I thought my friend might be nuts to have referred me here but maybe you understand my pain better than anyone can." You smiled sadly at him "you'd be surprised at how many people understand." You saw his attention drift towards the sweets jar on your desk, holding it out to him "Turkish delight?" He smiled a bit more, this time a little more genuine as he took a piece out "don't mind if I do, Doctor."

After your first appointment, he came back twice a week. He told you about his wife and son, how much it hurt when he finally found their bodies amidst all the rubble. You asked him about his favorite memories with them, trying to make him remember the good times. You asked him about them; his wife's favorite flower or his son's favorite toy, encouraged him to open up about them. Soon he had you talking about your husband and the people you lost. It was amazing how effortlessly he tore down both your professional and emotional walls. He had you falling for him before you even knew you were.

For two months you tried every which way to talk him down off of his growing rage and hatred for the Avengers. You used everything you'd learned in school to make him understand breaking them apart wouldn't bring back his family or make anything better. At the beginning of the third month, he seemed to drop it, and you foolishly thought that was the end of it, that he'd seen reason. He'd slowly been getting bolder during your appointments, asking questions, each more personal than the last but only by a little. One evening, after seeing him for almost four months, he showed up about half an hour after your last appointment of the day, it was about a quarter of six. He was dressed just as nice as he always was, maybe even nicer "I hate to disturb you so late, doctor but may I take you out to dinner this evening? I'd very much like to thank you for these past months; I knew it's your job but I can't imagine what kind of troubled headspace I'd be in if I didn't have you to talk to." He'd asked so politely, how could you refuse? While you gathered your things, you missed the hungry look in his eyes. You missed the way they dragged over your body, the same way a lion looks at his prey. You'd be his omega soon. Whether you wanted it or not. You were his innocent, gentle little lamb and you needed to be protected from other wolves.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were at his favorite fine dining restaurant in all of Novi Grad. It was fun, the most fun you'd had in months since the battle of Sokovia and the heartbreak that followed. After that first dinner together, it became a more frequent occurrence, usually once a week after his appointment. You were smart, you knew how stupid it was to be dining with the patient so frequently. This professional relationship was becoming close and intimate. He had you on the hook before you could even realize it and pull away. As you began dining with him more, your guard fell. Helmut was no longer your patient, he was your friend, he understood your pains. You began dining together more frequently and then he introduced alcohol into the equation.

When you looked back at everything, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. How could you not see his plan? He was making you comfortable so it'd be easier for him to go in for the kill. Everything you shared with him would get used against you later. Helmut could play your mind like a flute and you let him, you gave him the tools he needed to find your weak spots and exploit them for his own benefit. If he'd crashed into your life and caused as much trouble as he had, you could hate him, but you let him in, welcomed him even and he made himself as comfortable as possible before finally taking what he came for.

Your first night together was gentle and slow, getting to know each other's bodies on such an intimate level. You turned your back to him afterward, eyes watering as the feeling of betrayal settled in the pit of your stomach like a stone. "What's the matter, malo jagnje? Did I hurt you?" He'd asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he looked you over worriedly. You shook your head, quickly wiping your tears before they hit the satin pillow sheets beneath you. "No, it's not you, Helmut," you whispered. "Then what?"  He asked, a worried frown on his face. "I just worry, it feels too soon, like I've already started moving on," you answered with a sniffle. "Nobody mourns the same, jagnje, it's different for everyone. You told me that," he assured you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling your back to his chest.

He repeated everything you'd told him whenever you got emotional. 'Sometimes the best way to honor someone's memory is to find new ways to be happy' 'you can't beat yourself up for being happy without them, this is what they would have wanted' 'nobody can ever replace them but you can't wallow in self-pity forever'. Every piece of advice you gave him was used back against you. The two of you had been seeing each other for two months before you stopped answering his calls and messages. He'd shown up at your apartment when you hadn't returned his messages, worried something had happened to you, that his little side activities trying to destroy the Avengers might have led to you being hurt or captured or worse.

He was relieved to find you alive and well. "You haven't been speaking to me, are you unwell?" He asked after you hesitantly let him inside. "I don't think I can keep doing this, Helmut, I'm sorry," you said in a shaky, quiet voice. His face fell in disappointment "what's the matter? Have I done something? Malo jagnje, please, you can tell me anything you know that," he pleaded, taking your hand only to have it slowly pulled from his grasp.

"It's not you, Helmut," you said as clearly as you could muster, wiping the tears that were already beginning to roll down your cheeks. "Then what is it, moj voljeni? What's happened?" He pleaded for an answer. "It was too soon, I can feel myself forgetting him and I don't want to. I don't want to forget all the time me and Christoph spent imagining and building our future together. I don't want to forget about the baby we almost had, that died inside of me almost as soon as he heard the news of his father's death. I don't want to forget everything he and I had but when I'm with you, I feel the memories slipping away and I'm not ready and I'm so sorry for that Helmut," you told him, sniffling throughout. He stared at you for a long moment after you finished speaking, not saying anything. When he finally did react, he approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead "I understand, little lamb, and I'll wait for you." With that, he gave you a tight hug, rubbing your back comfortingly as you sobbed into his chest for a bit before he left. You went to sleep that night thinking about how lucky you were to have a confidant like Helmut in your life.

You remembered thinking that was the end of things. He took it well and things would continue as they were before you became sexually involved. No wonder he called you his little lamb, you were too innocent and naive to see the anger in his eyes when you told him you'd stop sleeping together. If you knew then what you knew now, you would have run from the hills, hidden at the north pole. You would have gone to the police and gotten a restraining order or hired a security detail. But you didn't do any of that. You were a lamb being led to the slaughter by no one other than yourself.

Helmut stormed into your office on a night he knew you stayed late to put the week's worth of notes away in their correct files. As fast as he'd appeared, he'd closed and locked the door behind him, watching your stunned form for a reaction. "Helmut?" You barely managed to get his name out before he'd crossed the room, pulling you to him and into a rough kiss. No matter how much you shoved his chest, he only pulled away when he was ready to. He effortlessly picked you up and set you on your desk, already positioning himself between your legs "I've waited for you to realize your mistake, jagnje, but I'll wait no more. I know you love me, омега, you're troubled mind is still reeling from the loss too much to accept it." "Helmut, I don't want this anymore, stop it," you shoved him away but it did little to dissuade him. It only angered him.

He grabbed your jaw tightly and made you look into his eyes; the pools of brown swirls had been replaced by black, lust-blown pupils of a... an alpha going through his rut. It sent waves of panic through your mind but waves of something else to your core. You whimpered when you felt your heartbeat speed up, reacting to the alpha's close, intimidating presence. "Helmut this isn't what you want, this isn't you," you tried to reason despite the rising panic telling you to run. He chuckled darkly "oh, little lamb, this is what I've longed for since before I stepped foot in your office. I caught a whiff of your sweet, scent when you visited the memorial all those months ago and I knew you'd be mine. You might not want to admit it, but your body knows you need an alpha like me to treat you right, keep you safe," he hummed as he ground the growing bulge in his pants against your clothed core. "Helmut-" you started, but his squeezing your jaw harder made you stop immediately. "You'll address me as alpha from now on, little lamb. I'd rather not hurt you but tonight I will make you mine by any means necessary, understood?" He asked, loosening his hold so you could nod, which you did hesitantly.

Pleased, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them and your underwear down, a smirk appearing on his features. He pulled your pants completely off and discarded them carelessly, holding your underwear up so you could see just how much you didn't want this; the flimsy black fabric already had a small amount of slick arousal on it. You watched in embarrassed shock and he brought the fabric close and sniffed it, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he tucked them into the pocket of his pants. "I think you do want this little omega, you want to please your alpha don't you?" He asked softly as his hand slowly drifted higher up on your thigh. "You aren't my alpha, Helmut," you said bitterly, ignoring the tears that stung your eyes as you glared daggers at the man you'd considered your friend and confidant. He snarled and dropped his hand to your neck, squeezing until the air barely flowed "but I will me, little lamb. And you'll be my perfect little omega, my perfect girl who'll give me the family we both crave and deserve."

His hand on your thigh finally came in contact with your core which was already soaked and ready for him. He hastily pushed in two of his fingers, curling them as he pulled you into a dominating kiss, nipping your bottom lip enough to bruise. Your denials were muffled by his lips and soon faded into pitiful, needy whines from his unwanted touches. He smiled darkly against your lips when he felt your body arch into him "see, омега? Your body knows what it wants, it's that big beautiful brain of yours that's keeping you down." You shook your head, trying to save any dignity you had left, which was none "I don't want this, Helmut, and I don't want you!" The words felt like acid coming up but his chuckle hurt worse. He was three fingers deep in your cunt, pulling whines and quiet, muffled moans from your lips, he knew you didn't mean that.

When he abruptly pulled his fingers out, you regrettably let out a disappointed whine, another, needier whine following as you watched him suck his fingers clean without break eye contact. It took .2 seconds for him to undo his belt and push his pants and briefs down, stroking his throbbing cock while he looked into your eyes. His hand still holding your wrist remaining just as tight. "I'll always take good care of you, my needy little lamb, you'll never want for anything ever," he promised, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead that didn't match the roughness he used to immediately bury himself to the hilt. He started off with a brutal pace, not giving you any time at all to adjust as he had before. His thrusts were purely animalistic, he was just an alpha trying to knot the omega in front of him amid his own release. He let you bury your face in his chest as an escape for now, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your life.

"See, little lamb? See how much you need your alpha to make you feel good, make you feel better than good?" He asked when you finally gave up on trying to mentally escape the moment. "N-not my alpha," you stuttered out in between the rough hammering of his hips. He snarled and bared his teeth, eyes darkening even more than you thought possible. "We'll see," he mumbled angrily. He tilted your head and moved your hair out of the way quickly, leaving no time for you to react before he sunk his teeth into your mating gland, his hips faltering a few times before his movements went from thrusts to more a series of rapid ruts as his knot began to inflate. Your pained scream was music to his ears, it was the sound of you becoming his omega, making it so no other alpha alive would dare to so much as breath on you.

When he detached from your shoulder, he again pulled you into a kiss, making sure you could taste the metallic taste of your blood on his lips while the feeling of euphoria from the bite coursed through your veins, reaching every last nerve ending. He let out a pleased groan when he felt your cunt strain around his knot as you came, sending him headfirst into his own climax almost immediately. His face happily buried in your chest as he rode out his orgasm, ropes of his cum painting your walls, reaching your innermost areas while you held onto him for dear life.

Your stifled sobs made him look up, a small frown on his face. "Oh, little lamb, don't cry," he said softly as he wiped your cheeks "I just want to keep you safe from all the wolves in the world, it won't always be this way." He ignored how hard your palm connected to his cheek "you bastard!" He gently picked you up and sat down in your chair, letting you curl up in his lap without dislodging his knot, smirking slightly when he heard your whimper at the shift in position. He soothingly rubbed your back as he held you close, comforting you "it's okay, омега, I'd hoped you'd accept us on your own terms but my rut came early and nobody else will do." You hated this; being reduced to your dynamic, to some cock sleeve for him to use as he saw fit. He'd bound you to him for the rest of your lives and there was nothing you could do about it now, so you curled into his chest and sobbed until you had no more tears.

You recalled the way he stayed with you for the rest of the night, comforting and tending to you. He'd return often, usually every other day to take you out somewhere for a date or just show up at your apartment to do it all over again. You couldn't put up much of a fight, once he was close enough, your omega side came out and you were putty in his hands. And he knew that, and he treasured it. He showered you in gifts; clothes, jewelry, wines, books, everything he could think of. When his visits became few and further in between, you hated the nerves you felt. You hated the way you wondered when he'd come back home to you. You were messed up, and it felt like it was all your doing. You broke your professional rules. You let him into your life. You told him everything he needed to know to get to you. You let him claim you. You were Baron Helmut Zemo's little lamb, and he'd never let you forget it, leaving bruises on your thighs and hickeys on your neck to show any and everyone you were a protected little omega, and woe to anyone who caught your alpha's wrath.

You then had to watch in horror as his actions became known on the news; he'd never given up his plot to destroy the Avengers. He'd succeeded more than he could have ever dreamed of and now, he was in jail. He'd be in jail for the rest of his life. It felt like losing your husband all over again, the pain deep in your heart hurt twice as much now. You practically had to go through detox to get used to life without your Helmut around you. You were still protected by his mark but you'd never get to listen to him shower you with praises while he cleaned you up after sex. You had to get used to a life without being on his arm and you hated yourself for craving his attention and companionship that you'd still claim to hate.

He smiled so happy when they stopped while waiting for the door to open. He spoke in Sokovian so nobody around understood him "izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo." "What'd he just say?" Your superior asked, looking between the two of you. You felt that familiar stone in the pit of your stomach, he'd have you doing his bidding in no time. You were already wrapped around his finger. You shook your head and looked at your boss "he's mistaken me for someone else." "Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje," Helmut said with a smirk before he was pulled away by a member of the Dora Milaje, leaving you with a wink.

-malo jagnje - мало јагње - little lamb -jagnje - јагње - lamb -moj voljeni? - мој вољени - my beloved -омега - omega -izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo - изгледаш прелепо као оног дана кад сам те погледао, јагње мало - you look as beautiful as the day I laid eyes on you, little lamb -Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje - Једва чекам да стигнем, јагње - I can't wait to catch up, lamb

[farfromharry]

Birthday Girl | Dad!Mob!Tom Fic

Summary: you just wanted to spend your birthday with your boyfriend, but when that isn’t possible he has a lot of making up to do.

Word count - 3,277

Warnings - violence, language

a/n - i don’t really like this but oh well🥰

Tom always started his days early, one of the downsides to not being able to predict what would happen in your ever so dangerous job. You hoped that today of all days would be different. Surely he’d let you wake up next to him on your birthday, cuddled into his chest, or at least wake you up before he left, even just to give you a quick kiss and a happy birthday.

You didn’t get any of that. When you finally opened your eyes just before 9, you were met with a lonely bed, Tom’s side being exceptionally cold, meaning he’d be gone for a while.

You rolled over so you didn’t have to keep looking at his empty side of the bed, now noticing the small gift on your nightstand.

Tom was a very traditional man, he liked to give you love notes and letters every so often, rather than sending a text with it all in, he felt like it meant he was trying harder.

You reached over and picked up the piece of paper, unfolding it to see Tom’s messy handwriting scribbled all over the paper.

Sorry I couldn’t be there baby,

be home by 2, ask Harry for a lighter.

Happy birthday my love x

Tom

You sighed, smiling at the thought he put in, even if it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. Your eyes landed on the cupcake sitting on the side with a single candle sticking out of it.

Not yet feeling like getting out of bed, you picked up your phone, sending Harry a simple text asking if he’d bring you a lighter to light your candle. While you waited, you replied to a few birthday messages from friends and family before heading to Tom’s contact to send him a thank you text.

Thank you for the cupcake and the letter x

You weren’t expecting a reply. Tom was notorious for forgetting or being too busy to text people back, so you’d learnt to simply not expect too much.

There was a gentle knock on your bedroom door a few minutes later, Harry entering with a certain awake little boy on his hip. Theo grinned when he saw his mummy, his chubby little hands reaching for you as soon as his uncle stepped through the door.

“Hi bubba,” you cooed, unable to stop your voice changing pitch into a so called baby voice.

Harry didn’t hold back his laugh as he let you take the boy from his arms, watching as you placed kisses all over his face until he was babbling with baby laughter.

Harry held up the lighter, letting you see that he was about to light the candle for you. You sat up more against the headboard of your bed, not caring that Harry was seeing you in your lazy pyjamas. You shifted Theo so he was sitting better in your lap, moving your legs into a criss cross position so Harry could sit down.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” He held the cupcake up for you to blow out the candle, letting out a little cheer when the flame went out.

“Thank you.” You took the cupcake from him, taking out the candle and placing it on your side. You took part of the icing on your finger, holding it to your son’s mouth so he could try a little bit. You knew he wouldn’t be able to take a piece of the actual cupcake, but you felt bad for not sharing.

“Do you want some?” you asked Harry, receiving a headshake in response.

“I’ve been instructed to take you and this little man,” Harry teasingly tickled just under Theo’s chin, the boy trying to wiggle away from the touch. “to breakfast, seeing as Tom can’t.”

At the mention of Tom you felt your mood decrease, trying not to show your disappointment to Harry, even though the male had already guessed you’d be quite upset, even maybe angry with his older brother.

“What’s he doing?” you asked, obviously referring to your boyfriend. Harry shrugged, flashing you a sympathetic smile.

“I have no idea, you know how Tom is.” You nodded, plastering on a fake smile. “Anyway, go get dressed and then we can go.”

Harry left pretty much straight after that, but not before he gave you a hug and placed a brotherly kiss on your head, very loudly announcing that he was ready when you were.

You very strategically laid Theo in the middle of the bed, watching him carefully with every move you made, just so he wouldn’t fall off of your bed. As soon as you were dressed in some warm winter clothes you moved on to attempting to get your baby boy ready, knowing it was already going to be a challenge.

“Your turn.”

In almost no time you were ready to go, most of the time taken being spent on getting the little boy into his clothes for the day. He wasn’t exactly a fan of the process of putting on numerous amounts of clothing. However, it was cold in London and you didn’t want your 10 month old baby to freeze.

Harry hadn’t told you where he was taking you, not at home, or on the car ride there. It was only when you stopped in the car park that you realised you didn’t even recognise it.

“Where are we?” you asked, moving out of the car to start unbuckling Theo from his car seat.

“Tom suggested it actually.” You knew that probably meant he had connections inside, but you couldn’t blame the place, because who wouldn’t be scared of a dangerous mob boss who could shut you down in a heartbeat. On your way inside you tried to lighten the mood, well, your mood rather than Harrys.

“This place is fancy, are you spoiling me Holland?” He chuckled, giving his name to the host who then led you to your table. They generously set out a highchair for Theo to sit in, so the boy wouldn’t have to stay in your lap the entire time.

Part of you was worried that he’d cry at some point, annoying all the, what looked like, stuck up middle aged women in the restaurant. Harry tried to reassure you it was fine, your boy was an angel and you knew the only sounds you’d hear from him were his adorable baby babbles.

“Did Tom really not tell you what he was doing today?” Harry rolled his eyes. He thought you’d want to forget about Tom for at least an hour just so you could enjoy your birthday breakfast with your friend, but apparently not.

“No, he said good morning, fed Theo and then left.” He was being completely honest, because Harry was a horrible liar and you’d know if he wasn’t telling the truth. All he knew was that his older brother had some dirty work to do and would be back home around 2 that afternoon, in time for the small party you were throwing with your friends and family.

Harry ordered a bottle of champagne, your eyebrows raising as you glanced at the time on your phone screen.

“It’s 11am.” He shrugged his shoulders, a small grin on his face as he amused Theo.

“It’s your birthday, live a little.”

It didn’t take long until you were feeling slightly tipsy. Being practically a single mum due to the ridiculous hours that Tom worked, meant you never got the chance to go drinking with your friends, or drinking at all. So even the littlest bit of alcohol was enough to have you giggling more than normal.

Theo noticed your unusually bubbly energy that he hadn’t seen since he was a few months old, his hands reaching for you with a smile.

You gently kissed the backs of his tiny hands, smiling as you did so. Harry was glad you were enjoying yourself, feeling a little bit like he’d accomplished something because he hadn’t seen you like this since Theo was born.

Harry was first to notice the people heading over to your table with a cake in hand, confusion setting in deep. He nudged you so you turned your head, your eyebrows furrowing into the same expression Harry held.

“We didn’t order that,” Harry stated, looking at the cake in confusion. The chef waved his hand, calling nonsense.

“Mr Holland requested we bring it out, for the birthday girl,” he explained. You looked at Harry with a raised brow, silently asking if this was his doing. When he shook his head it pretty much confirmed what you thought on your way in, Tom has connections here.

“I didn’t-“ he started.

You cut him off, flashing him a tight lipped smile. “I think he means Tom.”

You gratefully accepted the cake, thanking the older gentleman greatly. You and Harry came to a silent agreement that you’d both eat it there, taking your cutlery of choice and taking a first bite.

“I hate that this is really good.” He could sense your annoyance from where he was sitting. He was partly failing at the task he’d been given by Tom, keep you occupied and happy for the morning. Although you were occupied, you were definitely not happy.

“It’s a sweet gesture,” he tried to defend his older brother. You scoffed, beginning to grow really annoyed with Tom’s actions.

“Yeah, he’s doing everything but actually being here.”

»»——⍟——««

The ringtone of Tom’s phone came blaring out right as he yelled the threat at the man, his eyes rolling as he let it ring.

Tom had been at this for too long and he was beginning to get bored. He wanted answers, simple. He wanted to know who made the threat and where they were, and he was making it his mission to find out.

He had Harrison making calls every time the pathetic excuse of a man in front of him blurted out a name in the midst of pain. But each one led to a dead end that only infuriated the mobster more.

“Just tell me who it was,” he finished his demand with another strong hit to the man’s face. He looked back at Tom with a bloody smile, his eyes catching sight of something behind the male.

“Pretty family you’ve got there.”

Tom didn’t even have to look to know he was referencing the picture on his desk. The one where you were holding a giggling 4 month old Theo while on a picnic with Tom, kissing the little boy’s cheek.

“Don’t even look at them,” Tom hissed. His threat was followed up by another hit that caused the man to groan. Tom shook his fist, noticing the marks starting to appear on his knuckles.

His phone rang again, interrupting the hundredth threat Tom was about to make. He rolled his eyes, motioning for his best friend to answer it for him.

The mobster got back to the task at hand, letting the phone call drift to the back of his mind while it was the least of his concerns. He was getting ridiculously frustrated with the man in front of him, not having planned on this taking most of his day.

“Just give me the right name!” he demanded, his voice level growing louder and louder with each word.

“Tom,” Harrison muttered, placing the phone back on the grand desk. He looked over his shoulder at his right hand man with no trace of amusement in his face, silently telling him that now was not the time.

“You’re late,” he simply stated. His eyes widened when he caught on to what he was saying, looking at the clock to see it was 2:10, 10 minutes after he said he’d be home.

“I haven’t even got her gift,” he rambled, looking at Harrison in distress.

“You go, I'll sort this out, catch up with you later.” Tom nodded, thanking him.

“Fuck, i’m late,” he cursed to himself under his breath, grabbing his stuff together and ignoring the pleads of the man on the floor in the middle of the room. He halted and motioned for Harrison to grab him. “Keep him somewhere until I get back, and don’t let him die.”

With that he left his office, rushing out of the building to his car with the intent of making it to you as soon as possible. He truly had wanted to spend the entire day spoiling you, but business called and when a poorly executed threat came in, threatening his family moreso, someone had to be dealt with.

Tom would’ve arrived quicker if he hadn’t had to make a quick stop first. He’d taken your present to get resized because he knew it wasn’t going to fit, and the only time he could pick it up was today.

»»——⍟——««

Tom made it home just before 3, being met with his angry mother standing right by the front door. Now Tom wasn��t scared of much, he couldn’t be in his line of work, but an angry mum definitely scared him to death.

“You’re late,” she seethed, slapping his arm with whatever it was she was holding. Tom sighed and retreated further into the house like a puppy that had just been scolded, taking his gun from his holster and making sure to lock it in his safe.

“That poor girl is up there thinking you aren’t coming.”

That made his heart ache, a frown growing spreading on his thin lips. His mum tried to tell him to leave you be, to let you get ready with your friends in peace while he helped set things up.

“Where’s Theo?” She pointed him to the kitchen, where Tom found his youngest brother cradling a cranky baby boy. Theo was crying, ignoring Paddy’s attempts to get him to quieten down.

“Here, let me take him,” he offered, relieving his youngest brother of the agitated baby. Tom held his son to his chest, patting his back and quietly cooing in his ear.

His cries quietened down after a little while, happy to be in the arms of his dad. Tom swayed with him, pressing kisses onto his head until his baby was bubbling with laughter.

“Yeah, are you okay now?” He lifted him up in the air, slowly lowering him to blow raspberries on his clothed belly. The boy squealed loudly, reaching for his dad as though he wanted to do it again.

Through the excitement, Tom hadn’t noticed you standing in the doorway with a small smile.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of your boyfriend being silly with your baby boy. You didn’t really get to witness moments like this as of late, so seeing Tom smile like that with your bub was something to cherish.

“Come on, we’re bringing out the cake.” In his defense, Paddy didn’t know you were upset with his brother, so pulling the both of you into the kitchen and placing you next to each other was honestly an innocent gesture.

You were still slightly annoyed with Tom. The fact that he’d put his work before your special day really hurt your feelings, but you weren’t going to cause a scene in front of everyone, so you very stiffly leaned into his embrace, forcing a smile on your face.

Tom rubbed your shoulders, muttering a quiet apology in your ear as he kissed your head.

“Happy birthday to you,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment. You always hated getting sang to on your birthday, you never knew what to do in the moment, choosing instead to cringe at your awkward stance as you looked around at your friends, more specifically Sam who was holding your birthday cake.

Once they’d finished singing, you blew out the numerous candles, making a wish in your head. Theo placed one of his baby kisses on your cheek, Tom following his son’s actions with one on the top of your head.

You made sure to thank everyone, letting them make their way to various parts of the house where the ‘real party’ was set to begin. Seeing as Tom had been the one to set this up, there were of course more mobsters, along with their wives, that he was doing business with.

He’d left to go and mingle with said mobsters, once again talking about business, business that could wait for another day.

Nikki found you and Theo sitting in the kitchen alone, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“Why don’t you let me take him, go get a drink, have a break,” she offered. You thanked her, allowing her to take the little boy into her arms. She thankfully headed towards his uncles, who were far away from any of the awfully dangerous men in the room.

Your eyes roamed around the area, noticing that there wasn’t particularly anyone you wanted to talk to right now. You grabbed yourself a glass of champagne, the same one that you’d had at breakfast with Harry, and headed out to the patio.

You didn’t happen to be alone for too long, your boyfriend finding his way out to you when he couldn’t find you anywhere in the house.

“What are you doing out here?” You didn’t have to even look to know that voice belonged to Tom. The man strolling over to you in his fancy, expensive suit.

His hand slid around your waist, pressing his front to your back so there was no space between you. You leaned your head back, resting it on his chest with a sigh as you looked over the luxurious gardens of Tom’s mansion.

“Just wanted some air.” You weren’t exactly lying. You felt like everything inside was just becoming too much and then seeing Tom working just topped it off.

He sighed, sensing you weren’t in a particularly great mood right now. He pressed a few lingering kisses to your temple, trailing his hands to your arms where he rubs them up and down your skin.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning,” he whispered, placing a kiss just behind your ear. You just hummed, not exactly paying attention to what he had to say. He sensed that, letting out a soft sigh.

“Can I at least give you my present before you completely shut me out?” You rolled your eyes at his choice of words, mumbling an ‘I guess.’ You heard a little bit of shuffling behind you.

“Y/N.”

You turned your head over your shoulder, seeing Tom down on one knee on the floor. It felt like your heart had stopped beating and you were too occupied with the dopey smile on his face to even notice everyone watching from inside.

“I know you’re a little bit mad at me right now.” You giggled, willing away the tears that were tempted to fall down your cheeks. “But you know I love you, and I’m so grateful for you giving me the best thing in my life.”

He didn’t need to say much else, no more than those 4 words.

“Will you marry me?” When he opened the ring box you noticed the fresh bruises littering his knuckles, making a mental note to go at him about those later. But for now, you just nodded, unable to speak without letting out a sob.

He slid the ring onto your finger, placing a soft kiss to the back of your hand before he stood up. You wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your head in his neck so you could cry without everyone seeing. He chuckled, his hands threading in your hair, kissing your forehead.

“Happy birthday, darling.”

“The best birthday.”

tom holland taglist - @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @bvttercupbby @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @strawberrytom @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys-blog @itstaskeen @icyhollands @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @chrisosterfield @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @piscesparker @mymilliefrommarketing @spideyspeaches @kujokura @l0velyevans @jess-holland23 @holland-parkers

[arcticfox007]

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

This is my first time doing Suptober and I probably won’t do every day (and am already a day late) but I thought it would be a good creativity boost and looking through all the other work it seemed like a lot of fun! Thanks to @winchester-reload for organizing this :)

Check it out on AO3!

Castiel hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation. He was supposed to be on break, but had volunteered to reset room 5 for the next patient because he knew his friend Alex had been in dire need of a break. Cas was only a volunteer, spending his junior year of college shadowing various medical professionals to get a better idea of what a career in medicine would really be like. When Alex had suggested shadowing one of the doctors she worked with, he’d readily agreed, knowing that his friend spoke highly of both Dr. Barnes and Dr. Fitzgerald.

He’d already spent the past few hours shadowing Dr. Fitzgerald (or Garth as he insisted on being called) and had seen enough to realize that Family Medicine was understaffed and struggling to do the best they could for their patients given the absurd constraints on their time. Garth was currently seeing a patient who didn’t want a stranger in the room, so the doctor had told Cas to grab some lunch. Cas had intended to do just that when he saw Alex making frantic phone calls at the front desk. When she’d hung up, she’d looked at the end of her rope, explaining to Can that one of the other nurses called out and she couldn’t find anyone to cover for them.

Which is how Cas ended up in room 5 wiping down the surfaces and pulling a new paper cover over the bed. Cas knew all about patient privacy, but really, the conversation easily carried into the room when the man who must be one of Dr. Barnes patients had decided to continue talking to her out in the hallway. The man had a compelling voice and by the time Cas realized he was eavesdropping it was too late to avoid it as leaving room 5 now would have only made the unsuspecting patient realize he’d been overheard.

“Um, and, I’m really sorry about this doc, but I probably can’t afford the bill for today’s services right away.”

“Dean, just call Meg like I told you. Our pharmacy here is amazing at finding co-pay cards for these types of medications.”

“I will talk to her, I swear. It’s just when we had to switch insurance plans the new one says the co-pay for that grade of medicine is $100 a dose. I’m honestly not sure I can make that work Dr. Barnes.”

“I understand, but you need this medicine Dean. Your RA will flare right back up without it. If that happens you eventually won’t be able to work at all. Even skipping doses is ill-advised, letting the inflammation persist could eventually cause permanent damage to your joints.”

“I get it doc, I do, but $400 a month? It’s basically choosing between eating and my ability to move without pain.”

“Dean, just talk to Meg. We will figure something out. At least promise me you’ll take the Humira every other week. I know it didn’t manage your symptoms well at the lower dose before, but it was still better than letting the RA go untreated.”

Dean must have responded to Dr. Barnes in some way Castiel couldn’t hear, because after a few moments the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading as they moved towards the front desk. Cas hurried out of room 5, the trash bag hanging unnoticed from his wrist. His heartbeat sped up as he worried that he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of “Dean” before he left the office. Cas didn’t really know what he was planning on doing, just that he couldn’t stand the thought of this man resigning himself to pain all because the healthcare industry was such an awful mess that it would burden someone with choosing food over medicine. Something about the way Dean had sounded reminded him so much of his sister, Anna, right before she had left Castiel forever. That feeling drew Cas forward to meet a man he didn’t know. Cas couldn’t solve Dean’s money problems, Cas couldn’t force the government to change how healthcare was run in the country, Cas couldn’t even make Dean’s medical issues any better – but he could meet this man and maybe make him smile for a moment. Maybe, if he was brave enough, he could offer him some sort of friendship so maybe he would have one more person to help him through his struggles. Cas had been too young to understand how alone Anna must have felt but he knew more about it now. Helping people like Anna was what had drawn Cas to medicine in the first place.

Turning the corner Cas was startled to see what could only be a 6-foot flannel-wearing freckled god. The man was Hollywood beautiful and for a moment Cas forgot what had brought him rushing around the corner in the first place. The sound of Alex pointedly snapping her fingers brought Castiel back to reality as he broke of his inappropriate staring. He felt his skin heat up rapidly as he blushed.

“Did you finish room 5, Castiel?” Alex stared at him expectantly. Silently, Cas handed over the trash bag and muttered something about taking his lunch break outside. Too embarrassed by his very obvious admiration of the man that must have been Dean, Cas didn’t think he could talk to him in front of Alex. He rushed out the front door in the hopes that the autumn air would help him pull himself together. He didn’t know why he’d felt so compelled to talk to a man who’s private and very personal conversation he’d overheard. He was almost glad that his humiliating gawking had saved him from speaking to the guy. After all, what would he have said anyway? The air alone wasn’t helping Castiel’s composure, so he began pacing in front of the building.

“I mean how do you go up to a stranger and tell them they aren’t alone and that good things do happen? It’s not like it wouldn’t embarrass the guy to know I overheard him talking about his money problems…” Cas froze as he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

“Uh, hey man. I actually came out to ask you something else, but I think this just got awkward.” Cas took a deep breath already knowing it was Dean standing behind him. Cas’ habit of muttering to himself when anxious had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion, but never quite as badly as this felt. Sadly, his fervent wish to turn invisible on the spot was being ignored by the universe and he found himself staring into striking green eyes while wondering how he could possibly salvage this situation.

“H-hello Dean. I’m Castiel, and I can’t apologize enough for overhearing your conversation with Dr. Barnes. I swear it wasn’t intentional, I was cleaning out the room you were standing near and – “

“Whoa, hold up buddy. I’m not mad or anything. I mean, it wouldn’t be my topic of choice to start chatting up the hot new guy at my doctor’s office, but you clearly work in healthcare, I’m sure you’ve heard the same thing from lots of folks.” Cas’ brain froze a bit when Dean referred to him as hot, but then it caught up with what he was actually saying.

“Er, actually I’m just shadowing Dr. Garth for the day, but yes, I have heard stories like yours. My sister, Anna, went through something similar. That’s why I wanted to say something to you but wasn’t sure what. Then I actually saw you and, well, you saw. I’m not really good with subtlety. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” Dean threw his head back with a barking laugh and Cas found himself staring at the beautiful man yet again.

“Having someone like you checking me out definitely doesn’t make me uncomfortable. If it makes you feel better, I came out hoping to ask if you’d be interested in going to the Harvest Festival tonight. I have to work for a bit at my store’s booth but if you were free around 7, I’d love to talk with you more. Even if it’s just whatever you wanted to talk to me about before.” Dean smiled flirtatiously at Cas, and there was no way to resist that.

“Yes, I’d love to! Where should I meet you?”

They exchanged information quickly, and parted ways with matching smiles. Cas would get his chance to tell Dean how his sister gave up her fight with cancer because she knew her treatments were bankrupting the family. He’d tell him how he’d was hoping to be a doctor himself one day to maybe help someone else like Anna win their fight despite the shitty healthcare system. He’d also tell Dean that he’d chased him down the hall because he’d desperately wanted to tell him that maybe they were strangers, but that he hoped Dean didn’t give up and that he’d be willing to be there for him if having a friend would help.

Now though, Cas thought maybe he’d already made Dean’s day a bit brighter, and he looked forward to getting to know the handsome man better. Maybe his impulse to offer his friendship to a stranger wasn’t as insane as it first seemed, and if Castiel was reading things right perhaps friendship wasn’t the only thing they had to offer one another.

[let-them-read-fics]

Eyes Closed, Heart Open

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,463

HC Count: 28

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending 

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone, here’s another Rosé writing. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of it. Happy reading!

I got inspiration from listening to her cover of “Eyes Closed” by Halsey. Check it out if you haven’t already!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Nothing felt the same anymore. The adrenaline rush that coursed through you as you ran out on stage, the cheering of the fans, hearing them sing along with you -- nothing. In her absence, everything was dull, and you found yourself just going through the motions. That’s not to say you aren’t grateful for everything you have; it’s all just lost its glow without her.

Both of you are idols (you’re a soloist), and you used to be together. You always kept it hidden from the public, but after a leak made its way to the media, there was little you could do to stop them. So, your companies decided to ban you from being with one another.

You found this fact out before she did, so you tried to find a way to end things. It’s the last thing you wanted, but you knew you had to hurt her now in order for her to be able to move on and forget about you.

You broke her heart, but you thought it was something that had to happen, given the circumstances. You hated yourself a little more with every second that passed, seeing the pain you caused. 

You often doubt your decision, thinking now maybe it would’ve been less painful for her to hear about the ban from the company instead. She was the one person in this world that you couldn’t bear the thought of being hated by.

Cue her cover of “Eyes Closed”

Certain lyrics pertain to your situation:

          ↪ “But he’ll never stay, they never do”

          ↪ “But you’ve been replaced, I’m face to face with someone new” (Of course, for damage control, YG forced her into a fake relationship)

          ↪ “My lover, my liar” (She says this in reference to you, since you had promised her you’d never break her heart)

Months after what happened, you’re still stuck on her. Your plan clearly backfired, only hurting both of you in the process and giving you no closure or ability to move on

As if you could move on from her

Given that Blackpink is the massive success that it is, Rosé’s hold over you was inescapable. Every time you were out, it was inevitable for you to see a new advertisement for them or hear their song on the radio. It was always a slap to the face, serving as a reminder of your mistake.

Both of you were expected to attend the MMA awards show, given that you were both nominated. When you saw “Blackpink” on the list of artists invited, it came as no surprise; even still, your heart leapt and your stomach was in knots. How would this go down?

Both of you ended up winning in your respective categories. When you go up to receive your award, you decide to set things straight; you’re sick of feeling this way, and you know you’d kick yourself for the rest of your life if you didn’t even try to rectify the situation.

“I’d like to give a huge thank you to my fans, support system, and family. My people. No one could have a better group of individuals around them. I couldn’t have done any of this alone, and I thank you endlessly for all you’ve ever done and continue to do. This award is for you!” The crowd cheers, clapping loudly, but you don’t stop there. “Also, though, there’s someone here tonight, out in the audience, that I hurt very badly.” At your words, Rosé’s eyes find yours, expression unreadable. “I thought that in doing what I did, I would be helping her to move on; after all, I never meant to hurt her. Little did she know, though, our companies would’ve stepped in, had I not beat them to it. I wanted to give her someone to hate, someone that she didn’t have to see everyday and be around.” The audience is dead silent, hanging onto your every word. To the right of you, just off stage, you can see one of your managers next to a security guard; likely ready to drag you off at any moment. With time running out, you finish by saying, “I know it was wrong, but I did what I thought was best at the time -- please believe that. Hopefully you can forgive me for my naiveté. Thank you again, everyone.” The air is thick with tension, the crowd uncertain about how to react. Scattered applause rings outs, and you send one last wave to the audience before going back to your seat.

Your words impact Rosé more than she expected, forcing her to think things over, yet again. She had spent the past few months doing everything in her power to recover, and she’d be damned to just let it slip away so easily. Part of her begged to relent, though, upon seeing how sincere your apology appeared to be. She hated to admit it, but you still looked just as gorgeous now as you had before. Though she tried to pretend, she knew her feelings for you could never go away.

You try to find her for the rest of the night, but she’s always just a little too far away, right out of your reach. You eventually lose hope, but you mask that fact from the cameras that had been glued to you after your speech.

About an hour later, the show is over and the afterparty is kicking off. Deciding that a drink would definitely help after the night you’ve just had, you make your way towards the elevator. Conveniently, the celebration was taking place in the same building, albeit high up in the clouds, on the 80th floor. You had waited patiently for the batch of overzealous guests to go up before you, glad to distance yourself from them.

You could finally breathe again, getting a moment to yourself. 

Now inside the elevator, you press the button and wait for the sleek metal doors to close. Before they can, a slender arm darts between them, and your heart jumps. They open again to reveal none other than Rosé herself, looking as stunning as ever. She steps in next to you, and it’s physically painful how much you want to hold her in that moment. To reach out and touch her, assuring yourself that she’s actually there and you aren’t imagining this. To apologize profusely and explain everything to her. But you don’t. You stand there, holding her gaze, waiting for her to say something.

“Did you mean it?” She asks after an eternity, voice soft and unsure as she tests the waters. Her eyes are now focused on the floor; she can’t bring herself to look at you as she waits for an answer, too afraid of what you might say.

“I meant everything I said tonight. You’ve never left my thoughts, no matter how much I try to avoid them. And I…” You start, ready to finally confess how you’ve been feeling all this time without her. You take a moment to steady yourself. “I never stopped loving you.”

You wait with bated breath, silently begging the universe to let her feel the same. 

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she gently wraps herself around you, her arms around your neck and face against your shoulder. You sigh against her, weight being lifted from your heart at this simple act. She still feels the same; warm and comforting. Your home.

Eventually you pull back enough to look at her, but not enough to lose her from your grip.

You rest your forehead against hers, and the two of you stay like that. There will be plenty of time to talk about everything later; you’re at peace just holding her for now. The elevator dings, and the doors open to reveal your manager. 

He gives you an incredulous look, as if to say We’ve been over this! But you don’t care. Rosé glances between the older man and you, but you simply smile at her. “I’m done running.”

Those words echo throughout her mind as she feels your lips on hers -- something she had dreamt of since the day you left, despite the pain that came along with it. Memories of the nights she spent crying over what happened soon melt away, making room for new ones to come.

With your manager nearly fuming at what he’s witnessing, you stumble backwards and press the button for the ground floor. Rosé is still on you, her lips moving against your own in a heated dance. The juxtaposition is a bit hilarious, if you’re honest. 

The noise from the rowdy crowd dies down as you make your descent, and you feel her lips turn up in a giddy smile. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

[saladejin]

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

Jimin x Fem!Reader | s2f2l au, (ex)-policeman!Jimin, vetnurse!Reader | fluff, meet-cute, (emphasis on) hurt/comfort, angst and heavy angst, found families, slight humour, mentions of other members

Summary: You’ve essentially spent your whole life working around dogs, through sickness and through health, but one memorable encounter at the park has you thinking ‘why not one more?’ 

Or, maybe it’s not the dog that needs help, but rather the beautiful yet reserved man with honey blonde hair at his side. Perhaps, rather than dogs and cats, you need to start learning how to heal people. Maybe then you can start to heal yourself too.

Warnings: tw // (mental health, descriptions of death - no major, descriptions of abandonment - not by main characters, absent parents) // Descriptions of traumatic experiences, mental health issues/struggles (depression, anxiety), minor character death, hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns / resolved breakdowns. Only the tiniest, vaguest references to suicide - basically nothing.

- semi non-descriptive smut, fooling around in the pool, kissing, touching, fucking ... plenty of cussing lol

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me) 

A/N: Okay so here is my entry for the Ghostie Network’s ‘Dynamite Dads’ event, and it’s a bit late oops! I wasn’t really feeling up to write Jimin as a dad with an actual human baby, but I did the next best thing and gave him a gorgeous pupper who he basically treats as his own child ... enjoy :)

The genre was FLUFF, and my trope was ‘found family’. I promise you there is definitely some fluff to pay off for the angst. I feel ok saying it’s nothing too extreme, 🥺 but please heed the warnings and don’t hate me too much for the pain hehe

There will be a sequel, so this will most likely end up being a two-shot. You’ll see what I mean :) 

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

Jimin knows from the very moment he opens his eyes to the sound of 6 a.m. birdsong, that today would be it. His last day.

He drags himself from bed, all fluffed up hair and puffy eyes, shrugging on the same dark navy uniform he’s worn for the past five years. He blinks away the sleep clutching at his eyelids, trying his best to prevent the flashing colours behind them from focusing into memories. 

Perhaps they were a lingering dream, flooded with the distant sounds of wailing sirens and a snarling canine, but thankfully they vanish with one brisk shake of his head.  

Snarling swiftly changes into a gentle whine, and Jimin raises his head with a troubled sigh to see Mandu sniffing by his bedroom door. His best friend, his companion, and most of all his boy. Jimin’s cheeks lift in a small smile, and the dog with a pelt of rich fawn brightens instantly, tail thumping the wall in innocent glee at seeing his handler’s eyes shine.

“Morning, bud.” 

Not two hours later, Jimin’s sitting just outside the chief’s office. He waits with downcast eyes, fiddling with his fingers to ward away the nerves and anxiety causing his heartbeat to pick up speed. 

He knows how it looks; he knows that everyone there can see through him and his firm expression. He’s never been good at hiding emotions very well, despite society’s expectation that anyone working in the law enforcement sphere should. No, not him, and that’s exactly why he has to leave it all behind.

“Officer Park…”

The chief’s eyes are not upset, angry or surprised by the news, but rather concerned. Jimin swallows his guilt down heavily, knowing full well that he has every right to do what he’s doing. He fights the urge to comb his fingers through his soft honey blonde hair, or the instinctual need to scratch at his own neck from the sheer distress of it all.

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

That simple phrase was all it took to send him reeling back.

Flashing colours and background noise burst into focus, and Jimin suddenly finds himself reliving everything. Heavy well-worn boots thudding against the road slick with fresh rain, the sound of shrieking sirens all around, piercing his eardrums like knives. His lungs constricting, burning, with need for air as he follows Mandu into the darkness of the alley.

“Jung! Jung, where-”

Jimin can barely hear himself think above the clatter, the vicious snarling and gnashing of teeth against flesh being the only sound keeping him grounded. He has a job to do, and he’ll see it through to the end even if it costs him his life. He cocks his pistol and carefully peers around the corner of the dimly lit alleyway, hoping that the pathetic cries of the criminal under attack means that the coast is somewhat clear.

Anxiety bubbles up in his chest, for his partner and his boy, but he knows he can’t let his worry for them cloud his judgement now, of all times.

“Drop your weapon now!” he shouts above the noise, rounding the corner to apprehend the man currently locked into a bloody fight with his K-9 counterpart, desperately kicking and shoving to try and escape the ferociously snapping jaw knocking him down.

To Jimin’s relief, the weapon in question had been thrown down with a clatter amidst the man’s struggle, the gun still rotating slightly in its place from the force of its projection.

Then his bones freeze up when he watches the shiny object come to rest by a steel-capped boot, a boot so familiar to his eyes because it’s the exact same one he wears.

It’s Jung. Slumped against the wall, unmoving, unseeing … blood pools everywhere around him, and the iron-tinged smell hits Jimin right in the face until he can barely stand to breathe. “H-Hoseok, no…”

Mandu’s growls bring him crashing down to Earth, and Jimin’s pulled the trigger before he can even think twice about his actions. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s trained unconditionally to aim for non-fatal points on the human body, but right then and there, through the crimson haze of his fury, he wished he’d been able to do it.

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

Jimin gasps lightly, blinking his eyes to chase away the all-too-fresh memory from his mind yet again. His bottom lip is clamped so hard between his teeth, he wonders if the iron taste of blood in his mouth had actually been more than imagination. The superior officer sat at the desk in front of him nods solemnly.

“Park Jimin, I understand completely. I can’t stop you…”

The chief’s voice fades into the background as Jimin lets his thoughts wander once more, but he soon feels the darkness eating away at him again. The inner demons, the pain and suffering, because everyone leaves you, Jimin. The cycle repeats, you let yourself love then you let yourself lose.

“The … adoption of ‘Mandu’ as you’ve stated here, has already been finalised. We’re glad to see a long serving canine of our force retire to a responsible home. Thank you, Park.”

“Of course, Chief.”

The older man sighs and gives Jimin a once-over, clearly recognising that the man before him needs time to heal, however long that may be. Jimin feels it too, deep within his heart, his mind, and his very soul. This was it. He could finally hide. He could finally stop inflicting all this pain on himself and push it back to the deepest corners of his mind, where it would remain untouched.

“We thank you for your service, please hand in your badge and equipment by the end of the week.”

  ~ three months later ~

 “That’s it for the day!”

Muscles aching and eyes watering from a yawn, you peel the stretchy gloves from your hands with a grimace. The sweaty feeling lingers on your skin long after throwing the disgusting things in the trash. It’s only after you shed your nurse scrubs and lanyard that you remember you aren’t quite ready to finish up.

“(Y/n), you just have to take Jessie out for a bit before you go,” your colleague calls, much to your chagrin at the reminder. It’s been a long day at the veterinary clinic, and even if vet nursing wasn’t quite as strenuous of a job as legitimate veterinarian work, it still sapped a decent amount of energy.

God, you just want nothing more than to go home to your warm bed, and your fluffball cat. Instead, you pack away your uniform and grab a leash to prepare for the walk.

“C’mon girl,” you coo gently to the old border collie resting in her cage. There was an immense pride in the way the clinic took care of its sick and injured animals, and that included exercising the dogs every single day without fail. You absolutely loved it, loved your job and everything it entailed.

Ten minutes later, you’re letting the gate to the local park click shut behind you.

The dog park is remarkably busy today, you muse after letting Jessie off her leash for a run. Inside the spacious area – fenced off nicely with grasses delightfully green from the Spring air – are dogs and puppies of various shapes, sizes and colours bounding around each-other like ping pong balls.

You can’t suppress a snort of amusement as a particularly handsome pooch catches your eye, something akin to a German Shepherd though not quite as large. Your eyes follow the energetic bundle of energy as he darts around the group of dogs, chasing them and nipping at their heels to keep them controlled, just how he likes it.

It was inevitable that Jessie would soon join in, and you can only let out knowing sigh at the sight of the beautiful collie’s eyes lighting up with that familiar fire; a flame that had remained dormant for many, many years within her ageing mind. She takes off and rounds up the strays of the flock, arthritis in her joints long forgotten as her instincts to chase and collect take over entirely.

“Mandu, why…”

A breathy sigh escapes the person standing barely a metre away from where you sit on the park bench, and you finally take a moment to observe the other dog owners milling around this sector of the park. Their eyes are wide in confusion as they witness the spectacle happening before them, but you’re brought back to the man closest to you as he lets out another disappointed click of his tongue.

“It’s normal with herding breeds,” you find yourself saying through a fond smile, though your socially awkward inner self wants to kick you in the ass for it. The man, who looks as though he’d been about to jump in to collect his zippy companion, falters in his motion to regard you in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just been a while since my boy’s done it.” He rubs at his neck self-consciously, eyes glancing around to see if anyone’s thrown him a dirty or judgemental look already. From your place on the wooden seat, you can easily catch the way the sunlight caresses the man’s unique features, the worn-out sneakers and running wear telling you that he comes this way often to exercise.

He clears his throat. “You…”

As he trails off, somehow losing confidence halfway through his sentence, you feel that familiar pang of embarrassment that comes with talking to strangers. “Mine’s the collie, so I know I should probably step in too.” You laugh quietly, instantly breaking eye-contact when he holds your stare for a second too long.

He was stunning, to say the least, with incredibly soft looking caramel hair swept back from his face, and pillowy looking lips that were large, but fitting when placed together with his smooth sloping cheekbones and an elegant jawline. His eyes, though, were tired. They were so tired, and you knew exactly what it felt like to leave home every day when you were … that emotionally exhausted.

At your comment, the man breaks into a grin, because well … you’re in the same boat here. He’s probably relieved that you hadn’t lectured him on dog behaviour or keeping his pet in check, or something like that. Nope, turns out you were just as liberal as he was.  

You get to your feet, trying to inwardly shake the tingling in your chest from the sight of his lips curling into a smile alone, and jostle the leash in your hand to try and get your playful lady’s attention.

When that didn’t work, you let out a loud whistle and hope that the slight burning sensation travelling up the back of your neck would fade away soon. Although, you knew that as long as the curious man kept his eyes trained on you, it would persist. “Jessie, here girl.”

The beautiful stranger follows suit, but to your shock he barely has to make any noise, just a simple gesture and briskly spoken word before his responsive dog is sitting to attention at his feet. Ears pricked and warm canine eyes focusing on his owner as if nothing else in the world would ever matter as much as he did in that moment. You quickly look up to catch a glimpse of the man’s face once more, and the love now swimming in his gaze as he ruffles the dog’s pointy ears was nothing short of breathtaking.

You should go now.

You utter a tiny ‘bye’ as you take your leave, not even sure that the captivating man is able to hear you over the way he’s currently trying to scold his tawny-furred dog in a soft, gentle tone. A stern voice that still made it obvious just how endeared he was behind the annoyed façade.

You glance down to where Jess pads quietly on the pavement beside you, her black and white wavy pelt somewhat tousled from the exertion and her tongue lolling out in pure elation after stretching her legs. Sunlight, a blinding smile, caramel blonde hair…

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

~

Three days pass, and you’re back in the clinic. Work is piling up, and you’re basically booked out thanks to a spontaneous outbreak of ‘Kennel Cough’ throughout nearby shelters. How the infectious disease spread to not one, but two localised areas, nobody knew.

“Someone must have taken their dog to all of them, or maybe had it transferred mid-vacation,” you growl to Dr. Kim, lining the antibiotics up on the med table after checking the clipboard thoroughly. Healthy vaccinated dogs would be fine, perhaps a tad sickly for a week or two, but puppies and those with immune deficiencies? Out of luck unfortunately.

“I’ve scheduled the radiographs for the most affected,” Dr. Kim informs, and you’re in a right mind to believe he’s only trying to reassure you right now. He sighs and flashes you a weary smile, age-lines prominent around his kind features thanks to the recent months of stress. “Hopefully we can rule out any pneumonia. You’re free to go on break by the way, Nurse (L/n).”

At the word ‘break’, you feel dread crash through your body like a heavy wave. Shit, had you forgotten to bring lunch today? A wishful image floats through your head of the delicately tossed Greek salad you’d prepared the night before, only problem being that it was still wrapped neatly in the fridge at home.

“Damn it,” you mutter, planting a forced smile on your face when the older doctor eyes you worriedly at the soft outburst. “Sorry, I’ll need to head out today.”

You can’t stop internally punching yourself for being forgetful, knowing that it’ll cost you precious time to walk to the nearest eateries and back. Perhaps if you owned a car, you’d be able to savour those few extra minutes of relaxing during your break.

Nope, it’s walking for you now. Idiot.

So off you go. The route is pleasantly quiet for the most part, with the sun slowly beginning to warm the leaves on trees as they protect their newly forming flower buds. There’s the incessant yet melodic chirping of birds while they scourge the nearby plants for food, either for themselves or their young. It was easy to stop and appreciate the various signs of revival and rebirth around you, but maybe not today.

Today, you had too much to worry about and too much weighing you down. There were so many helpless animal lives that were going to be lost, all because of one person and their ignorance. You had to come to terms with death fairly quickly when entering this line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier as time passed by.

Especially for someone like you.

You come to a sudden stop and blink your eyes firmly. The painted sign that blocks your path display the words ‘DOG PARK’ in all capitals, and it throws you off guard completely. You’d … somehow taken this heavy of a detour? Well, you suppose it could be worse, and the park did have another entrance on the far side you can use to somehow shortcut your way into town, but you can’t shake your confusion until ah.

There he is. The dog park guy, standing slightly off the well-trodden path. He’s dressed in a casual grey tee shirt and comfy matte black shorts this time, effortlessly showing off the defined muscles of his calves as he bends down to retrieve a bright green frisbee. He then flings it so high into the air, you doubt even his wonderfully enthusiastic dog will be able to catch up to it.

But when the well-built canine does in fact manage to clamp his teeth down on the airborne toy, you only manage to pick your jaw up off the floor after a handful of shellshocked moments. Some special kind of training had become evident in the way the animal springs off its hind legs with such intensity.

Right, you should stop staring like a maniac and keep walking.

At this rate, you’re going to be late back to work, and with the sheer number of things left to do and problems to solve with the shelters and kennels, you know that’s not an option. Hell, you’re so swallowed by your anxiety that you break out into a slow jog to make it at least halfway through the dog park in time.

Don’t look at him, don’t.

You glance at the man as you pass him, hoping to dear God that he’s focusing on his dog rather than the strange pet-less woman running through the park meant for pets, wearing dark forest-green scrubs underneath her jacket because she was too stupid to remember her food for the day. But alas, he is looking at you too.

It’s a weird kind of energy you can’t place, as if some kind of invisible force is trying to slow your feet down. The air thickens in resistance, and it’s like you’re barging through it to continue forward on your path. Everything in your body screams at you to stop, to talk to him, to say ‘hello’ with a smile because he deserves to have his own friendly one returned in some way. Oh wow, he’s actually looking at you, isn’t he?

The thing is, in situations like this you get nervous. You and attractive guys? Not quite the match made in heaven you’d probably expect. He flashes you that smile, all pearly whites to accompany the recognition from yesterday glittering in his startled gaze, but all you can manage is a strained grimace-like grin in return with a tiny wave of your sweaty palm.

Great. Fucking great.

At least you’re already gone before you can wallow in the humiliation; before you can simmer in it like a fine stew. He’s probably forgotten you already anyway, but you can’t help looking over your shoulder to check regardless.

Checkmate, he’s watching you go. The smile is now amused, and his head is cocked cutely to the side in playful confusion. As his dog jumps all over him to try and win back his attention, you flip the hoodie of your jacket up and try to ward off the embarrassed onslaught of laughter that bubbles in your chest. It would take more than a few days to wipe the image of his crescent moon shaped eyes from your memory this time around.

~

Jimin wakes to a wet and uncomfortable sensation prodding his face, and if he didn’t already have an innate sense for his favourite living being in the whole world, he’d be on his feet and ready to fight in no time at all.

“Mandu you gotta let me sleep,” he groans out, voice deep and groggy from his slumber. A persistent whine dragging from the throat of the animal rouses Jimin further, and he slides up to rest back on his elbows, eyes squeezing shut and skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat from how hot it’d been under the bedcovers.

His dry lips part in a yawn. “Fine, you hungry?”

Mandu pokes his snout into Jimin’s cheek once more, big gentle brown eyes urging him to get up and start his day. Jimin knows that without his best friend with him, he’d barely have any motivation to step foot outside his room, let alone head out for a run each day consecutively.

It helps that his buddy looks out for him as diligently and as loyally as he had back when they were in the force together. It’s like nothing ever changed, and in the back of Jimin’s mind, he knows that the sense of routine had most likely saved his life time and time again.

“Alright,” he grunts loudly, lips curving into a smirk as he cups Mandu’s furry face into his palms, squishing the doggy cheeks he finds there together until the dog squirms in his spot on the bed. It’s not until Mandu lets out a frustrated yet playful growl that Jimin leaves him be with one last ruffle of his dark pointed ears.

Yeah, he really was fucked without his boy reminding him to eat, walk and sleep every day. Jimin knew it was pathetic, and he’d never felt so useless in his whole life, but it was enough to get him through for now.

Jimin scratches at his bare chest, freezing on his amble towards the kitchen when he spots something. Mandu stops along with him, his nails click on the floorboards in impatience but Jimin’s eyes are intensely locked onto the photo frame perched on the living room cabinet.

Idiot, of course there was one left.

He slams the frame down, making sure he can’t see the two laughing faces for a second longer than needed. He realises with a frown that he probably forgot to remove it due to barely ever setting foot in the living room as it was. Up until now, for the last five years, he’d spent most of his time at the station or out on the field. Patrolling, tracking … even apprehending, but that simply meant areas of his home went essentially unused for months on end.

Things were changing…

“Hey bud, what’s for breakfast?” he hums to his pal softly, finding a small happiness in the way Mandu circles around his legs like a bothered child. He assumes that if the dog were human, he’d be sporting the mightiest of pouts right about now.

Ten minutes later, Jimin finds himself nose deep in a bowl of flavourless cereal. On any other ordinary day, he and Mandu would usually race to see who could finish their meal the speediest, but he’s not feeling it this time around. The fawn coloured dog seems to give him a judgemental stare, as if saying ‘what’s wrong with you, did you let me win!?’ to which Jimin looks down at him and lets a breathy laugh fall from his lips.

“Not everything’s a competition boy, grow up already.”

Mandu simply huffs and moves to lay down, resting his muzzle on his front paws in defeat.

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

A dismissive sniff in response. Jimin finishes his meal with a shake of his head, knowing that if anyone were to ever hear the way he spoke to his pet dog, he’d most likely get shipped off to the nearest mental institution available. The sudden dark thought earns a surprised raise of his brows, but as he rinses his bowl off in the sink, he knows he has nothing to worry about.

It’s only him and Mandu now, and nobody else mattered. Nobody else was allowed to matter.

Yet Jimin’s always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Even if he tries the hardest he can to shut the world out, he’s continuously drawn to people. Drawn to seek company and validation, drawn to love others with his whole heart unconditionally. He could have it all, but all the world does is take from him.

He sighs and sits back at the kitchen countertop, head resting on his folded arms much like the sassy child sprawled underneath the stool right now. “Do you think we’ll see the pretty lady from the park again today?”

The dog’s ear twitches, then flicks as if bothered by an irritating bug of some description. Jimin doesn’t know how to take that, really. Was it a no? Did Mandu even want to see her as much as he did? He supposes not, considering the ex-police dog was trained to be protective, and was instinctively so in every possible way.

He belongs to Jimin, and apparently that means Jimin belongs to him too, no friends allowed. Something in the back of his mind shouts that he shouldn’t be wanting friends anyway, that they were something to be afraid of.

“Whatever.”

It was the next day when things turned sour. To Jimin’s slight disappointment, they hadn’t seen the pretty lady in strange green attire again, but something did go horribly wrong instead.

Jimin exits the bathroom with a snowy white towel draped over his head, hoping that somehow his laziness will be overlooked for once and the towel will simply dry his hair for him with no additional effort, only for the fabric to fall from his head once he catches sight of Mandu walking down the hallway. Only he’s not walking, but rather limping.

“Buddy c’mere,” Jimin calls, voice pitching higher than usual in concern. With fear and cold hard dread settling deep into the pit of his stomach, Jimin observes the dog instantly perking up at the sound of his voice.

Mandu lets out a small yelp of excitement, but still has a stiffness and slight limp to his gait when he makes his way over. Jimin crouches down and pets the canine fondly, the sinking of his heart telling him that his suspicions were right all along.

Something is wrong here. He has to know what’s up, has to make sure his boy’s alright.

Jimin’s bundled the both of them into the car before he can stop to even think straight, and Mandu is nothing but a ball of excitement – bouncing around and goofily grinning the entire time. It hurts to think he’s fooling the dog into believing they’re going on some sort of spontaneous adventure, but that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It’s only around noon so the local vet clinic has to be open, right?

He’s not dying, you really need to chill out.

Jimin knows his inner voice speaks the truth, but he continues to justify his frantic driving with a carefully crafted self-assurance. He’s only making sure, he’s simply worried for his baby.

He doesn’t stop to think about the way his hair is still unpleasantly damp from the shower, having forgotten to actually dry it beforehand, or the way his socks had somehow ended up being odd colours. He hastily finds a park outside the clinic and attaches his leash to Mandu’s collar.

What Jimin doesn’t expect to see, when striding through the administration doors with the dog in his arms, is you.

Your expression matches his own look of astonishment, your beautiful eyes widening in recognition in the exact same split-second his do. If Jimin was being honest with himself, he could probably just stand there looking at you for the next thirty minutes or so, but a miniscule wriggle from the animal in his hold brings him crashing back down to Earth.

“Um, hi,” he begins awkwardly, paces enormous as he lurches towards the desk you’re bracing your hands upon, still recovering from the shock of seeing him again it seemed. “I have a problem…”

You clear your throat and try not to smile at the amusing sight before you. Jimin knows it can’t be the strangest thing you’ve ever seen here, but the openly scared and confused dog clutched to his chest is enough to make you bite your lip in an effort to restrain yourself.

“I can see that. Luckily, we’ve got nobody in queue so you can jump right out back with me,” you say with a kind lilt to your tone that Jimin can tell is part of the customer service sector of your job description. He doesn’t really mind, nor does he even care. Right now, his only concern is Mandu.

No pretty lady in green scrubs is going to distract him from his best bud right now.

Fifteen minutes pass, and Jimin is worrying the skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. His wide troubled eyes trail over every movement you make as you examine the incredibly stiff and uncomfortable dog on the sterilised table. When Jimin meets Mandu’s startled gaze, he tries his best to calm his best friend down in a familiar gentle tone he would use at home.

“It’s okay buddy, you’ll be alright. Good boy…”

If you’re irritated or weirded out by his vocalisations, you don’t show it. Your mind seems to be too wrapped up in gently working your fingertips into the back haunches of the dog, massaging in slow circles. Jimin’s drawn in by the way you handle Mandu with such care and precision, and he begins thinking that if you were to do that to him, he’d probably be relaxing in no time.

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

The same can’t be said for the dog, though, and Jimin can only pick up the intensity of his soothing praises once he catches sight of Mandu trembling in fear on the table. The dog’s elbows seem to want to buckle under the stress of the situation, and it breaks Jimin’s heart to pieces to see his pal all worked up like this. It’s lucky that the animal has been trained well enough to trust in his handler’s presence alone, otherwise this whole examination might’ve taken a … darker and more vicious turn.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks you quickly, voice high and strained as he reaches forward to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Mandu licks his palm in return, and usually Jimin would recoil and protest loudly, but today he was fairly sure he’d let his boy get away with anything.

You sigh softly, and Jimin doesn’t know what that means at first, but then you peel the gloves from your hands and flash him a small smile. Everything starts to feel okay somehow. “You see, Sir, this is quite commonly seen in specific breeds of dog, including your German-”

“Belgian Malinois.” The correction is out before he can hold it back, and Jimin wants to slap himself for how snappy and rude it sounds, but you don’t take offense in the slightest. Instead, he’s stunned once more when you click your fingers with a light gasp of realisation.

“That’s what it is! I was trying to remember the name of this breed for days on end, after the first time I saw him in the park.”

Jimin raises his brows at that, feeling the last of his anxiety melt from his bones at the sight of your smile, which was slowly beginning to familiarise itself to him.

“Ah, well you could’ve asked me. I would’ve told you in a heartbeat.” He chuckles, though it’s somewhat dry from the raw emotions still running their course through his brain. When you let out a soft laugh in return, he forces himself to tear his eyes away.

“Oh well, anyway you can calm down a bit, there’s nothing life threatening going on here just yet,” you assure in a calming tone, and Jimin can easily sense how there’s more sincerity behind the sound compared to the voice you’d used earlier when greeting him.

“There are two things I can narrow down for you, taking into consideration the information you’ve given me so far. Commonly found in these breeds is something called hip dysplasia, where the hip joint undergoes abnormal development or growth. The other possibility for his lameness is a form of chronic arthritis called osteoarthritis, which deteriorates joint cartilage more commonly in older dogs like Mandu here.”

“He’s not that old though?” Jimin hums, brows furrowing in bewilderment at the news. He pats the dog’s head fondly, saddened but glad that he can breathe a little easier now that he knows what’s going on.

“Perhaps, but he’s lived a very active lifestyle, you see. Heavy strain and activity on the dog’s body can bring this forth quicker, much the same as it does in humans,” you explain with a sad sigh.

“I do recommend getting x-rays done to check out the full extent of the damage, as well as to check for any other abnormalities.”

You then take your leave to fetch the main doctor, and Jimin finds himself startled to discover you’re only a veterinary nurse here. By the way you were reeling off information from the top of your head, as well as the confident manner in which you examined and diagnosed his dog, he would’ve effortlessly assumed you ran the goddamn joint.

He waits in the administration area while Mandu’s getting his x-rays done, fingers fiddling with themselves from the trepidation building up inside him. He doesn’t even hear you enter the room, and can’t help his back going ramrod straight attentively when you clear your throat. Curse his years of training in the force.

“Hey, I can just see that you’re a little stressed out there. He must mean a lot to you.” You walk around the corner of the front desk and take your place one seat away from him. Jimin realises that you most likely keep your distance from most customers with an unmistakeable barrier of professionalism, but for him you seem to be stepping right out of your comfort zone.

He can tell by the unnecessarily chipper tone of your voice, and how your eyes flicker nervously to the side every once in a while. You’re good at hiding how anxious you are, he’ll give you that, but not good enough to escape watchful eyes such as his. Not when he goes through the exact same thing.

He finally musters the courage to respond after a few seconds of simply eyeing you in curiosity. “Yep.” He smiles tightly and returns his gaze to his interlocked fingers, knowing the expression wouldn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been with me through thick and thin. Almost like a little brother or son to me, as weird as that probably sounds.”

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you instantly oppose, laughing to brighten the sullen mood Jimin knows he’s bestowed upon you. “I think it’s sweet, and he’s a very lucky dog to have someone caring about him so much.”

Your sentiment melts the icy sadness around Jimin’s heart ever so slightly. The cold blanket encompassing him ever since his last loved one left his side. He hasn’t felt the urge to open up since, but he knows he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now. “I- thanks, I guess.”

Before he can continue on and ruin the somehow light-hearted atmosphere by telling you he wants to be alone, you’re suddenly speaking again in that gentle voice of yours. “It’s kinda funny how we keep running into each-other, don’t you think? I can’t help but hope you’ll both be at the park whenever I pass by…”

Jimin’s at a loss for words at your candour, looking up sharply to see the way you’re shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and avoiding his eyes like the plague. It looks as though you regret the words as soon as they’re out in the open air.

But … he feels the same.

He can’t say it. He won’t. He can’t just let you in and create a space for yourself in his life, or heart right now. He cannot admit that you’ve lived in his mind for free ever since he saw you that second time, running past him with that smile on your face, confusing him with your antics to no end. Why do you keep getting under his skin in the best possible way?

“I mean, i-if you’d like to go out for coffee or something later on, I-”

He dips his head with a small sniff to attempt to cut you off in a somewhat polite manner. “Ah sorry, I’ve got a … funeral at two. Not really in the mood these days, but I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t wish to see your reaction to his less than eloquent rejection, but he catches it regardless. That wrenching moment you come to the conclusion that you read the signs all wrong. The glimmer of hope and interest in your eyes slowly flickering out like dying embers, although not completely, and he has no doubt it ever would.

You frown and instantly come through with a quiet “I’m sorry for your loss,”, but Jimin dismisses the sympathy with a tiny wave of his hand, claiming that it was a colleague and acquaintance rather than a close friend or family member.

It’s already obvious to him how much of an optimist you are. You’re holding onto that tiny shred of hope as if it were the string of a helium balloon, one moment of slack and he’d be floating away from you far out of reach.

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’re way too considerate and understanding of him, and the painful burn that leaves on his conscious is so real. It reminds him of all the times his brother would tell him to never take people’s kindness for granted, but here he was shooting you down even though you’d never given him a reason to.

In fact, he likes you enough to go back almost instantly on his words.

“I really am busy, otherwise … I would actually love to, believe me.” He combs a hand through his hair in exasperation, inwardly cringing at the damp dewy sensation greeting his palm as he’s reminded again of his post-shower dilemma. You’re already chuckling at your newfound victory, and he’s pleasantly surprised at the sudden streak of mischief in your eyes.

“Let’s make it a date for Saturday then, see you at the park usual time? I’ll make sure to come out earlier so I don’t miss you again.”

Damn you’re assertive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t liking it. Something in the way you so effortlessly drew him out of his shell was electrifying. Was he even in total control of his own emotions right now?

He’s left in a stunned silence, nodding in response to your question before you’re suddenly making your exit, uttering something along the lines of ‘best wishes for the funeral’ and ‘good luck with Mandu’, but he can barely hear beyond the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s a flustered mess of a man right now.

He only regains majority of his focus once he’s left the clinic with some anti-inflammatory and pain meds for his dog, a slight dent in his bank account, and a date.

~

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

When it came down to it, you just saw your shot and took it. Simple as that, really. When the attractive guy from the dog park had shown up at the clinic, piercing deep brown eyes full of purpose, you’d very nearly felt your brain short-circuit at the sight. However, as time went on you began to get a glimpse of his true self.

It took every ounce of strength within you not to openly coo at the way he soothed his canine friend, with gentle words of encouragement spilling from his plush lips like a steady stream of water. If you’d been blind, you might have even been led to assume he was speaking to a fellow human.

Jimin, he’d revealed as his name. He was so lost in his worry for Mandu you didn’t think he’d even retained memory of your own name when you’d given it, but in the end it didn’t matter. You now had a literal date planned where you could talk and get to know him even more! How you’d managed to force the bold question out, you’ll never know, but hey at least one of your spontaneous and stupid decisions had to go well once in a while, right?

You sink into your couch, a fluffy white cat curled up on your lap as you relive the memories from the day. The relaxing sounds of purring surround you as you massage your fingers into your cat’s thick neck fur.

“Oh Ghostie, what the heck am I gonna do?”

Right now you can only think back to the way his hair was a bit of a jumbled mess, evidently damp and sticking out in all directions cutely. The addicting scent of his body-wash, if the rushed situation and flushed complexion was anything to go by, and aftershave. The man had those butterflies swooping around in your stomach already, and you barely knew him.

Your cat growls in protest when you let out a tiny squeal and make a harsh grab for a couch cushion, effectively burying your face deep into it in pure unadulterated embarrassment and disbelief. After living life being perfectly happy and single, why was this one somewhat decent-looking man sweeping you off your feet?

And sweep you off your feet he would, because when you finally show up to meet him at the dog park on Saturday, you’re being harshly barked at and sent flying to the ground before you can even process what’s happened. The dull ache from the force of impact fades quickly, and you try to regain your bearings before anything worse can happen.

“Fuck, sorry!”

The sight of your freshly washed jeans, now sporting a lovely scuff, causes you to cringe slightly. You shake your head and lock eyes with the pointy-eared dog standing over your body. It strikes you as bizarre, seeing as Mandu’s not exactly attacking you, but he’s not all that happy to see you either. You’re locked into a stand-off, despite you currently being knocked onto your ass with your heart still racing.

“Get off her!” comes Jimin’s outraged yell, his eyes are wide in sheer disbelief and disappointment. You can’t help but laugh softly at his exasperation, the shock of the fall now trickling away at the sight of the familiar face, or rather faces.

“I’m sorry (Y/n), I honestly don’t know what came over him. We were waiting by the pond and he just … took off when you came around!”

You stand and brush your clothes off, feeling your cheeks burn at the fact that he had actually remembered your name from the clinic the other day. You try to tell him it’s fine, but he still scolds the now sheepish looking dog at his feet – albeit as gently as possible through his vexation.

“I couldn’t leave him at home,” Jimin starts, sighing and clipping a leash to the dog’s collar pointedly. “Told him to behave himself but yeah, that didn’t go down well.” He regards you with concerned eyes, and you feel your heart melt at how he tries to subtly check you over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Jimin, trust me. Working at the clinic means I’ve had my fair share of body-slams. Don’t sweat it.” You wave your hands before squatting, lowering yourself to be face-to-face with Mandu who still seemed to be eyeing you warily.

You understood it. Here you were, nothing more than a stranger, trying to take his owner and favourite person in the world away from him. You had to somehow convince Mandu that you weren’t a threat to their little family of two.

“Hey, buddy. Remember me?” You slowly reach out a hand to pat the top of the dog’s furry head, eager to earn his trust. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you, promise.”

You miss the way something flickers in Jimin’s eyes after hearing you say that. A glazed look of predictability, of cold hard doubt … but it’s gone when you rise to your feet once more. The dog seems to have accepted you for now, averting his eyes from the direct and intimidating glare he’d had trained on you ever since he’d pinned you down.

“Shall we, then?” You find yourself saying, self-confidence shocking you both as you smile and lead the way out of the park and towards the middle of town.

It doesn’t take long to find a nice café to sit at, and it’s with reluctance that Jimin leaves Mandu tied up outside. However, he knows he has to tone down his attachment in view of the public eye, and you especially. He doesn’t know just how far you’re willing to go for him.

He was a closed iron door to the world, yet he was still somewhat intrigued to see your efforts in getting inside. There was no way he was going let it happen, not again, but … why was he here then?

After ordering the coffees, him taking his black after years of late nights on patrol and you filling yours with sugar, you both surprisingly hit it off well. You suppose that after noticing how heavily you could relate to him, and vice versa, it was easy to understand one another and fall into steady conversation.

“The police force, huh.” You sip at your drink with a drawn-out hum of confirmation. “I actually kinda guessed that.”

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

“Yeah! I mean I’ve seen Mandu a handful of times now, and it’s in the way he’s thoroughly trained to listen to your every command, not to mention the way he moves. When I gave him the check-up at the clinic, I forgot to mention that I just assumed your occupation when I said ‘active lifestyle’ back then.”

There is no way you’re going to tell him that you’d also made that assumption based on the man’s incredible build and well-toned muscles as well. Best to keep your thoughts on the dog, and luckily for you Jimin turns his head to check on his companion resting outside by a bowl of water, allowing your eyes to roam freely for a decent second or so.

“Well, you’re more observant than I thought,” Jimin notes through a breathy laugh, fingers lightly tapping at his coffee mug in thoughtful contemplation. You can’t help getting lost in the sight of him yet again.

He’s an absolute vision right now even if he’s dressed casually, only foregoing the shorts and joggers for simple black jeans and flatform sandals. His hair looks as soft as ever, and though his eyes are still open windows that show he’s hurting inside, you can’t help finding the immense beauty behind the pain.

There’s a short, comfortable silence as you both nurse your mugs of caffeine, but you break it in fear of letting an awkward air settle in. Damn, you do love being a little socially inept sometimes.

“Why the name Mandu?” You think it’s an innocent question, but unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s thoughts spiral at the reminder. The memories and origins of his boy’s name that uncomfortably sting at his heart like nettles.

“Ah, it was my brother who named him … actually,” he reveals, wondering if the slight crack of his voice is noticeable as he smiles convincingly. If you see through him, you don’t show it. Instead, you register the hint ever so slightly and aim to avoid prying.

“You would’ve only had him for a few years, right?”

“I served for five, so yeah he’s only been mine for a few years, but I did meet him before that while we were both in training.” Jimin laughs at what seems to be a fond memory, pushing the other ones to the back of his mind for now. “I was a little obnoxious about it back then, because I had to be with him. I demanded it to the chief and everything, if I wasn’t getting Mandu then I would drop my application because we’d bonded so well.”

You giggle, and cough lightly to hide your embarrassment instantly afterwards. “I love that, it’s quite obvious to me that you two are meant for each other.”

“What about you? Got any pets?” he asks, eyes alight with a newfound interest. Catching the way he leans forward in his seat ever so slightly; you feel a familiar warmth bloom in your chest. Jimin was finally relaxing around you.

“Yeah, a cat.” You cover your mouth with one hand to suppress your amusement, waiting for Jimin to scoff at you or screw his face up in disgust, but he doesn’t. Rather, he looks upwards in thought and then shakes his head while chuckling meaningfully. “Mandu would hate you for saying that.”

“Not a fan?”

“Absolutely not. I’m impartial though.” He watches you over the rim of his mug when he lifts it, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Good to know. Good to know.” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t wipe the grin from your face, absent-mindedly stirring your coffee with your spoon. It wouldn’t be long before the drinks were finished, but you didn’t want this moment in time to end.

The two of you chat for another half hour or so, but you can’t help noticing the distant look that surfaces in Jimin’s gaze whenever he brings up old memories of his family or brother. Your curiosity burns at this point, and you feel yourself wanting to get to know him so much more. He’s such an enigma to you. Watching the way he tries to let go and be himself, unapologetically, but holding back just as you catch an addictive glimpse of what that might be.

As you exchange more stories and memories, you can’t help but feel yourself digging a little deeper to uncover what’s tearing him down so hard. “You keep mentioning your brother, I’m guessing you guys are close?”

And ah, now you’ve done it. It hurts to see the guarded expression slam back down on Jimin’s features, but you knew it had to be done. You didn’t know if it were just you who could see it, but by repressing all his memories and feelings, Jimin was doing more harm than good to himself. Some internal part of you wanted to help him, because you knew exactly what it was like.

Though you weren’t expecting every dam to break just yet.

It takes a moment for Jimin to deliberate on his next words, but you wait out every second with him, patient and understanding. He notices this and decides that it’s alright for him to indulge just this once, to let someone in for just a single moment. “Not really, well … used to be. He, uh, he left town a while ago.”

Left?

You keep your tone quiet, not wanting to scare him away because he did seem like the type to take off at any given moment. “Sorry to hear that,” you murmur.

“It’s alright,” he says, wondering just how much he should give away. It’s the first time he’s met up and gone out with someone he’d consider a ‘friend’ of sorts in ages, so he’s not sure how much he should be disclosing right now, but something about you makes him want to let it all go. It scares him like nothing else.

“Honestly it hasn’t been … a great time for me since he left. Y’know, he was the only one that ever stayed, and things were tough being in the force and everything,” he offers through a dry laugh.

You want to reach out for his hand on the café table so badly, but it’s too soon to be that close. He’s testing the waters right now, showing you a vulnerable side that you can easily tell he doesn’t let out very often. It warms your heart, and all these broken feelings he’s showing you make everything feel so real. You can’t help but want to give yourself back to him.

“I can’t imagine it would’ve been easy. I know how it feels, actually.” You mentally prepare yourself to revisit a time you usually laid to rest, keeping the gentle smile on your face because even though these subjects were touchy and very meaningful to the two of you, you’d actually come to terms with yours years and years ago. Learned how to turn that pain and suffering into progress, self-growth.

“You do?” You can tell the sheer hope and relief in his tone doesn’t quite match the caution in his eyes, as if he doesn’t want to think that someone as bright and bubbly as you can ever have as many problems as he does, but you shut that train of thought down for him.

“Yeah, I … don’t have any family left either.”

He wants to know how, why, but he pulls himself back from the question almost instantly. Still, you can see it all on his features. He’s an open book for you to read.

“It’s okay Jimin, I came to terms with it a while back. I’m an only child, but my parents died when I was a teen.”

It hits him like a freight train then. The realisation that yes, of course there are other people in the world who have lost just like he has. The sad but forgiving look in your eyes just about breaks him. He’s been so self-centred the whole time, not even thinking that maybe you’re sitting across from him going through a life just as lonely as his own.

“I don’t know what to say.” To your shock, it’s him that reaches across the table to grasp your hand gently, and you hadn’t even realised it was shaking slightly until he’d steadied it with his own. There were no hidden intentions in his gaze, just a pained understanding. You’d both needed to simply tell someone.

“I promise I’m fine now. It was years ago. I don’t even know why I’m…”

You trail off with a shaky laugh, tightening your grip on his hand slightly in fear that he would let go of you. You were essentially strangers, but you’d both needed this. You needed someone to listen as you talked, to have that visceral sense for the pain rather than simply try sympathising with it. It was different when you knew the feeling.

After the sudden serious note of the conversation had passed, both you and Jimin felt a little weight taken off your shoulders. You’d both torn some walls down today, and that in itself was enough to garner bucketloads of respect and admiration on both accounts.

You part ways back at the park, a new kind of friendship blossoming that, if you were being honest, neither of you had seen coming.

~

A couple of months pass after that, and in between his regular walks and visits to the clinic, Jimin finds himself spending more and more time in your presence. He even jokes around with Mandu that he should walk just a tad more lamely so he can stay a little longer between check-ups. But at the end of the day he knows he truly wants his boy to get better.

The first time he steps foot inside your house, he’s instantly halted in his tracks by the fluffiest white cat he’s ever seen. After hearing you mention, ‘she hates strangers’, and ‘she’ll probably cuss you out straight away’, it comes as a surprise to both of you when Ghost wraps herself around Jimin’s leg and purrs needily. A louder purr than you’ve ever received in your whole ten years of being her owner.

“Stop whoring yourself out! He’s just here to pick up some worming tablets,” you tut in disapproval, earning a hearty laugh from Jimin at the snappy tone. Ghost narrows her green eyes at you and rubs her chin along Jimin’s pant leg one more time for good measure, proceeding to saunter into the kitchen utterly oozing with sass.

After a few more random visits, you stop beating around the bush and begin inviting Jimin over to either chill out or have dinner. Obviously, more often than not it turned out to be both.

You’d order something in and then joke about how unhealthy you were for being too lazy to cook. Jimin even gets so exasperated sometimes that he carts food over from his own home to cook up in your kitchen, funnily enough. It wasn’t your fault you never really had the time to teach yourself during your unrelenting years of university and work, and it wasn’t as if you had a parent around to help you learn as a child.

Jesus, way to be depressing.

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Jimin to find random spots of humour within your combined trauma and abandonment issues either, as unhealthy as that sounds.

You always figured that life was too short to be sad all the time anyway, and even though that ideology alarmed your newfound friend at first, he soon slowly began to see the appeal. He was kind of over being sad, honestly.

He remembers standing by the coffin at Hoseok’s funeral, the very same fateful day he’d encountered you at the clinic for the first time. He’d felt overwhelmed at the emotions threatening to pull him apart at the seams, but at the same time, he’d felt cold at the lack thereof.

That was the result of letting himself get close to someone again, even through work of all places. His partner with the sunny disposition and heart-shaped smile? Gone from this world in a single click of a finger. It was too easy, too much of a risk to get closer. Jimin remembers not even being able to bring himself to cry back then, but things are starting to change now that you’re in the picture.

He still has that lingering dread that you’ll leave him too, but try as he might to keep you at arm’s length, he simply can’t. You bring out the best in him, and you make him want to try harder, to try being better. In a sense, you’re like another Mandu to him. He can’t just ignore that.

He tells you about Hoseok one night, just because it comes up in conversation and he’s already rambling on before he can stop himself. He looks up at your crestfallen face, knowing your heart hurts for him even though he’s unable to muster the correct emotions, all thanks to the disconnection he’s forged from his dead colleague already.

He recalls severing himself from those feelings right as he died, and again when he stood by his body at the funeral, but then you went and somehow reconstructed that bridge without him knowing.

“You know it’s okay to miss people, Jim. To remember them for who they were, and what they meant to you. It’s okay to miss them because they’re gone.”

He cries in your arms until 1 a.m. that night.

After a while, he begins to let people see the true him, fed up with hiding and done with shutting the world out. He returns smiles directed his way in the street, he ventures out to do nothing but simply stop and smell the roses. It’s refreshing, and it’s as if he can barely remember what it feels like after years of being chained down by depression and self-loathing.

You did that, with your calming presence, your affirming words, your genuine care. He’ll never forget it.

And slowly but surely, Mandu begins to warm up to you as well.

“I swear he’s only squaring up just to show off or something,” Jimin snorts as he walks beside you on the concrete path, Mandu in tow on a leash now that you’re leaving the park.

“He’s asserting dominance.” You cast a glance behind you to see the dog glaring you down, just as usual.

‘Why the hell are you walking next to him when I’m supposed to be there? You’re just a lowly human who doesn’t deserve my dad’s time or attention. How dare you!’

You bite back a laugh when you imagine the thoughts running through Mandu’s head, and he sniffs and growls at the sight of you not taking him seriously. He’s a big bad wolf, fear him goddammit.

“I’m sure he’ll accept me into the pack one day,” you respond good-naturedly, earning an eye-roll from Jimin as he shoots a pointed look of warning towards his boy once more. He can’t help but feel tingles erupt across his skin hearing ‘the pack’ come from your mouth. You make it sound like an actual family, and for some reason he seems to crave exactly that. That’s what all of you are to Jimin, a little family.

“Sure, but good luck convincing him to accept Ghost. I’m sure he’ll be walking around with a ‘NO CATS ALLOWED’ sign hanging from his neck soon enough.”

The dog agrees.

The next day is when Mandu’s last check-up is scheduled, and you wait by the front desk nervously as Jimin discusses options with Dr. Kim in the next room over. It’s been several weeks since the dog’s initial diagnosis, and he’s had a slight improvement, but it isn’t enough.

You and Jimin have spoken about how worried he is regarding the dog’s rapid muscle loss, and your heart always constricts at the sight as well. There’s only so much medication you can give.

You already know that Jimin’s current status of unemployment means he probably doesn’t have the means to fund more than one surgery, that is if he wants to remain financially stable. You’d need another plan.

“Hydrotherapy?” Jimin squawks. He’s a picture of confusion right now, one eyebrow cocked and pretty lips parting in surprise. You can’t help laughing at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yes, Jiminie. Dr. Kim has asked me to explain it to you so we can work out when to schedule it. Basically, dogs with chronic arthritis need to be able to exercise their joints and muscles without the excess strain, so regular swimming sessions are perfect.”

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

“Exactly, and since he’s up to date on his vaccinations we can organise a session right away, if you’d like?”

Jimin can’t suppress a shit-eating grin at the formal tone you’re using with him. He’s so used to messing around with you and having general chatter that the sudden switch to your ‘customer’ voice, as he calls it, is now more amusing to him than ever. You grumble under your breath, knowing all too well that he’s making fun of you without actually saying it.

“Fine, when can we start then? I’ve only ever seen him swim once, and it didn’t go well for the bad guy,” Jimin acquiesces, lifting his brows once and smirking at you mischievously. You ignore him.

“That’s alright Sir, we can start this Thursday.” You smile in such a pretentious and artificial way that Jimin has to smother his offended gasp. Now you’re just being rude.

“Pretending not to know who I am? Damn, guess I’ll just throw that strawberry shortcake I bought in the bin when I get home…”

And he’s got you. Your eyes light up and your fingers curl into fists on the desktop. You swallow thickly at the thought of him eating one of your favourite desserts on his own, or even worse throw it out like the heathen he is, but you’re determined not to cave in.

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t quite follow. Your unhealthy affairs have little importance to me.”

You’re putting up a fight this time around, and Jimin’s willing to play. He leans on the desk with his elbow, the suave and impish air he suddenly exudes makes you nervous on the other side of the marble structure. “In that case, can we make this quick? I gotta rush home and catch up on the last two episodes of ‘Anohana’.”

This time you can’t contain your sharp inhale. “You promised we’d watch that together.”

Jimin chuckles with glee, taking the easy victory with a cocky lick of his lips. You trail the movement with your eyes before glaring at him again. “I don’t even care, you’d better not.”

He enjoys riling you up way too much. “Or what?”

“I’ll literally bust down your door at 2 a.m. in the morning Park, don’t test me.”

He knows you’re only joking around, but hearing his last name uttered in such a grave manner shifts something within him. He’s suddenly transported back to the chief’s office, hands wringing together in unease. “Park, is this about yesterday?”

“Park! He ran over there, follow me quick!”

“Jung wait…”

He has to shake his head, the smattering of memories and thoughts filtering from his mind slower than he’d like. He needs to drown out the sound of the echoing gunshot with something else, something louder.

You’re watching him the entire time with an apologetic gaze, picking up the miniscule signs that tell you he’s had something from the past triggered and brought back up unwillingly. You don’t even know what it is that you said, but you stay quiet and allow him to regain his composure.

“You okay Jiminie?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just thought of something,” he hums, not bothering to try and pretend as if nothing happened. You both knew each other too well at this point, and you understood him enough to have learned it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes these things just happened.

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll lock it in. How does catching those last few episodes tonight sound? We can ugly cry and eat ice-cream like the cliché we are,” you say with an enthusiastic clap of your hands, and Jimin smiles tenderly. You always have a sense for what he needs.

He inwardly thanks the heavens for your existence, because now he won’t be alone in the silence of his home, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Even Mandu couldn’t help him sometimes.

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

You’ve changed him, and he wants to spend the rest of his life telling you just how thankful he is.

So when his phone rings one late night and he sees your name light up on the screen, he doesn’t hesitate to pick it up, even though his past self would have lethargically thrown it to the side while shrinking away from any kind of human interaction that wasn’t necessary.

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes still squeezed shut from sleep.

Silence.

He’s startled into a more wakeful state by Mandu lifting his head suddenly from his lap, the attentive canine’s ears twitching as he bores holes into the phone in Jimin’s hand. Now worrying, Jimin says your name into the phone twice, eyes scanning the way his dog seems to be picking up whatever tiny sounds are coming from the speaker.

There’s a sniffle, and a tiny hiccup. “Jimin … I’m sorry. Can you come over right now?”

Anxiety flares up like some kind of wildfire within him, and Jimin’s rocketing from the bed before he can take the time to stop, breathe and think. Mandu follows, a bark of alarm leaving him as he dances around Jimin’s bare feet in excitement. He gets that the dog doesn’t know any better, but from the sound of your sobbing on the other side of the line, anyone could tell that something had gone terribly wrong.

He needs to be by your side now.

“Mandu stay,” he orders, not caring to use any proper commands due to the way his hands are shaking. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, just as it had way back when he’d rushed Mandu to the vet for a simple arthritis problem. Now, his next favourite being in the world was the source of his panic.

He’s thrown on whatever clothes he can find and tries to ignore Mandu’s flurry of whines and howls from inside the house once he’s settled in the car. You’re still on the phone, but he can barely get a word in when you’re crying and blubbering nonsense like you currently are. The most Jimin can do as he drives is what he would need in the stark moments of a mental breakdown, gentle words of encouragement and … a song.

He hates himself for it, but he remembers the lullaby his brother used to sing for him whenever he cried, and he hopes to dear God that he can calm you down with his voice just as Taehyung had when they were younger. The soothing notes fall from his lips, and the memories they bring hurt so much that he can feel himself choking up, but he tells himself that you matter more.

He pulls up to your house ten minutes later, your crying thankfully reduced to a collection of whimpers and sniffles. He doesn’t dare hang up, but barges through the front door without a single second of hesitation. He briefly glimpses the flash of a white fluffy tail disappearing down the hallway, the cat obviously scared out of its mind from the recent events.

Then he sees you curled up in the kitchen, and he just wants to make everything stop.

You’ve got your head in between your knees, tears falling freely from your cheeks as you cradle one arm in your other. Jimin notices with a jolt of shock that the arm you’re holding is all red and blotchy, and it’s clear to him that you must’ve burned yourself somehow.

He rushes to your side and holds you as carefully as he can, almost slipping on the pool of water and charred remnants of baking paper scattered on the tiled floor just beside you. “What happened?” he urges after trying to soothe your trembling form for ten minutes.

He has you on your feet now, arm in the sink as he runs icy cold water over the heated skin as gently as he can. He’s clumsier than you though, so even as he tries to handle your limbs with as much care as you’d once handled Mandu at the clinic, you still wince in pain every now and again. Guilt shoots through Jimin every time, but he knows you’ll forgive him.

You don’t speak until your arm is sufficiently treated and wrapped, thanks to Jimin’s courses in first aid that he can barely remember at this point, but it serves him well enough for now. Your eyes are downcast, and your lips are cracked from all the grief you’d caused them with your teeth. He waits for you to get it together.

“I’m … I’m sorry you had to come all this way-”

“Don’t say that, I’m so glad you called me (Y/n),” he cuts you off, leading you to the plush couch in the living room and sitting you down firmly. He kneels in front of your figure, now wrapped tightly in a blanket for security and comfort, and rests both of his hands on your upper arms.

“You need to tell me what happened, do you feel alright now?”

You nod your head, but he fixes you with strong disbelieving eyes and boom you’re weakened, shaking your head with a sigh. “No, I’m not.”

“How can I help? I’m not great at it, but I really want to help you,” he says earnestly, fingers pressing circles into your arms and calming you down enough to breathe evenly. Your lips twitch up into a nervous smile.

“That song you sang over the phone helped a lot, actually. I don’t know why.”

Hearing that causes Jimin to undergo a whirlwind of conflicted emotions, but he once again tells himself that you’re the only one that matters right now. He starts to sing again but you reach forward to ruffle his messy hair with a chuckle. “It’s okay, I’m just letting you know.”

Thank God, he thinks. Then again, maybe if he uses the melody and lyrics for good, those negative associations could be turned into positive ones. Maybe it was time to make the song his own.

He sees you struggling to think of where to begin and shifts to take a seat next to you with a smile. “Just start with what happened, yeah?”

“Okay.” You nod, combing back your hair with your fingers and wiping the last salty tears from your skin. “So I wanted to try baking something…”

You eye him with a glimmer of amusement in your gaze, and he instantly capitalises on it. “Well there’s your first mistake.”

You playfully wack him, feeling your spirits lift at the sound of his laugh and the sight of his crescent moon-shaped eyes. He really was your light in the dark right now.

“It was going well, actually, but then I heard Ghostie knock something over in my room and I went to check for … not even two seconds.”

Jimin knows that this is where it gets serious, your eyes glaze over again and he can see the recollection of the events flashing through your mind like a reel of film. “I left the baking paper out, and the space was way too messy, I-I definitely should’ve kept it cleaner. I came back and there were some things on fire, but nothing too bad. I just…”

You bend down to rest your face into your hands once more, and Jimin quietly rubs your back in concern. By the looks of it, you were able to put the fire out easily, so what exactly prompted you to break down like that?

You lift your head and keep your shaky hands clamped together by your lips, eyes stricken and weary from the onslaught of emotional stress. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet Jiminie, I would never hide anything from you, so I guess it just never came up. It’s … why I kind of lost the plot after throwing water over the entire kitchen like a lunatic.”

“You can tell me,” he soothes, brows furrowing in distress.

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

His throat tightens with apprehension at the topic, knowing it’s something you definitely avoid talking about whenever it comes up. It was always buried so deep, and Jimin can’t recall ever asking you about the finer details of what you went through.

He feels time slow to a halt as you utter your next words. “They died in a house fire when I was fourteen. Burned to death.”

Oh fuck. Fuck.

It falls into place now, and Jimin snaps out of his daze when he feels your shoulder shudder underneath the palm of his hand. He’s at a loss for words, the sight of how truly upset you are making his heart sink in sorrow.

He scoots over on the couch to hold you close and whisper soft calming words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You’re alright, I’m here now.”

You know he has no idea how much it means to you, just hearing those simple words when the anxiety and fear continue to claw at your throat like hellish nails. You’re caught in its grip, the flashing images of flames and the sounds and smells of screeching, burning, crumbling to dust. It surrounds you, and you choke on the tendrils of smoke as if they’re really there, filling your lungs like a heavy sand. It stings, and it’s excruciating.

“Maybe I’d fare a little better … if I’d just stayed somewhere else that night,” you can’t help whimpering out, the memories resurfacing too quickly for you to have control over them.

“You were there?” Jimin reels. Hearing that you’d witnessed your own parent’s death was nothing short of devastating. That was way too much for a young mind to handle, surely. Could the world really be that cruel to one of, if not the most amazing person he’s ever met? He can’t help but cry for you in this moment, trying his best to stay silent as his tears soak into your shirt.

You both stay locked together for another hour or so, Jimin listening intently as you explain the story to him of what happened that night. It’s agonising to relive it, but you know he needs to hear it from you. There’s nowhere else he can hear it from, really.

“Y’know, working in the force meant I had to handle situations like that a few times. It was rare, but it did happen. I’ve seen the faces of the families; I’ve seen the damage it can cause. I just wish you hadn’t been alone, fuck,” he mumbles, hating that he can’t just go back and fix what’s unfixable.

You wave him off. “Jimin, you’ve done more for me tonight than … literally anyone’s ever done for me. Truly, I love you for that.”

His heart leaps in his chest.

“I don’t relapse too often,” you carry on shakily, “it’s just that the sight of a fire that’s out of control just … it just terrifies me so much. I see their faces in the flames.”

It’s so fucking messed up. He feels his entire being shiver in discomfort at the image you’re painting for him, but he only holds you closer. He wants to chase it all away, even though deep down he knows he can’t. All he can do is be here for you, with you when you need it most.

“That’s why I went into vet science,” you say, eyes growing brighter the longer Jimin embraces you. It’s like he’s physically holding you together, and it’s so very safe in his arms. “I had to come to terms with death as a concept, like properly. I wanted to save those who didn’t deserve it just yet, those who deserve to live longer lives just like they did. It’s my life’s purpose.”

Jimin comes to the realisation, right then and there, that he probably loves you.

You are, without a doubt in his mind, the strongest and most remarkable person he’s ever met. He wants to be around you all the time, wants to share your energy, wants to be half as amazing as you are – with every fibre of his being. It’s not like he can just say that though. Not right now, anyway.

He tucks the thought away for another time. A better one.

“What about you? Why did you want to become a police officer?” you ask, snorting once into a tissue to finally rid yourself of the snot and tears.

“Me?” Jimin chuckles. You’re always one to turn it around, never wanting the spotlight for more than needed. He fondly reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, grazing the skin of your cheek along the way and making you smile wistfully.

“Well, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why. It always comes down to justice, right? We all want to enforce that, protect those that need protecting, and saving lives as well. I’m very similar to you in that sense,” he starts, clearing his throat to lighten the atmosphere with a confident tone. You find yourself snuggling into his side, just longing to hear him talk for hours while you wrap yourself in the warmth of the blanket and his reassuring presence.

“My family left a while back, and my brother was the only one who stayed with me. Both of us had to fend for ourselves, and with me being the eldest, it was easy to fall into that father-figure kind of mould. I wanted to protect what we had, but it was pretty laughable when I was the smaller kid.” Jimin laughs, surprising not only himself, but you with the way he speaks about his past so openly and without any bitterness or animosity.

He was looking at it a different way, and he had you to thank for that.

“So I trained,” he continues. “I trained so hard and spent years proving myself. I came home to our tiny flat every night, prouder than I’d been the night before. And Tae-”

His throat tightens and he has to cut himself off, the syllables of his brother’s name dying on his tongue due to disuse. He hasn’t said it in years, and the feeling his name conjures is strange. There’s the ever-present cold hard hatred building in his chest, but in some wild and wacky way, it’s easier to move past it.

“Taehyung … he was so proud of me too.”

You lift your head from where it rests on Jimin’s chest, moving your hand to envelope his where it resides in his lap. His fingers grasp yours gently, a simple squeeze telling you that he’s alright to keep going. He’s got you so relaxed in his arms that you can almost feel yourself falling asleep, but you know you mustn’t. You have to stay awake for him right now, right when he’s opening up completely.

“Since you shared your story, I figure I have to share mine.” Jimin smiles, the expression not completely reaching his eyes. Both of you have made so much progress tonight, it’s not even funny. He knows that if he doesn’t tell you now, he most likely never will.

“We … fell in love with the same person, me and Tae. It got ugly, and we were super close until the countless fights and yelling matches tore us apart. Even after we both got over this person, we couldn’t stand each-other. We couldn’t make it through one day without a handful of painful jabs being sent back and forth. It was bad, so bad.” He takes a deep breath, and you sit up slightly to hold him closer. The positions were reversed now.

“I needed him, despite all that, I really did. He was the only one left, and I was too proud to just forget everything that’d happened to us. I got offered a place in an exchange program with a group of officers in my force, it was to Europe and it went for no longer than two weeks, but when I got back Tae was…”

“He was gone,” you finish for him when he can’t, raising your hand to wipe the singular tear cascading down his smooth cheek. Jimin sniffs and smiles at you, turning to bury his face into your hair and letting out a large, heavy exhale.

“I sold the flat after many nights of just crying and breaking down,” he mumbles softly into your head. “I still don’t know where he went, but I also didn’t want to exploit my access to citizen information to find out. I think that’s when my passion for the force started to die down, though it took years for me to finally have the guts to leave. Nothing’s fair in this godforsaken world.”

It was a harsh and negative outlook, but you found yourself agreeing to a certain extent. Here you were, the epitome of optimism and ‘bright side’ herself, wanting to watch the world burn for just a second. Just like your family had.

You cringe at your own line of thought. “It’s our job to make it better-”

“Don’t even say it (Y/n), I swear to God,” Jimin warns playfully, cupping you cheeks in both palms and squishing them until your lips open and close like a fish. His eyes sparkle with adoration, and you whine out in protest against his actions before you can get lost in them.

“I’m just saying!”

“Don’t just say! Let me be emo for once you fool.” He tackles you onto the couch, spirits steadily rising from the depressing venture into his memories. Feeling light and as unburdened as a feather, he pins you down and tickles your sides mercilessly.

You miss the warmth of his comforting hugs but can’t help shrieking in laughter as you let it happen. You’re happier seeing him happy anyway.

Before things can escalate further, a disapproving meow interrupts the two of you, and you both whip your heads to the side to see Ghost sitting in the middle of the room. Her tail twitches in annoyance, and her face seems to be screaming ‘are you lumbering idiots done yet?’.

“Wow, a whole mood-killer. Maybe we should clean up the kitchen, actually,” you suggest while trying to catch your breath, grateful for the reprieve. Jimin’s eyes flit back to meet yours, and you catch the dark look he’s giving you. He knows you’re just trying to escape him right now.

“Fine, but don’t go thinking you’re off the hook even for a second.”

~

Weeks fly by after your emotion-packed, train-wreck of a night. If anything, it only drew you and Jimin closer than ever. You now had another layer to your friendship, another reason to stick together through thick and thin.

Jimin had attended around three hydrotherapy sessions with Mandu, and to your delight, it actually seemed to be working well! The dog would definitely soon be right on track to return to his former glory, minus the slight greying around his muzzle from old age. There only seemed to be one problem though…

Mandu was shit scared of water.

Every single time, the poor canine would whine and yelp for his owner as if he were legitimately dying. You could only watch on in amused silence, pursing your lips to hold back a cackle as your best friend had to bend down at the pool’s edge in order to calm the dog down.

The staff members working at the specialist pool were understanding at least, but that didn’t stop Jimin’s cheeks from flushing with embarrassment every single time.

“Buddy please, you’ve literally chased down killers and jumped over an entire ravine before. Some water won’t kill you!”

It fell on deaf ears, and Mandu howled extra forcefully in defiance. You couldn’t hold back your snort of laughter this time, the scene of the heated argument between dog and owner way too funny to let slide. Jimin throws a betrayed look at you over his shoulder, grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite catch.

In the end, some of the more patient staff members manage to coax the shaky dog into the water, and it’s with great struggle that they finally manage to get him swimming properly. Jimin has to stay within the dog’s line of sight 24/7, even one moment away and Mandu would start thrashing about and yipping in a panic.

You laugh at Jimin the entire time as you stand back to watch, the looks he sends you in return having ‘traitor’ written all over them. If he didn’t have to stay dutifully by the poolside, you’d be in your right mind to believe he’d storm over and kick you into next week for being so bratty.

“You just need to practice. Get him used to it,” you tell him once you’re all leaving the facility, a freshly dried pooch trotting beside you with fur sticking up in all directions. You can’t help but think the dog reminds you of Jimin like this, back when he’d rushed to the clinic in all kinds of disarray.

“Used to it? Did you see him in there!?” Jimin splutters, squatting down to hold Mandu’s face sternly between his palms. The dog remains unbothered as he flashes you a side-eye for assistance.

“Yes I saw. I’m surprised police dogs don’t spend more time training in water, to be honest,” you muse thoughtfully, reaching down to ruffle Mandu’s ears in reassurance. “It’s okay baby boy, you’re not alone,” you coo, smiling when the dog’s tail wags twice in response.

“Baby b…” Jimin trails off, clearing his throat consciously after feeling heat crawl up his neck at the pet-name.

“Anyway, it’s been a few sessions and he hasn’t quite got the hang of it. Why don’t we try spending some time in the water outside of sessions too?” you suggest cheerfully.

“Where? I don’t have a pool.” Jimin cocks an incredulous brow. There’s no way any public pool in these parts would let some random dude and his dog splash around and dirty their space.

You step up and poke Jimin firmly in the chest with one finger. “Did you just never look out the back of my place?”

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

Jimin’s mouth hangs open in outrage. Even after all this time, he really hadn’t noticed it even once? You had to be fucking with him. “No way.”

“Uhh, yes way? Dude all you had to do was look outside.” You rest your hands on your hips, definitely unimpressed right now but trying your best not to laugh at him too much. He’s already been the butt of all your jokes today. Every single one.

Jimin has to see it for himself to believe it, so the next evening he pulls up to your home with Mandu in the passenger seat. The poor baby is blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits him here, but Jimin only feels the sweet, sweet taste of revenge on his tongue at the notion. After the hell Mandu had put him through these past few weeks, it was time to get payback.

“C’mon boy,” he sniggers. An evil grin stretches across his face and figurative crimson devil horns poke out from his hair.

“How dare you take advantage of him and his inability to be human,” you drawl lazily from the now open front door, and Jimin jumps in his skin from the shock. He hadn’t even made it to the damn porch and you’d already heard him.

“He deserves the slander.”

You shake your head and lead the duo inside, instantly groaning when Ghost and Mandu begin hissing and snarling at each other like their toes have been stepped on. Your fluffy white cat has all her hackles raised in hostility, and the dog in return has his lips drawn back to reveal a row of sharp white fangs.

You’re at your wits end, and similar to the other few instances of Mandu and Ghost meeting, you stomp your foot and stand over the pair as menacingly as you can. “You two are acting like complete animals right now, calm down or you’re going into timeout!”

When the two pets actually shut up, Jimin guffaws with no restraint. You simply huff, as if expecting that your threats would work regardless, and gesture to the glass sliding door adjacent to the kitchen. “It’s out there, are you happy now?”

Jimin cranes his neck and lo and behold, there it is in all its glory. A fucking pool. And to top it all off, it’s even surrounded by a towering black metal fence and gate, as if Jimin didn’t feel stupid enough for not noticing it already.

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

The two of you get ready to begin your little ‘home brand’ hydrotherapy session, with Jimin already donning swim trunks in case he has to jump in and intervene at any point. The pool is already much deeper than he’d anticipated, considering the ones at the actual therapy centre were nice and shallow for the dogs in rehab.

You’re dressed in a similar manner, with small tight shorts and a black t-shirt that’s so long it almost hides the fact that you’re wearing pants at all. Jimin has to keep his gaze controlled from raking up the expanse of your bare legs. He wonders if you’d somehow planned to get him all hot and bothered, seeing as it was a warm Spring night that was perfect for taking a dip.

“Okay, well he already seems spooked at the sight of water. You’re going to have to get in,” you say apprehensively, eyeing the way Mandu is already shifting anxiously from paw to paw. You’re all stood beside the shallow end of the pool, the gate fastened shut in case the dog tries to make a break for it suddenly.

Jimin coaxes Mandu forward with soft words of support and praise, taking the steps one at a time. It’s obvious how much the canine is hating this, his ears are pinned flat to his head and his knees are wobbling from the fear. Your heart is shot through with pity for the animal, but he needs to get better at this.

“Here, I’ll help,” you mumble, getting to your feet and stepping into the pool behind the jittery dog. With Jimin pulling him forward by his shoulders, and you urging him onwards from behind, it doesn’t take long for him to start doggy-paddling around. You help Jimin monitor his movements, checking for any signs of discomfort but finding nothing as Mandu works to keep his snout above water.

“I think he’s less nervous because it’s just us,” Jimin comments, a wide smile on his face at seeing his boy paddle around calmly. No frantic thrashing, no barking, no outbreak of chaos as usual.

“Funny that,” you breathe out with a chuckle. The waterline comes up to around your chest at this height, and you shiver as the cool liquid brushes against the underside of your bra. “I can’t go much further, all my underwear’s gonna get wet.”

The innuendo is essentially fresh bait, and you already know you’ve set yourself up nicely just before Jimin chuckles. “Right, why don’t you just go back and take a cold shower then huh?”

“Literally fuck you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get wet?”

You gape at his bold humour, not used to the suggestive way he’s eyeing you as he leads his innocent dog around in the pool. If you were being honest, the ideas he’s putting into your head are absolutely sinful to say the least.

“What if I do?” you scoff, and two seconds later you’re plunging deeper into the refreshing coolness of the water before Jimin can even clap back with something lewder. You’re completely submerged, and for some reason Mandu begins to panic slightly when you vanish from sight.

“Woah, it’s okay she’s not drowning,” Jimin hushes in a serious tone, making sure to support the dog’s body with both arms as the animal treads through the water with powerful kicks of his hind legs. You resurface further down, hair now completely wet and sticking to your head uncomfortably.

“Hey, he got scared for you just then,” Jimin calls out. You feel a tug on your heartstrings and swim back down to the shallower part of the pool.

“Aw, Mandu was worried for me? What happened to hating my guts for stealing Jimin?”

Jimin gives you a weird look at that. “Stealing me? Jesus, do I just exist to be passed around by you guys?”

“Maybe.” You giggle. Something about the assertive way you act has Jimin feeling hot all over, and he’s reminded yet again that it’s a quality of yours he’s come to find madly attractive.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that your basically halfway naked not even a metre away from him. He can’t even focus on the task at hand when he gets a full view of your soaked t-shirt, and how the outlines of your rounded chest are now completely visible to his watchful eyes.

He can’t help but gulp at the thoughts running through his mind. “Hey, how long has it been now? Think that’s about one session’s worth for today.”

“Right, it probably is. Good progress! I might stay out here for a bit though, it’s super hot and my air conditioner basically cracked the shits last night.”

Jimin climbs out of the pool, the hem of his shirt soaked but luckily everything above that dry as a bone. He grabs a towel and dries Mandu off, whispering praises of how well he did to swim properly today. Once he’s done, he opens the gate and lets the dog out to run around your somewhat spacious backyard. Jimin has to look away in disdain, because he knows it won’t be long before his buddy starts rolling around and making himself filthy again.

Jimin returns his gaze back to you, and he stifles a laugh when he sees you randomly floating on your back in the middle of the pool, limbs splayed out like a starfish. You look dead to the world, but honestly, he can’t blame you. It is rather hot for a Spring night.

He barely even thinks about his actions before he’s peeling the shirt from his back. His honey blonde hair becomes tousled from the movement, and he throws away the piece of clothing without batting an eyelid.

As for you, well, now you’re stressed.

Sure, you knew he was an ex-police officer. You knew he worked out daily and took care of himself unbelievably well. Sure, you were happy to just close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t ogling the heck out of him right now, but it just wasn’t happening.

He was absolutely beautiful; you could even say carved from marble and it wouldn’t be much of a stretch. It was difficult not to gawk at the smooth way his muscled arms and shoulders tapered down into a gracefully cinched waist, not to mention the nice set of washboard abs and delicious V-line that has your mouth very nearly watering. You remind yourself to ask him later what the large ‘Nevermind’ tattoo stretching along his ribcage means.

“Wow, you could have some shame.” He flashes you that shit-eating grin, but frankly, you’re just ecstatic that he seems to be so confident in his own skin. Once upon a time throughout your friendship, he would have never been this comfortable around you.

“What, am I not allowed to appreciate what you’re showing me? You could’ve easily just left the shirt on,” you complain loudly, rolling over to lay face down in the water in hopes that it would douse the heating of your rapidly burning cheeks. With your eyes and ears underwater, you only feel the ripples hit your skin as he jumps in to join you.

You lift your head and gasp for air, catching sight of him swimming towards you rapidly. “Wait, what are you doing!?” You barely get to shout before he’s picking you up and throwing you back down into the water with a tremendous splash, loud laughter booming from his chest as you scream and struggle in his grip.

“Jimin I swear-”

You cut yourself off by sweeping a massive wave of water in his direction with both arms, grinning wickedly as it smacks him straight in the face. He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head, much like a dog would, and you vaguely register Mandu’s barks of excitement from somewhere out in the yard.

“I’m getting you back for that,” Jimin grunts, and you feel your stomach squirm as he starts moving towards you again.

“No, no, no! Okay I’ll be good, leave me please!”

Your pleas are left unheard as you try to escape from his grasp, but he’s too quick and too strong to evade. Your legs kick up into the air helplessly as he dunks you again, and once you finally resurface, he’s already got you in his hold. “Stop, I can’t compete with you, you beefcake.” You purse your lips and blow a raspberry of pool spittle into his face, struggling within his arms in fear that he would start throwing you again, or even worse … tickle you.

Your loud wails and shrieks of laughter had filled the air for the past ten minutes or so, but you were obviously weaker than he was, and you both knew you were going to tire out much faster. So, to your pleasant surprise, he stops teasing you and simply holds you by the waist, high enough that your entire head and neck are above water.

“You’re absolutely ruthless,” you grumble, bringing your hands up to rest on his bare biceps for support. You marvel at the way the lean muscles flex underneath your fingers as he shifts you to be more comfortable.

It’s so very hot, and you can’t help but notice the heat licking at your abdomen the longer you stay locked in this position. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and his face is just above the line of your soaked chest. You just thank God you hadn’t chosen to wear a white shirt at this point.

“Yeah, well you’re just fun to mess with,” he finally responds after a few moments of slowly floating around the pool’s edge. You smile warmly down at him and use both your hands to comb back his dripping hair with your deft fingers. Once again, you’re stunned into silence at how attractive he truly is. Especially when he looks at you like that.

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

His handsome eyes are dark, and lidded. He’s smirking at you just as he always does, but this time there’s something different. The air around you changes. It feels … charged.

He’s not done, shockingly, and he continues to back you up until you feel the edge of the pool press into your back ever so slightly. He then lets you down to stand on your own two feet now that it’s shallow, your toes brush the pool tiles suddenly and the feeling elicits a small jump of surprise.

He’s closer than he’s ever been, and you feel your breath hitch at the feeling of his bare chest brushing against the material of your saturated bra. His hands come up to trace the line of your waist again, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Jimin,” you sigh, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hands have a mind of their own at this point, and they find themselves tracing the lines of his dripping arm muscles once more. His eyes are staring into your own, burning with a heat and a desire you know all too well.

He wants you, right now.

You immediately cave in, feeling your thighs squeeze together as he descends upon your lips. The kiss is somewhere in between sensual and ravenous, with both your lips parting almost simultaneously in pleasant surprise. He lifts one hand from your hips to tangle into the wet hair at the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he melds his lips together with yours.

God, you’ve pined after him for so long that you somehow forgot what the feeling was called. You moan softly into the kiss and feel his lips quirk into a smile. He immediately knows just how badly you’d been craving this, and honestly, he’s been thinking about the exact same thing for months now. You both just needed some kind of hot situation to force you together, to give you the confidence to finally take the chance.

“You don’t know how long I’ve just wanted to have you like this,” Jimin says in a low voice, pulling back to catch his breath and rest his forehead upon yours for a moment. Your heart is going absolutely crazy in your chest, and you bring both your hands up to cup his face gently.

“I’ve wanted you since we met in that damn park, can you beat that?” You hum sweetly.

His eyes widen immensely, but then soften in a warm realisation. “Okay, I think you got me there. It’s been a couple of months though. Wow, the park? Really?”

You nod, and he lifts his hand to cover yours over his cheek. His eyes are swimming with a love so deep and profound, you just want to kiss him silly. “Yeah, I mean I don’t think I fully realised it until later on. I was happy to just keep that crazy good friendship of ours, but then I knew all along I was in deep,” you say candidly.

Jimin kisses you again long and hard. “Shit, I think I’m gonna say it. I love you. God I love you so, so much.”

You could almost cry at the heartfelt confession. His smile is blindingly bright, and his eyes are positively gleaming with happiness. You realise then that they weren’t tired anymore. Perhaps they hadn’t been for a while now.

“You saved me, (Y/n). You literally brought me out of a dark place I never thought I’d get to leave.”

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

‘I’m serious,” he murmurs, lifting your face with his thumb and forefinger to catch your overwhelmed expression.

You peck his cute little nose. “I know you are, and the same goes for you! You were always there when I needed you, Jim. I love you so fucking much, it hurts.”

He laughs airily, chest feeling light and fit to burst from your requited affections. He can’t believe that for once, this cruel world had decided to give him something nice for a change. He was … actually allowed to keep you?  

At the same time, you’re positively brimming with relief and pure bliss. You jerk forward and catch him in a needy kiss mid-laugh, silencing all your nerves and disbelief as he returns it passionately. You squeak in surprise when he lifts your body – with ease, you might add, thanks to his physique – to sit up on the edge of the pool.

He continues to trail his lips along your skin as you hold him tight, and you love the way he handles you so carefully as if you’ll break in his palms if he’s somehow too rough. You simply can’t wait to see his face when you tell him you like it that way.

As he moves to your neck, you snake your arms around him and drag your nails down his back sensually, needing to feel him against you to prove that this is happening, that this is real and not some kind of dream.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans, nibbling at the juncture of your neck and sucking harshly at the skin there. The contrast of the cool droplets of water clinging to your body as they meet his hot languid tongue has you shivering all over.

You can’t get enough of his lips, and you’re all but suddenly finding out just how skilled he actually is with his mouth. Tiny lustful whimpers fall freely from your throat as his hands move from your neck down to your breasts, and when he begins to brush his fingertips over your nipples through the shirt and bra with a broken groan, you just about lose it.

“Jimin, I want to feel you,” you choke out, pulling him as close as the edge of the pool will allow. Thankfully, it’s shallow enough on his end that he can still reach up to your face, and you instantly take advantage of your height boost to wrap your legs around his body.

You tilt his chin upwards towards you with one finger and part your lips, instantly feeling his tongue slide fervently past them into your mouth. It’s such a forward and sultry manoeuvre that you lose yourself in the pure unadulterated heat of the moment. God, you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His hands, which had fallen to brace himself on the concrete tiles on either side of your hips, now find purchase on your bare dripping wet thighs. You can’t suppress a shudder when he digs his fingers into those too, tracing circles with his thumbs to let you know where he’s going with this.

You pull away from his irresistible lips with a gasp. “What are you..?”

He smirks, mouth all swollen from your teeth and tongue, eyes pinning you down with a dark gaze full of salacious longing. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything hotter, until he growls, “I wanna take you right here, right now,” with a lick of his lips and downward glance of his eyes.

You’re left speechless, and before you can muster up anything to say in response, he’s hooking his arms underneath your knees and parting your shaky thighs slowly. He angles you closer to the edge of the pool, and you want nothing more than to just be under him. “Oh God. Jimin we should go inside.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then a flurry of wild barking and panting causes both of you to whip your heads around. There stands the source of the noise in question, all covered in grass and weeds from romping around your yard, and it bounds incessantly around the towering pool fence.

He’s watching you both excitedly and demands your undivided attention with another yap. If you had to take a wild guess as to what the dog wanted, it would be that he wishes to join in with his family’s little ‘wrestling’ match rather than being locked outside in the lonely backyard. You and Jimin exchange a look.

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

You both grab your towels and scamper inside like two horny teenagers, very naked and afraid, but still laughing the entire way at your predicament.

Safely within your walls and locked away from the innocence of animals, you pick up where you left off beside the pool. The haphazardly tossed pieces of wet clothing and damp footprints throughout the house are soon forgotten when Jimin gets you in between your sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to have you screaming his name well into the night, and you’re sure that by the end of it, his lips and tongue have touched almost every inch of your body.

That’s not to say you didn’t have a fair go at him too, because when you wake in the morning to turn and see your hickeys scattered across his bare neck and stomach, you swear you’ve never felt more satisfied in your life. Yes, he’d proven himself to be quite a little switch in the making, and you feel positively giddy at the prospect of getting so much more time with him to find out exactly where that might lead.

He was yours and you were his. Together, you had something truly marvellous.

He turns his head with a grunt and catches you admiring his sleeping form. The resulting dazzling smile that splits his face leaves you positively breathless, just as every other aspect about him does.

“Morning,” you both mumble at the same time, and while you scrunch your face up in an endeared cringe, Jimin just laughs sweetly at the clumsiness between you. He moves over to plant the softest of kisses to your forehead, and you cuddle into his side like it’s your designated space to reside until the end of time.

In lieu of the family-shaped hole you’d been carrying with you your whole life, there now appeared a Jimin-shaped puzzle piece slotting into place.

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

 ~

~

 Somewhere in the distant night, a young man taps his finger on the steering wheel of his car as he speeds along the eerily quiet highway.

The late hour does nothing to deter him, and he fights back the drowsiness threatening to pull him under as the road falls away beneath the tyres. He’s been driving for hours, but he persists without rest and soldiers on, full of purpose. Every time he feels a shred of doubt begin to linger in his mind, he glances over to the wrinkled photo resting on his dashboard and the initial burst of vigour returns.

He runs a hand through his long, curly black hair and eyes the photo again. The smiling faces look back at him, and he immediately wonders for the millionth time if he truly is doing the right thing here. The turn-off sign whizzes by his car window, and he realises that now is his last chance to change his mind.

He can keep living a peaceful life if he just continues straight past without looking back, but there’s no way he can do that. He can’t fail his only remaining family any longer.

He veers for the turn-off, taking a deep breath and reaching forward to brush a finger against one of the smiling faces in the roughly crinkled photo. It’s final, he’s made his decision.

I’m coming home. 

.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

TO BE CONTINUED

Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 1

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: fem!OC/Spencer Reid

word count: 3.4k

hi all! welcome to my new story.

I've never written a baby Spence fic before, but I'm gonna try my best. I just wanted to get something out of the way before the book starts:

aside from the fact that it's young Spencer, this book isn't placed in a specific season. I might pull cases from different episodes, but the characters will remain the same. I've included Emily and Rossi as characters because I couldn't bear to have a story without either of them (wouldn't want to subject any of you to a Prentiss-less world).

that's pretty much it. I'm glad you're here. if you wanna read my other stories, my masterlist is here.

happy reading :)

"HA!" I slap my hand down on the pile of cards and slide it towards me, organizing them in a neat pile with a smug expression.

"this game is a sham." Spencer sighs, reaching for his book.

"you're just mad you lost." I raise an eyebrow and shuffle the cards again. "you don't wanna play another round?"

"why would I? the only skill this game requires is fast reflexes." he runs hazel eyes down the page with an alarming quickness. I scoff at his disinterest.

"maybe if you trained those reflexes as much as you trained that big genius brain of yours, you'd get a leg up." Morgan teases from his spot next to me. Spencer glances at him with a frown, his cheeks turning a light pink, before looking to me. I throw up my hands.

"he said it, not me." secretly, I smile at the fact that Derek is backing me up.

"I could beat any of you in poker." Reid defends.

"easily. it helps that I don't even know how to play." I slide the cards back into the holder and cross my arms over my chest with a sigh.

"you don't know how to play poker?" he's shocked.

"I told you, I hate card games like that!" I emphasize. things like poker, blackjack, anything that involves multiple players, I usually don't enjoy much. Emily glances up from her case file with a tiny smirk.

"why?"

"I'm a sore loser." I admit, averting my eyes. there's also the risk factor involved, which includes giving up coins or pretzels or peanuts if I lose. I tend to cling tightly to all three. Prentiss lets out a laugh and Spencer flips the page of his book.

"and winner, apparently."

"you're sassy today, aren't you?" I grin at him, pleasantly surprised.

in the month I've been working here, I haven't spoken to Spencer very much. he's been polite and I've gotten to know his intellect quite well, but he doesn't spend a lot of time with us outside of work. when we go out to get drinks, he either declines or heads home before we can even ask, a bag full of books pressed to his side.

I think he just takes a while to get comfortable around new people-- that's what JJ said when I asked why he seemed to be avoiding me. the fact that he played cards with me today felt like a victory in itself, so I'll take what I can get.

Spencer doesn't reply to my dig, only crosses his long, narrow legs and settles into his book.

"we should start briefing before we land." Hotch and Rossi walk over from their spots at the front of the plane to sit on the couch by our table. I nod eagerly and watch as Emily flips open her laptop to FaceTime Penelope about the case.

the first couple cases were more difficult than I expected because I had never worked in the field before joining the BAU, but I'm starting to get used to flying around constantly and examining actual dead bodies. working sex crimes meant I spent most of my time in front of a computer screen or just staying in the office. this is incredibly different-- which I'm starting to find might not to be a bad thing.

"--the virus killed her hard drive and left that on the screen." Penelope explains, referring to the picture of Heather Woodland's computer.

"'for heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself'." Morgan reads the message aloud from the case file. the words feel familiar in my mind and I try to remember where I've heard them before.

"that's exactly what William Heirens left behind." Spencer sparks the memory. I sit up straighter.

"the Lipstick Killer?" my fingertips trace over the case details. it's a weird aspect of the murder to emulate, especially because he didn't even leave the message in lipstick. I guess he's not really concerned with that; based on the unsub's previous victims, we have just under 36 hours to find her.

"his first victim was Melissa Kirsh, 26," Reid scratches his nose as he reads, frowning so hard that I start to think he'll form permanent wrinkles. he's got such a baby face, it's almost funny. "stab wounds, strangulation."

"so he stabbed her first, and then strangled her to finish the job?" Morgan repeats.

"what's with using a belt for the second murder?" Emily flips through the papers, confused. Spencer stiffens in his spot as he realizes this is the perfect time to share his freakishly expansive forensic knowledge.

"strangulation with your bare hands actually isn't as easy as you would believe. he probably tried it, found that it took too long, then stabbed her. and blood takes a long time to clean, so he decided a belt would be more efficient."

"he's perfecting his method." I can't tear my eyes away from the photos, despite the roiling sensation they put in my stomach. even with the things I've already seen, I don't think I'll ever get over photographs like this.

"we'll be landing soon and then we're meeting up with the Seattle field office. be ready to split up once we hit the ground." Hotch snaps shut his case file and stands up, breaking off to go sit alone. Rossi takes note of the old card deck that sits on the table.

"poker?" he looks between the four of us.

"nope." Emily chuckles.

"this one doesn't know how to play." Morgan gestures to me, causing Rossi to turn to me.

"were you raised in a barn?" he asks in his usual manner of speaking: blunt sarcasm with a hint of mockery. I frown sarcastically.

"something like that."

"at some point this week, we'll sit down and I'll teach you." he gets up, pats my shoulder, and walks over to join Hotch. I lower my voice once he's far enough away.

"is he actually gonna make me do that?"

"you don't know Rossi." Morgan shakes his head slowly, slides his headphones back on, and sinks into his seat.

"I'll join and bring JJ with me." Emily winks at me reassuringly, noting the tapping of my nail against the surface of the table. Rossi is a legend in the field and I've read all of his books, but didn't want to freak him out by telling him so. it was embarrassing enough when I met him and got tongue-tied while shaking his hand. he's got an elusive energy that intimidates me, and I'd prefer not to showcase that by humiliating myself with poker.

instead of dwelling on thoughts of how I'm going to fail in front of my idol, I open up one of my books and try to pass the time.

...

while I'm writing some notes on one of the many white boards scattered throughout the field office, I realize that I'm one of four other women in the room, including Emily. she's talking to Hotch and another agent at the opposite end of the room; Reid is unpacking his signature book bag and seems deep in thought. Rossi is reading a document. everyone around me seems to be in a hurry to do something, and I begin to feel dumb.

"you okay?" Morgan asks me. I realize that I've been standing with my marker hovering over the board. my fingertips press into my temple before I turn to him.

"yeah, definitely. just thinking." my mind travels to the map we've got pasted up and the red marker lines that Spencer has already created with the geographical profile.

"looks like we're getting the classic Seattle treatment." Derek points outside to the rain pelting the windows, streaming down the glass and distorting the glow of the city outside. it's gloomy today, with a slight chill running through the streets. I nod and turn back to my task, suddenly realizing something.

"he's willing to travel with the body." I mutter to myself. Morgan steps up next to me, crosses his arms across his chest.

"he must drive a vehicle that can conceal one, then." he glances over to Hotch to see what the unit chief has to say, but Spencer speaks up first.

"one in seven point four drivers in Seattle owns an SUV." it's like a flip switches at the mention of a statistic, diverting his attention from something nebulous in his mind to the tangible case. he's a little similar to a robot.

"an Explorer with tinted windows?" Morgan speaks again as he looks over the case photos.

"those rate higher among women." Spencer again.

"sure, but how do we know it's his car?" I wonder.

"what about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch chimes in, almost startling me with the deep register of his voice. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I think on it.

"Jeeps are more masculine." Reid comes close to me in order to examine the picture I'm holding. he smells like clean laundry and some nice soap scent that I can't place. maybe it's the gel he uses to slick back his hair. no cologne or aftershave. I don't think he'd need to shave, what with his smooth baby face.

Spencer has some special quirks that make him a little more interesting. he usually avoids physical contact with other people-- doesn't shake hands-- but at other times, he doesn't seem to have self-awareness. like right now, where the shoulder of his red sweater is just barely touching mine. I hand him the picture and step away.

"unsubs love to assert their masculinity."

Hotch nods along, encouraging me to share more of what I'm thinking. after swallowing down a lingering nervousness, I tap the push pin marking where the last body was dumped. "he dropped her out-of-state, so he probably has a previous knowledge of law enforcement. maybe he's got a criminal record?"

"good, Williams." Hotch praises me. my fist clenches triumphantly at my side as he turns to the agent who has been watching us intently. "when do we meet with your task force?"

"four." the man replies. I balk at this, my posture shifting. the shortest time constraint I've ever had here has been a full day. it's already one in the afternoon.

"you want an accurate profile by four today?" I glance between Morgan and Spencer, but the latter is rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes glued to the white board. Morgan doesn't seem put off by it.

"we can do that." Hotch scowls, snapping shut the case file with a finality that tells me we're about to split up. "Dave and Morgan, head to the last dump site. Williams, Reid, I want you to talk to Heather's brother and try to find out what you can about her life. Prentiss and I will stay here in case of new developments."

I nod curtly, grab my jacket, and glance over at Spencer. he runs his hand over his hair, although I can't imagine what there is to smooth down, then walks over to me.

"you ready to go?" I ask, brandishing the file. he and I have only done two interviews together; I spent most of my beginning weeks working with Emily to get a feel for the job. both times with the boy genius have been fine, if not a little awkward.

he nods in answer to my question. "would you mind driving?"

"no license?" I tease to lighten the mood, but he doesn't get the joke. instead, he frowns at me with something of a distracted expression, adjusts his bag.

"no, I don't like driving in the rain."

"oh," I recover quickly and put a friendly smile on my face. "no problem."

"thanks." he walks ahead of me and I cringe at my own behavior. he acts so differently from earlier on the jet that I start to wonder if I did something wrong. maybe he's just in his head or something; I know I would be if I had an IQ that enormous.

when we get to the house of Heather Woodland's brother, a gorgeous golden lab greets us in the entryway. she puts her paws up on my legs and I reach down to scratch behind her ears with a smile on my face.

"Sandy, calm down." her owner grabs her collar gently to calm her. "sorry."

"no, it's fine, I love dogs." I wave it off and step inside. Spencer is eyeing Sandy warily, but she seems just as eager to say hi to him as she was to me. when she lets out a singular, enthusiastic bark, he startles.

"Mr. Woodland," I suppress my laugh by changing the subject. "I'm Special Agent Williams and this is Special Agent Dr. Reid."

we shake hands, my colleague giving his usual wave and polite smile. the interviewee takes in Spencer's appearance. I know what's coming.

"you look too young for medical school." Woodland says to Reid. this has happened a couple times since I joined the team, but Spencer never seems to mind. if anything, he lights up at the opportunity to share the reason for his official title.

"they're PhD's. three of them." he gives a little smile as we walk into the house, me shaking a few stray raindrops from my hair.

"so... are you a genius or something?" Heather's brother leads us past the hallway into the living room, which is unkempt and littered with pictures, catalogs, and toys. he must have kids in school right now. that would also explain the breed of dog.

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified."

"he's being modest," I glance over at Spencer. "Dr. Reid can read 20,000 words a minute-- he's definitely a genius."

Woodland stares at Spencer for a second as he tries to fathom the speed at which someone's mind would have to turn in order to process all that information. I still can't imagine it. Spencer's eyes avoid Woodland's shyly. instead, he watches me as I pet Sandy.

soon after, we ask him about Heather's personality and tendencies. her brother is more than willing to give us all the information we need. I'm surprised, however, by my partner's ease at wandering around Woodland's house, flipping through the magazines on top of the TV and reading the spines of books on shelves. he's quite conspicuous about it.

about halfway through my mental list of questions, Sandy keeps jumping up and wagging her til.

"I'm gonna take her to the backyard quick," Woodland tells us. "one second."

he ducks out of the room and I wait until I know he's out of earshot before sidling up beside Reid.

"there's an immediate relationship established between a buyer and a seller," he tells me, holding up a Datsun Z catalog. we know that she was in the market for one. "if I want to coax a young woman into my car..."

"offer her a test drive." I finish his sentence. of course, within ten minutes of sifting through this woman's house, Spencer has figured out the ruse used to lure her. Woodland returns a moment later with a smile, but we tell him that we've gotten the information we need before leaving.

in the car, Spencer theorizes about the unsub's mental condition as I try to navigate traffic in the storm. thunder rumbles overhead, occasionally sending a vibration through the car. my knuckles tighten around the wheel a bit. I also hate driving in the rain. his rambles fills the silence, however, and somewhat soothe my nerves.

"he doesn't have the MO of a paranoid psychotic. dumping the bodies out in the open, with a weapon nearby... that doesn't align."

"he covers their eyes with duct tape multiple times over, though. he knows he's going to kill them, but he doesn't want them to see his face?" my fingertips drum over the wheel nervously.

"what's wrong?" Spencer asks suddenly, glancing at my hands and then at my face. I still my movements at the change in subject.

"huh? nothing. I just don't like driving in the rain, either."

"oh. I'm sorry." he straightens a bit in his seat. the apology surprises me a little, but he seems genuinely sympathetic. I guess I really don't know him that well.

"it's cool."

we fall into an awkward silence and I bite my lip. we should get back to talking about the case. heaven knows Spencer has more facts to spew, more theories to share about this unsub. anything is better than the gap in conversation. I open my mouth to say more about what we learned at the house, except Spencer speaks first.

"so... how are you liking working here?" he asks awkwardly. it takes a second for the question to register with me. he sounds uncomfortable whenever we're alone and that makes me uncomfortable in turn. where everyone else was quick to include me in their jokes and discussions, Reid always sounds like talking to me exhausts him. it's obvious that he's socially awkward. there's no judgement from me; I'm just surprised that he's pushing to talk about non work-related subjects.

"I like it," not really an accurate summation. I don't think a heart-to-heart is exactly the right move when talking to him. "a little stressful, though."

"you worked in sex crimes before, right?" he looks out the window. there isn't much to see except for the rain-blurred skyline. I nod.

"yep."

"that sounds... hard." he shifts in his seat as he tries to come up with more points of conversation. it's kind of endearing, honestly. I throw him a bone.

"so is profiling."

"why'd you switch?" his eyes flit over to mine as he quickly adds, "if you don't mind me asking."

I take a second to come up with an answer. of course, there's the classic response: I've always wanted to help people— which isn't wrong— it's also not the whole answer. all through college and the Academy, I had my head focused on one thing. I could interview killers and get inside their heads, but there's something entirely different that you don't get from pure research. and one person inspired that in me before I had finished high school.

"don't tell him I said this, but I really wanted to work with Rossi." I say in a hushed tone. there's a slight smile on my lips because I haven't told anyone on the team in fear of being teased. I don't think Spencer is likely to gossip with Rossi about me, though.

"really?" now he sounds surprised.

"I've read all his books and I've been to a couple lectures. he doesn't remember me, evidently." the thought is more funny than embarrassing. he spoke at my college a few years back and I recall being on the edge of my seat, trying to come up with the courage to ask the questions that filled my head. I was too shy.

"does he know you're a fan?" Spencer loosens up a bit.

"nope," we pull off the freeway as we near the field office. I stop at a red light and look over. "I didn't want to embarrass myself with the whole 'your work changed my life' spiel."

at this, Spencer lets out a short, nervous giggle. it's a nice sound, that laugh. it makes me smile when he seems to relax in his seat.

"that's exactly what I did." he says. I frown.

"you told him his books changed your life?" I blush as I realize I just inadvertently made fun of him.

"I, um... well, I got excited to talk about his research." he averts his gaze again and his cheeks turn a slight pink. there's a dimple in his cheek, I notice, that keeps tugging upward. this is my first time having a non-forced moment with Spencer alone; a wave of satisfaction washes over me as I realize the potential for another friend here.

"trust me, I get it." I laugh. we pull into the parking ramp for the field office and I find a spot by the door. Spencer hoists that bag into his lap and runs his hand through his hair. when I pull the key out of the ignition, he waits for me to get out of the car before we start walking toward the door.

it's small, but I appreciate that he doesn't run off without me. we don't talk as we walk, our footsteps echoing along the cement walls.

oh my god first chapter holy fuck! it's short, but I don't wanna overwhelm. I'm so excited for this book!

[superspookywombat]

Treetops {j.h}

Request:  “(Can you make it super angsty and fluffy please 🥰)

But can you make one where I’m walking around and get attacked by a vampire. Edward gets there just as I’m about to die and I beg for him to change me so I wouldn’t have to leave Jasper (he’s my mate) and he’s so sad for me because he feels like I’m a sister to him so he changes me just as my eyes close. He freaks out and takes me to the house where Carlisle is and Carlisle eases his mind that he had done it just in time(like with Bella in the end of the last one of breaking dawn part 1) . Then he when Jasper can’t find me he goes home all sad and worried and as he walks in Edward sits him down and tells him. He feels really bad and sits down by my side holding my hand just waiting as Alice and rose changes me into a cute summer dress. When I wake up it kinda like when Bella dose and Jasper is not there when I do so I end up going to look for him. In the end we just cuddle just happy to be together and read my favorite books.” from @faithie-brock-gillespie01​

Warnings: one use of a derogatory term (not a slur or anything), mentions of scars and nakedness but not too graphic in either

A/n: sorry i’ve been away for forever. yes, i’m still active and i see everything people send me (dm wise or in ask-form) anyway, i really really love this and i hope you do too

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You know it’s a bad idea. Growing up, everyone always told you not to walk alone at night. But, being the independent person you are, you took self defense classes and never went far without your pocket knife. But over the past year, being surrounded by your boyfriend Jasper all the time made you loosen the reigns a bit. Soon, the countless hours you spent in your basement practicing Hammer and Heel Palm strikes were faded lessons that sat collecting dust in the back of your mind. You didn’t have to worry about defending yourself when Jasper was always around to do it for you, and after graduating college, you would be almost indestructible like him anyway. So, yes, you know better than to be walking through the forest, in the dark nonetheless, but anger has clouded your common sense and that’s the excuse you were currently using to make yourself feel better.

The tall trees on either side of you make you feel claustrophobic. You take deep, shuddering breaths as you fight back tears. So maybe you’re sensitive, you’ve been told once or twice, but the thought of someone you thought to be one of your closest friends gossiping and spreading hurtful stuff about you would make anyone's throat tighten. Your roommate had approached you earlier in the week, she was planning a huge birthday party for your best friend back home in Forks. Of course you’d come, you said. You came home every weekend anyway, courtesy of your super generous boyfriend and his very illegal speeding. He even dropped you off at the party, which is what led to you running through the woods.

You had shown up to the party, a bottle of your best friend’s alcohol of choice in hand, and a black dress that stopped just before your knee tight on your body. The loud, booming music hurt your ears, but you soldiered through and greeted your friend with a hug.

“Happy birthday!” You said, a large smile stretching across your face. She laughed pulling you into her arms. 

“I wasn’t sure you were coming.” Your roommate that stood next to her said. You gave her a confused look, pulling back from the hug.

“What do you mean? Of course I’d come.” You said laughing it off. Holding up the alcohol, you asked where to put it.

“Over on that table.” Your best friend said. You smile and walk off, placing the hefty bottle on the colorfully covered table. You went to grab a solo cup, a glittery 22 printed neatly on the plastic. Filling it with your alcohol of choice, you brought it to your lips to take a sip.

“Should you really be doing that? While you’re.. You know.” A voice came from your right, and you glanced over to see a friend of your best friend.  

“While I’m what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Waiting for his response, you took a sip of the bitter drink.

“Pregnant.” He said. You choked on the alcohol, coughing as it dribbled down your chin. 

“Excuse me?” You asked, grabbing a napkin to wipe the drink before it reached your dress. 

“I just- I don’t- everyone’s been saying that you’re pregnant.” He sputtered, a pink tinge on his cheeks evident even through the flashing lights of the party.

“Well I’m not,” You chuckled nervously, somewhat amused. You leaned closer to him, lowering your voice. “Where did you hear that?”

His eyebrows furrowed. He leaned in close, mimicking what you had just done. When he murmured your best friend’s name, a cold sweat washed over your body. Your hands shook as you placed the drink back down on the table. Leaving him behind, you walked over to your best friend and grasped her arm, pulling her away and upstairs into a spare bedroom. 

“Tell me it isn’t true.” You demanded, fury igniting flames in your heart. She shut the door behind her, setting her drink down on the dresser.

She laughed dryly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on one leg. “Of course it’s true.”

“Why would you say something like that? You know I’m not.. Pregnant!” You yelled, stepping closer to her. 

“Don’t act like you’re so innocent. With all the unprotected sex you brag about having, you might as well be!” She said, matching your voice level. 

“It was one time! And he can’t get me pregnant anyway, I already told you that!” You replied, fighting back tears that tried to escape. 

“So? Who’s to say that you aren’t sleeping around with other people? Play stupid games, you get stupid prizes.” She said, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really really sorry. I didn’t want to, Professor Michaels-” You started to say, but she slapped you before you could finish what you were saying. 

“I would never! Why would you do this? I thought we were friends?” You asked, hurt laced in your voice. She moved closer to you, the smell of alcohol creating waves off of her breath.

“I told you not to enter the contest. You knew how much it meant to me and you still entered. And you won. My parents won’t even make eye contact! They’ve taken away my weekly allowance!” She said, tears spilling over the heavily lined lower lid of her eyes. She poked a finger to your chest, causing nerves to fire up in pain.

“Professor Michaels this, Professor Michaels that; You’re probably sleeping with him too, you slut!” She screamed, clenching her fists at her sides. You take the full cup from the dresser, and splash her in her face. You both stood in silence for a moment, before you turned on your heel and briskly walked out of the room, slamming the door so loud that you could hear it over the music. People watched as you came down the stairs, but you avoided their gaze and ran out the back door into the cool night sky. You had almost brought Jasper to the party, schedules had finally lined up to introduce him to your friends since freshman orientation. Now you were glad you hadn’t. You hadn’t even thought about calling him for a ride, you were too blind with rage. But you’d soon come to regret letting emotions cloud your judgment. 

The smell of wet earth comforts you as you double over, hands on your knees and taking large gasps of air. As much as you would love to lean against a tree, you just bought this dress and you’re not ready to ruin it quite yet. You shiver, standing up straight and hugging yourself, trying to retain some warmth. As you look around, you notice that the only light in sight was the moon. The house is nowhere to be seen, and you pull your phone out of your pocket to see that you don’t have cell reception. Suddenly you aren’t cold anymore, your face flushing with anxiety as your newly calmed breathing speeds up again. But then you hear something that causes a false sense of security; footsteps. 

“Oh thank God.” You say, turning around. Before you can make out who’s there, you’re knocked to the ground. A sharp pain tears into the inside of your elbow, and you scream out in pain. Tears fall down your cheeks as you take a sharp intake of breath. 

“Jasper!” You scream at the top of your lungs. You know it’s a stretch, but the Cullen’s house is only a few miles away and there is a chance they could hear. “Please! Someone hel-”

A cool hand clamps over your mouth, snuffing any chance of words to escape. You sob as your blood drains, your body starting to shut down. As black starts flooding your eyesight, your attacker is flung off of you and crashes into a nearby tree. You gasp, fumbling to put pressure on the gushing wound. You curl into a fetus position, the sharp earth pressing into the skin of your face nothing compared to the gash in your arm. You can’t see well, but you can make out the garbled voices of Jasper’s brothers, Emmett and Edward. You think you hear Rosalie too. 

“Take care of y/n, we got ‘em.” Emmett says, referring to you. You feel cool hands lift your limp body, and you groan.

“Jasper..” You say. Tears stiffen your cheeks as you grow tired. Your eyes flutter closed and hands grasp your numbing arm. 

“It’s torn to shreds, there’s no chance of survival.” Edward says. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or himself.

“Please,” You muster the strength to say two more words. You just need to say two more words. “T-Turn.. Me.” 

“I can’t.” He says. You want to respond, but your body finally goes fully limp in his arms, and he makes a split-second decision. He buries his head in your neck and sinks his teeth in. You don’t feel it immediately, but soon, fire roars through your entire body. You groan in pain, not strong enough to make anything louder. Before you drift off, you feel wind whipping past your hair as you’re carried through the forest.

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“Carlisle!” Edward calls out, carrying your unresponsive body in his arms. He practically flies up the stairs into Carlisle’s office, and Emmett opens the door before he can kick it down. The doctor strides over, eyebrows pulled together in worry.

“What happened?” He asks. Edward’s at a loss for words, his mouth agape. “Edward, what happened?” 

“We- I- There was screaming.. And then we found a newborn on top of her. Her arm is torn to shreds, there’s no way she would survive it.” Edward says, his gaze avoiding your body. Carlisle senses his uncomfort, and motions for him to set you down on an exam table. You lay on the vinyl, looking almost peaceful if it wasn’t for the blood slathered over your neck and upper torso. 

“Tell me I did the right thing..” Edward pleads. Carlisle glances up at him while examining your arm.

“She would have been turned regardless. You just sped up the process.” He reassures. Edward, obviously, can tell that Carlisle is being sincere. You had literally asked for it, of course, but still he felt guilty. The taste of blood on his tongue became too much, and he turned around, stalking out of the room. Though the door shut behind him, it was reopened by Esme, peeking her head in. She brings her hand to her mouth, clearly shocked. 

She walks over, yet still keeping her distance. “Someone needs to find Jasper.” She murmurs through her palm.

“Bring me water and a sponge, please.” He asks softly, pain straining his voice. Esme nods and leaves. Carlisle sighs, placing his hands on the table and looking down at you. When he first met you, he was worried. He knew that you were intelligent and was scared that you’d figure out their secret prematurely. But soon after, you weaseled your way into their hearts. It was only a few months in when you found out, and it shocked everyone with how nonchalant you were about it. Then about a month after that, you discussed your future with Jasper and decided that after graduation you’d join them and their undeadness. That was the plan.

Downstairs, Edward’s phone rings. The caller ID says his brother’s name, though he’s not sure how to answer. 

“Hello?” Edward answers. ‘Hello’ seems too relaxed, he thinks. 

“Alice called me. She said she can’t see Y/n anymore. Something happened at the party and she’s not answering her phone.” Jasper says, sounding as out of breath as a vampire can. Edward glances at Rosalie, whose face is neutral, though she seems to find comfort in Emmett’s arm around her.

“You need to come home.” Edward says, then closes the flip phone and drops it onto the couch. It rings again, but the room remains still until Esme brushes past with a tub of water and a sponge.

“He’s going to need your support.” Esme says. Rosalie looks up and crosses her arms, shrugging from Emmett’s embrace.

“He should have known better than to get attached to a human.” She says, though halfheartedly. 

“I’ll ground you.” Esme warns as she ascends the stairs. She knocks on Carlisle’s office door, then enters. Placing the bowl down next to him, she hugs him from behind and wraps her arms around his stiff torso. Pressing her head between his shoulder blades, he relaxes in her hold. “He did the right thing, right?” 

“I.. I believe so, yes. Jasper would be ruined without her.” Carlisle says, not sure if he’s reassuring himself, or her. “You can leave, I need to get the blood gone before he gets here.” 

“He’ll be here soon. Edward hung up in him.” She responds. Carlisle sighs, and grabs the sponge, dipping it in the water. He drags it over your exposed skin as Esme exits, red, watery streaks running down and pooling in your collarbone area. He leaves the areas covered by clothes for Alice or Esme to clean, not that he expects there to be much there anyway. Once you appear to be blood-free, he takes a large bandage and covers your arm, but is soon interrupted by a door slamming and glass shattering on the lower level. 

“Carlisle’s up there, y/n’s in good hands.” Edward says, placing a tentative hand on Jasper’s shoulder. He shakes off his brother’s touch, striding up the stairs three at a time. He enters the room and rushes over to you, his eyes examining every inch of your ghostly silhouette. He hesitates, but then takes your hand and presses it to his lips. He closes his eyes, feeling as close to crying as he’s ever felt before. A chair scraping the floor takes him by surprise, which is something that doesn’t happen much to vampires. 

“What happened?” He murmurs, lips tickling the soft skin on the back of your hand. He sits in the chair Carlisle offered, but doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Newborn attack. Edward, Emmett, and Rose found her.” Carlisle says. Jasper stares blankly at your paler-than-normal face. 

“She was supposed to call me when she was ready to leave. Why was she in the woods?” He asks. 

“I can’t answer that.” 

“Will she.. Is she going to wake up? Will she turn?” He asks. Carlisle folds his arms and leans against his desk. 

“I think so, yes.” He answers. Jasper looks at his father for a moment, then returns his gaze back to you. “All we can do now is wait.” 

After a few days, you started to show signs of improvement. You had slimmed out in some places, filled out in others. The warm hues of your skin color had completely drained, and there was a raised scar on your neck from Edward’s venom. He tried very hard not to think about it, but whenever he saw it he felt a twinge of jealousy in his belly. If Edward had heard him think it, he was generous enough not to mention it. Turning someone is intimate, for most vampires at least, and he had been looking forward to a special night. He’d give you a few more ‘human experiences’ (wink wink) and then bite you before returning to the Cullen house. But now his brother had laid claim on you, whether it was intentional or not.

Alice bounds through the door, Rosalie in tow. Rose holds a dress folded over the crook of her arm, a flash of what Jasper recognizes as your favorite color all over it. Alice flips you onto your side, rather roughly, and Jasper jumps to his feet.

“What are you doing?” He asks. Rosalie unzips the back of your black dress and starts to pull it off of your shoulders.

“Getting your girlfriend naked.” She says, fighting back a smug smile. Jasper holds his hand up, shielding your body from his view.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Jas.” Alice says with a chuckle.

 “Not while she’s unconscious.” Jasper takes one last look at your unobstructed face, then leaves the room. 

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Turn me. Your words echo in your mind, and you jolt into a sitting position. You blink a few times before your eyes come into focus. You glance down, your hands turned palms up. You can see every fine detail of your fingerprints, the undersides of your fingernails darkened from clawing at the earth, but the tops freshly painted over. Your hair flutters down over your eyes, and the sun shines through the strand, creating a glowing effect that you’ve never noticed so intensely before. You swallow, your throat feeling like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. You run your fingers over your neck, lips parting when you feel the puckered skin that.. Edward? No way. You slide off of the vinyl exam table and your bare feet touch the floor. You skate across to the other side of the room to a floor length mirror, and you gasp when you see your reflection.

It doesn’t much look like you, but it mimics your movement and expressions so well that it must be. Your hair has grown at least half an inch, and your body is sleek and toned. You run your palms down your torso and the thin, silky fabric of a fit & flared summer dress makes your insides smile. You twirl, feeling light on your feet, and the fabric flows around like a graceful tornado. You laugh, a melodic, bubbly sound bouncing off of the walls. The noise comes to a halt in your throat as you catch a glimpse of your arm out of your peripheral vision, however. You pull your arm into your full vision, and feel almost lightheaded when you see a large area of the skin patched together and covered in a thick bramble of scars. There’s a knock in the doorway, and you let your arm go limp before taking a hesitant step towards your boyfriend. 

“You’re awake.” He says. You nod. “Are you thirsty?” You nod again. He takes a step forward, and in a moment, you meet in the middle and he sweeps you into his arms. You inhale his scent, stronger than you’ve ever smelled it before, as you rest your head into the crook of his neck. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, and though it doesn’t really sound like you, the words come from your heart. He inhales your scent too, nuzzling his nose into your hair. 

“For what?” He asks, but the strain in his voice lets you know that he knows. You turn your head, your cheek on his shoulder, and close your eyes.

“We had a plan.” You say. 

“It’s okay.” He reassures. You can feel the calmness radiating off of him in waves of serenity, and since the night in the woods, you’ve craved this more than anything.

“I love you.” You say, and even though it wasn’t the first time exchanging those three words, it was the first time they held such an impact. 

Two months have gone by, and vampirism suits you well. You moved out of your dorm, and now you’re finishing your degree virtually. You cut off ties with your college peers, and found a new community back home. Jasper almost never left your side (save for book club every other Tuesday) and you both decided to get married the next spring. 

“Shh, I’m trying to read.” You lightheartedly complain, gently pushing Jasper and causing him to almost fall off of the tree you both are lying in. The branch dips slightly as he redistributes his weight to support you resting against his chest. His arms hold you close as you try to focus on the book in your lap, but between the view of the water from the treetop and his persistent need for attention, you fail. He snatches the book from your lap and softly grasps your chin, turning your head to bring his lips to yours. 

[mcmusing]

After Suzie-Q and Ben, we need to look at the interesting and layered relationship between big and little-bros-in-law Johnny Storm and Reed Richards.

Thank you, original screenplay for adding to and verifying my theories.

There's that special smile that only Johnny can cause. For a guy who struggles with emotions, Reed clearly finds impish Johnny adorable.

Crisis situation, mission about to fall apart, Reed's best friend is seconds from death- here's a cool down pat, Johnny. Though honestly, the cosmic storm was pretty intense and Johnny really did look like a terrified kid.

When Johnny was griping about lockdown and the older Fours being stricter than NASA, Sue gets exasperated with him. She's taken care of Johnny mostly on her own for years, but the screenplay reveals that she does indeed want Reed to intervene with her brother. Reed's still growing as a leader, so it's a process.

We also found out something I suspected. Johnny sweet talked Reed into adding the 4 insignia to their uniforms. Keep in mind that Reed was working like a madman on the cure yet still took time to indulge the kid. I also believe Reed has some residual guilt from the breakup and not being in touch with Johnny for two years.

Trying to shield Johnny from an- arguably deserved- rock punch from Ben. Even though Johnny had just had a tantrum and threw fireballs at Ben, angry that Ben punished him by crushing his car. It might seem childish for Ben to do that, but remember that Johnny spent the film being a constant brat towards Ben. Johnny snuck out, participated in a televised motocross competition, and gave the team codenames to the press, including referring to Ben as a 'thing'. Ben resisted hitting Johnny until he started deliberately throwing fire. Also, only a couple of hours before, Johnny melted a guy's tires. Having his car smashed was pretty lenient.

In the original screenplay, when Reed is talking to Johnny about thinking before he acts, Johnny is able to finish his sentence, meaning he's gotten this reprimand from Reed before. Further evidence of their past relationship.

Sue loves Johnny more than anyone on Earth and Ben calls his crap, but Reed has something of a special dynamic with the kid. I think Reed is aware of Johnny's untapped potential and feels bad that he had such a difficult childhood. He's beyond thrilled when both Storm siblings come to stay in the Baxter Building with him. He likely indulges Johnny because he knows he's fairly emotionally regressed . He still gets firm when necessary.

No matter what Johnny claims, he is too glad to have Reed and Ben back. Reed stepping up as a leader has a positive impact on Johnny. In the screenplay, he was in on Reed's plan to propose to Sue. Therefore, the Fantastic Fellas had to have talked out their issues for Reed to receive Johnny's blessing.

This has been another excerpt from Fantastic Four Feels 💙

[saviorinsilk]

Again

Ship: Wilhemina Venable x Fem!Reader

Description: Wilhemina Venable is your College English Professor and on a particular night you learn your lesson for speaking out in class. This is an AU!

Words: 1869

Warnings: Punishment, professor x student, strap on sex, spanking, domination and discipline.

A/N: You guys wanted more of Venable spanking reader so here you sluts go!

Tears clouded your vision of the textbook that was laying open on the desk in front of you. Your body jerked forward when yet another harsh slap rang loudly through the Victorian styled office. Ms. Venable had delivered another brutal hit on your already red, welt covered ass. You didn't make any noise, you wouldn't dare. Your professor had taught you better than that. But oh how you wished you could vocally express yourself.

"Again Miss Y/L/N." Ms. Venable spoke from behind you, her bruising grip loosening up so she could ghost her hand up your lower back and back down. She caressed the sensitive skin of your burning red ass in slow circles as she pushed your dress that was already hiked up, even higher and out of her way.

You supported yourself on one of your shaky elbows as you wiped your eyes with your free hand, the words on the page in front of you now clearer.

"First Person; In the subjective case, the singular form of the first person is "I," and the plural form is "we." "I" and "we" are in the subjective case because either one can be used as the subject of a sentence." Your voice was small, the half-hour of canning you had already endured because of your slip up in Ms. Venable's English lecture, having already caused you to sink deep into your submissive headspace. You braced yourself for the impending attack, making it easier to hold back the whimper that dared to escape.

Ms. Venable's delicate but deadly cane collided with your ass for what felt like the hundredth time, your weak legs beginning to shake as your full ass bounced with the force of the hit.

You took that as your cue to continue and once again began reading over the next paragraph on the page she had been making you repeat, this time your voice shaking as she hit you once, twice and three times.

"Second Person; You use the second-person point of view to address the reader, as I just did. T-The second person uses the pronouns "you," "your," and "yours." We use these t-three pronouns when addressing one, or more than one, person." Your voice was beginning to falter and you wished you had just kept your mouth shut and hadn't made that stupid snippy remark in class.

"Actually Ms. V, wouldn't you want to use first person?" You regretted opening your mouth the moment the classroom fell silent. You knew you had fucked up and everyone else did as well, giving you sympathetic looks as Ms. Venable slowly made her way over to your seat, her cane clicking loudly against the tile floor as she did. She didn't stop until she was standing directly in front of your desk at the front of the class, her piercing dark gaze locked on you. You couldn't bring yourself to meet her eyes as she spoke.

"If you are going to try and correct me Miss Y/L/N, at least do it right."

She snapped back, the class straining not to erupt in laughter, fearing her wrath. A hand shot up at the other side of the room but Ms. Venable took a moment before she nodded at the girl.

"I believe the correct answer is actually second person Ms.Venable." Stupid Casey. You hated Casey. She was such a kiss ass. Always offering to help Ms. Venable after class, purposely being the last one (other than you of course) to leave the class so she could steal a few extra moments with your professor. You hated how jealous the blonde, skinny College girl made you; but you couldn't help it. Even the knowledge that Casey thought of Ms. Venable in that way made your blood boil. And Ms Venable knew it too.

"Very right Casey. Glad to know some of you are paying attention. As for you Miss Y/L/N, we will discuss your behaviour after class."

There had been nothing you had been able to do but clench you're fists and get through the rest of class.

"You will be in my office by 11:30pm sharp." Was all she said before directing her attention back to her computer.

She didn't need to ask. Only You and Ms. Venable knew the truth. That this was exactly what you had wanted. When you didn't move she glared at you, making you blush and quickly pick up your books and throw your bag over your shoulder. Your plan was progressing perfectly and her furious gaze only made you squeeze your thighs together harder, biting your lip the way you knew drove your secret lover crazy.

Her office was connected to the small apartment she lived in on campus. It was a 5-minute walk from your dorm, one you had gotten quite accustomed too.

You still remember the first night you spent in her office. Ms. Venable had offered to tutor you through the writing project she had assigned. She had sat across her desk from you and for the first time you had witnessed her smile, telling you that your outline looked perfect. It was something that didn't often happen from the tough grader. That had been the first night. A tutoring session gone sexual.

Today had been no different, except you knew what was awaiting you and it wasn't praise. She barely had spoken to you before she had bent you over her desk, slamming the textbook down in front of you and making you go to page 62, paragraph 23, demanding you begin reading.

Ms. Venable had seemed to have found a tad of mercy in her cold heart, as she lowered her cane, instead gently tracing the welts and light bruises that had already begun to form from the assault from her cane.

You took the chance to catch your breath, squeezing your eyes shut, demanding that the salty tears that dared to spill down onto the pages below to stay put.

That's when you heard it, the light sound of her skirt dropping, the delicate lavender fabric pooling at her feet before the woman stepped out of it and slid it out of her way. The sound elicited both excitement and fear in you. It made your stomach twist and the warmth that had built up in your core was becoming painful.

That's when you felt it, smooth and rock hard against your ass. She had been wearing her strap the whole evening and by weight of it, you knew it was your favourite one.

Ms. Venable leaned down over you, the dominance she radiated causing you to press your thighs together, desperate to quench the painful arousal that the dark woman had caused. Her strap pressed again your wet cunt as she snatched your long hair that was already pulled up in a ponytail (convenient for her) in her fist. You couldn't help the high pitched squeak that slipped past your lips as she yanked your head back. You could feel Ms. Venable's hot breath against the shell of your ear as she used her foot to kick your legs wider apart; granting her access to the part of you that only belonged to her.

"You enjoy being a brat? Embarrassing me in front of all my students?" She sarcastically asked, slapping your cunt roughly with her impossibly large cock. You bit your lip to keep your moans locked inside, drawing blood as Ms. Venable delivered a few more slaps to your aching cunt. You shook your head frantically, crying out as you opened your mouth to answer her.

"No Ms! I'm a bad girl! I'm sorry!" You whimper as she pulled your earlobe into her mouth.

She hit you with her hand harder than you were expecting and simultaneously slide her large, thick cock into you. The impossible stretch you felt as Ms. Venable buried herself completely inside of your dripping, warm and throbbing cunt, made you moan deeply, fresh tears pricking your eyes. You arched your back painfully and dropped your head to the wooden desk, smashing against it loud enough to cause Ms.Venable's predatory expression to falter for a split second. The concern faded quickly though when she felt you began to grind your hips back, desperate for your professor to give you what you needed.

She moaned in pleasure as she watched your tight hole stretch perfectly around her cock, like you were made for it. Made to serve her.

Ms. Venable's hand came down on your right ass cheek and then the left, her dark eyes blown black with lust. She could tell you were close, noticing the way your whimpers became more desperate, the textbook falling flat on the desk, your head resting on top it.

"Ah, ah, ah don't be a greedy little slut. You better not cum until you're finished." Ms. Venable warned you in a calm tone as she stayed still inside of you, as torturous as it was for her, the stimulation of the base of the strap had begun to make her clit throb but she knew you wouldn't last if she didn't.

Ms. Venable may have been a cruel Mistress and a strict teacher but she knew how sensitive you were after a spanking. How the pain lit your body up like a live wire. Plus, after how good you had been for her, she truly didn't want to have to punish you for cumming without permission.

"Third Person; The third person is the most common point of view used in fiction writing and is the traditional form for academic writing. Authors of novels and composers of papers use "he," "she," or "it" when referring to a person, place, thing, or idea." You practically screamed the last sentence, bucking your hips back roughly, trying to get Ms. Venable as deep inside of you as you possibly could. You were sweating, crying and shaking like a pathetic mess, exactly how Professor Venable liked you.

"PLEASE! Fucking hell! Please, Ms. Venable! I won't forget again!" You sobbed, becoming frantic for something, anything that would soothe the burning and twisting sensation in your lower abdomens

Ms. Venable chuckled to herself, proud of the effect she had on you. If she were honest, she was glad you had finished up as she couldn't stand the intensely of her own arousal another second longer.

"Good girl. Such a smart slut. Now cum for me" You barely had time to register her words before Ms. Venable began thrusting into your roughly, a sure-fire way to have you cumming around her cock.

When your orgasm does snap in your belly Ms.Venable pulled you up, your back crashing into her chest. Your body went ridge, fire washing over you and Ms. Venable held onto you tightly, supporting your weight as she fucked you through your orgasm. "Thank y-you Miss!" You barely got the words out as your body shook with the aftershock of your orgasm.

Ms.Venable smirked wickedly as she shoved you back down on your elbows, cock pulled from your cunt with a sharp spank on your ass cheek. When she finally spoke again, you froze, hearing the three words you dreaded the most.

"Again Miss Y/L/N."

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[ashashch]

[ Oneshot # 2 ]

Lip stick

She traced her fingertips against the writing on the paper as her lips curved into the smile. It has been an year since they got married but the feeling is still new whenever she see their names together, tied with a bond.

It was an invitation card for a wedding of none other than their close friends Natsu and Lucy. The letters were carved as Mr. and Mrs. Fullbuster. That's right she was now Mrs. Juvia Fullbuster.

"You've been staring at the invitation card for the past hour." Voice of her husband caught her attention.

"Gray sama." She said.

"That idiot finally got the guts to purpose Lucy. Finally."

"You're the one to talk Gray sama. It took you a whole year and six months to purpose Juvia." Juvia pointed.

"That's different, I was nervous and.... had self doubts....." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Even when you knew Juvia would never say no." She smirked.

"Still Juvia is happy that you did."

"I'm glad too that I did." He kissed the crown of her head.

Natsu and Lucy's wedding was in a week. So they went on shopping for the dresses for the occasion.

"How does this one looks?" She came out trying the third dress that she choose. It was a red colored dress with a sweet heart neckline that had sequins on the top part and had frilly net as it reached the bottom.

Even though Gray wasn't experienced in fashion especially with ladies shopping. But as he lived with Juvia he became more experienced with it. He knows what colors looks good with what and what kind of shoes goes with which dress, All thanks to Juvia. She spent a good whole year teaching him that sneakers don't go with a party wear.

He examined the dress. It looked good on her but something was missing. Red wasn't her color. To him, She looked more pretty in light colors like blue, purple, beige and pink. He likes her most in lime green color. It compliments her blue hair and pale skin. He never told her that though.

He slightly moved his head in a no.

"No." She said and looked back at the dress. She then grabbed the other dress from the hanger and changed into it.

"Juvia thinks this one looks pretty. What does Gray sama think?" She chimed as she twirled her dress. It was a purple sleeveless dress with a deep back.

"It's beautiful on you." He said.

"Right? Juvia will buy this one then." She said happily.

"So, we are done now?" He asked.

"We still need to buy your dress Gray sama." Juvia reminded.

"What's the point? I'm gonna strip it anyway."

"No, Gray sama. You're gonna match it with Juvia's dress. You can't strip."

"Right."

The day of the wedding came and they had to leave in few hours.

"Gray sama go change into your dress. We are gonna get late." She insisted. She was already in her dress.

"Few minutes." He said.

"Only five minutes."

After ten minutes he got dressed much to Juvia's relief.

"Is it necessary to wear this thing?" He referred to the purple tie that Juvia was helping him with. It matched with the color of Juvia's dress.

"You complain too much Gray sama. It's necessary to finish the look. There." She said and patted on his chest.

They were both standing in front of the mirror. Gray was loosening his tie a little bit while Juvia was applying her lipstick to finish her look. He glanced a look at her. It was kinda bothering him to see how carefully she was applying the lipstick.

Just to mess with her, he bumped his elbow into her causing her lipstick to slip off from her lips. She silently gasped to see her lipstick ruined. She looked at Gray through the mirror with squinted eyebrows just to see him smirk. To get her revenge she came up with the best plan. She kissed him with her lipstick tainted lips taking Gray by surprise. She proceeded to kiss him on the cheeks, forehead, nose and neck, leaving lipstick marks as she did so. Gray was blushing red the entire time.

"There. Now we are even." She looked back at the mirror in front of them.

Gray didn't know that he could possibly blush that much therefore to hide his embarrassment he just went to the bathroom.

"Gray sama." She called, the smile never leaving her lips.

If ruining her lipstick means that he will be greeted by kisses then Gray was sure to do it everytime.

"Sorry." Moments later he came out of the bathroom with a cloth in his hand to wipe the marks. In the mean time Juvia had corrected her lipstick.

"Let Juvia help you." She grabbed the piece of cloth from him.

"We are gonna get late. Aren't we?"

"It was Gray sama's fault."

"I couldn't help it. You were so consumed in applying it."

"You look cute when you blush Gray sama."

"I'm not blushing. It's the lipstick." He mumbled averting her gaze away from her.

"Now you're blushing even more."

"I am not!"

"Yes you are."

"You're all done now." She said after wiping the last mark.

"Thanks."

"cutie." She said in a bubbly tone and kissed his cheek.

"You stained my cheek again didn't you."

"ooops."

"Juvia!"

I was inspired by a fanart by @rchella Have a great day!!!

[lockefanfic]

Business Trip: Pt 27 - Waiting

"Yoo Jeongyeon, we're in a plane with dozens of other people," you whisper back in a faux warning, not at all intending to convince her to stop.

"You're right, I guess we can't do anything here," she admits. There is a mischievous look in her eyes as she bends down and picks up the folded blanket that the airline had left on her seat. She unfolds it and spreads it so that it covers both of your laps.

"I guess you'll just have to use your imagination," she says once more into your ear, her words dripping now with lust.

Underneath the blanket, she reaches over to your lap and begins to undo your belt.

---

The next morning found you in what was quickly becoming a familiar environment - the cabin of a plane on a long haul flight.

 You dreaded this particular flight more than usual, given that it was a flight back to Seoul from Hawaii. While the two week vacation had done little to alleviate the drama circulating around your love life - in fact, it actually increased it significantly - it nonetheless gave you a welcome reprieve from the stress of pursuing Irene and SM. 

 A part of you wanted to track her down, of course, and bring her to justice for what she did to you and your team, but an even larger part of you wanted to stay in that resort hotel room you shared with Momo, where your only worries were what the content of your next delicious, free meal would be, and whether you could keep up with Momo's rather voracious appetite, both in the kitchen and in the bedroom.

 At the moment, Momo, who had boarded before you, was chatting away with Sana over some makeup they had bought at the duty free store before boarding. It being a small private chartered jet (JYP had wasted no expense for any part of the vacation), their seating aisle was only two seats wide. Momo playfully sticks her tongue out at you to indicate she didn't want or need to sit next to you for the next ten hours before going right back to chatting with Sana, who was busy trying to show her the wonders of the small makeup palette she was excitedly showing off.

 You were happy that the two had apparently become best friends again, even if Sana had made no attempt to hide her feelings from you. You were still somewhat concerned about what she had told you back at the resort following the night the three of you shared, but she seemed to be willing to keep her feelings for you between you and her - at least for now. You knew there was still a conversation somewhere on the horizon where you had to confront her feelings directly, but for now you were happy to leave that for another day, and you were even happier that she had made up with Momo on friendly terms.

 The next few aisles were filled with fellow JYP employees you weren't familiar with. You were thankful that the rear of the plane was mostly empty, and you happily claimed the window seat of the last row.

 "Wake me up when we touch down," comes a voice that causes you to look up from rummaging through your backpack for your headphones. It is Seolhyun, who, despite looking like she was paying for some major league drinking the night previous, still managed to look quite attractive in a baggy track suit and unkempt hair. She half-stumbles into the aisle opposite you, throwing herself into the opposite window seat. After buckling in she pulls down the eye cover she had on her head, and within minutes the soft snoring you hear emanating from her corner of the plane brings a smile to your face.

 "I guess they went hard last night, because Tzuyu doesn't look much better," comes another voice, this one sounding a lot healthier than Seolhyun. You look up to see Jeongyeon's bright face coming down the aisle, a soft smile on her features as she approaches you.

 "This seat taken?" she asks, motioning to the empty leather seat next to yours. It was more of a declaration than a real question, because she was going to take it anyway. You found yourself happier than you would've admitted at the prospect of sitting next to her for the next ten hours.

 "It's all yours, Miss Yoo," you answer, her smile widening noticeably as she slips her backpack off and sits down. In her hands is her passport, boarding pass, a Nintendo Switch, her phone, wireless headphones, assorted snacks, and a jumble of cables that immediately begins to unravel - she was beautiful and a genius, but still a bit of a mess, as always.

 "So how badly do you want to lose at Mario Kart, boss?" she asks as she finally manages to unravel her headphone wires. 

 "Big talk for someone who lost at Street Fighter a few nights ago," you retort, referring to the ancient Street Fighter II arcade machine you two had found at the resort's bar and spent more than a few hours duelling over.

 "We've been over this - I'm a Urien main, and he's not in SF until Second Impact. SF II came out five years before I was even born. It's ancient. There aren't even any supers."

 "Blah blah blah, Urien, boo hoo. Just hold that L, Jeongyeon."

 The IT expert scrunches her nose and her eyes turn into angry slits. If it were an anime you'd see the fire of her fighting spirit emanating from her small form.

 "I'll be sure to wave at you in my rear view mirror," she snaps as she sets up the Switch on the tray table in front of you and tosses a Switch controller, with a good amount of force, into your crotch.

 "The only time you'll be seeing me in your rear view mirror is when I'm getting close to lapping you."

 "I suppose I could let you get close to lapping me - that should give you enough of a head start to make it fair."

 "Speaking of head, maybe you-"

 "Excuse me," comes a pleasant female voice that jars you both from your verbal sparring, "we are preparing for takeoff. Please stow away your electronics and return your tray to the upright position."

 You both look up to see the flight attendant standing in the aisle, a polite but stern look on her face as she gestures towards Jeongyeon's Switch on the tray table. You are momentarily taken aback by how gorgeous the flight attendant was, with her tall, fit body and beautiful features - she looked a bit like a K-pop idol that was doing a flight attendant concept. Judging by Jeongyeon's reaction, it seemed she was just as taken by the beauty of the tall woman waiting, patiently, for her to put her stuff away.

 "Sorry," Jeongyeon mutters sheepishly, as she packs away the various things into her backpack. You both give the flight attendant a smile of apology that appears to satisfy her, and she continues on down the aisle to check on the other passengers.

 "Your demise will have to wait until we are forty thousand feet into the air," Jeongyeon hisses as she packs away her Switch, "but you can be thankful for it, because up there you won't have anyone bear witness to your horrific defeat."

 "That's funny, because up there we'll be closer to my tier of Mario Kart skills. That is to say, god-tier."

 "God-Tier?" Jeongyeon says with a scoff, "more like-"

 Her words are drowned out by the rising roar of the jet engines spooling up, and you both smirk at each other as you settle back in your seats to prepare for takeoff. 

 Just before you look away you witness Jeongyeon's smirk turn into a soft smile as she looks down and plays with her hands, a soft blush on her cheeks. It takes you another moment to realize that same smile is mirrored on your own lips.

 ---

 "It was delicious, thank you."

 "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it," the flight attendant says with a smile as she takes your finished food tray - a smile that you find, involuntarily, returning with one of your own.

 "It was delicious, thank you," Jeongyeon imitates once the flight attendant is a few rows away, a mocking look on her face.

 "In my defense, it was delicious. Also, she's gorgeous."

 Jeongyeon glances over to where the flight attendant is continuing to collect food trays, a few rows down. 

 "Maybe," she admits with some reluctance, "I guess she's cute and works out or something, if that ass is any indication."

 You smile at the look on Jeongyeon's face - she was cute when she was jealous.

 "Are you jealous, Yoo Jeongyeon?"

 "Of that? Hmph. I mean, she's got a nice bod. And she's pretty."

 "But?"

 "But... I'm prettier."

 "Oh yeah?"

 "Yeah. Also, I bet she's a boring lay."

 Your smirk deepens at the sudden suggestiveness Jeongyeon has inserted into the conversation.

 "And what makes you think that?"

 "I dunno, just something about her. I bet she just lies there and doesn't move."

 "Is that so?" you ask, leaning towards her seat so you are closer to her. Jeongyeon reciprocates, and leans towards you, bringing her lips to your ear.

 "I bet she can't fuck like I do," she whispers.

 You are momentarily taken aback by Jeongyeon's forthrightness, and you didn't know exactly where she was going with this, but you were definitely interested in finding out.

 "Yoo Jeongyeon, we're in a plane with dozens of other people," you whisper back in a faux warning, not at all intending to convince her to stop.

 "You're right, I guess we can't do anything here," she admits. There is a mischievous look in her eyes as she bends down and picks up the folded blanket that the airline had left on her seat. She unfolds it and spreads it so that it covers both of your laps.

 "I guess you'll just have to use your imagination," she says once more into your ear, her words dripping now with lust.

 Underneath the blanket, she reaches over to your lap and begins to undo your belt.

 You want to say something suggestive and cool and cocky, but you were left shocked by her aggressiveness, and was more than willing to let her do whatever it was she was planning.

 Jeongyeon brings her mouth to your ear once more, that naughty smile still written all over those wonderful lips of hers.

 "I wonder what I'd look like in that flight attendant uniform," she says as she finally gets your belt undone and zipper down.

 "Yeah? I bet you'd look great in it."

 "I totally would. I bet you'd love how tight it would fit on me. How nice my legs would look in that short skirt. Maybe I wouldn't wear anything underneath it," she says, her right hand now in your shorts, working your cock to full hardness over your boxers, her slim fingers stroking the length of your shaft, jerking it up and down as best she could.

 "Fuck," you hiss, hoping that the people in the seats in front of you didn't hear.

 "I'd take care of anything you need on your flight, boss," Jeongyeon continues as she slips your boxers down past your shaft, freeing it finally from your clothes, "And I'd be willing to do anything to make sure you're comfortable."

 You shift your hips, trying your best to allow Jeongyeon full access to your cock beneath the blanket. The pleasure she was building in your body was rising steadily, and you close your eyes in an attempt to slow it down and savor each moment.

 "I'd make sure you had whatever drink you wanted. But then again, maybe it'd be me that would be thirsty. Maybe I'd want a drink too...Do you.. Do you think you’d have a drink for me, boss?"

 "God," you hiss, the word leaving your mouth involuntarily as Jeongyeon continues to jerk your cock with her slim hand, her fingers wrapped around your shaft, pumping it up and down, twisting her grip to create even more friction. Her hand leaves your cock for a moment as she brings it to her mouth, where you hear her spit into her palm - when her palm returns to your shaft the lubrication of her spit drives you wild.

 "Imagine me down on my knees in front of you, boss, your cock out of your pants... and in my mouth... Imagine me sucking it, swirling my tongue around your head, sucking your big, hard cock with my hot, wet mouth..."

 The pleasure is becoming unbearable now, and you squirm uncomfortably, your hands gripping the armrests tightly.

 "But I wouldn't be satisfied with just a blowjob - and neither would you. I'd want more."

 "Really... Jeongyeon?" you whisper back, almost unable to form a sentence, "and what more would you want?"

 "Your cock in my pussy," Jeongyeon hisses back, her voice utterly dripping now with lust and need, her own hips and waist squirming in her seat. You look over to her and notice that her left hand has disappeared beneath the blanket as well, and the movement in the blanket where her crotch would be tells you all you need to know with what she is doing with it.

 "I'd pull up that tight little flight attendant skirt and ride you right here," she hisses, her words becoming a little more impatient, a little more needy with each syllable as her hands pleasure herself, "Imagine how wet I'd be."

 "You'd be so wet," you answer, barely able to form the words. All this time, Jeongyeon hasn't stopped pumping your shaft, her rhythm getting slightly faster now as she matches the rhythm of her wrist with the fingers that were likely slipping in and out of her own body.

 "You'd be so big inside me," she hisses, "mmm.... oh! fuck... and you'd make me wet... so fucking wet..."

 "Oh yeah?"

 "Yeah... oh god, you'd be so big inside me... so big and thick... filling me up.... filling me up with your cock... as I ride you up and down... Imagine... imagine you tearing my jacket and shirt open while I ride you... and sucking... sucking on my tits."

 "Fuck, Jeongyeon."

 "Yeah... fuck, boss. I'd cum... I'd cum... cum on your cock."

 "Cum for me, Jeongyeon. Cum for me..."

 "Oh god... fuck... I'm gonna cum... I'm gonna cum... Oh god... I'm cumming!"

 You watch as Jeongyeon spasms in her seat, her lust drunk eyes locked totally on yours as she tries her best to control the pleasure that is coursing throughout her tight, slim body. Her eyes, those large, round eyes of hers, are absolutely enthralling, so full with lust and drunk with passion as her orgasm tides over her. She tries, mostly in vain, to keep her body in control, but her best efforts fail, and she is shaking and squirming uncontrollably, a quivering, hot mess in her plane seat.

 Her hand tightens on your cock, almost painfully, but she quickly regains her senses, and slowly, carefully begins to pump it again, even as she breathes heavily in an attempt to catch her breath.

 "Imagine... imagine me turning around.. and letting you fuck me from behind over these seats," she says, her words breathless, the words of a tired, exhausted young woman still recovering fro a powerful orgasm.

 "I'd fuck you so hard, bend you over these seats and have my way with you," you hiss.

 "And I'd let you... and I'd love it," she answers back, her lips leaving your ear for a moment to make eye contact with you. There is a fierceness, a challenge in her eyes, as though she were daring you to maintain your composure, daring you to keep from cumming.

 "Imagine how wet and tight I'd be after I cum," she says, returning her lips to your ear, "imagine me moaning and shouting your name while you take me and fuck me and ravage me. I want you… I want you to use me, fuck my pussy like you own it… like you own me..."

 "Oh god, Jeongyeon, I'm close."

 "Are you, boss? Are you close to cumming? Do you want me to squeeze you inside me, really make you feel how tight and wet I am for you? Are you imagining yourself fucking me, gripping my hips while you fuck my tight, wet little pussy?" She raises her pace slightly, her hand pumping up and down the entire length of your shaft now, her thumb grazing over your weeping head, trying to pull each and every ounce of pleasure out of your body.

 "Fuck, Jeongyeon-"

 "You can cum inside me later, and fill my body with your cum. But right now," Jeongyeon says, still jerking your cock with each word and bringing you to the precipice, "I want it in my mouth."

 Jeongyeon pulls the blanket away from your lap, revealing your cock, slick with your pre-cum and her spit, and her small hand wrapped around it. She leans over and bends towards it, and you could do nothing but let your head fall back in pleasure as she takes your shaft into her mouth, her tongue swirling mercilessly around your sensitive head. 

 You could hold it no longer - not with Jeongyeon's incessant teasing, not with her dirty words, not with her slim hand pumping your shaft up and down - and certainly not with her mouth, lips, and that amazing tongue on your cock.

 You grip the back of her head, pulling it down to the base of your cock - you drive your hips upwards as much as you could given your sitting position, and you feel the tip of your shaft touch the back of her throat as you finally cum, sending thick, hot semen into Yoo Jeongyeon's wet, hot, willing mouth.

 It feels like hours, the pleasure addling your mind ruining your sense of time. All you feel is the pulsing of your shaft as it sends stream after stream of cum into Jeongyeon's throat as the pleasure and warmth emanating from your crotch radiates throughout the rest of your body.

 Some indeterminate amount of time later, Jeongyeon finally raises her head from your crotch, and you quickly cover yourself with the blanket as you remember that you were in the back of a fully loaded plane full of your colleagues. As she raises her head Jeongyeon locks eyes with you, and you watch her lust drunk eyes as she swallows the load that is ballooning her cheeks. Her throat works slowly as she gulps down each drop of semen, her face so utterly sexy, utterly lusty as she does so. 

 Jeongyeon's left hand emerges from beneath the blanket as well, her fingertips glistening. She brings it to your mouth, and you lick them clean.

 "You should get a taste too," she says as you finish licking her juices from her fingers.

 "Fuck, Jeongyeon, that was-"

 "It's not over yet," she whispers once more into your ear.

 "No?"

 "No. Because the second we get to our hotel, you're going to fuck me."

 ---

 There was a lot to admire in the scene - the way the sunlight filtered in through the horizontal window blinds, painting shades of gold and yellow and red on the white sheets and the pale, perfect vanilla skin of Yoo Jeongyeon’s back as she sat facing away from you on the bed, the covers drawn up around her chest. 

 You couldn’t help but reach out and touch her, enjoying the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath your fingertips and the sound of the soft purr that escapes her lips.

 Jeongyeon kept to her word on the plane - not even an hour since you’d reached your hotel in Seoul she’d pounced on you like a cat, having somehow found a neckerchief, jacket and skirt that was enough to pass for a flight attendant costume. You’d guessed that her interest in cosplay and roleplay had served her well in sourcing the necessary clothing items in such a short timeframe.

 The sex was amazing, as it always was with her. She didn’t have the most amazing body - that was probably Momo or Sana. She wasn’t the best in bed - that was probably Seolhyun or Tzuyu. What Jeongyeon had was a passion for you that made each time with her so meaningful, so intensely full of care and emotion.

 She had started riding you, just as she had suggested when she was giving you that handjob on the plane, but after her orgasm you quickly turned her onto her back, which you knew was her favorite position. She loved feeling you on top of her, loved feeling your weight on her body and wrapping those long, gorgeous legs of hers around you as you pumped in and out of her wet heat and filled her with hot, warm cum - it made her feel safe, and warm, and loved.

 Jeongyeon straightens her spine and turns her head a little as your fingers trace a light path down her back, a tender smile on her lips.

 “That feels good,” she says softly.

 “Good,” you answer. The light plays with her hair, turning it into woven gold.

 “It was pretty damn good,” she says, referring of course to your last session.

 “Definitely.”

 “I…”

 Jeongyeon pauses mid sentence, as though she were weighing carefully her next words.

 “I…” she continues, “I have another costume to wear for you.”

 You perk up at the thought. She was insatiable.

 “And what costume might that be?”

 The girl lets a thoughtful look appear on her face. Her fingers play nervously with the bed covers next to her, as though she could find the answers she needed in the white cotton. You get the impression that she is weighing each word of her next sentence in her mind, gathering up the courage to speak them.

 “I’d wear whatever costume let you see me as more than just a co-worker.”

 Her words don’t take you entirely by surprise - she’d already confessed her feelings to you in Hawaii - or at least, she had heavily implied as such. But to hear her say the words out loud still hit you harder than you were expecting.

 “Jeongyeon… I…”

 “I know, boss, I know - you’re with Momo. And… And I want you to know that I would never in a million years intentionally break you up. But I… I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you how I felt about you.”

 Your hand falls away from her back; not that you were upset at her confession, or at her for telling you how she felt - rather, you were frustrated at the entire situation, the quirks of fate that left you with women who felt for you, but had somehow chosen the wrong time to do so.

 You sit up in bed, and rub your forehead in an attempt to clear your mind.

 “I’m sorry, boss. I know… this probably isn’t the best time.”

 You turn and face Jeongyeon, and you want to comfort her, her body looking suddenly very small as she sits there, half-wrapped in bedsheets, her long dark hair losing a little bit of its glow as she turns to look at you and the sun changes its angle. 

 “It’s not that, Jeongyeon. I… I just have a lot on my mind.”

 “I know. I’m sorry,” she says, even though you knew she didn’t have to apologize for anything at all.

 “I…  I should go.”

 You sit up and get off the bed, searching for and finding the shorts and t-shirt Jeongyeon had taken off you and thrown onto the floor not even a few hours before.

 “Boss… I… I’m sorry. I don’t want things to be weird-”

 “They won’t be,” you answer, “I just… I just need some time to think about things.”

 A few seconds pass by like hours as you look for your phone, finding it on the floor a few feet away. When you look up at Jeongyeon again, she has drawn her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, as though protecting herself from the harm that might come from the question she was about to ask.

 “Will you… will you go to her?” she asks, referring without names to Momo.

 “I… no. I just need some time alone.”

 “I… I’ll wait for you,” Jeongyeon says softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she raises her head to look into your eyes, “I’d wait as long as it took.”

 You force a weak smile onto your lips, Jeongyeon’s sad, soft eyes hitting your emotions hard. With heavy steps, you turn away from her and leave the hotel room.

 ---

 “Did she do that thing with her hips? That thing you like? I told her to do that. Yeah, you’re welcome,” Hirai Momo says with a sly look on her face as she pops another french fry into her mouth.

 You sat opposite her on the couch in her hotel room, forcing a smile onto your face in response as you try to focus on the dinner you two had ordered via room service.

 “She did. And it was great,” you admit.

 “So? What’s so important that you wanted dinner? I thought Jeongyeon would’ve tired you out, on top of the jet lag from the flight,” Momo says, oblivious and aloof as she takes a bite of her  burger. She wipes some stray ketchup from the corner of her mouth, and you find yourself thinking that small little gesture would’ve been infinitely adorable had your mind not been so heavy with the weight of what you were about to tell her.

 You steel yourself for what you are about to say.

 “Momo… you told me… you told me when we first started going out that I should let you know… when… when feelings get involved.”

 Momo pauses, mid bite of her burger. She places it back on the tray, chewing slowly and wiping her hands with a napkin. She shakes her head a little, as though trying to digest what you had just said.

 “So… wait… Jeongyeon… you?”

 “No… I mean, yes. Well… on her end. I think… I know… Jeongyeon has feelings for me.”

 Momo is visibly taken aback by your words and the revelation of Jeongyeon’s feelings. Evidently she had no idea that the tech specialist had felt that way.

 “Do you… do you have feelings… for her?”

 “I… Momo… I…”

 Momo raises a hand to her mouth as if to cover her shock.

 “You… you have feelings for her,” she says out loud, as though she thought hearing them would help her believe them.

 “I… I don’t. At least, I don’t think so-”

 “Then you can’t see her again. Kick her off the team. You’re the boss. Transfer her,” Momo says abruptly, her face suddenly serious, suddenly composed of a mix of confusion and anger and jealousy and hate.

 “Momo, you know I can’t-”

 “Yes, you can! This is your team. You run it. You can…��

 Tears are welling up in her eyes now.

 “Momo…”

 Momo rises up off the sofa and faces the window. She was usually so strong, so tough, but there is a smallness in her now, and she is visibly shaking, trembling, as though she were struggling to process all that had happened in the past few minutes.

 “I always thought it would be Sana that would take you away from me,” she says, her words and tone quivering and shaking, as though she were struggling to piece together the syllables, “I never thought it would be Jeongyeon.”

 “Momo,” you begin, “it’s not Jeongyeon. It’s just… with you… and Sana, and Jeongyeon, and…”

 Silence reigns. There is one more name to add to the list, but you somehow find the strength to keep from saying it.

 “I just need…. I need some time to figure things out. With all this… and finding Irene… it’s… it’s a lot to handle. I need… I need to figure myself out.”

 Momo quivers a little, and you want to go over there and wrap your arms around her, but your limbs fail you - there is no energy, no will, to be found anywhere inside your body. You curse yourself for throwing this on her without warning. For all she knew her boyfriend just wanted to have dinner together and share a quiet night; she had no idea, no warning that this night would be so heavy. You are shaken, and shocked, that things had come to this.

 “So what… what happens to us?” Momo asks, as she tries and fails to compose herself.

 “We… I don’t know.”

 The seconds pass like hours as you sit there, watching, paralyzed, as Momo stands against the hotel window. When she speaks, she speaks as though she has a dry throat, the words a harsh hiss as they leave her mouth.

 “I… I want a transfer off your team.”

 The words strike you with the force of a train - Momo had been on your team since you started at JYP all those years ago, and to imagine a day without her seemed incomprehensible. But she was right - you both needed some time apart from each other, and with you leading the team in Seoul and the pursuit of Irene, it made more sense for her to transfer.

 “I… I’ll put in the paperwork.”

 There is a slight nod in her head, the barest of acknowledgement.

 You rise from the sofa and begin to walk towards the door.

 “I loved you.”

 Her words hit you as you reach the door, your hand on the knob. Her voice is sad, each word so heavy with thought and memory, of happy days and passionate nights, of laughs shared and challenges overcome.

 You are unable to lie - the thought of deceiving her does not even cross your mind.

 “I loved you too.”

 “When you figure yourself out… I hope… I hope you come back to me.”

 You turn the doorknob, and you leave just as you hear Hirai Momo finally break down into tears that would not leave until the sun rose the next day.

 ---

 Author’s Note: :(

[3laxx]

When the Dream ends - Chapter 3

Luz and Amity have a sleepover and Boscha has a breakdown

TRIGGER WARNING - BLOOD - INJURY - PANIC ATTACK

For everyone who is easily triggered by panic or panic attacks, I recommend not reading any further than the Lumity part of this chapter. You won't need the entire Boscha part, just know she's incredibly distraught and has a lot of confusing emotions about fault and making up for it. She has a full-blown panic attack (actually I wrote myself into one thanks to this) and I recommend continuing on your own responsibility. There will be more on Boscha's state and her feelings on the situation in a calmer and safer scene later on. You won't miss anything if you skip this part. A lot of it was already mentioned in the actual scene of the accident and Amity's nightmare. Boscha's feelings will resurface later on and you will know how she feels in future chapters if you don't feel comfortable reading panic attacks with physical reactions.

I'M SERIOUS. ONLY READ IF YOU FEEL ABSOLUTELY SURE, THERE'S NO SHAME IN NOT READING IT.

Ao3 / FF.net

---

It still took Luz a few days to walk by herself again and she hated every second.

Well, not the seconds when Eda and King were visiting. And she loved every second Amity spent with her. And she also enjoyed all the seconds while Willow and Gus were visiting.

Skara, Cat, and Amelia had also paid her a visit and Luz had enjoyed having them all over. They were gentle and careful around her and even helped her get up once to get some snacks from down the hall, even if Amity had protested them carrying Luz.

In the end, it had been a lot of fun though, and they had giggled all the while two of them carried her to the vending machine and two carried her back by interlocking their hands and having Luz sit on them while wrapping her arms around their necks.

Amity had helped to carry her back and Luz had grinned at her constantly, knowing the girl had needed to warm up to her old friends showing up and not being bullies.

Viney, Jerbo, and Barcus had also shown up for a short visit, and Luz and Amity had coincidentally invited over Edric and Emira at the same time, giggling to themselves when Emira had started flirting with the unamused Viney until she had shot back a flirty line only to leave Emira a hot mess.

So, she guessed she didn’t hate every single second of it.

But the walking, the slow progress, and the lonely nights had been horrible.

When she had finally gotten the permission to leave, she had celebrated, even if Eda had put her under strict supervision over the weekend before letting her back to Hexside. She didn’t mind, though.

Strict supervision usually meant games, snacks, and movies, and having friends over once Eda had to get some stuff, run her business of human phenomena or do undisclosed business at undisclosed places.

So, Luz was super happy to be back in the Owl House over the weekend, naturally. With Eda’s permission, she had quickly invited Amity, Willow, and Gus over, but Willow and Gus had other things on their schedule – something about a forgotten homework and some tunnel Gus was babbling about, even if Luz had thought his tunnel underneath Hexside had already been finished.

Having Amity over was really cool, too. Especially since Eda had already announced she’d be out this evening, so she was looking forward to watching a movie and spending the evening with Amity.

 ---

“So, what do you wanna watch?”, Luz began, already grinning at Amity. The girl just shrugged at that, a small smile on her lips. “Your descriptions were a little-… Enthusiastic. Why don’t we just watch something you wanna watch?”

Luz grimaced at that and then pouted at Amity, causing her to chuckle.

“But I like all of these movies! Giving me the choice would break me!”

Amity immediately pointed at a random cover then, her eyes blown wide. She absolutely didn’t want Luz to break over something like this. The girl laughed.

“Okay, that one. That’s the super cute romance!”

Amity suppressed a sigh. Well, this was going to be easy, right?

She only had to make it through 2 hours of two characters getting together, kissing, building up chemistry, without projecting it onto her and Luz.

Already flushing, Amity pressed herself into the backrest and pulled up the blanket while Luz prepared the movie on her magic box, before returning to the couch as well with quite some effort and sitting close to Amity, close enough so she could steal the other half of Amity blanket.

Yelping, she tried hiding her face, then she looked up.

“… Is that too warm for you?”, the teenager asked her, obviously referring to Amity’s red face, but she quickly shook her head while the movie began, trying a smile.

“N-No! I like that.”

Luz smiled and grabbed the snack box, putting it between their thighs on top of the blanket, then the first scene started playing. A short-haired girl introduced herself, and the human world she was living in, before saying she was different than all the others. She was a lesbian.

Immediately, Amity suppressed rolling her eyes.

Suited her right that she had to pick the gay movie.

Luz already giggled at the introduction, then she turned to Amity, way closer than she had expected, making her blush. She was just glad the lights were dimmed now.

“That’s so cliché. I like this movie, but it stays as shallow with the LGBTQ community throughout.”

Amity tried controlling her blazing face.

“Wh-What do you mean?”

Luz shrugged at that, leaning back again and Amity felt herself relaxing, thankfully, “You know, all the drama about it. In movies like these, it’s a huge deal to be gay, and it’s either the scared, closeted character or the over-the-top gay who acts extra. There’s so much more to LGBTQ than that. I was actually quite glad that homosexuality isn’t as big a deal on the Boiling Isles as it is in the human realm. I don’t think it’s even recognized as different here, is it?”

Amity furrowed her eyebrows at that.

“It’s a problem to like the same gender in the human realm?”

For a few minutes, Luz watched the movie when the introduction was over and the story began, then she sighed and shrugged.

“That’s a topic for another time, I suppose.”, she finally said and Amity softly took her hand. Something in Luz’s words sounded heavy, clouded by something that must’ve happened. Pressing pause, Luz looked over to Amity and she slanted her lips.

“Are you sure?”, she finally asked and the human hummed, then she nodded.

“Yes. Don’t worry, I never had problems with that, because my mother is really open-minded and nobody else knew I was bi. But for many others, it’s a huge problem. It’s even a crime to be gay in some places. You’ll see what’s about it in that movie. Let’s just watch?”

Despite the worrying information about the human realm, Amity couldn’t help but replay that one thing Luz had said all over again in her head, even when the movie started picking up and the story got interesting.

She had hoped that Luz was interested in the same gender as well, even if she hadn’t really minded because, in her home, the different sexualities didn’t really matter. But hearing Luz confirming that she wasn’t straight was a relief, almost.

The longer the movie carried on, with the main character starting to chat with another gay girl online, getting problems keeping their sexuality a secret, and finally, everyone turning away from her when it came out. Amity followed the movie wide-eyed, learning how problematic it apparently was in the human realm, while Luz’s head got heavier and heavier.

She still couldn’t concentrate long on something, partly because of her ADHD but also because of the accident. Her mind needed rest.

When it finally got too much, her head dropped on Amity’s shoulder and she finally relaxed. With her head secured, she adjusted the rest of her body now, wrapping one arm across her lap, then she smiled softly and dozed off.

She couldn’t even notice Amity freezing up and blushing furiously again. And she didn’t see Amity’s eyes widening, or her heart skipping a beat. Sleep had taken her fully, leaving Amity to finish the movie by herself. Even if she found the story compelling, though, she couldn’t exactly concentrate anymore once Luz had fallen asleep on her.

Deciding to finish the movie on her own, Amity just settled against her and smiled softly. This was very nice. And before she knew it, she had fallen asleep as well.

 ---

Finally, it was the weekend and Boscha could be home again.

Away from the curious eyes, away from people asking her how she was, what happened and how Luz was doing. She had mostly relied on her friends to keep her out of the crossfire, something Amelia, Skara, and Cat had more than gladly done, but it had only helped so much. Every single gaze, every single question, reduced her to what had happened about ten days ago. And every single time it brought her back to these moments, minutes, she had spent kneeling in the human’s blood and trying to keep her alive.

Her parents, mostly her father, had been understanding enough to schedule her some emergency therapy sessions, and allowed her to stay out of school for a few days. While the therapy sessions had definitely helped, and she had been able to convince her parents she’d need them for a bit longer, she still felt as though this incident followed her every step.

When she looked out the window to see the forest, when she lied down to sleep, when she got up and when she ate. Throughout her whole day, the memories followed her, bothered her, taunted her.

She had injured Luz this way. She had thrown that ball, and her teammates had tried stopping her. She was at fault, she could’ve had this never happen. She should’ve stopped.

Tiredly, Boscha crawled under her sheets and buried her face in the pillow. This was unbearable.

Injuring another witch like that had never made her feel so guilty. Probably mostly because witches were more durable than humans. They could get back up, their injuries healed faster.

Seeing the human knocked out like this, seeing her bleeding out and dying, had been a rapid change from what Boscha knew.

She knew she had acted right after she had realized what she had done. She knew that she had reacted faster than all of them and that she had done the right thing, giving everyone tasks, avoiding them to slip into shock right there and freeze up. She had done the right thing.

That still didn’t excuse that she had done the wrong thing before. That didn’t make anything better, except that Luz was still alive, and well, as Amity had told her. It didn’t make her suffering better. It didn’t make it easier that she would have to adjust and live with what she had done.

Once again, her eyes burned and she growled. She had been crying a lot these days, something she hadn’t done before. She’d also had a lot of nightmares. Nightmares of the human dying, of everyone blaming Boscha.

She had shot up in bed in a cold sweat and cried, cried all night long until she had fallen asleep for the next nightmare again.

But she couldn’t face Luz yet. She couldn’t face her.

In her memories she was always so grey, surrounded by red, and draining of life. She was so weak and helpless and completely at Boscha’s mercy. Boscha liked bossing people around but, never like this. At her mercy, not responding. Still.

She gulped again.

The human’s soft, raspy breaths when she had leaned down to check for it.

Closing her eyes, Boscha groaned again and shook her head. She had never anticipated this, she had never wanted this. And now she was feeling so sick, so twisted. She had done the wrong thing, then the right, and she felt so guilty for both.

By the first throw, she should’ve already known the human wasn’t playing. She should’ve known the human was in real danger at the very moment she had seen the fear flashing in her eyes. But she hadn’t reacted to that, even liked the fear. Because she never would’ve thought something would actually happen. Nothing had happened to Luz before. Nothing would happen to them, they were just teens, right?

And then it had happened. The sickening crack still shook Boscha to her core. The ball leaving her hand and the crack that had followed when she had crushed Luz’s skull against the stone. The flashbacks were coming again and Boscha curled up under her blanket, baring her teeth.

When the human had been thrown back, her eyes rolling upwards and her torso collapsing in itself as the spine was turned to cracked pebbles. She winced.

Then the blood. She hadn’t registered how the wound looked like at first, but the more her shock faded, the more her brain gave her all the details she had burned into her memories by accident. When she had run over and remembered faintly not to damage Luz’s spine more. When, for a super scary second, her hands had hovered helplessly and she had done nothing.

She still dreaded that moment. It couldn’t have been longer than the blink of an eye but her memory stretched it to hours, unmoving, terrifying hours of dread while she stared down at the broken human, hearing her rasping breaths and letting the shock take over her.

And then that moment ended. When she snapped into action.

Her fingers reaching down finally, feeling as though she had just cracked a cover of ice over her skin when she moved, breaking free of her frozen state. The soft pulse, so weak and fragile, underneath her fingertips, her skin getting slick with the warm blood spilling from the human.

She remembered faintly how her grandmother, as strict as she had been, had been baking with her once. Her grandmother hadn’t taken any shit. Especially not from the spoiled five-year-old brat who hadn’t wanted to knead the dough or do the dishes by hand. She remembered her stepping behind the child and folding up her sleeves, before grabbing her hands and forcing them down into the sticky goo. Telling her, “When you work in the kitchen, you don’t use your fingertips and keep your hands clean. You can wash them after. Now knead it properly, child.”

She had done the same with Luz. Not fearing the blood getting on her, not fearing her hands getting dirty. She had just jumped to action, done the right thing, not minded any blood no matter how thick and slimy and warm it had felt on her hands. As if it was holding onto the skin by which it had been trapped before, begging for a way back in.

Luz had been facing down on the ground, and she would never forget the kind of awkward angle her spine had been in. Even in this lying position, she had seen the dangerous injury she had given the human.

Her eyes had flitted from her back to her fingers on her neck, then up to the back of her head. Where the laceration of the hit was. Boscha felt herself getting sick while her body started shivering uncontrollably.

The wound had been horrifying. She hadn’t paid attention to the details when she had been in the situation, but her mind would never forget. How the hair had been flattened down and dampened by red blood, how it had darkened her hair and flowed down her neck, down her back underneath her uniform, and down the sides of her face. The exposed flesh, something hard and red and-… Dark sitting underneath the pulled-back skin. The cracked skull.

Boscha convulsed, then she pressed a hand to her mouth while a pathetic whimper escaped her throat. She had done this. She had thrown the ball that had the speed to split open skin, crack bones. She heaved, then she finally got up to stumble to her bathroom that was attached to her room, and threw up in the toilet.

She would never forget how it moved. How she watched the wound oozing, how she had watched the skin moving with every slight movement of the human.

And the worst had been that, while Luz had been knocked out completely, her eyes had been half-open. She had seen the pain on the human’s face, the whites of her eyes, and the flitting iris sometimes coming into view when her eyes rolled.

Her knees had been damp, she could still feel it while kneeling in front of the toilet. She mistook the cold tiles beneath her knees as wetness, she was sure. But when she looked down, there was red.

Immediately, her eyes watered, and her torso convulsed again, forcing her to heave on an empty stomach. The blood-soaked pajamas climbed up her legs, and she remembered how her clothes stuck to her after that. No matter how much she had scrubbed when she had gotten home, she would never get rid of the iron smell, or the slight, faint coloring of a darker shade, of the dried, edges of the blood on her pink skin.

Desperately gripping the toilet seat, she leaned the side of her face against the edge and sobbed.

She still remembered how warm her forehead had felt when she had checked for Luz’s breathing. She still knew how it had felt, leaning over the human, pressing her forehead into the pool of blood, and feeling her hair getting dampened by the liquid.

She still remembered the raspy breaths, the heaving, and the blood sticking to her hair and face and getting everywhere. She could still feel the cold air hitting her blood-soaked skin when she had leaned back to bark more instructions, and checked Luz’s pulse again. The droplets out of her hair, running down her head, around her ears, down her temples and nose, getting in her eyes and mouth and tasting like iron.

She faintly remembered not wiping it away.

And Amity’s screaming. Her insults, the despair. Titan, the love from that girl. Boscha was glad she had instructed Amelia to trap her in a cage. But that hadn’t made her screams easier to bear, her screams that had morphed into the voice inside Boscha’s head that had been pestering her ever since that accident had started sinking in.

Finally, when they had turned Luz around and Boscha had done her best not to look at the wound, the skull moving when they moved her, her breaths coming to a stop. The sudden silence after the raspy, uneven breaths.

She had leaned down and listened and had heard it, heard Luz’s last breath in another reality, had she not started CPR. She was just glad she was on the grudgby team and everyone suspected harsh injuries in that sport.

It was completely uncommon in the demon realm to perform CPR because either the body of a witch or demon was fast enough to recover or there simply wasn’t enough left to perform CPR on. Boscha was one of the few people in the school, including some teachers, the healing track students, and the grudgby players to even know that practice.

It had been deafening.

Even tuning out Amity’s screams and sobs, and her own intrusive thoughts.

The sudden break had shocked Boscha more than she had anticipated. She only knew breathing. She had known it when her father had held her as a child, she had known it with her sister, and her friends sleeping over and breathing in their sheets while Boscha had lied awake. She had known breathing from Amity, from her panic attacks when they had gotten older, the hyperventilation, and the quickening breaths she had let out. She knew it from Amity when they curled up together, seeking each other’s comfort in their mothers’ competition. She had known breathing in her first kiss, and in the silence of a classroom during an exam. There was always breathing around her.

Hell, some houses in the Boiling Isles were breathing.

And yet, Luz had stopped.

It had been unnerving, understanding that the human had just stopped breathing. Her brain wouldn’t work it out until way later, in the situation she had known it was bad and had known what to do.

But now that she was pushing away from the toilet and leaning against the wall next to it, crying and sobbing hysterically into her arms?

She understood what it had meant, beyond bad.

It had meant Luz had just been moments from her death. She doesn’t think anyone but Skara, who had heard it, too, knew what that had meant. Willow had only sat on Luz’s feet and heard and understood what Boscha had said, but she hadn’t watched the sudden drainage of life from Luz’s face, she hadn’t noticed the forced lifting and sinking of her chest stopping under her hand and she hadn’t heard her last breath.

She hadn’t felt the pulse under Boscha’s fingertips weakening, hiccupping, stopping. Then restarting, before stilling again.

But Boscha had, Boscha had felt and heard and noticed it all, and she had realized what that had meant. Someone had jokingly told her once, that the soul of a being left its vessel with the last breath. Boscha had seen Luz’s last breath, she had seen the life fleeting from her body so fast that she had been scared that she wouldn’t be fast enough.

Letting out a feral scream, Boscha buried her head on her knees and clamped her arms over her head. The world vanished in static when the panic attack took full hold of her now. Her fingertips were uncomfortably pulsing and itching under her skin, mockingly, reliving the feeling of Luz’s pulse getting too weak for her to feel anymore, reminding her of the sudden lack of life.

She knew Luz hadn’t died at that moment, she knew it took a moment still, but it had certainly felt like it.

Her socks kicked against the floor in a desperate attempt to make herself smaller, press her back harder against the tiled wall, and the itching in her fingertips spread to her knuckles, to her palms and wrist, and down her lower arms. Suddenly, she had to get the sleeves off. Ripping her arms off her head, she tried rolling her sleeves up in unpracticed, frantic movements, starting to scratch her skin to get rid of the uncomfortable itching, but it wouldn’t stop. The blood was soaking her skin, the red was crawling up and the itching got worse until she finally ripped her shirt off and started rubbing over her arms, up and down and not noticing that she scrubbed it sore, turning it red, much lighter than the human’s blood.

How the wound on the back of Luz’s head hadn’t stopped bleeding, and how wet it had sounded, Luz’s head rolling around despite Skara’s grip on her to keep her crushed spine straight enough for Boscha to perform CPR. How stupid Boscha had been not to cover the wound. Had she even been supposed to? She didn’t even know now.

Another scream ripped through her throat and she squinted her eyes, biting her teeth together so hard it hurt, while her arms were still working over her biceps, shoulders, and whatever she could reach of her back. She saw the human convulsing, her belly rising and falling with each violent push she had given her chest, compressing the air that was left. As if she was breathing but not quite.

How stale and like iron her lips had tasted when she had blown air into her mouth, hoping so badly that she hadn’t suffered a wound in there somewhere so Boscha wouldn’t force blood into her lungs.

Amity’s screams had become one with the voice in her head, screaming at her to do better than what she had done.

And then, nothing anymore.

When Luz had been gone, and the storm in Boscha’s head had calmed down, the static had died out in the silence. Amity’s weak sobs, Willow’s soft reassurances, and Skara’s and Amelia’s shocked breaths, hitching every now and then when they collapsed in emotional and mental exhaustion.

Boscha whimpered and sobbed more, still rubbing over her arms frantically and still trying to push herself further into the wall.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, fast footsteps approaching, and the door to her bathroom flew open. Before she knew what was happening, her mother’s arms were around her and her father kneeled in front of her. His expensive business pants got soaked in blood, so much blood that was covering all the floor, Luz’s blood. Boscha whimpered again, when her mother pulled her in, when her father flushed the toilet and sat down beside her as well, his arms wrapping around her cooling back, keeping her away from the wall just a little at least.

She managed to control her crying and whimpering the best she could, softly sobbing now, and felt her mother’s unruly hair on her neck and her nose in her hair.

Her parents held her close, not even caring that she didn’t have a shirt on, and as soon as she had calmed down a little at least, her father started soaking toilet paper in cold water to soothe her burning skin. She felt her mother chastising him, but he was so helpless, and Boscha didn’t want him to stop. Plus, it did help.

Sighing, she finally relaxed into her mother’s embrace and felt her father softly drying her arms again, then she was coaxed up by him, and led back into her room. She barely felt her mother lifting her arms and covering her with the shirt again. It was on backward, but it wasn’t important.

Her father scooped her up in his arms and started carrying her outside, causing a slight, irritating call from his wife, but he just spoke back in a calm voice before carrying her out. Her head was rested against his chest and she heard his heart beating.

Vaguely opening her eyes, she saw that he was aiming for her parents’ bedroom. Looking behind, she saw her mother closing the door to her room and carrying her blanket, before following them.

This was a privilege she would not pass up. Being able to sleep in her parents’ bed at least for tonight. Her parents believed in independence much like Amity’s, but she knew they had her back if something happened.

And if it left their daughter traumatized, they would move mountains for her. In the caring department, her parents weren’t that bad, even if there was mostly discipline in it, but the loving didn’t come too short in exceptional situations. She supposed this was one.

Her father lowered her down in the middle of the bed and kissed her forehead, before crawling in in his side and getting under his blanket, while wrapping his arm around her waist and keeping her close. Boscha managed an exhausted smile, then she felt a gust of wind, and her blanket sunk down on her before she felt her mother getting into bed as well and adding her arm around Boscha’s waist as well. She knew her mother wasn’t the most affectionate type, but she appreciated the effort she had put in today.

It was much needed.

With her father’s breath deepening, and her mother’s humming, she slowly felt herself getting drowsy and falling asleep. She had a feeling she’d have a nightmare tonight again.

But maybe, just maybe, she’d be exhausted enough not to dream at all.

And maybe the presence of her parents would also help her through this.

---

I will go now and uh. Calm down.

[multisfabulis]

Land’s Trust in Light

Building the Foundation (Chapter 2/6)

Word Count: 4080

The writing process for this chapter went as followed: I meant to start writing this in March, spent all of it stuck in brainrot, began writing and finishing the rough draft over the course of 10 days, and wrote the official version in less than a week. How in the hell I managed to still have something out this month, I have no clue.

I think this is the second most "plotless" chapter of this story, if only because this is meant to build up the friendship between Eric and Ferreth while having the plot be served as an appetizer in the beginning. I say second most, because the next chapter, I believe, will be the one, due to the plot taking a backseat but there is a hint to a future element that will be present in the overarching story so keep a look out for that!

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     Eric knocked on the door before needing to stifle another yawn. It was mid-morning in Thornewind, though he could hardly tell with the immense shadow cast over the town by the mountains. Despite everything being shrouded in almost complete darkness, he saw people setting up shop and beginning their day on his way over to Bris’ place. His memory seemed to be on point today, even with the handicap. Things were already looking to be better than Brinegarde’s visit.

     God, was he tired. Another yawn fell past his lips before he could think to stop it and he felt his eyes droop for just a second. His lack of restful sleep wasn’t from discomfort or a sudden spike of anxiety in the late night. It was simply the matter of being away from home and sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. It’s happened so often by now, it’s become an expectation he’s resigned to. It could be worse; he could be passed out and fall off the stoop of the windmill. Now he could only hope no one noticed his sluggish disposition and draw attention to it.

     The door swung open and he forced himself to stand up straight. He had it drilled into his head to have good posture, which meant no slouching. It’d be rude to appear as someone unbefitting of his station to lords and their attendants. He couldn’t afford to risk losing the alliance because of his sloppiness. Instead of Aissyl being the one to greet him, it was Bris.

     “Good morning!” That woke him up, if his quickening heart was anything to go by. “How’d you sleep last night?”

     “Uh, good morning,” he replied with a nervous laugh. “I slept okay last night, nothing special or anything.”

     The bright grin on Bris’s face dropped and he asked in concern, “Mm, really? You look pretty tired to me.”

     Why was he like an open book? He tried to explain it in a way that didn’t seem pathetic like, “No, I’m fine, really. It’s just, I don’t travel far from home often and I tend to not sleep very well on trips.”

     “We can pick this up tomorrow or another day, if you want.”

     “No, no, it’ll be fine, really! Honestly, I work better when I’m sleep-deprived so I’ll be okay.”

     With a slight grimace, he stepped aside and said, “Well, all right, come on in and let’s get started then.”

     Upon entering, he immediately noticed two things. The first was that one of the chairs he remembered being off to the side yesterday was gone. The other was of a savory aroma wafting around the room, making his mouth water. It emanated from a plate of freshly baked scones sitting on the center of the low table.

     “You’re welcome to try some if you want, Aissyl made ‘em.” He jumped some at Bris’s voice. He must’ve caught him staring.

     “Oh, um, thank you,” he stammered out, flashing him a nervous smile before grabbing a hot scone.

     When was the last time he ate a scone? He knew it had been years and it smelled just like the ones back home. He took a tentative bite and he felt his knees go weak, that’s how delicious it was. He finished off the rest in quick succession, his hunger satiated by a small amount. He forgot to eat breakfast before coming here so having something in his stomach helped wake him up some.

     “I’ll make sure to tell her you enjoyed them.” As he went to grab more, Bris headed inside his office. “Now let’s not waste any more time.”

     Eric followed behind him, warm scones in hand. Just as he thought, the missing chair from the lounge was sitting in front of the desk for him to settle down in. However, there was something different about the desk. A teal tablecloth laid in the center with a dark blue design embroidered in the middle. It was a hexagonal shape with gladiolus flowers crawling up the sides and its petals being blown away by the wind. That must be Thornewind’s emblem, since he remembered seeing similar symbols in Brinegarde and Aurora Zenith. He wondered if the other three towns he planned on visiting at some point had emblems as well.

     Once the scones were eaten, he and Bris began the meeting. He was glad to see the discussion on both sides going much more smoothly than they had between him and Lianthorne. Bris was open to compromise and he spoke in an easy to understand way, which he greatly appreciated. Their talk lasted for a couple or so hours before they agreed on the terms the other man set. With that, Aurora Zenith and Thornewind were now officially allies.

     He glanced towards the window to see the sun shining through the curtains. He must’ve been so engrossed in their discussion, he didn’t notice the darkness giving way to light. Covering his mouth with a hand to let out a yawn, he looked back at Bris and that’s when he saw it.

     His chin was resting against the back of his hand as his eyes seemed fixed on nothing in particular. He was tapping a finger on the surface of the desk as if he were lost in thought over something. This gave Eric a knot of anxiety. Had he committed a mistake that already threw their alliance into jeopardy?

     Before he could open his mouth, Bris looked him in the eye and asked suddenly, “Hey, Eric, would you be willing to hear me out on something?”

     “Um, yeah, what is it?” he replied, hoping his nerves couldn’t be heard in his voice.

     “Well, here’s the thing, I need time to figure out how I’m going to tell you this. It’s something I haven’t really thought out yet and I need to decide on whether or not I’m going to go through with it. When do you plan on leaving?”

     “I-I was thinking in 3 days’ time but I can stay longer if---”

     “No, no, that’s plenty of time, I should have a decision by then. It’s just…” Bris pushed back his hair and exhaled. “This is an important matter I have to think on and consider fully before I do something I might regret.”

     “No, I understand. I’m just more worried if this has anything to do with the business we were discussing.”

     “Oh, don’t worry about that, we’re fine on that front. This is separate from that.”

     He silently let out a sigh of relief. Whatever this thing Bris had to mull over was, it was comforting to know it had nothing to do with him. Still, he was curious on what Bris needed to tell him. It did, however, remind him of when Lianthorne tried to bribe him with Ven’s safety and he hoped this wasn’t going to go that route. A life should never be used as a bargaining chip.

     “Anyway--” he sat back in his chair-- “when I’ve decided on telling you, I’ll send Aissyl out to come get you. Moving on from that, you have any plans for today?”

     Putting the matter to rest for now, he replied, “Uh, no, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

     “Do you want a tour of Thornewind then?” Bris asked, standing up from his desk to stretch. “Ferreth said you seemed taken in by everything when he stumbled upon you yesterday.”

     They must’ve met back up after dropping him off at the inn. He cringed at the idea of what that might’ve looked like to a stranger. “Well, Thornewind is a beautiful town so it’s no surprise I got sidetracked.”

     “Then it’s settled, I’ll go get Aissyl.” He started walking around the desk and out towards the threshold of the room.

     Following right behind him, he said hurriedly, “Y-you don’t have to do that! I don’t want to take her away from her duties and---”

     “She should be getting back from running errands right about now so…”

     It was when he tried to stop Bris from going out Aissyl walked in. All he could do was stand there awkwardly as the situation was explained to her, wishing he was anywhere but there right now. She said she had plans for the day, granting him some temporary relief before she pulled the rug out from under him by suggesting Ferreth to be his escort. With Bris’s agreement all but sealing the deal, he was left sitting on the stoop outside while Aissyl went to retrieve Ferreth.

     A heavy sigh escaped his mouth as he leaned back to watch the sky. In his attempts to not cause trouble for one person, he might’ve led some to another one’s doorstep. He could only hope he wasn’t hanging Ferreth out to dry with a client of his. Although, he was admittedly looking forward to spending more time with him today. He enjoyed his company yesterday so this might be considered a blessing.

     Eventually, Aissyl arrived with Ferreth in tow. They didn’t seem displeased at first glance but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe it was better to err on the side of caution and only let his guard down when everything was all right. He could never be too careful.

     He walked down the stairs, gripping the strap of his bag tightly in his hands. The knot of anxiety returned with a vengeance as his heart hammered against his ribs. Just keep calm and breathe, he repeated like a mantra in his head.

     “I’ll be leaving Lord Travere in your hands,” he heard Aissyl say before bowing and taking her leave, wincing at her referring to him as lord. He knew she was being polite, he just hated being called by formal titles.

     Ferreth, blissfully ignorant to his unease, said in a joking manner, “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to be seeing you again so soon after yesterday. You miss me?”

     “Listen, I’m so sorry about all this,” the words spilled out as he continued, “if I’m taking up any of your time, I’ll just go back to the inn and---”

     “Eric.” Hearing his name startled him some. “It’s fine, all right? As you guessed yesterday, my work allows me lots of free time and I’m choosing to spend some of that free time with you. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

     Doing the exact opposite of that, he shakily replied with, “I’ll try my best not to.”

     He turned away from him and cupped his hands over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. He had to just ride it out, let the anxiety ebb. In the meantime, he needed to distract himself with something to slow his mind down.

     Seeing this, Ferreth clapped his hands together and asked, “You wanted a tour, right?”

     Thank god for convenient timing. “Yeah, Bris suggested it after we finished our discussion and that’d be really great right now.” A helpful distraction, indeed. “Where should we go first?”

     “How about the tulip fields?”

     “That’s perfect. Shall we go, then?”

     They began walking down the street he now recognized as the main road. Eric slowly calmed himself the further away he was from Bris’ house, his mind beginning to feel at ease the more he put it to work at enjoying the tour. Now he might be able to hold a steady conversation.

     “So how it’d go with Bris?” Ferreth asked as they approached the middle of town.

     “Oh, it went great!” he replied happily. “I am pleased to inform you that Aurora Zenith and Thornewind are now officially allies.”

     “I knew it’d go over smoothly. So what does being allies entail, exactly?”

     “Oh, well…” He racked his brain for a way to explain things without giving much away. “Say, for example, a disaster were to strike Thornewind. It’d be my duty as Aurora Zenith’s lord to send aid over right away and the same would apply to both Bris and Lianthorne---Brinegarde’s lord---if it were reversed. You’d have to ask Bris if you want to learn more about it.”

     “Nah, I’m good. I’m not really interested in all that political crap.”

     “I share the same sentiment but I have to be if I want to succeed at my job.”

     “Then why enter that line of work?”

     “Let’s just say I didn’t have much choice in the matter. I stepped up to take the position but only because I had the qualifications for it. At least I’m putting the skills I learned in my childhood to good use.”

     “You have my condolences.”

     He snorted in laughter at that. The rest of the trip consisted of them engaging in meaningless small talk that felt like it went on for hours. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a friend in Ferreth. It was easy to see why; he was laid-back, funny, and could find ways to keep the conversation going when he couldn’t. This was different from when he befriended Ven. While he extended a kind hand out that ultimately led to their friendship, this was two like-minded individuals coming together and just bonding over their shared interests. Maybe Alek was right in that he changed from the person he was two years ago into someone better. He smiled at the thought.

     A quick visit to the stable to see Asha later and they were out. The tulips were just as stunning as they were when he walked through the fields yesterday. A sea of rainbow swayed in the gentle breeze and his breath was stolen from him once more. He was definitely going to sketch this place sometime in the near future. This was too beautiful for him to pass up.

     “A nice sight, isn’t it?” Ferreth asked, throwing his head back to let the wind ruffle his hair. “Just feel that breeze.”

     “Yeah, it is quite pleasant.” That was when he remembered his question from yesterday. “Oh, I was wondering, how are the tulips still in bloom this late into summer? I mean, I’m not a botanist or anything but my friend once told me they only bloomed in the spring.”

     “Unfortunately for you, I don’t know the answer to that.” He began walking down one of the many dirt paths crisscrossing the massive garden. “You’ll have to ask someone who’s lived here their whole life that question.”

     Taken aback by his reply, he followed after and said, “Wait, you’re not from Thornewind?”

     “Nope. I’m from a little town called Thesriden that may as well be on the other side of the world. I came to Thornewind just before my 18th birthday.”

     “Then forgive me if I’m prying a bit but why come all the way out here? It must’ve been a long trip if it’s as far as I’m imagining it to be.”

     Ferreth let out a heavy sigh, no doubt wanting to say as little as possible. “Let’s just say I ran away from home due to some familial issues and I remembered Bris saying he planned on coming here after moving out so I followed him. Welcomed me with open arms and I’ve stayed ever since.”

     There was a bitter smile on Ferreth’s face while saying all that. He didn’t need any elaboration to understand where he was coming from. They were more alike than he thought, right down to leaving behind the place they called home for so long because of family. No wonder he held Bris up to such high regard.

     In an attempt to lighten the mood, he changed topics to, “Anyway, these tulips really are beautiful. I think my friend would love it here.”

     “Well, hey, we’re always welcoming new visitors,” Ferreth said in a brighter tone. “Maybe when you go back home, you can tell him to come up here sometime.”

     “I’m not sure if she’d be able to, what with her shyness and all…” The memory of Ven cowering from a crowd of people surrounding her popped into his head and he breathed out. No way was she going to travel all the way up here by herself, especially with how she looked. If Vlixeoxs were barely tolerated in places like Brinegarde and Aurora Zenith, Thornewind would be no different.

     “I can help her out when she gets here,” Ferreth suggested. It’s not like he hasn’t been of great importance to him throughout his entire visit so far. So long as he didn’t flirt with her, then maybe…

     “If she comes here, I’m holding you to that.” Ven was his friend and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to her. Of course he knew she could take care of herself but he still worried.

     “So, shall we move on with the rest of the tour?”

     “Sure. We have all day, right?”

     So they continued on for the rest of the afternoon. He was shown the local businesses, parks, and occasional oddity Thornewind had to offer. Ferreth even made it a point to tell him of the best taverns to drink at, which he found nice but unnecessary. He wasn’t one to drink and, even if he were, most alcohol never appealed to him. Once the sky began to darken, they decided it was best to wrap up the tour. If Ferreth ever wanted to change his line of work, he’d be damn good at being a guide.

     As they were walking back to the Dravitae Inn, Eric remembered his earlier conversation with Bris. An important matter, huh? Maybe Ferreth knew something about what Bris could be hiding from him. After all, they were very close so the possibility was there, he just had to ask.

     “Hey, Ferreth, is Bris normally the secretive type?” He studied his face, trying to gauge what his reaction would be.

     Confusion was the best way to describe his expression when Ferreth asked, “No, he’s never been one to keep secrets. Why?”

     “After we had finished our discussion, he mentioned having something important he wanted to talk with me about. I was wondering if you knew anything of it but I guess not.”

     “Yeah, I don’t know anything about this. He didn’t seem bothered at all last night so I wonder what’s going on.”

     That wasn’t what he expected or wanted to hear. If even Ferreth had no idea of this, then it really was a waiting game he’d have to play until it was time. Patience was a virtue he had a love/hate relationship with. On matters like this, it was his worst enemy and he had no choice but to deal with it.

     “I’ll see him tonight and ask what’s up, it’s just not like Bris to keep secrets,” said Ferreth.

     “Don’t do that, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he thinks it’s time.” He saw him open his mouth to say something then shut it. “For now, I’ll have to wait.”

     They arrived at the inn just as the lights were turning on. Until the time Bris sent for him came, he planned on enjoying the rest of his trip here. He already had an idea of what he wanted to do tomorrow when---

     “Hey, Eric, you have any plans for tomorrow?” Ferreth’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

     “Well, I was thinking about going on up to the overlook I saw while we were at the tulip fields earlier and possibly sketch Thornewind from up there,” he replied, realizing where this was going. “Why?”

     “You mind me tagging along?” Yep, that’s what he thought.

     “No, but won’t it interfere with work?”

     “Eric, I go to work whenever it calls me. Besides, if it was serious enough, they can just come find me so it’ll be fine.”

     He gave it a moment of deliberation before answering with, “…Okay but if you get into trouble because you were too busy hanging out with me, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

     “Come on, people love me, I bet I could get myself out of it by saying a few sweet words,” he replied with an amused grin. “I’m very charming, you know.”

     It was so hard to hate him sometimes. Even when he’d say things that’d normally rub him the wrong way, Ferreth made them have the opposite effect. He was right in that people loved him and Eric wasn’t an exception.

     After they parted ways for the day, he climbed up to his room, sat on his bed, and let out a weary sigh. Today was another exhausting yet fun day. He managed to accomplish his goal for being here, went on a sightseeing tour in Thornewind, and spent some quality bonding time with Ferreth. Tomorrow was a day he could kick back, relax, and enjoy the peace it’d bring.

     Speaking of which, he reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook. Flipping through the pages revealed many works in progress that he never planned on finishing, ranging from messy outlines to slightly cleaner sketches. His subjects were mainly of landscapes, though there were the occasional drawings of Alek during the rare times he’d actually sit and stay down. He’d been honing his craft since he was a child and the years of practice gave him the ability to turn out something truly remarkable. However, this was only a hobby he was passionate about. Nothing more, nothing less.

     Eventually, he found a blank page and folded the corners inwards. It was to bookmark which page he wanted to use for the Thornewind sketch tomorrow. Then he put the sketchbook back inside his bag, patting it once for the heck of it. Everything was in there, he was sure of it.

     Today was when he built a foundation in more ways than one. Tomorrow would be him strengthening the one he started on with Ferreth. Let it bear fruit so he may savor it in commemoration of this trip.