#like god imagine you’re one of these people and your ‘’handler’’ is just as much a puppet as you

[the-faultofdaedalus]

mcu if they had used the “incentives program” from aos in aou to explain why the fuck wanda and peitro were working with hydra >>>>>>>>>>>>

[lizisshortforlizard]

Living Dangerously - Chapter 31

Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?

A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.

But would they die for it?

Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)

Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc

Warnings: some swears, graphic injury description, use of guns

Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @wordspin-shares @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @starryeyes2000 @kmc1989 (please lmk if you would like informed of my sporadic updates)

Read on Ao3

Chapter 30 | Chapter 32

Separate Ways - Journey

“Oh my God.” Lizzy’s hand went to her mouth. 

“I’m fairly keen to contain the situation.” Muldoon kept his tone matter-of-fact. “You can imagine.”

Ed Regis had finally noticed something was awry and was shooting agitated glances in their direction. Lizzy chose to ignore him. “How did this happen?”

“Esteves managed to let it out.”

”What?!” It couldn’t possibly be true. “Rico knows better than that!”

”My thoughts exactly. Don’t worry, he’ll get the bollocking of his life once I’ve retrieved the blasted animal.” He turned to see her still following him. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, I think I’m coming with you!” Lizzy made to push past him so she could beat Regis to the door. “That’s my blasted animal!”

”Not a chance. Stay inside.” He blocked her escape. “You certainly aren’t going anywhere dressed like that.” 

“Oh, really? Well, you clearly know best. I’m sure I’ll be just fine, left alone with all these strange, lonely men.” She deliberately adjusted the neckline of her dress. “Uh-huh, perfectly safe.”

Silence. Lizzy could practically see the cogs turning.

“I’ve changed my mind.” He decided. “Keep up, Armstrong.”

***

“Seriously, boss?” Tom despaired. “She can’t even walk in that monstrosity, never mind run if something chases her!”

“Let me just go change!” Lizzy chewed him out. “Oh, wait. We don’t have time!”

Her hair was already doing its damnedest to escape the updo Kathy had painstakingly donated her entire collection of bobby pins towards. Stray curls were popping free all over her head. Tom tossed Lizzy his bone-handled folding knife that he’d kept tucked down the side of one of his leather boots. “At least sort your dress out, would ya? You’re gonna hold us up.”

He had a point.

She fumbled, only just managing not to drop the blade in the dark, and began hacking away at the hem. 

“Sorry, Ed…” The cheap material began to rip nicely, and then stopped after a few millimetres. She was no better off. 

“Christ’s…sake…” Lizzy struggled, grunting. What the Hell was it made from? Her palms were sweating and she couldn’t get any purchase on the material, infuriatingly it kept slipping straight through her fingers. 

“Leave it.” Muldoon took pity on her, bending down.

“But-“

“Don’t read into this too much.” He told her as he took hold of her dress and tore it from mid-thigh to hip as easily as if it were made of paper.

“Steady on.” Lizzy’s heart about near stopped. 

“Just get in the Jeep.”

”Right!” Lizzy hurriedly tore off her heels and flung them in the back of the vehicle, wincing as the gravel dug into her soles. It was a welcome relief, far less painful than the shoes.

“Was that good for you, Liz?” Tom muttered as Muldoon slammed his door shut. “Quick work.”

”Enough, Kennedy.”

Lizzy smacked the back of his headrest in retaliation. “Oops.”

“Hey! Watch it!�� Tom protectively reached upwards. 

”They even make cowboy hats large enough for your big big head?” She couldn’t resist giving him back just as hard. “Or is that a custom?”

”Stetson. Stetson. How many times?” Tom clearly took serious offence. “It’s a goddamn stetson!”

***

They were following the raptor on her journey across the island, Arnold giving directions over the comm link, trying to stay parallel to her trail using the roads. They’d been driving for a while, but were drawing ever closer as the animal tired. 

The air was getting heavier, no stars to be seen that night, obscured by the black thunderclouds closing in on Isla Nublar. 

Lizzy was fully invested in the raptor hunt, keeping an eye on the road ahead from the safety of the Jeep, but her mind was unhelpfully wandering to other matters.

Against what Muldoon had warned her about, she was reading into the dress-ripping situation, heavily.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Her longing wasn’t helped by the man in question shooting her glances in the rearview mirror now and again. Like he knew exactly what was rumbling around in her head. 

“Bring your glasses?” Muldoon finally spoke.

”I refer you to my earlier answer, when you asked about my radio.” Lizzy reminded him. “If you can’t see it, then I don’t have it.”

“Just as well, I only brought two guns.”

“Boys hunting trip, then.”

In fact, looking at the pair of them in the front seats, it could almost be father and son setting out into the woods for a game shoot.

Lizzy nearly opened her mouth to taunt Tom about it, but thought better. She wasn’t that much of a dick, to bring up what was likely a very sore subject for him. Hell, she was one to talk, she had enough family issues of her own.

“She’s stopped.” Arnold announced to the Jeep. “Fifty feet to the south-east.”

“Radio silence then, please. Over and out.” Muldoon confirmed, putting the car in neutral and turning the ignition off.  “Don’t suppose you have a plan?” Tom drawled. “Or are we free-styling this, as per usual?”

“She goes to a marker now.” Lizzy interjected. “I’ll have to get close, but let me try.”

”She does what?!” Lizzy heard Tom mutter incredulously.

“Get close?” Muldoon wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. “I don’t bloody well think so. That’s Sarah Harding levels of stupidity!” Fair enough, if Armstrong could make the raptor behave when there was a fence separating her from danger, and the dinosaur from a possible meal. But her bold proposal confirmed what Muldoon had suspected for a while.

Unless she’d made unbelievable progress in a few short weeks, the ethologist had been coming to study the raptor without him.

“Just-“

“I’m not having you do that.” He thought of the grisly photograph he’d seen of the Ruso woman’s mangled fingers. And the animal was much, much bigger now.

”Uh, guys-“ Tom tried to get their attention.  “It’ll work!” Lizzy persisted.

“Still no, Ar-“

”Guys!” 

“What?!” Muldoon and Lizzy replied at the same time. 

”There.” Tom pointed in a whisper-yell. “Shit, she’s right there.”

Lizzy squinted, then sure enough, she saw the eyes. 

All three of them got out of the vehicle, Lizzy silently passing the men the tranquilliser guns that had been propped up beside her on the back seat. 

The ethologist couldn’t help herself, she was drawn in. She edged closer, marvelling at the way the dinosaur just disappeared amongst the vegetation. Seeing her without an electric fence in the way or other obstacles in the way, she was stunning. The ideal predator.  As Lizzy watched, the raptor’s nostrils flared and she snorted sharply, catching a scent on the wind.

Her head jerked around, with a few irritable snaps of her jaws. Her third eyelid slipped across and then back again in a white film. Then the raptor fixed her stare on Lizzy, and the young dinosaur’s entire body stiffened. 

All three humans heard a faint sound, it took Muldoon a moment to realise it was a low but constant snarl, coming from the raptor.  It invoked memories of Africa deep in his bones, it sounded remarkably similar to the noise that came from the undergrowth when a big cat decided it had an issue with his limbs being firmly attached to his body, and was going to do something to rectify that.

He had no idea why the raptor had suddenly taken issue with her handler, but a more pressing issue was that Armstrong had nothing to defend herself with.

“Get in the car, now.” Muldoon pushed the ethologist behind him, blocking Lizzy from the raptor’s penetrating gaze. “Slowly.”

Thankful for her bare feet, she obeyed. She slipped like a shadow, shifting her body in reverse behind the door, then back into her seat with barely a sound. Lizzy left the door ajar. Impossible to shut it quietly.

The raptor had hunkered down in the bushes. Waiting for the humans to move first. Daring them. 

Just try it. See what happens.

No such thing as a clear shot anymore.

“Damn, if she bolts, we’re back to square one.” Muldoon muttered only just loud enough for Lizzy to hear, the pair of reptilian eyes reflecting amber back at them from the darkness.

“She wants to get to me. You square up to her, draw her attention, then Tom takes the shot from the side.” Lizzy suggested. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

“Broadside is a bigger target.” She pressed. “Front on, she’s too narrow. And Tom can’t cover you at close range, the Jeep’s in the way.”

“I won’t miss.” Muldoon’s words were clipped, he wasn’t happy with her plan.

“Listen, the three of us have zero experience stalking this animal.” Lizzy pointed out. “Even you. We haven’t seen her hunt in the wild, I don’t have a gun to cover you. So let’s cut down the error margins.”

“Suppose.” He reluctantly agreed. “Kennedy-“

”I got it. Flanking now. Keep her engaged.”

The Texan simply disappeared, his tall form melting into the darkness without a sound, and the two of them just had to assume he was carrying out the plan as agreed. 

The raptor stood like a statue, still rumbling viciously.  Then she fell silent, and that was somehow more chilling. The eye of the storm. Her head cocked to one side. 

Lizzy realised the velociraptor could likely hear Tom’s footsteps, even if they couldn’t. The wind caught her hair and she realised they were upwind, shit- He could be in real danger.

“Close your door.” Muldoon clearly had the same thought.

Lizzy blinked, unsure she’d heard right. ”It’ll make a noise.”

“That’s the idea.” He didn’t take his eyes off the raptor. “Draw the bugger out.”

“If you’re sure.” Her stomach flipped from the thought of the dinosaur rushing at him. 

”Do it.”

Okay, you asked for it.

Lizzy slammed her door shut and the raptor snarled at the disturbance, getting more agitated as she took a few steps forward, unsure now her attention was split two ways.

Muldoon snarled back. ”Come on. Face me, you devil.” 

Lizzy could practically see the crosshairs zeroing in on the side of her body, unobstructed by branches. 

Now, Tom.

The raptor’s shining eyes dropped low to the ground and she was hunkering down to charge-

Take the shot take the shot taketheshot-

Her breath quickened at the incoming attack, then the pop to her side as Tom’s gun went off made Lizzy jump. 

The dinosaur screamed and turned away into the undergrowth, racing off with barely a rustle. 

“Stay there, Armstrong.” Muldoon was already striding forward to check. 

”Honestly.”

”Do I need to lock the damn door?”

No she murmured grudgingly. 

There was a muffled thump from outside the bright pool of the Jeep headlights. The raptor was down.

Tom materialised out of the darkness, grinning  happily. “I got her behind the ear.”

”Good lad.” The park warden clapped him on the shoulder as they went to find where the raptor had fallen. “Risky shot.”

“My favourite kind.”

“Show-off.” Muldoon nudged the dinosaur with his boot, then finally lowered his gun, calling to Lizzy, still in the Jeep. “Suppose you want to give it a once over?”

“Yes!” Lizzy was practically hanging out of the window with desperation. 

“Get out here, then.”

The ethologist piled out of the car and ran over to examine her animal. Muldoon should have been ordering the raptor loaded into the back of the Jeep as soon as possible. But he knew what she wanted. Lizzy appreciated being given a even few moments with the most intriguing creature she’d ever had the pleasure of studying.

She checked the raptor‘s pulse with two fingers under the jaw, watching her sternum rise and fall, marvelling at the animal she admired from afar but was never allowed to touch. She squinted and ran her palm over the crest of the dinosaurs neck. Were those pinfeathers coming through?

“Oh, rad.” She murmured, tempted to pull one out to show Henry Wu over breakfast the next day, but she resisted. 

“We’ve discussed how clever these ones are.” Muldoon stated, standing over her. 

“Many times.” 

“Hm.” He nodded. ”I wouldn’t be surprised if it remembers all that.”

***

“That worked out rather nicely.” Lizzy was relieved. Situation contained.

“Could have gone worse.” Muldoon agreed, pausing. “But we need to have a word, about you coming to visit it without me.”

”Oh, someone’s in trouble…” Tom whispered gleefully.

Lizzy looked extremely guilty, but didn’t have an answer. At least, not a convincing one. 

“I should have known.” Muldoon continued, trying to sound more annoyed than he felt. At this point, he wasn’t even fazed anymore. “Always forging ahead.”

“Sorry, I just-“ Lizzy ducked her head, knowing there was no point. “-I really want to give her the best chance possible. I truly believe she can be managed.”

”Well, that’s alright then.” The sarcasm was laid on thick.

”The breakout wasn’t her fault.”

“Not this time.” It was the same story with every zoo in the world, and there were always repeat offenders. The odd animal that just seemed naturally disposed to break everything. “That won’t be the last.”

Silence hung heavy in the cab of the Jeep.

“You’ve been training the raptor?” Tom asked dubiously. Was Lizzy imagining it or did he sound almost impressed?

She groaned out loud. She knew she couldn’t exactly count on the Lone Ranger to be discrete.

“I suppose it’s not the best-kept secret ever.” She grudgingly admitted. “But, yes, we-…well, I have.” 

Tom started roaring with laughter. “You got a death wish, lady?! That’s insane!”

“Tell me about it.” Muldoon agreed. 

“You let her do this shit?” Tom incredulously asked.

”She does what she bloody well pleases.”

”He doesn’t let me do anything!” Lizzy rolled her eyes. “You don’t own me, Muldoon.”

He glanced back at her again in the mirror. This time Lizzy was ready for him, she was chewing on her knuckle as she stared out of the window, and let slip a full-on grin.

And whose fault is that? 

She could see the smile in his eyes, even in the letterbox sized rectangle of glass. 

Tom was oblivious.

“I’ve heard some crazy stories on this island, but man…you gotta show me that! Sit, stay, lie down!” He started guffawing again. 

“Alright, it’s not that funny.” Lizzy said moodily, quickly tiring of being laughed at. 

“Play- play dead-“ Tom abruptly stopped laughing and sat up straight. “Oh my God, is that what she’s doing right now?”

He hurriedly turned around in his seat to check the raptor was still sound asleep in the back.  

”I like to keep her brain busy, she’s all by herself.” Lizzy explained. “It’s gonna pay off someday…though apparently not today-“

“We are not doing a test run when it’s already up here with stress.” Muldoon tapped the roof of the Jeep. “If you’re going to do that, get your affairs in order first.”

“She’s always stressed, what difference does it make?” Lizzy countered. “Being free range for an hour probably did her a world of good.”

Muldoon scoffed. “Well, I’m certainly glad you’re just as concerned about my stress levels.”

***

“I’m going to walk the fence. Check for damage.” Muldoon nodded at the dinosaur in the back of the Jeep. “You two deal with that.” “Hurry up and help me, Liz.” Tom was already sliding the raptor forward. “Before she wakes up for real.”

“Jesus, she’s big now.” Lizzy’s voice was strained as she lifted. “And solid.”

“Come on then, Miss Raptor Expert.” Tom huffed as they carried the dinosaur with awkward, shuffling steps. “She could have attacked us at any point, why didn’t she? She rushed me, I’da been screwed.”

”She knew she was outnumbered.” Lizzy said simply. “She didn’t have back-up.”

“They ain’t stupid, then?”

“Not at all.” She grunted, adjusting her grip. 

”Which begs the question-“ Tom  “What happens when she gets the friends they’re so desperately trying to breed?”

Lizzy fell silent.  “Better hope these fences are up to spec, that’s all I’m gonna say.” Tom muttered under his breath. 

The gate was still wide open. It was unsettling, difficult not to imagine an animal charging out of the darkness and nailing them both where they stood, though the only occupant of the paddock was unconscious right in front of their eyes.

“Hey, Liz. She’s got into something while she was out.” Tom was staring at the raptor’s jaws. “Look.”

”It’s fresh.” Lizzy frowned, her upper lip curling. “Really fresh.” 

The blood hadn’t yet clotted. The odd fleck of bright red dripped off and spattered on the ground, leaving a gory trail as they moved the dinosaur back into her enclosure. 

”Probably just a rat. Won’t need feeding tomorrow, even with the extra running around.”

”Yes, she will.” Lizzy pointed out something that never ceased to bother her. “Tom, she’s always hungry.”

”Growing still, ain’t she?” He seemed nonplussed. “No big deal.”

”It’s more than that. I know this animal. She would eat until she burst. And then look for more. She’s constantly hunting, it’s like a compulsion.”

”You think they ever starved her, as punishment?” He suggested. “That’s why she’s obsessed with food?” 

The thought honestly hadn’t occurred to Lizzy before. “That’s horrible.”

”They do things differently over on Sorna, don’t they?”

Lizzy recalled what Muldoon had told her. The production line. The mortality rate. Thousands of dead. InGen’s legacy built on the blood of infant creatures. 

“So I’ve heard.” Lizzy felt fiercely protective towards the raptor. Defensive in the same way that Tom had jumped in when she herself was threatened earlier that evening. 

Nobody messes with her but me.

It’s measured in rounds. 

“Shit, I can see her eyes moving.” Tom complained. Sure enough, the raptor was letting out faint croaks as she slowly woke. ”Hurry up, dickmunch.”

”Huh, that’s a new one.” Lizzy grunted. 

Muldoon had reappeared by then.

“Double and triple check that gate, both of you. Then check it again.”

Tom ironically saluted, rattling the gate hard once he and Lizzy were satisfied it was firmly closed. 

“Hop on.” Tom turned around, offering her a piggyback to the Jeep. “Mud’s pretty deep. At least, you’d hope it was mud.”

“What a gentleman.” She hadn’t minded until then, carrying on stoically with no shoes, but her feet were starting to get cold.

”I do have my moments.”

Lizzy winced as she heard the stitching in the dress creak and pop as she clambered on, despite taking a few moments to roll it up over her thighs. She wondered how long she had before it gave up entirely. 

“Shit, no-“ Tom realised his stetson was in the process of toppling off, headed straight for the sludge under his feet. 

Lizzy deftly caught it before it tumbled further downwards and propped it atop her own head.

”Thanks, Liz.” Tom muttered. “Mom got me that hat.”

”Stetson.”

She heard him rumble in humour against her stomach. “Yeah, right, stetson.”

When they got back to the Jeep the park warden seemed to be in a remarkably upbeat mood. Lizzy reminded herself he considered going out and finding things in the dark to be a good time. She knew from her own experience.

“Am I dropping you two off back at the party?” 

“Please, no.” Lizzy couldn’t find her heels in the pool of darkness that was the Jeep bed. She gave up and resigned herself to staying barefoot. “I’m done. Take us home.”

“Don’t you want to give Regis an aneurysm? I’d say this is an improvement.” Muldoon smirked at the state she was in.

Lizzy could imagine what she looked like, covered in mud, make-up smudged. Hair beyond saving. 

“Enough leg for you?” She wasn’t in a terrible mood herself.

”Too much for me, in every single sense.” Tom groaned. “I already regret those oysters but I don’t think it’s them making me feel green. Gimme my stetson back.”

“No, I like it.” Lizzy ducked out of his reach.

“Then get your own. You’re gonna bend mine all out of shape with your stupid big hair.” Muldoon just shook his head, knowing it was pointless to intervene, and reached for his radio.

“Baker, we’re done, over.”

“Great job, guys.” Lizzy picked up that Kathy didn’t sound as relieved as she should have been. “Turning in.” 

“Uh, Muldoon? We do have another problem, over.”

”What now?” He turned to Lizzy and Tom in disbelief. “I’m knackered.”

“Nobody can find Rico.” Kathy replied. “He’s gone.”

***

“What did you say to him?!” Lizzy was furious, she demanded to know as she stormed through the control room door at Muldoon’s heels. “Tell me!”

“I told him to stay out of the way.” He replied calmly. “Esteves, come in-”

Lizzy snatched the radio straight from his hand, taking over the transmission.

”Rico, it’s me. Please let us know you’re okay. I’ll come find you, if…if you want me to.”

”Over.” Muldoon reminded her. 

”…over.” She glared up at him. 

The radio crackled in response. “Shhhh!” Lizzy gasped in relief. “Guys, listen up! Rico, is that you?”

The overhead speaker was giving a constant weather report in light of the storm, it sounded like the shipping forecast, Spanish version. 

“Rico?” Lizzy strained to hear before swinging around to the rest of the room in anger. “Jesus Christ, somebody turn that thing off!”

Isaac dealt with the overhead while everyone waited, collectively holding their breath.  Only barely audible in the silence, the garbled words ”-izzy…help-“ finally came through. 

Then nothing but static. 

“Rico? Rico! Shit!”

”Folks-“ Arnold looked up from the security monitors, his face ashen. “Someone should call for Harding. I think I’ve found him.”

”Ray?” Kathy began to move around to try and see what had spooked him so badly. 

”Nuh-uh, Kit.” The engineer hurriedly covered the screen with his hands. “Trust me honey, don’t look.”

Lizzy turned, searching for Muldoon in the crowd. “We’ve gotta-“

The park warden nodded at her, before turning to Arnold. 

”Where?”

***

They found him quickly.

Gerry Harding took one look at Rico and demanded the helicopter pilot make ready to fly to the mainland. The investors, and Hammond, wouldn’t be leaving soon, anyway. The weather conditions were declining by the minute.

The rain was thrashing down, it looked like the pilot might be navigating through a storm, but there was no other choice.

Lizzy had ridden in the back of the Jeep to the site of the accident with Harding, tight-lipped and silent, clutching his equipment bag to his chest. Muldoon was driving right on the edge of reason, road conditions worsening by the second.

The manhunt began, following Arnold’s garbled directions, and she had been the one to find Rico, slumped face down, unmoving against a tree-trunk. He’s dead. 

That was her first thought. Her breath had hitched, the rest of the world falling away. 

No.

She swallowed down the bile pooling in her mouth and forced herself to move closer. She nearly cried in relief when she saw he was breathing shallowly, still clinging to life. 

Then she and Harding had turned him over carefully, and the veterinarian had sworn loudly, rocking back on his heels in disbelief and denial when he saw what he was up against. 

Lizzy felt like she was detached, watching events unfolding from outside her body. The state of Rico’s front, more outside than in, made her wish he was already dead, that she had never found him. A small, irrational part of her brain wished she had covered him over with a branch and left him, as if he were sleeping.

Anything would have been better than the impossible task ahead of them.

What’s that noise?

Jesus, it’s coming from him…

Sucking chest wound-

It’s flail chest, shit-

Looks like a collapsed lung too-

Internal bleeding-

Where’s the fucking chopper?!

Lizzy reached down, searching for his hands to hold-

His hands.

God, his hands. They’d been sliced to the bone, flesh ragged and chewed at the fingertips. She knew these wounds, she’d seen them before. He’d been slashed at, then grabbed and shaken as he’d tried to keep his arms up to defend himself. 

Lizzy glanced up at Muldoon, he caught her eye as he urgently spoke to someone on a second radio channel.

He had considerably more experience with animal attacks, he would know better than her if the kid could possibly make it out alive.

Muldoon paused talking, and gave a her small shake of his head.

Lizzy’s insides froze solid.

“Gerry-“ She’d started sobbing and panting in desperation.

”Pick a God and start praying, Liz.” The veterinarian interrupted grimly. “Because I can’t do this alone.”

“What do you ne-“

”An operating theatre. This is too big a job for out in the field.” Harding spoke quickly. “Talk to him, keep him awake. Do not let him fall back asleep.”

“Okay.” Lizzy replied shakily.

“There’s a good girl.” “Stretcher! Now!” Kathy was yelling orders. She sounded so far away. “Isaac, help guide the chopper down!”

“Mama, mama…” Rico moaned, reaching out for Lizzy’s face, leaving a smear of fresh blood and foamy raptor saliva on her chin. She nearly retched at the rotten stench, directly under her nose.

“Si, si, niño. Esta bien.” Lizzy regained her wits and reassured him in her weak Spanish, trying to find a part of his arms she could gently rub that wasn’t cut and bloodied. She wished she could hold his hands, she so badly wanted to.

Lizzy did her to best to comfort her friend, though she was trembling from a mixture of cold and shock, having to bury her face in her elbow to stop herself heaving from the stench on him. He smelled of death, of rotting flesh. “Cariño, it’s okay, it’s okay….”

Her eyes burned, tears mixing with the rainwater battering the entire team into the ground. The hot earth was turning into a swamp all around them.

“Ready, kid? This is gonna really hurt him.” Harding warned her. “We can’t wait for the pain meds to kick in.”

”More than he’s already hurting?”

”Good point.” The vet agreed as he took a deep breath and continued.

Lizzy had done her fair share of first responding, but didn’t expect Rico to suddenly shoot upright from the pain, so fast he nearly headbutted her, his eyes flying open like a reanimated corpse, before he groaned in agony and flopped back limply on the stretcher.

She looked to Harding for guidance, whose only instruction through gritted teeth was hold him down.

“Shit-“ She whimpered.

“What do we got- woah!” Ed Regis exclaimed, coming to a standstill at the sight of the youngest animal handler torn to shreds. “Jesus, what happened?”

”Get him out of here!” Lizzy commanded without tearing her eyes away from Rico. She wanted to protect him, shield him from Ed’s prying eyes. 

She knew now, whose fault this was. And it wasn’t the injured boy lying prone beneath her. Regis made it happen.

“Mama!” Rico screeched, beginning to thrash his limbs where he lay. The colour had rapidly leached from his tanned face, now he was grey and sallow. A disgusting mix of snot, blood and saliva was bubbling up with every laboured breath he took.

”I’m here, I’m here!” Lizzy cried frantically, worried she was hurting him more, regretting she hadn’t tried harder to learn his native Portuguese while she had the chance so she could comfort him better.  

Harding was still working as quickly as he could to stabilise the boy. The veterinarian looked harrowed, like he was barely holding back the flood himself as they manoeuvred Rico onto the stretcher.

Lizzy moaned in fear, repeating the same words like a mantra. “…gonna be okay, gonna be okay…I’ll take you to Africa, Rico, I promise, just hang on…”

His eyes were darting around under the lids, like he was lost in a nightmare. His lips were moving. The same words, over and over. She leaned in closer, barely able to hear him over the noise of the rain.

“Velo-ci-raptor…lo-sa-raptor….lo-sa-raptor...”

“Shit, we gotta get him to stop saying that.” Regis had crept closer and was shaking his head, talking partly to himself. “Say it was a construction accident, maybe a backhoe. Yeah, that’ll work…”

“Shut the Hell up, Ed!” Kathy, normally polite even under pressure, was on her last nerve, grappling with the stretcher wobbling dangerously over her shoulder. “Make yourself useful!”

”There’s nothing more I can do.” Harding admitted defeat, slumping backwards. “I don’t have the kit. He needs a doctor.”

”Aren’t you going with him?” It was more of a request than anything. Lizzy hated the thought of Rico abandoned in the cold metal shell of the make-do air ambulance by those who knew him best. 

The veterinarian looked through her, without really seeing her, helpless. “Honestly, it won’t make much difference now.”

Lizzy decided in a split second. “Then I’m going with him.”

”But Lizzy, you’re scared of flying-“ Kathy tried to reason, turning to Muldoon. “Stop her!”

Aviophobia forgotten, Lizzy was about to follow her wounded colleague into the helicopter when Regis laid a hand on her arm. She recoiled at his touch.

“I’ll take it from here, Liz.”

“He wants his mother, it’s the least I can do!” She snapped. “I’m going with him.”

“Not looking like that, you’re not. That’s gonna raise some eyebrows.” He cast a scornful eye over her ruined dress.

“Ed-“ Lizzy set her jaw and scowled at him.

“Liz-“ He mocked her. “-it’s my job to handle any dealings with the mainland. They’re gonna want to know how this happened-“

“And you’re going to lie!” She lost her temper and screamed at him.

“I have to!” Regis reached breaking point, roaring back. “You can’t lie for shit, Armstrong, so stay here!”

“There’s gonna be two casualties in a minute if you don’t let me on that damn chopper-“

“Are you threatening me right now, seriously?!” Regis looked past her to the crew standing on the ground, searching for someone to back him up. “Robert, call off your damn dog!”

“Fuck you, Ed.” Lizzy said with as much venom as she could muster.

Rico cried out weakly from his position on the stretcher.  ”Lizzy get back here, please!” It was Kathy alone who was begging for her to come back. 

“You don’t wanna do this.” Regis reiterated, and then the line that really got to her. “Think of him. You’re wasting precious time.”

Lizzy was still firmly grasping the safety rail of the helicopter. She and Regis, locked in a standoff, glaring at each other as the pilot yelled angrily while the blades sped up again.

For a second Regis believed she might launch herself into the body of the chopper anyway, weight limit be damned. 

With a last, haunted look at wounded Rico lying prone and bloody, Lizzy backed off, stumbling away from the helicopter.

Regis slipped on a pair of headphones and spoke into the mouthpiece to the pilot. “We’re set, let’s roll!”

Seconds later, they were already clear of the tree-line.

Lizzy stomped back to the rest of her colleagues, soaked to the skin, hair slicked down flat against her scalp, and got into Muldoon’s Jeep without a word. 

She sat, shivering and silent for an untold amount of time, fogging the windows up from how drenched she was while the rest of her team regrouped. The driver’s door clicked open, startling her. 

“Here, you’ll catch your bloody death.” Muldoon passed her a blanket, pressing it into her hands before she had even registered it was him. 

“T-thank y-you.” Lizzy’s teeth chattered, her knees knocking together as she took it from him, barely managing to cover herself. Still barefoot, her feet up to her mid-calves were caked in mud an inch thick.

“I’m s-so sorry, I’ve m-made a mess of your c-car.” Lizzy smiled maniacally from frayed nerves, focusing on something trivial to mask the pain.

”Wants hosing down, anyway.” Muldoon brushed her concerns off. “As do you.”

The other door clicked and Kathy slid into the back beside Lizzy, reaching over and tucking the blanket in where she hadn’t managed. 

”I s-should be in that h-heli-he-h-“ She couldn’t manage. “D-Dammit. Up t-there.” Lizzy could barely hear her own voice over the air-con blasting. 

“Lizzy, honey, he didn’t know who you were anymore-“ Kathy gently tried to reassure her. 

”T-That’s not the damn p-point.” Lizzy nearly yelled, then checked herself. “It m-matters to me.”

Kathy didn’t know what else to say that would help, she seemed to be only making her friend more emotional. 

“You did everything you possibly could, Armstrong, short of performing surgery.” Muldoon spoke up quietly from the driver’s seat. “Above and beyond.”

He seemed to get it right. Lizzy sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, quietening down. “I t-tried. I r-really tried to f-follow.”

“I know. But I don’t want you up in that.” he pointed at the helicopter, then gestured out at grey sheets of rain still hammering down. “They’ll be lucky if they make it to Bahía Anasco in this, never mind over the mountains.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.” Lizzy was numb, freezing cold aside from the hot tears now spilling unchecked down her cheeks. 

“How far is Bahía Anasco from San José?” Kathy asked quietly.

“About a hundred miles.” Muldoon answered her. “There’s a headwind.”

He was telling them in fewer words it may as well be a thousand miles. Rico was running out of time. The choice was between the fishing village with the small, understaffed clinic, or nothing.

“Gosh, this is awful.” Kathy breathed. “We need to call his folks, don’t we?”

“In the morning.” Muldoon replied sullenly. “After Regis gets back. I’ll see to it that he’s the one to tell them, since he wants to be so involved.”

“No.” Lizzy fiercely insisted. “I’ll do it. I owe him that much.”

Kathy nodded. “Hopefully we’ll have an update of how long he’s gonna be in the hospital. God, I hope he’s gonna be alright, he sounded so scared.”

Muldoon glanced at her sharply. His Team Leader could still be so naïve. To him it was obvious.

As they watched the helicopter ascend into the low clouds and finally disappear from view around the far side of the island, Muldoon wondered if Armstrong was prepared to inform the boy’s family their son had been killed. Or if, like Baker, she still believed he had a hope in Hell.

He already knew. There was no way the boy was coming back from the mainland. 

Not alive, at any rate.

***

Thanks for reading!

So. Rico is the poor kid who ended up vomiting blood on Bobbie Carter and Manuel’s table in Bahía Anasco. Aaaand we’re now in line with the events of the beginning of the Jurassic Park novel. Christ, I need a lie down.

Assume that from now on, no-one is safe.

[imnotleavinherewithoutyou]

ok imagine dean is an old veteran pitcher who threw gas in his prime but is losing velo and now gets by on pinpoint accuracy and finesse

like his name still strikes fear in rookies bc they’re going up against Dean Winchester who’s been pitching since they were playing tee ball

now imagine his team signs this young new flamethrower (cas-something, dean didn’t watch the press conference) coming over from a foreign league who not only throws nasty pitches but also hits with power

and he’s quiet and standoffish and people assume he doesn’t speak any english bc he always goes through his translator

and dean doesn’t want to like him bc he sees the end of the road ahead like retirement is coming for him and cas is just another young up-and-comer trying to replace him

and despite all the press (and there’s a LOT of press) cas never says much until one day after dean’s had a bad outing, got dinged up bc he just didn’t have his curveball and god he doesn’t wanna do the postgame press conference bc they’ll never say it to his face but they’ll sure as shit hint about it and put it in the articles that he’s washed up even though sometimes your stuff just isn’t there

and maybe someone’s just asked a question dean doesn’t have an answer for but then cas is suddenly in the room sans interpreter and all the attention swings his way and he’s saying that it’s normal to have bad outings and where were all these questions when he blew up last week and gave up 4 runs in the first to the fucking a’s of all teams

right afterwards cas gets squirreled away by his handlers so dean doesn’t have a chance to thank him but he corners him in the locker room the next day and asks if he’d like to grab a coffee sometime and before the interpreter can even translate the question cas says yes (balthazar just throws his hands up like jfc you’re gonna put me out of a job here)

anyway blahblahblah cas plays it cool as long as he can but eventually dean finds out cas was like his biggest fan and watched every game of dean’s that he could find and the only reason he signed with the team is bc dean was there and he just wanted to like breathe the same air as him

bonus sam doesn’t even watch baseball but he’s dean’s agent bc like hell is dean gonna pay some money grubbing middleman to negotiate his contracts when little bro is a lawyer (i specialize in criminal law, dean! but you still speak legalese, don’t you?)

[lupi-usque-ad-finem]

I stumbled on your blog.. and it’s comforting? I’ve been otherkin for a long time back in like- gods years now and truthfully heavy discourse about me being otherkin back then made me feel disconnected- and only recently I’ve more or less rediscovered & reconnected to it.. but I’ve finally discovered I’m wolfkin? I always displayed traits and habits of a wolf, always making dens and sleeping in dark places, enjoying nature and I think my favorite is chewing meat off a bone and always howling! There’s more but that’s just the small gist of it-

But honestly I don’t know why I felt so awkward.. because it just cropped up? I’ve been suppressing it more than I should and maybe it was just past trauma and shame- I’ve been afraid to admit what I really am..? My own mate reassures me that I’ve always been like this but.. It’s not that I don’t believe him I guess.. it’s just the embarrassment and trauma of people finding out what and who I really am that I’m afraid I’ll get backed into a corner that I’ll need to bite and fight my way out again.

I think- I’m just looking for some form of advice on how to feel comfortable in my own pelt again? What I can do to just feel like me again.. it’s been uncomfortable hiding what and who I truly am..

For one I’m so thankful my blog can give you comfort, it’s why I made it in the first place :’) and two, I completely understand. this part of yourself can both be empowering yet startling, especially if you were shamed or bullied for it. I also subconsciously kept my therianthropy hidden from myself for about two years, but it was always there. As I grew I figured I had two options of what to do about it:

1. ignore it, step back, walk away—but then you’d just be back where you started. nothing would change. you wouldn’t change, and that shameful fear would grow.

OOOORRR and the much better option:

2. spend time with yourself, by yourself, and your identity(s). learn the words and recognise the experiences of who and what you are, for what you feel has always been there for you, regardless if you knew it or not. fear is not what rules you. wolves are not ruled by fear.

You’ve also been backed into a corner like I was for so long. For me, it was my schooling administration that failed me. I was bullied relentlessly for 12 years, and the shame was palpable. If you’re in the thick of it, let me be the one to assure you that the harshness of your peers is not what the world is like. The people in this world can be cruel, but the world itself can show you the love you never had. As it appears to me you have a support system in your mate (congratulations btw!!), and with that you can build off it. Growing from inward out is the best way, but sometimes a little outward reassurance is what jumpstarts it.

People will always mock, hell some still mock me, but it doesn’t affect me near as badly as when I was a cub. I’ve found that much of said mocking is guided by fear and especially ignorance. They fear the inability to be affected negatively by others that many proud otherkins, alterhumans, therians, etc. have carefully cultivated in themselves. I’m 22 now, and I’m finally back as proud as little 10 year old me was in my therianthropy.

For me now I have my handlers and friends who accept me, but it definitely wasn’t always that way. Its taken a long time to unlearn the trauma and heartache of being the ‘other’, however that ‘other’ part was there for me no matter what. It curled its tail around me, rested its head in my lap, and comforted me when even I could not. That ‘otherness’ watched out for me, guarded me, protected me, kept me alive and warm. It assured me I was not wrong or damaged or broken. It’s known me before I ever did. It came with me into this life and it’s made living more than anything I could have imagined. I never thought I could have not one but TWO handlers that care for me and love me as their canine companion, learn the words to express how I feel, my animalistic behaviour never belittled and instead encouraged, yet I do.

I aim to be a living example that this existence isn’t a joke or fairytale, and to be the one little me needed when they felt alone for others. Otherkinness comes from within, it’s part of you, and only needs your permission to let it be. It won’t force itself into your life, that’ll be your choice. Some people will never understand, but it’s not up to you to make them. Let them self reflect, that’s not your job. Your only job, should you choose to take it (and you really should :3), is to appreciate your otherness and grow alongside it.

It has loved you the whole time.

[mtnsedge]

「  @propheresy​​​ said,   “ PEOPLE ARE GONNA COME LOOKING FOR ME. ”  」

“Will they?”

A ache blossoms in his chest as he sits in front of his niece. The pain is nothing sentimental, rest assured — a pinched nerve somewhere in his shoulder, or perhaps too much strain placed upon his lungs. He imagines Joseph would prefer it if he softened his heart to her, this girl he thought he’d killed years ago, tubes pinched between his wavering fingers in some hospital down in Georgia. He’s heard the tale before, half-confession and half-decree. God spoke, and so his brother obeyed. 

Jacob wonders even still if it were some backhanded response to his own defiance, rather than guilt, that prompted the Father to recount the slaying. A threat that none were safe if his daughter wasn’t.

Botched slaying, Jacob thinks with some measure of derision. 

It’s terribly ironic, poetic in the way his brothers love but Jacob hates; success would have prevented this. He doubts Joseph would have been so lax as to let either of his brothers escape, had God condemned them as He had his daughter. 

Regardless, she is a present threat to be dealt with, not a past memory to dwell upon. 

“When will that be, d’you reckon? It’s been...” Jacob pauses, mulls the passage of time. Beraiah, ever faithful, ever steadfast, had dutifully plucked her from the bosom of the Valley within hours of his handler ordering the capture. 

Five days ago. His boy works fast, can scent a heretic better than any of his wolves. She is not here in their clutches because of any negligence on her part. She is here because the Father willed it, and his soldiers obeyed.

“Five days. Nearly a week of shittin’ in the corner of that cage, pissin’ your trousers, sleepin’ in the cold. When d’you think all those good, kind people you helped save will break you outta this kennel?”

A redundant question, he knows. It’s half the reason he’s asked it. Abandonment protrudes from her chest like a hunting knife, and Jacob takes his time twisting it. 

“That ‘resistance,’ those Cougars at the prison, the Whitetails...” Scorn drips from his words, not least of all when the final epitaph passes his lips. Some militia. Eli’s frightened band of pretend-soldiers, cowering in their bunker, wondering who among them will turn when the right tune passes through their ears.

“You’d ‘ve heard the gunfire. It echoes in these mountains. Not a peep. They’re all sittin’ around with their thumbs up their asses. They know where you are. I don’t bother to hide it.”

Jacob reaches through the bars of the cage, grabs Miriam by the jaw and squeezes. “So when the fuck’re they comin’ ?”

He halfway expects her to snap at his fingers like the feral mutt she is. A gnarled hand shoves her away as he leans back in his seat, the ache in his chest spreading to his sternum. God damn his lungs for their tender flesh, and God damn the military for pumping chemicals into it in hopes that he would die in some desert before he could complain about it. 

“You know just as well as I do. No one’s comin’. Not those fuckin’ hicks down in the Valley, not those pretend-soldiers Eli sends out to die every day. Not that little friend of yours, either. One of Faith’s Angels, fella with the flesh rottin’ off his face.” A dry, flat laugh rasps out past his cracked lips, the sound turning into a heavy cough. 

Well, that describes all of Faith’s zombies, doesn’t it?

“Had quite a look to ‘im when he first came to us. All his hair, his guitar, head hangin’ down low ‘cause he’d lost his way.” Jacob wipes his mouth with a cloth caked in dirt, olive-drab and spackled with the rust of his own organic decay. “What’s his name, again? Michael?”

Jacob swipes at his mouth again and tastes iron on his tongue. 

“He ain’t comin’ here to help you. Reckon he’s thrilled you’re with us, gettin’ to know the family. He’s been a good boy, your Michael. Maybe you ought’a join ‘im here.”

He says it as if his first impulse isn’t to shoot her dead. 

“Or is it John you want?” 

Ah, his baby brother. Had Joseph let him order his Chosen to kill the bitch dead, John never would have spiraled into this obsession with the girl, tethering his salvation with hers. In part, Jacob’s hunt had been to sever the cord between them. But the knife needs to be twisted further. Miriam is just as stubborn and degenerate as any Seed that came before her.

“No, no...” Jacob shakes his head, glares down at his captive. “Johnny ain’t gonna be seein’ you for a long time, niece.”

[el-ly-sha-give-no-f]

Camera and Blessing

“

AUTHOR NOTE: hello, FINALLY I HAVE THE URGE AND ENERGY TO POST, I’ve been doing better now, so like I said before I've been working on father!reader imagine, so here's the first one, Wolff reader, Enjoy! let me know if anything wrong, enjoy and NO repost or COPY my work okay?! love you guys and have a great day! <3

WARNING: yelling? arguing? but flufffffffffffffffff

PAIR: Wolff!reader x Lewis Hamilton

PRONOUNCE: she/her

WORDS: idk

-----

Hi, Im y/n Viss Wolff, and yes daughter of the famous Toto Wolff, Im working with F1 as a Mercedes Photographer and my dad's Social Manager. Yeah, I’m actually not into the F1 world, I like Photography! I mean look at it! they're so peaceful. At first when I told my dad that I want to become a Photographer, he kinda doesn't like it.

I ask him why, first, it is because I need to travel and explore outside of the country, that means I have to go alone and it's dangerous then i’m gonna be away from my family, second of all, he said I need to become his Legacy, but I said that I’m not into racing, I was pissed off at that time but he still insisted.

After how many months I begged him, only God know, he finally gave up, he let me become a photographer but on two conditions, that I become Mercedes's special photographer and his social manager. I don’t care, at least I reach my dream work

The first year when I’m part of the Mercedes team, it's was the hardest year of my life, a stressful and depressing year. My dad and Susie have been helping me with a bunch of stuff, the other Social Manager helped me too and other people around the paddock give me a lot of motivation. Oh, by I mean people around the paddock including 'Lewis Hamilton'. When I met him for the first time, I was starstruck, I was so excited to meet him earlier that day, I know I said Im am not into F1 but, what did you expect when your dad talk about him almost every day, of course, I have a little crush on him.

But all of that happened 3 years ago. My feeling toward him become growing.

By that means I have been working with dad for 3 years, it's getting better now. They had my back since then and Im very happy that I live around awesome people.

Right now, I’m at Mercedes paddock , preparing my Canon camera that i bought it myself 2 years ago. I know Mercedes already prepared a camera for me but I don’t want to share it with other photographer cause I’m afraid that they’re  gonna delete my works accidently or not. 

But I don’t know what happen with my lense today, I’ve been wiping it for almost 6 minutes. I’m glad that today activities ir I can say “work” is not much. Just take some picture, handle my dad’s  interview and edit some of my pic then send it to Mercedes Social Media Handlers. That’s it. Like usual.

I heard someone footsteps walking toward me, I look up from my camera lense, It’s Lewis walking toward me, he’s wearing Mercedes official T-shirt. I saw him him smiling at me I reply with my smile back. He gives me a tight hug. His hugs is my favourite thing in this world well other than “foods”. We pull away from the hug.

“Hi Darling, how are you?” He greet me

“Hey Lewis, not much, just preparing my camera right now, as you can see on this table, It’s a mess, I don’t know why my lense suddenly became blurry when I want to used it earlier” I hand the lense to him and he take the lense from my hand and take a look with it.

“well I don’t know much about camera, I’m not a camera nerd like yo-” I smack his arm as I give him a death stare, he raise his arm surrender “I’m joking, well lady, this is your sign to buy a new lense” he suggest made me laugh.

“In your dream Lewis Hamilton, I think it’s just because I don’t wipe it properly but I’ve been wiping it for 6 minutes straight, besides, this lense is my favourite lense cause’ my dad bought it for me as my birthday present last year and I use it since then, kinda hard to replace it with other”

“oh you’re very loyal to this one eh?” Loyal not just for the lense but for our love if you want to know.

“yeah, yeah, kinda like that” I reply

-we talk for a while-

“well Lewis, I think you need to go” I said to him

“why? you want me to leave you?” what the fuck are you doing Y/n. “wait no no, not like that, you still not changing into your into your race suit yet and I know my dad not gonna be happy about it, especially 30 minutes before racing” I rumble

“ He He He, his not gonna be mad at me, besides-” he wrap his arm around my neck “I want to meet my bestfriend before the racing start”.

ouch, that hurt. “bestfriend”. Not me hoping for him to call me his lover.

Like I said my feeling for him is growing, I mean three years! who doesn’t... I’m afraid my dad gonna be mad if I date his ‘Top Driver’, my dad has been teasing about this before but I keep denied it maybe he react is a good react. Well, maybe one day Y/n.

“LEWIS! we need you right now” my thought was interrupted by someone voice calling for Lewis. I see him nodding to the staff.

“I guess, this is it, goodluck for today, and don’t worry about your camera lense, I think you just need to wipe it little bit more” he suggest

“well earlier, you said you’re not one of a camera nerdy like me, I’ve been your friend for three years! I don’t know you’re an camera expert Lewis” I joke

“whatever you said nerd” I smack his arm again, he remove his arm around my neck and looking at me, “I’ll see you after race” he said and he kiss me on the cheek, even though it’s an a quick cheek kiss but it is enough to make me blushing. I look him and see him smiling before, he turn back and walk away.

I’m standing still, blushing, God Damn that smile.

I’m so gonna tell this to Susie! I pack my stuff not worrying about my lense anymore. I put all of my stuff in my backpack and run to find Susie.

Turns out, I bumping into dad instead of Susie.

“hey you,little miss! why so rushing?” He ask me

“nothing” I reply and laugh, I’m ready to go and find Susie again, I turn around and start to walking when I feel someone hand pulling my arm and I turn around. It’s not my normal dad, instead it’s my serious dad. I sigh. This old man.

“what happened?” he ask me again.

“what do you mean what happened? nothing happened” I answer.

“I’m your dad and your shit doesn’t work for mr kid so don’t lie, I know you for the whole of my life, and we made a promise before, no secret between us , no secret between father and daughter” He remind me.

“you done?” 

he nod.

“Well” I smile and doze out while I’m thinking about what happened earlier.

I feel soft smack on my head, and I return to the present, this time it’s not only Toto but Susie too.

“ouch, what was that for” I ask, rubbing the spot where my dad smack me.

“I ask you to explain, not dozing out!”

“okay okay, but since when you’re here?” I ask Susie

“since earlier” she wiggle her eyebrow

“kay kay fine Lewis...” I see my father tense up and raise his eyebrow, “he kissed me-” I got cut off

“WHAT?!!” well here, I heard two types of “what” one is the fuss “what” and one is the excited “what”. But both of them caught everyone around us attention

“SHHHHHHHHHH” I put both of my hand on their mouth, they look around and look at me back, both of them remove my hand from their mouth, one harshly and one softly we all can guess who.

“No Y/n!” I look at Susie who already looking at Toto.

“what do you mean no?!” Susie ask his husband

“cmon his my driver”

“and?” I confuse

“if you guys together, yours relationship will distract him!” he state

“dad what? what about the tease before about me and Lewis?, when I close with Lewis, how come it’s not an issues and it’s never distract him before?” 

“that’s different you guys are friend not dating” he’s argue

“what’s the different, he still your driver, not that one day if I date him suddenly he’ll move to Haas team” I argue back

“stop it y/n! you never discuss with me before you do anything that you want to do”

“what’s the connection with this situation?! this is nonsense!”

“y/n listen-” I cut him this time

“no you listen!, I’m not a child anymore dad, if this whole problem relate with my career path to you you are insane, you always remind me before, past is past! What’s up with you changing your mind?”

“y/n when I say no, It’s a no, can you please just listen to me”

“okay you both, stop it, three of us currently at public, it will get media attention! why don’t you guys continue discuss this at home tonight?” Susie try to remind and calm us, almost forgot that Susie here with us too.

“well here the things, we’ve not even together yet but I’m glad this all happen, cause’ at least I already know how you’ll reacted, whatever you said, handle your interview yourself today” with that I walk of from Mercedes Paddock and start to take some of pics.

-[RACE START/RACE END!!!!]-

Lewis did a really great job! P1! word can’t even describe how happy I am for him, despite what happened earlier. I’ll try to ignore it.

I make my way to Lewis, I call his name and he turn around, I see him smiling and coming towards me, his smile always light my mood up,it’s just, beautiful.

he give me a tight hug and I hug him back.

“congratulation on your win Lewis, I’m so proud of you! you deserve this!” I congrats him excitedly

“thank you so much y/n, this is for you and the team, without you guys I- I don’t know what will happen” he confess

we pull away from the hug.

“y/n actually-” someone call him and he turn to look at the Mercedes staff

“Lewis we need you at the podium!” he nod and turn to look at me again.

“I need to go, duty call, see you later love” he kiss my forehead before he walk and go behind the stage.

I smile and walking to the in front of the stage, me and the team cheering when Lewis standing on the podium, and I take a couple pictures of him holding his trophy with my camera, after that I see my dad looking at me, don’t want to argue again, I look at Lewis currently soak with champagne , I smile before walking back to the paddock.

--------------- TIME SKIP!

Me,dad and Susie arrive home, I look at watch on my wrist currently showing solid 10pm. Jack probably already sleep, it’s passed his bedtime, I miss him so much, even though we don’t share the same blood, but I treat him as one. Despite my mother don’t want to take care of me, she’s long gone, gone from mine and dad’s life. I walking to go to my room tiredly.

“y/n” I heard dad calling my name softly, enough to make me tears falling from my eyes, I stop walking, and slowly turn to look at him.

I wipe my tears, before I ask him

“what?” trying to control my tone

“I leave you guys alone, I’m gonna see Jack and Kate(jack babysitter)” she said and walk out from the living room and go to Jack’s bedroom.

My dad standing in front of me and start talking again.

“first, i just want to say sorry, it’s never been my attention to hurt you or your feeling or anything at all, as your dad, I know i’m not the want who will choose your decision, your career or who you will going to date, I am so sorry y/n” 

“when I saw you and Lewis talking at the paddock earlier, I can see he’s the one for you, he’s the one that can make you happy in the future and he’s the one that can take care of you besides me” he continue

“I know my reason to why you can’t date Lewis is nonsense, like you said earlier, I’m just afraid that you will be far away from me,it’s not because it will distract Lewis no its not, I know I have Susie and Jack, but losing you is one of a thing that I’m not ready to face it yet, I realize i was wrong”

It’s makes me tears up more after I heard what came out from my father mouth, I hug him and continue crying on his shoulder, I feel he rub my back softly.

“Dad, it’s okay, you’re not going to lose me, I am your forever daughter, I’ll never gone from your life, I promise you, I will be with you forever, please remember that, and you don’t have to apologise, I also was wrong, I overreacted and I’m sorry too”

“its okay sweetheart, it was nobody fault, remember what I said, past is past” he remind me

“past is past”I mumble quietly.

“Please never leave me to handling my own interview again, it was stressful” he said and i laugh.

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

after that happened we never fight after that and Lewis confess his feeling for me and I told him that I feel the same, my dad already warn him, if he ever makes me cry or hurt my feeling just know what will happen to him. Yeah typical dad things.

END!

=======================================

what do you guys think is it okay? let me know, i have one more fics, daniel ricciardo x reader, prepare! hope you guys safe and healthy, and thank you for those who have been waiting for me to post a new one shot I appreciate it and I’m sorry for making you guys waiting, I love you guys.bye

-elly

[rcksmith]

Not you — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Five Hargreeves x fem!reader, Fluff prompts 9, 52 and 53, please? (You can do this whenever you feel like it) Five and Y/n are both hit by one of Hazel and Cha-Cha’s bullets in the Gimbel Brothers store and they immediately go to the academy (Five wants Y/n treated as soon as possible.) after they’re fine, the siblings start to question them on Five’s protectiveness over Y/n”

“Hii could I request 4 & 23 off the fluff prompts for Five pls ty 😌✨”

Fluff prompts:

4. “Sweetheart, you’re my entire world”

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

23. “i’ve dreamt about this.”

52. "Help her first."

53. “There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

I used here some fragments of the central plot of Five, but, guys, keep in mind that he is 20 years old, and that when he comes back to 2019 Five does not make a mistake in the calculations. I changed the location of the fight too, but a really I hope you, Anon # 1, don't mind.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: blood, mention of death, swearing, fluff too.

— — — — —

You remembered perfectly when you met Five Hargreeves, the commission's golden ball, The Handler's award-winning shamrock. If you closed your eyes, even after years, you could still smell the male cologne wafting in the air, and you could relive the same feeling in the pit of your stomach that you had when he looked at you with those obsedian eyes.

Five Hargreeves was gorgeous. Absurdly gorgeous. But absurdly arrogant, boastful, presumptuous and completely absent of any delicacy in relation to empathy and kindness. He was the type who would open the door for you to enter first, but who would be the first to make fun of your erroneous reasoning.

And that was why, at the time, when you were assigned to be his partner, you lived in conflict with what you really felt. It was a mixture of tantrum and physical attraction.

But unlike all the people around Five, when he spit fire at you with all the anger at his difficult temper, you didn't run. In fact, when it exploded the first time in front of you, you crossed your arms, arched an eyebrow and looked at him with boredom.

“Have you finished your show yet?” You said, as if you didn't care, leaning against the hood of the car while Five screamed through the 7 winds “Stop to imply with everything.”

Five had been your partner for a few months now and it became clearer each day that the irritation was mutual. He made it perfectly clear that you pissed him off until his last hair.

But, unlike you, it was for another reason.

Shit, you were a fucking goddess! Your beauty was notorious, but that was not all that caught his attention. You were smart, canny, brave, Five never saw you in fear of any situation or shaken by any scene of blood. You knew your goals and went after them. It was strong, decisive, and, goddamn, he loved it. You had a fist, you were firm, and you always made it very clear that you were no helpless maiden.

It felt like you had gotten out of his imagination, from the daydreams in which Five rambled about what kind of woman he admired. And, hell, you came with the full package. It was a combination of overwhelming beauty, intelligence, dexterity, and he never thought that someone like that could be real.

But of course you were. And now Five was completely irritated because you were real, and not just another his dream and daydream in which a sublime woman starred.

“To Imply?” Five turned to you, eyes on fire “To Imply?!”

“Like a 2-year-old who didn't take his afternoon nap. It's not the end of time, it doesn't have to be childish.”

Now Five felt himself ignite. He was a dry, rough fire and you were gasoline, igniting everything saw ahead.

Was that damn woman calling he a child?! You?! Just you, the person whose Five wanted to tie the bed and do all kinds of sinful things.

Oh hell no!

Five came forward, furious, like an angry god, his coal eyes never leaving your direction.

“Childish, isn't it?” He snarled “I'm going to show you the childish!”

Five held your face tightly in his hands and pressed your lips to his. Fierce, needy, set on fire, lost in half sentences of feelings about you. He slid his hands to the back of your neck, closing his fingers in your hair and invading your mouth with his tongue, letting you taste the caffeine, danger and lust he had.

You sighed, or Five, or both. You held him as close as he was, with the two of you being on the same mission: to conquer, to take, to possess. But Five had an extraordinary intensity, a magnitude that managed to win you

Then your touch became more docile, your kiss became submissive and you were surrendered. When Five walked away, not with his body, he still held you against him, but with his head, enough to look you in the eye, you sighed.

“I’ve dreamt about this.” You gave up your game, because you couldn't pretend anymore, and Five responded by kissing you again, this time tasting your whole mouth.

After that day, Five and you never came apart. You two were like a dynamic duo, crime partners in the morning and intense lovers at night.

But Five spent so much time with affection, love and caring being denied that when, on a night when work got the best of him, Five fell into the bed you shared in a Motel room, very close to your lap and you smiled sweetly and ran your fingers through his black hair, establishing the affection there, Five was catatonic.

His wild mind wanted to take it away and go, tell you to swallow those loving gestures and that he would never need them. That they were a nuisance, a distraction.

But his body and heart... well, they begged Five to stay another second. Just one more second enjoying that touch, the care, the importance that someone felt for him. He liked to be pampered, who knew.

So he ended up falling asleep with your touch and, after that day, Five realized that if his body and heart couldn't get any further from you, then no one would ever take you away from him. You would stay with him, until the end. As long as you wanted to stay.

And you wanted to. You wanted all the stages, all the moments, all the fights. You wanted Five, completely. And after some time like that, he said that you two were going to get married. It wasn't a request, it wasn't a speculation, it was a fact and that's it. You laughed, it was Five's style to be embarrassed about something and treat it more coarsely, just because he didn't know how to deal with the emotions he felt.

“Of course I do.” You reassured him by bringing your hands to his face, tracing affectionate circles on his cheek with your thumb.

“You would have no other option.” He grunted, not looking at you, trying to divert attention from his own racing heart.

You laughed and sealed the future of the two of you with a kiss.

After five years of making it official, Five said he had found a way for him to get home. And as he spoke, you noticed a flickering hesitation in his eyes. You knew, at that moment, that Five would leave it behind if there was a chance that you wouldn't want to go along. He promised to love you, in joy and sadness, in difficult times and in good times, and he never broke a promise.

Five Hargreeves would stay for you. In 1963, in 1988, in 2019, it didn't matter the season, the year. It wouldn't be worth anything if didn't have you by his side.

But, like him, it was logical that you would never abandon him, ever. So you went along. It was together in the murder in 1963, it was together at the time of the target, and it was together when he jumped in the portal. You were with Five when he reunited with his family, they all amazement by the 13 year old little brother who disappeared to reappear as a man of 25. On top of that accompanied by a girl.

But Five still couldn't administer his emotions properly, he still couldn't say that he missed his brothers and that being without his family had been terrible. His past contained many shipwrecks and he did not know how to open up about it. After so many years alone and then killing without any judgment, it was difficult to connect with emotions.

So, instead of saying everything that screamed inside him, after just some time with the siblings he took your hand and pulled you out, telling the Hargreeves that he would go after a decent coffee.

“I wish I could have talked to them better.” You grumble whit Five and he rolled his eyes.

“As if they were going to understand the things you were going to explain.” He murmured, covering the whole issue of the Commission and time jumps.

“This is not difficult to explain.” You raised your left hand, signaling the silver circle that hugged your finger.

Five laughed, sipping his coffee.

“You will be my wife forever, there is plenty of time for you to tell that.”

But as soon as Five's words had just left your lips, blowing in the air like fog, the door to the store opened, and you two didn't have to turn around to find out who they were. Years on the commission have earned you enough training to even recognize the sound of their footsteps.

The exchange of looks that Five and you gave was enough to know what each one was thinking and how they would act. That was your secret language, the superpower that you two shared. No words were needed to understand each one like the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath, while your fingers on your right hand steadied yourself on the coffee cup and Five on the knife. There was no waiting for speeches, exchanging words, you both knew that the Commission would send the best agents besides you, and Hazel and Cha-Cha were not known to be late at work.

Then the action started, Five turned and teleported with the knife, shoving it into the leg of one of the agents covered in rabbit masks. You didn't stay behind and swivel your chair around, throwing the sizzling coffee into the second's hands, causing him to drop the gun on the floor. You didn't wait to kick him in the chest, making him stagger backwards as you got up from the chair. You and Five were good, but so was Hazel and Cha-Cha, and you couldn't count on the powers to dodge physical attacks.

Everything was very fast indeed, windows were broken, punches were exchanged, blood was plucked. But when you looked to the side and saw who was probably Cha-Cha pushing Five against a broken glass stake, you understood why love at work was so dangerous. You understand completely. Because you've lost your focus. It took a thousandth of an instant for years of training and improvement to be thrown out the window. Only the possibility of Five getting hurt got you off track, and that was fatale.

The agent who fought with you took advantage of your distraction, reaching for the gun that was on the floor in that split second. And a shot reverberated through the place.

Suddenly, the world for Five stopped the axis. Everything was suspended, appalled, frozen. And in that very second, his body shivered from head to toe, as if misfortune had sighed in his neck. Five Hargreeves never feared anyone, even death itself. But as soon as he heard the sound of the shot, Five tasted death. Was rough, metallic and cruel, the blood drained from the body and the world released a dark and funeral note, sinking into a black sea.

Because fear is not the bullet hitting you, but someone you love.

Five turned back, eyes wide, hands shaking, and he didn't know what was beating faster: his fear or his heart.

He would remember that moment as the most cruel and frightening of his entire life, years in the apocalypse and killing had no comparison to the terror that was seeing your white shirt start to be stained with blood, the bullet hole marking your abdomen. You looked up at him, shocked, livid, and Five could see death perfectly, pulling the vitality out of your eyes.

He didn't think, he didn't reason, he just teleported himself to you, taking your body in his arms and teleported you two away from there. Five’s hands were shaking, a visceral pain snaking through his body and suffocating him with the worst sensation Five had ever felt in his life.

He took you both to the Hargreeves mansion in the blink of an eye, his powers failing when the blue flash left you both in the giant living room.

“Five!”

Maybe it was Luther's voice, or Klaus, or Diego, he didn't know. Everything was a distant echo, a note submerged in the water. Five saw or heard nothing but your body in his arms, your eyes closed and face frighteningly pale, his right hand, which was pressing on your wound, was already soaked in blood.

It was too much blood, the smell was overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was in despair.

Hands touched his shoulders, and Grace's voice was heard in the background. But he didn't want treatments, whatever the goddamn his wounds were going to be.

“Help her first!” Five shouted, his voice finding strength in the terror he felt. And also in fury.

The Handler would pay for that, and so would Hazel and Cha-Cha. And, by God, the whole world would pay if you never opened your eyes again.

“Right now.” Maybe it was Pogo “But, Five, are you…”

“No!” He ordered “She first!”

Then Grace's hands took you out of his arms and Five refused to leave you for even a second. He was beside you at the operating table, holding your hand, with him bloody fingers of your blood and the agent he had fought.

But Five didn't care about the himself state, the people around it, or anything. His eyes were focused on you, his face frozen in a livid expression.

And when Grace said that you would need a blood transfusion and Five barely let her finish speaking before rolling up the manga and extending his arm, the siblings Hargreeves and Pogo were shocked. What they saw in Five's eyes was not a man afraid of losing someone, but of losing the person he loved.

I shouldn't have come back. Was Five's first thought when the surgery ended well and you were still asleep. It was his fault that you almost died. And everything was buzzing in Five's head like a propellant.

“So…”

Klaus appeared in the kitchen, with the siblings, while Five was washing the blood from his hands, now calmer since you were alive.

“That was heavy.” Luther let out a little gasp, a kind of choked laugh.

“Aren't you going to tell us what happened?” Allison sat at the table.

“She almost died because of my decision, that's what happened.” Five replied, turning and picking up a cloth from the table, drying his hands.

“Five...” Allison made his eyes go towards his sister “Who is she, actually ?”

Five gave a bitter laugh. Who were you? How would he explain it?

You are everything. The reason wake up everyday was good, what made the summer breeze and the sun's rays warm, the reason why his world was still spinning.

Who were you? It was absolutely everything for Five.

“Someone very important.” His whispered escaped.

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Luther looked at Five in shock, as if the possibility of him having a girlfriend was absurd.

“No.” Five looked at Luther with fire in his eyes, his voice hoarse “That girl is my wife!”

The room's breath evaporated, everyone was dumbfounded and bewildered. But Grace came in at that moment, saving Five from continuing that conversation.

“She woke up.” His mother's voice was soft, and Five dropped everything he was doing and disappeared into the blue flash.

The first thing he noticed when he entered that room was you sitting on the bed, your back against the headboard.

“Hey...” the smile you gave made Five's world spin again.

He didn't wait a second before walking up to you in quick steps, holding your face in his hands and sealing your lips in a desperate kiss, as if that could prove that everything was fine.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered against your lips, hands shaking, thumbs stroking yours cheeks.

“Bad vase doesn't break early.” You joked and Five laughed softly, his forehead touching your. “Were you hurt?”

He denied it, still with you, as if letting you was impossible. Maybe it was.

“I got distracted, I'm sorry that we let them escape and...”

Five interrupted your sentence

“Sweetheart…” You stopped, bewitched by his tone of voice “You’re my entire world.”

Five wasn't calling Hazel and Cha-Cha right now. He would kill that entire Commission later. Later. Now the only thing that mattered was you.

“I shouldn't have broken our contracts with the commission. I shouldn't have put you in this.” He said “But ... but I am very selfish, and even though I knew it would be better to let you go back to the Commission, I cannot live without you...”

“Hey, I not go come back.” You held his hands that were on your face, looking at him with love "My place is with you.”

“I promise you that I will never let anyone else hurt you. Even if I have to kill every single person on this planet. ” Five guaranteed “There are no limits when it comes to you. I'll do anything to keep you safe. ”

You smiled, put your lips together in a passionate kiss and whispered:

“I only need you, my love. Forever.”

[keilemlucent]

Oh Salem, the panicked Keigo idea just speaks to my mean little gremlin heart. I want to see the guy trained to keep calm and cool lose his shit over losing his s/o. RIP his handlers if they try to slow him down. I want to see the relief when he finds them and the reckoning for the people dumb enough to try. This. This is my bedtime snack.

so this is less of reckoning, more relief. soft. ive been thinking about this a LOT and i feel like <3 poor keigo would be ruined:

heres a wittle drabble for your thoughts 

warnings: kidnapped reader, descriptions that may trigger claustrophobia (light, just a cave setting), insults in a not fun way, hurt/comfort baby

You were so cold.

The ‘cell’ you were in was more of a hovel, a small hole dug into the elaborate cave system you found yourself trapped in.

You weren’t sure for how long. There was no sun, only a guard that came and went with your meager meals and stale bottle of water. He and the other villains that had captured you spit vitriol and profanity like it was their duty to grind their verbal heels against your fragile psyche.

You tried to block them out, curling up in a tight ball against the rough back wall of your cell. Ignorance was better than hearing their profanities. 

The worst part was that you weren’t really sure what was going on. Other than that it had something to do with Keigo, considering you were exclusively referred to as “the number 2′s brain-rotted whore”.

Once again, you tried not to listen. 

...

You awoke to the sounds of chaos. 

Shouting, crashes, explosions--

The walls of your prison shook as you scramble to stand, smashing your head into the low ceiling as you did.

Your vision spun as your staggered to the rusty bars, bracing yourself and hopelessly tugging as you had so many times before.

There was a crash particularly close, bits of debris falling from stone tunnels, frail support beams falling.

No. 

Your blood ran so cold, you couldn’t move. Your body went completely still at the bars as you switched between panic and rage. It wasn’t fair, none of it was, you didn’t even get to say fucking goodbye to him. No last words, you’d been plucked from the street on your commute however long ago.

Keigo had left early that morning too, letting you sleep in with a kiss to the forehead instead of his normal heapings of sleepy, dawn-time affections. You’d been clinging to those sleepy, half-memories as anchor over the days in the cramped caves.

And, in the end, that was all you would have. Cloudy recollections of Keigo’s raspy morning voice as the caves around you began to shift and crumble.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you tugged at the bars, trying fruitlessly to get past them. Frustration made your hands sweat and fear made them shake as they became littered with small cuts. 

With the next crash, just as close, a vibrant blur of red whizzed past your cell. The shock and gust from its speed sent you jolting back, a hand clasping over your heart.

“... Keigo?” 

You hadn’t even realized you said it aloud. 

Not until the blur, feathers, a bundle of a maybe thirty returned, hovered and spun in front of the bars.

“Keigo?”

The feathers shuddered.

It felt like you were dreaming.

“KEIGO!” 

You practically screamed, jolting against the bars. Though it wasn’t him, not really, he’d hear you through the feathers. One of them spilled through the bars, pressing to your chest and pushing you away as the rest of the warm sharpened and began to beat on the thick padlock.

Something about your bodily state must’ve changed, as the feather at your face moved to under your chin, sweeping over your jaw in a small motions. 

...

Even from afar, Keigo was trying to comfort you.

When he’d felt you on the end of one of the feather swarms he’d sent into the caves, he thought he’d imagined it. The quiet hesitance with which you practically gasped his name was so fucking soft, he almost missed it.

But, he didn’t, thank fucking god.

The villains had been smart, corralling their captives (beyond just you, unsurprisingly. The string of disappearances over the weeks prior had all been linked. There were at least a dozen other lovers and family members of heroes tucked away into the mountain side with you.) 

Hence, it was a whole operation to retrieve you all, with some of the most pissed off, downright enraged heroes leading the charge and preceding investigation.

And Keigo?

He’d been at the front of it. 

HIs PA had to convince him to get a few solid hours of sleep every few days, in an actual bed, rather than on the floor of his office, or one of the many conference rooms the rescue team was occupying. 

He’d been wasting away, quietly, but he hardly noticed. Food was secondary, drinking was a burden, and his other bodily needs were just holding him back. He had a singular goal--

To find you.

He’d torn up the skies and the earth for just a trace of you, after you’d been taken. And finally, he found it, in the side of a fucking mountain, and an operation was launched to get all of the taken back.

Problem was it was a fucking mountain. A cobbled together base for the villains made of old mine tunnels and shafts, and organic caves.

And infuriatingly, Keigo and his wings were too damn big to properly navigate them. So, even if you were found, he wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t be there to tell you that everything was okay.

He couldn’t guarantee your safety by his own hands, and it fucking hurt. 

That being said, his feathers had done a good enough job. 

He could feel your heart hammering as you neared the entrance.

And then Keigo saw you.

...

You stumbled from the blown out opening, a flurry of feathers on either side. The brawl was somewhere else in the cave, shut out from your mind as you followed the tugs and touches of the plumes.

And as you felt the rays of setting sun hit your cheeks, you caught sight of Keigo.

Before you could even open your mouth, and breath the sigh of relief you needed to, or cried his name like you wanted to, Keigo was on you, scooping you up and away from the shuddering caves. 

His grip was so tight, it hurt, but neither of you cared. Your arms had looped behind his head, burying themselves in his greasy hair as you hid your face in his neck. Keigo’s hands were shaking as they held you close to him, not wavering even when you returned to the stable, safe ground below. It teemed with heroes and medics, but no one dared to interrupt or get between the two of you.

They’d all seen how wrecked Hawks had become in pursuit of finding his partner.

Keigo lowered the two of you to the ground, all feathers returning and making his feathers thick and broad once more. They rose and curled around the two of you, sealing the world away.

Your mouth felt too dry as you tried to sit up, but Keigo wouldn’t let you. He kept a firm hand on your hip as he tore off one of his gloves with his teeth, keeping you in place in front him. 

When you tried to shift, he gathered you by your waist and crushed you to him. HIs chest shuddered and his shoulders quaked with the force he was wrapping you, and you returned it all, as much as you could.

“P-please,” Keigo’s voice broke. “I just gotta hold you for awhile, o-okay, Dove? You’re s-safe now. I’ve got you.”

And he did.

You pressed your cracked lips to his cheeks, lungs going tight as you wrestled for one of his clammy hands to hold.

“I-I know,” You sniffled, tears squished between your cheeks. You pressed your interlocked fingers to your lips, choking on a sob of pure relief. Whatever kisses you had planned to grace his knuckles with were swallowed elsewhere.

Keigo pulled your face to his, hands and mouth hungry as he desperately kissed you, finally, nothing like the fleeting ones you both clung to while cruelly apart. It was messy, sloppy, but ringing with sweetness as Keigo sputtered and nipped at your lips.

“’M sorry,” He breathed, barely pulling away before slotting your lips together once more. 

As much as you wanted to reply, remind him that this wasn’t his fault, you words were too gummy and jumbled for anything meaningful.

So, you both settled for touch.

You stroked over each other’s sunken in eyes and dark circles. Keigo nipped at your dry lips, while you tasted the staleness of his breath. His bare hands braced against your back from just under the hem of your shirt,  feeling the deep chill in your skin and the residual dirt and grime.

You finally mustered up some words, the mix of so many needs and desires that needed sating.

“K-Keigo?” You lingered as close as you could, craving the heat and mingling of your breaths. “I-I want to go home.”

His breath caught and his grip got tighter still.

“Can we go home?” You asked, soft and breaking as you fell into the safety of his arms.

“Y-yeah,” Keigo pressed his teary cheeks to the top of your head, letting out a final shaking breath of relief. Keeping his words firm as firm as his touch, he put every ounce of ease that he could offer into his words:

“Let’s go home, dove.” 

[in-tua-deep]

SO i watched the old guard and loved it and i have a habit of combining things i love and it’s 1am and i can’t get to sleep until i purge this from my brain i think SO consider this 

Five jumps in time into the apocalypse and - he dies. Of course he dies. Maybe it’s the time jump itself, managing to rip himself apart because he tried too much too soon. Maybe it’s the apocalypse itself that kills him. Regardless, he dies.

And then he wakes up. And he’s fine. And he continues on.

Except - he has weird dreams. He dreams of - of all these people? He dreams that they’re in the apocalypse as well. It’s weird. He would brush it off but, well, he keeps dreaming of them. Again. And again. And again. 

(He likes dreaming of them, honestly. When he doesn’t dream of them he dreams of ash and fire and his siblings dead and decaying and wailing at him for failing them.)

He continues to live in the apocalypse and years pass and - he’s not getting older. He cuts his leg open on some rocks, and it heals way too quickly. All of his injuries are like that, actually. 

(He spends a whole week starving to death over and over again once. It isn’t pretty. He doesn’t even know he’s dying.)

Eventually he comes to a conclusion - his time jump fucked him up. He’s in a permanent... stasis? Sort of? He keeps continuously returning to the state he was when he jumped through time, including his body now? Rejecting injuries? Presumably because he wasn’t injured when he jumped?

It makes sense to Five, shhh.

And then he gets picked up by the commission. and then he doesn’t shoot JFK. and then he goes home.

(He keeps dreaming about His People. They aren’t in the apocalypse when he isn’t, which is nice. They’re probably some weird manifestation of his subconscious, considering his brain keeps casting them as people during the time periods he’s visiting)

Now I know what you’re thinking - Five is dreaming about these glorious weirdos in the apocalypse, obviously they would try to find him because they’re dreaming about him as well, right?

See, the thing is this: Andy doesn’t remember the exact date she first had a dream about The Boy. 

(The Boy definitely deserved the capital letters, because he’s the weirdest enigma that they never solved.)

But she remembers her and Quynh being horrified because - the next immortal was a child? They freaked out about it and tried to write everything down they could remember to help them hunt the kid down.

And they tried - they did! for a whole three days! except after those three days the dreams just - stopped. cold. nothing new.

This was, of course, super super confusing. And maybe they would have written it off as a shared hallucination if it didn’t keep happening.

There’s no pattern to when they dream of the kid. It just happens. Sometimes a few times in a year. Sometimes there’s decades or centuries between dreams. The first time Nicky and Joe dream of him, Andy has to sit them down and explain that no, don’t worry about it. Yes she knows that it’s a child. No, he’s not a new immortal. They’ll stop dreaming about him in a few days, a week tops, it’s fine. No, she doesn’t know What The Fuck That Is About.

By the time Nile joins the team it’s sort of a weird inside joke. There’s longstanding bets about when the boy will pop up in their dreams again. It’s fine. Okay, so it’s weird, but their lives are already so goddamn weird.

(So imagine the old guard fresh in the apocalypse, no human life on earth. they’re dreaming about the boy again, and the only weird thing now is the consistency of it. maybe they’re in europe or something, but most of the planes have been destroyed in whatever-the-fuck took out the population of the whole ass world. it might have taken years to literally find and dig each other out of the rubble. yeah it’s weird the boy is not a frequent dream thing, but it’s not like it’s urgent.)

Anyway, Five jumps into his family’s courtyard and stumbles out, and eats and peanut butter and jelly sandwich, avoids questions about his age by rambling about quantum versions of himself, and goes to Griddy’s where he ends up getting attacked by commission goons and having to walk home barefoot because he had to ditch his shoes

(The Commission couldn’t put a tracker in his arm. His body kept rejecting them somehow, thanks to his... weird temporal nonsense. The Handler kept promising him that they’d find a way to fix him or whatever, but they never did. Assholes.)

Now, the Old Guard squad go to sleep and, thank you, start dreaming of Five in all his somewhat feral glory.

They bolt awake and - “You guys owes me so much money.” Nicky crows victoriously, because he totally won the pot on the next kid dream year, thank you very much.

And any other time that would be the end of it, because they’re used to these fleeting dreams of the boy.

Except Nile exists now. And of course she’s like, we have to find this kid.

Of course the others try to explain to her - except Nile points out a very important fact: it might have taken weeks or months or years to find other immortals back in the day due to travel times and lack of information and all that. But it’s 2019 baby. They have the internet and very fast plane travel. Did you have that when Booker was a baby immortal? no. it took them like, a day to go hunt Nile down though.

“You say you dream about him for a few days or a week or whatever.” Nile points out to the group’s dawning realization, “Well we have the power to get to him in a few days. So we can find him.”

“If we find him then we can never bet on him again though.” Booker points out, and Nicky who is in the process of gloating about his latest win (Nicky has won three times in a row motherfuckers) looks a bit crestfallen. Andy, on the other hand, just looks determined.

“Get off your asses.” Nile says firmly, spinning her laptop around and showing them the one (1) result for a “Griddy’s Diner” that she found that matches whatever the fuck the dream showed her, “We’re going to America.”

“Again?” Nicky complains, “I thought we swore to not go to America again for at least a century.”

(Until Nile’s family definitely dies, they don’t say.)

So they all begrudgingly go to America, during which time Five manages to get called potentially insane by his favorite sister, not get any sleep, bribe his brother to investigate an eye that doesn’t exist, and mourn losing his one lead to who the fuck started the apocalypse.

I don’t think Five or the og squad were expecting to actually meet.

But they’re hunting Five down and looking around and Five is pondering his next move and then just - across the street, their eyes meet.

“YOU.” The OG squad bellows, because Five has been a goddamn mystery for literally thousands of years.

“Me?” Five says, very confused, like someone who has definitely had trauma induced hallucinations and flashbacks whose dream characters decided to show up on the street outside his house for some reason.

And they go over to Five, and Five is like “wow what a weird hallucination to be having, maybe if i ignore it it’ll go away because that’s a healthy mindset to have (:”

and then one of them touches him and just - 

Five lashes out. It’s instinctive. He has a knife and he just - stabs. Automatically. and his dream person winces and steps back and - 

(He stabbed his dream person. Hallucinations don’t touch him they’re not supposed to touch him and they can’t be stabbed what - )

And then the dream person heals before his eyes.

“I probably deserved that.” Booker muses, grimacing at the hole in his new shirt thank you very much.

“You’re not real.” Five says a little too loudly and a little too insistently to sound at all convincing as he takes a step backwards.

“I’m not real? You’re not real!” Nicky butts in, slightly offended, “You’re the one that keeps - keeps vanishing!”

“Oh my god why are you all disasters.” Nile mourns putting her face in her palms as though she can block out her new weird family by sheer force of will.

“Hey, remember when you died?” Andy offers with a shrug which just makes Nile groan louder. “What’s that about? I’m not even shooting him this time.”

“You can’t shoot him, he’s a baby.” Joe gasps, gesturing towards Five’s thirteen-year-old self.

“I’m not a baby!” Five snaps, bristling on autopilot because the rest of his brain function is stuck on a repeat of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

“Baby boy. Baby.” Nicky backs his husband up, leaning against Joe and smirking.

“Am not!” Five growls, “And give me my knife back!”

“Finder’s keepers.” Booker says nonchalantly, spinning said knife in his fingers, “If you didn’t want me to have it then you shouldn’t have stabbed me with it.”

“It’s my brother’s knife, you can’t have it.” Five argues.

“Booker.” Andy says firmly, making Booker shrink a little like a scolded child, “Give the kid the knife back. How would you feel if I took your gun?”

“You wouldn’t take my gun.” Booker mutters, handing an increasingly confused Five the knife back, “I would simply shoot you.”

“Ooh,” Nicky snickers, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Don’t encourage them.” Joe says, nudging at Nicky. Which would be fine if he hadn’t added in a slightly lower tone that they could all still hear, “Fifty on Andy.”

“That’s a sucker’s bet, my love.” Nicky laughs, pressing a kiss to Joe’s cheek.

There’s a beat of silence.

“No offense, but what the fuck is going on.” Five states rather than asks, clutching his slightly stolen knife (Diego didn’t even notice when he’s snagged it which honestly means he didn’t deserve to keep the weapon) tight to his chest. “Are you guys... with the Commission?”

“What the fuck is the Commission?” Joe does not whisper to Booker, who is supposed to be the research guy but he just shrugs because he’s useless.

Anyway that’s how the whole Old Guard squad winds up in Reginald Hargreeves creepy ass mansion trying to explain to an increasingly erratic immortal child that, yeah, he’s a little bit immortal. No it doesn’t have anything to do with his powers (powers?? powers??????? what the fuck i mean yes their lives are already so goddamn weird but there is a line and Booker draws it at teleportation what the fuck). 

What’s this about an apocalypse?

(When they asked Five for his age, they were not expecting a curt ‘fifty-eight, probably’. Yes they are now aware there is funky time travel involved - which honestly explains so much about the frequently vanishing immortal - but still. 

He looks baby but also he is baby. He’s younger than Booker!! Not even a century! They have two whole babies on the immortal squad !!)

“The world is going to end on April 1st.” Five explains, looking deeply uncomfortable. And afraid. 

(And young. So very terribly young. He’s been thirteen-years-old for a long time. If these people are right - he’s going to remain thirteen until his immortality, what, wears off? Which could be literally thousands of years in the future?

He has family god damnit. He doesn’t want to outlive them. He just - he just wanted to see them again. To save them.)

And honestly why not. Five has already demonstrated teleportation. Time travel does explain his random popping into their lives via dreams. Why not? And let’s be real, they have way much more to lose by not believing him than believing him.

“Alright let’s stop an apocalypse.” Andy says, clapping her hands together.

“You’re going to help?” Five asks in a small voice, because he had sort of resigned himself to going at it alone.

“Give me the number for the eye.” Nile says kindly, “We have someone we could contact about that sort of thing, or at the very least who can keep an eye out for when it is manufactured and let us know.”

(RIP Copley when he realizes he has to deal with anything involving the Umbrella Academy. I am sure they were a very deep thorn in the governments side for a long time tbh)

“Who The Fuck Are All These People In Our Living Room.” Luther asks, Very Loudly, with Allison close behind.

And yeah. No one really knows how the fuck to answer that, let’s be real. What are they supposed to say? Hey, sorry for crashing, we’re here to lowkey kidnap your newly re-found brother because surprise! he’s immortal! Because that would go over so well.

Anyway, so the Old Guard squad are just there like,, trying to teach Five about his newfound immortality (at least he’s got good at the whole “fuck cameras” thing during his stint in the commission, though admittedly there were plenty of mission from pre-camera times. ah, the age before technology.) and also adopt him? because being immortal means family and family means no one gets left behind (or forgotten, hello Quynh)

(okay yeah they tried to put Booker in time out that one time but after a few years they were just sad and everyone was texting him anyway so now it’s just something they bring up at every opportunity. Joe wants the first turn in the bathroom? Booker, you betrayed him. He was a lab rat, Booker. And on and on until Booker throws up his hands and gives in. Yes, fine, you can have the bathroom first.)

And the Umbrella Academy usually would leave Five to his own devices but... look. Five might have vanished for seventeen years or whatever but he’s still their brother and they can be surprisingly territorial.

At least some people are getting along like a house on fire.

(“You were a crusader?” Klaus asks with wide eyes, “How does that even work?”

“What, being gay?” Nicky asks, tilting his head, “It’s fine. I have a permit.”

“A permit.”

“Mmhmm. From the Pope and everything.”

“I kind of want to be you when I grow up.”)

I can’t tell if things would go more smoothly or if the fuck ups would be even more epic in proportion. On the bright side, the apocalypse probably wouldn’t happen because Andy and Nile immediately clock Leonard-Harold’s serial killer vibes.

(Leonard realizes they’re onto him and tries to kill them which is a big mistake lmao, bye bye Leonard)

It probably ends up in an all out war against the Commission honestly, and the OG squad and the Umbrella Academy teaming up to destroy it.

(“How is this even going to work?” Allison asks at one point, gesturing at Five and the old guard.

“Shared custody?” Joe suggests brightly before doubling over because Five has pointy elbows and is not afraid to use them.)

Andy and Five probably go feral together at one point and it sure is something to behold. 

“Now that is a kid who understand what a signal is.” Booker admires after a particularly large explosion happens. Nile just nods along because yeah. 

(“How come you guys get to call Five a kid without being stabbed?” Klaus complains.

“He isn’t even a century old. I’m 250 and I was the youngest until Nile popped up.” Booker shrugs.

“We’re in our 950s.” Nicky says, “If little Cinque does not want to be called a kid he should have been born earlier.”

“How old is hot axe woman?” Klaus asks, absolutely enraptured.

They OG squad all exchange a look and just collectively shrug, “Old as balls.”

“Besides,” Booker says dismissively, “What’s he going to do about it? Kill us?”

and that ends that conversation)

(They also don’t discuss how young Five is. How young he was when he died. How that’s going to effect him all his life. How he’s going to be old in years, but he’s always going to be thirteen in the same way that Nile is stuck in her 20s. Sometimes it seems like the immortals are getting younger and younger in age and... it sucks.)

anyway just. Old Guard and Umbrella Academy shenanigans as they stop the apocalypse and try to look after the semi-feral teenager they have been saddled with and figure out what comes next

[peaktotheocean]

post-production

Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt ao3 link here Notes: If you ever watched the Lord of the Rings behind-the-scene discs and thought “I wish there was a 12K Witcher AU where Jaskier is the famous actor who buys a horse for Geralt the horse trainer” then you’re in luck

Jaskier knew that he would miss the stable the most. After weeks of filming on location, surrounded by crew and actors that Valdo had already poisoned against him, the stable had become a respite of sorts.

No matter the smells (the many, many smells), Jaskier would always remember the sun beams shining through the high windows and illuminating the dust and dirt to shine on the horses. Jaskier had tried and failed many times to capture the moment on his phone— to the point where he was convinced that it was impossible. He would just have to burn the sight into his memory.

Jaskier had just one more day in this stable and on set and then he could sort of what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

Certainly not acting.

Five blockbusters in four years and Jaskier's exhaustion knew no bounds. Not to mention people he thought were his friends just clinging to him for a ride.

He had meant for his career to be music and yet here he was on what he considered the wrong marquees.

Taking a small acting job offered by a friend in order to help pay rent had escalated into a full career and never worrying about rent again.

But then there was Valdo.

Jaskier had only started hearing about the rumors during the second week of the shoot. And by, then it had been too late. Valdo's charisma and charm took hold and Jaskier wasn't to be trusted. Was he a thief? A gossip? A drunk? A backstabber? It depended on which rumor went around that morning.

"Last day, darling."

"What?" The horsemaster's gruff tone was shorter than usual today.

"Sorry. I was--" Jaskier broke off. He didn't want to say it aloud. Which was silly because he had seen Geralt speaking to his own horse, Roach many mornings. Not to mention afternoons and evenings and any other time they were shooting scenes and Geralt was brought on set to stay with the horses. "I was just telling Pegasus that it's our last day with the horses. Or my last day, I suppose."

"Hmm."

Jaskier already missed the grunts. It was unclear if Geralt disliked him because of Valdo's rumors. But truthfully, the horsemaster hadn't seemed to have taken a shine to anyone over the course of shooting.  

Well, not any humans, at least.

He doted on all the horses. Roach in particular, and Jaskier couldn't blame him. She was a sweet mare and if Jaskier hadn't been assigned his darling Pegasus, he would have liked a chance to ride Roach as well.

But of course not. She was Geralt's favorite and Valdo's mount.

Not that the actor cared. The animals were more like props than living beings to him. Jaskier didn't like thinking about the amount of times he had seen Valdo curl his lip at Roach.

Just Jaskier's luck.

He had beaten out Valdo for a role which he hadn’t even known the man had wanted. And in return, Jaskier’s last few months had been lonely and uncomfortable and—

He set his forehead against Pegasus’s neck and took a breath to steady himself.

He could still feel Geralt’s presence. Lifting his head back up, he smiled at the man who showed no emotion in return. At least Jaskier knew that Geralt didn't like anyone else on the set either. In a strange way, it helped. Geralt was a part of his respite in the stables just by being impartial to the rest of the gossip of the set.

"Not the last day overall, of course. But I checked and I know we're moving on to another area for the next month or so. Granted, I guess you'll still be here if they want to do re-shoots, right? Can't go through the trouble of training so many horses over again."

Geralt had apparently decided that Jaskier wasn't even worth of his grunts anymore. As if Jaskier was the one who came out early to the stables to interrupt him and not vice-versa. Still, the actor had to admit that the quiet of the stable comforted him regardless. No one gossiping. No Valdo. Just him and Pegasus.

And Geralt, he supposed.

And Roach.

And the other horses.

Well, Jaskier supposed no moment was truly perfect.

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

Jaskier let his fingers run over the intricate chainmail of one of the many costumes from the film. Percival and his artistic team had done such excellent work. It was a shame that most of it would be auctioned off but with any luck, some would go into a production vault or even a perhaps a museum exhibit for film costumes. While Jaskier enjoyed the way his costume felt on him, purchasing it wasn't a priority for him.

“Percival!" He called when he saw the crewman in question. "This is for the auction, right? Do you know when it's actually happening?”

Jaskier hated how nervous he felt. He knew the horses were up on the auction block and he had a plan. Pegasus was the only good part of this filming and Jaskier didn't want to leave him behind. “For the horses,” Jaskier clarified.

“You interested?”

“Very.” Feeling much like the office was his primary school classroom, Jaskier stood up straight and put on his best serious face. “I’ve got the space and a neighbor who already shared the name of the veterinarian he uses for his farm.”

“Better prepared than most actors who make a snap decision at those auctions. Plenty of times I’ve heard of some bigshot selling off a horse after less than a month."

Jaskier couldn't tamp down the pride he felt at getting Percival's approval. Gods, he needed to leave this set. Just spend some time with Priscilla and not think about acting for a while. With any luck, he'd be spending time with Pegasus as well.

“How awful.”

“Can’t be helped. You’ll want Pegasus, of course?” Percival asked knowingly, poking fun at Jaskier's wide smile.

“Please. Send me the info and if I can’t be there and I’ll send someone else in my stead.” Jaskier couldn't help himself. “Truthfully, I’d take Roach too but I suspect the horsemaster has his eye on her.”

“Geralt?" Percival asked. He shook his head. "He can’t afford her.”

“You’re kidding.” What a shame. Jaskier had never met a horse and a rider so in tune with one another. He had just taken it as fact that Geralt would be taking Roach home with him. For the first few weeks, until gruffly corrected by Geralt, Jaskier had assumed that Geralt owned Roach and had brought her to set in the first place.

Though, looking back, it was a foolish thing to think. Roach and Valdo had been paired together for the duration of the filming and Geralt's stony glare anytime the actor mounted the mare...well, Jaskier would assume that if Roach had belonged to Geralt, he would have banned Valdo from riding her.

“Already asked him. I went to give him the info because I thought the same as you. Figured he’d be first in line but he didn’t even consider it. Poor fella. I didn’t want to push, you know?”

“Good man.” Jaskier stroked Pegasus and his eyes drifted over to Roach.

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

Zoltan's head poked through the door of office had housed the horse crew for the past few months. It hadn't become home, certainly, but the production team had put together a good group. Geralt would be keeping the contact information of more than a few riders and trainers in hopes of working with them again on future projects.

"You headed out, Rivia?"

"Almost packed. Just wanted to stop by the stables." The production auction had already happened but Geralt hadn't heard of any of the horses being moved out just yet. That kind of transport, especially if they weren't being kept local, took time to arrange. He had double-checked too. There was plenty of time for him to say goodbye to Roach. Give her a few extra treats, a good brushing down. The best sendoff a girl could ask for, really.

And she deserved a proper goodbye. Geralt had second-guessed himself, knowing how much it would hurt to say farewell but he couldn't help himself. Between the actors and the long shoots, all the horses deserved some post-production pampering. Geralt hoped the rest of them would get it once they were with their new owners and families.

"Surely you're doing more than stopping by."

"What?"

Zoltan gave him a perplexed look. "Roach, I mean. You're taking her with you, aren't you?"

"Can't afford her," Geralt said, trying not to grit his teeth. He had only said it aloud once before. When Percival had asked for his future plans. All of the horses were auctioned off at the end of the production, along with various bits and bobs that the studio didn't want to keep or store.

Roach was a prize mare, along with many of the other impressively bred horses in that stable.

Geralt would have loved to take her back to the ranch and shared stables that he ran with his family but it just wasn't in the cards. It was kind of the manager to even come to him and inquire. It spoke volumes about what Geralt had accomplished over the course of the shoot. At least with that gesture, Geralt knew he'd have a reference for future jobs. Perhaps not just for him but for the ranch too.

"But she's in your name. Isn’t she?"

"What are you talking about?"

Zoltan came into the room now, still looking at Geralt as though the man needed his head examined. He spoke slowly. "Geralt, I saw the finalized auction list. She's been paid for already and your name is on the front of her paddock."

Geralt froze. Surely Zoltan misread or even misunderstood. Geralt's name's was occasionally listed on paperwork as a handler if a buyer wanted to know more about a horse's temperament. But not as the owner or buyer.

He slowly backed away from Zolton and calmly headed towards the stables, and Roach's stall. He did not want to sprint eagerly or get his hopes up so instead, Geralt inhaled and exhaled every other measured step.

Roach's ownership papers were slipped in a plastic sleeve with a little metal hook attached so it remained securely on the nails of the stall door. Little dried stains and dirt covered the plastic and Geralt imagined Roach trying to get at her own papers.

Geralt von Rivia.

Undeniably, there in black and white. Geralt blinked, not believing his own eyes.

But still, there it was: Geralt von Rivia.

"Ah, Geralt!" The stablemaster came up to him, clapping him on the shoulder. "I had heard that you weren't able to bid. What a lovely surprise when I saw the name." Roach stretched as far out of her stall as she could manage, just reaching Geralt to nudge him. "And it looks like she agrees as well."

"But I didn't bid," Geralt said, confused. He stared at the paperwork for an extended period of time. He just couldn't believe it. Even encased in plastic that had corners peeling away at the top, it looked as officially legal as the other ones hangin off of the rest of the stalls in the stable.

"What?"

"I didn't bid. I told them that I couldn't. I didn't— I don't..." Geralt tilted his head and looked at the placard attached to the paddock. Geralt von Rivia and Roach.

How?

"I don't think anyone would be so cruel to play on a joke on you like this, mate."

"How can I check?"

The stablemaster pulled out his phone and held up a finger. Geralt didn't argue but watched the man dial a number and take a few steps away.

Roach stretched her neck again so her entire head came through the opening above the stall.

"Hello, girl." Geralt used both hands to rub at her face. He couldn't help it. Even if his name on the paperwork ended up being a cruel joke, he could imagine her at his family's ranch. She wouldn't take shit from the bigger stallion his brother kept and she'd teach their other mares to do the same.

"I talked to the production office. Said she's yours. The bid was placed anonymously."

"What? Anonymously?" Geralt looked at Roach as though she had the answers but the stablemaster continued to talk.

"They also included shipping costs as well as extra for feed, care, special needs, etc. A retainer essentially."

"Anonymous? How could they manage that?” Geralt leaned against the stall door, brain going into overdrive. He wasn't even sure where to start.

The stablemaster clearly could tell, and his voice softened, speaking as he would to any of the horses in the building. Geralt couldn't find it in himself to angry. It was a strange version of kindness that, in his overwhelmed state, he had no option except to accept. "It's all in the paperwork."

"Can I get a copy?"

"She's yours, Geralt, of course. Her and the paperwork."

Geralt looked at the paperwork attached to the stall and began to slide it out of its protective slip. He balanced his phone in one hand and the papers in the other as he slowly began taking photographs of each one. "I want to send the information to my friend before I— before I take her home."

"A lawyer, you mean."

Geralt nodded. "Just to double check."

“Smart man. Let me know if I can be of anymore help.”

Mercifully, the stablemaster left and Geralt let himself slide down the stall door. He knew he'd have to change pants before leaving now but he couldn't bring himself to care. He leaned his head back against the door.

He squinted at the sun through the windows as he struggled to hear the phone ringing amidst the breakdown of the rest of the set.

“Geralt.”

“Yenn.” Geralt couldn’t manage more than that. He took a deep breath to try again but Yennefer stopped him.

“Geralt? Are you all right? I thought you were still on location for that god awful film.”

“I am. I’m still there. I just. Something’s happened. I’m fine,” he added quickly. “It’s just strange.”

“Explain.”

"If someone bought you something anonymously, is there a way to tell who it was?"

"A gift? What kind of gift has you this shaken up? I am going to need so much more context, Geralt. Not to mention lunch and permission to laugh at you for whatever this is once you're back in the area.” Yennefer stopped talking and Geralt heard a few voices, none of them hers. “That is, I assume you're not back in the area yet. I just saw Eskel at the market last week. He would have mentioned it."

"No we— the film just wrapped. Everything was being broken down and there was an auction but." Geralt took a breath and gathered his words. "The horse I talked to you about."

"The smart one, yes." Yennefer's voice grew quiet and sympathetic in a way that would have surprised Geralt when they first met. But she knew what horses meant to him and respected it. They had both come a long way with one another. "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to buy her."

"That’s the thing, Yenn, someone bought her for me. I just received the paperwork. They paid for her, the board, and transportation back to the ranch. Not to mention a little more if needed. What could be needed?"

"Maybe they thought since you couldn't afford the price of the horse, you couldn't afford food, medical care, things like that."

"Oh." Geralt couldn't decide if that was insulting or thoughtful. Most people on set only saw him in his barn clothing so perhaps they couldn't be blamed for the assumption. He certainly didn't attend any social gatherings after the work day. The cost of Roach had held him back, not the care.

"You don't know who it could have been? Not a clue?"

"I'm...not exactly friendly to people on set," Geralt growled. “I certainly didn’t endear myself to that Marx asshole who rode her during filming.” He hated being on set but he was there to do a job and at least if he was there, he knew someone was protecting the animals.

"You do want her, right?"

"Of course I do," Geralt gripped the phone tightly. "I just want to make sure it wasn't some kind of mistake. Or strings attached. That she can't just be taken away at all in the future."

"All right. I'll look into it. Send me everything and give me a few hours."

"Thank you."

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

Geralt von Rivia.

Jaskier shifted all of Pegasus’ equipment to one arm so he could reach out and touch the paper. It felt good to see.

He looked around the stable to check he was alone before giving Roach one last pat. He kissed her on the nose and whispered, “Goodbye.”

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

Geralt’s entire afternoon had to shift. No longer could he throw his duffel bag in his truck and endure the long drive home. Instead he spent the day asking for another night in one of the spare rooms near the set. He went to ask after borrowing a trailer, only to find that it was one of the included costs with the purchase of Roach and far too nice for his truck.

Most importantly, he spent time with Roach. She was the last horse left at the end of the day. He had avoided people by hopping into her stall at some point, the stables full of agencies and buyers coming to collect.

A few people stopped to read the paperwork outside Roach and Geralt couldn’t stop his pride from rising. She was a star, great stock but even better temperament. And she was all his now.

Thankfully, by the time Yennefer called, no one was in the stables to hear a mobile phone start ringing inside one of the stalls.

“That was fast.”

“I’m very good at my job, Geralt.” Geralt wisely held his tongue. “Right so. Roach was bought and paid for by a Julian Alfred Pankratz."

Geralt blinked. He looked to Roach as though she could answer his questions. “I...I don't know a Julian-- whatever. Whatever name you just said to me."

Yennefer gently, "I think he's more commonly called Jaskier."

"Jaskier?"

"Yes, Jaskier. You know, one of the stars of the film series you've been working on the past few months."

Geralt bit back a growl. Yennefer was doing him a favor. He didn't need to be a twat. "I know who he is. I don't know why he bought Roach though."

He had certainly never been kind to Jaskier. If anything he had been a downright grump. Which wasn't much different from how Geralt treated most of the actors. Even the ones who had been nothing but kind to him.

He just couldn't risk it. The cast were a load of gossips and each week, Geralt heard something different about Jaskier and his coworkers. Geralt hadn't wanted to get involved.

It wasn't worth his time to be a notch in the bedpost for an actor who apparently had paramours throughout the cast and country, if the rumors were to be believed.

Clearly it hadn't mattered to Jaskier anyway.

"Bought and gave to you," Yennefer corrected. "Roach is in your name. I had to jump through some hoops to find this information. It wasn't easy. I don't think he intended on you ever knowing. He never mentioned it at all, correct?"

Most of the conversations Geralt had with the man were one-sided, or just corrections for his horse handling.

"Most of the actors left the day after the film wrapped. I haven't seen any of them save for a few who needed re-shoots with some of the sets we still had." His fist tightened around his phone. “I only told one person that I couldn’t afford Roach. He's not the type to pass around gossip.”

"I don't think Jaskier meant anything bad by it, Geralt."

"I just don't...understand."

"Me neither but unless you'd also like me to follow up, perhaps get in touch with his management?" She left the question hanging in the air and Geralt's face reddened at even the mention of talking to Jaskier again. It wasn't the man who had him worried but the whole process. Going through his team and agent just to ask why? What if he took back the gift?

Yennefer read his mind, as per usual. “He can't take Roach back, Geralt. I made sure of it but honestly, it looks like he is the one who made sure of it. No strings."  

"No strings."

"Do you want me to try and find out why? Have you looked at her teeth? Perhaps you might want to look a gift horse in the--"

"Yennefer," Geralt growled.

"Take Roach back to the ranch, Geralt. I'm sure your family will be excited to meet her."

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

"Is this my welcome?" Geralt hadn't even gotten out of his truck yet but he was tempted to make a u-turn and leave the ranch the same way he came in. He wasn't sure where he and Roach would go but anywhere would be better than his little brother giving him a suspicious expression the moment he pulled into the driveway. Eskel pushed Lambert to try and snap him out of his daze. "Well, are you just going to look at me like that or are you going to say hello?"

"Did we know you were bringing home a horse?" Eskel asked delicately while Lambert just continued to stare.

"I didn't even know I was bringing home a horse." Geralt slammed the driver's side door shut and caught Eskel in a hug. He snagged Lambert too even though the little shit tried to wriggle away after two seconds.

Lambert went through his fingers on a very short checklist. "Aiden was hoping you'd break your rule of no autographs for this one. But you didn't do that. And you brought home a horse."

"We've got a free stall, right?" Geralt looked towards the stables. They rarely had a full house unless they were hosting some kind of trail camp. Still, he hadn't even thought of calling home to check.

"She's staying?"

"She's mine." Geralt handed Eskel the paperwork and Lambert immediately hung over his shoulder to read through it.

Eskel's eyes widened at the sight of her lineage. "How did you afford--"

"I didn't. It's…a long story."

"You didn't steal a horse, did you? Someone is going to be looking for this girl."

"She's not stolen. Her name is Roach." Geralt ran his finger through his hair, pulling at the tangles from having the window open on the long ride back home. "Melitele, can we not do this now? Let me get her settled and then I'll tell you about it."

Eskel and Lambert exchanged a look and Eskel shoved Lambert off his shoulder. "Lambert, go tell Dad that Geralt's home. When does the trailer have to go back?"

"They bought that too."

"The trailer came with the horse?" Eskel waved his hand after seeing the pained look on Geralt's face. "All right, don't tell me. I know you don't want to explain it more than once."

He left Geralt to blessed silence. Silent as a farm could get, at any rate. He patted Roach's flank and coaxed her out of the trailer, leaving it unlocked and opened behind him. The ranch was isolated enough as it was and he'd be back for it soon enough.

"This is Scorpion. That's Kelpie," Geralt introduced Roach to each horse as he walked her by their stalls, finally coming to an empty one. He eyed up Scorpion, already thinking ahead. Eskel's stallion was of good lineage. It wouldn't be a bad match to think of for the future.

He hung around the stable as long as he thought he was able to. Just because one of his brothers hadn't been sent out to fetch him yet didn't mean that Vesemir hadn't already planned it. Geralt patted Roach one last time and headed out.

The farmhouse smelled just as he left it, like horse and his father's cooking. The first an unfortunate by-product of their lives but the second, a welcome back.

They didn't all still live in the house. Eskel had a cabin on the furthest edge of the land with a herd of goats that they rented out and kept for milk. Lambert and Aiden had just moved to another patch of acreage on the opposite side before Geralt had left for the film shoot. From what Geralt could gather from Eskel's texts, they swapped out more nights than one making sure someone was there to help Vesemir with the morning chores.

"Hey Dad." Geralt leaned in and let his Vesemir clap him on the back.

"Good to have you home." Vesemir's gruff voice washed over Geralt and he felt something in his shoulders settle. He took the offered bowl of stew and purposefully brushed against both Eskel and Lambert on his way to sit at the table.

"Good to be home."

Lambert, mouth full of beef stew, used his dripping spoon to gesture to the TV.

“You worked with him, right?”

"Who?" Geralt looked up from his bowl. There was an entertainment show on the television but it had gone commercial. Lambert rolled his eyes at him.

“Jackass. Jaskier. They had a whole segment on him."

Geralt swallowed and before he could overthink it, told them, "That’s the one who bought Roach. Bought her in my name, I mean."  

Eskel near choked on a beef chunk, "What?"

"Him?" Lambert's eyes widened. He shot a look at Vesemir. "Did you, uhh--" but he didn't get a chance to finish because Geralt threw a chunk of bread at his head.

"I didn't sleep with him, you ass. I don't know why he did it. I wasn't even supposed to know, according to Yennefer."

Geralt wished he knew why. It was an itch he couldn't scratch, though having Roach home and in her stall was a significant balm. He accepted another slice of bread from Eskel.

"She checked it out?" Vesemir asked knowingly. "Everything is all right?"

"The paperwork all checks out. No strings," Geralt echoed Yennefer's earlier words.

"Good lineage," Eskel added slowly. "There’s no issues with her health?”

Geralt nodded. "None that I know of. I'm going to call in Coën tomorrow to give her a full check-up and we'll go from there. I don't think there will be a problem though."

Lambert shrugged at Eskel who still looked suspicious. He eyed the door that led out closest to the barn as if he wanted to go interrogate Roach to find out more. “Oh. Well, I guess a person who buys a horse anonymously as a gift can’t be that big of an ass then like the papers say, right? Was he?”

“Was he what?”

“An ass. Was Jaskier an ass?” Lambert asked again.

Geralt pondered the question. He hadn't expected to think this much about anyone from the cast after production had set down. Definitely not Jaskier.

Truthfully, Jaskier had been the furthest thing from an ass. Sure, he had gotten to the stables earlier than the other actors but it was a strange thing for Geralt to complain about considering how late the rest of the cast were for their training sessions. He cared about the horses too. It had been sweet.

"What are you on about?" Vesemir grumbled.

Lambert, mouth full of stew, looked at Eskel imploringly, fighting to swallow. Eskel tilted his head towards the television. "The lad who bought Geralt his horse apparently got on the bad side of some folks. The gossip shows say they've been spreading rumors about him for months."

"Did he say that? Jaskier." Geralt's attention suddenly back on the television. The b-roll footage of a posh gentleman on the red carpet was not the same man covered in a dirt -covered costume after a ride or a long shoot, that was for sure. It still was Jaskier though.

"No one's heard from him. It's all come out now after the production's ended."

Eskel plucked a newspaper off of the counter and passed it over to Geralt who took it but kept it closed. Jaskier's face was on the cover or it would have been if his hand hadn't blocked the photograph from the view. "Wouldn't be surprised if he sued them for libel though. Judging by what they're saying in here, he's certainly got a case."

FALSEHOODS AND PRODUCTION WOES the newspaper headline shouted. Geralt ran through the first few lines of the article and felt the pit in his stomach begin to grow.

“I heard some of these.” He had been on more toxic sets in the past. With more difficult actors trying to make passes at him, sometimes aggressively. Thinking that crew should be lucky to get their attention. Television shows, soap operas had been worse. But this still hadn't been good. And Jaskier had been nothing but kind to him. Annoying, perhaps early in the morning but, certainly nothing like the rumors had suggested. Still Geralt had done his best to ignore him.

“No kidding? Maybe they’ll call you in to testify.”

Geralt leaned against the counter and stared the newspaper, hoping no one else heard the roaring in his ears.

Perhaps there had been another reason Jaskier was hiding in the stables each morning instead of by the breakfast tables in the craft tent.

Certainly Geralt had taken his solace in the company of animals before. Jaskier had clearly just been doing the same.

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

“You have more security out in the country. That’s the whole point of the privacy fence,” Priscilla argued. Jaskier had been sneaking peeks through the blinds for the better part of the morning. His face had gotten paler with each glance.

“I know you’re right.”

“I am. London will still be here when this all blows over. Or when a judge makes it blow over.” Jaskier sighed. Priscilla hated seeing him like this, curled up on the couch, phone turned off. Country life would be pleasant in more than one way.

“You can bond some more with that horse you’ve got. I’m sure he missed you.”

“I’ll just have to come back to the premiere,” Jaskier warned. “You won’t have the flat to yourself for too long.”

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

"Zoltan."

"You're going."

"Going where?"

"To the premiere."

"We're a little busy here." Geralt gazed around the quiet stables and winced at the phone in his hand. What Zoltan didn't know wouldn't hurt him. The last thing Geralt wanted to do was take the journey into London and be around people that he didn't even socialize with when he was paid to.

"All the crew is invited and the production team is insisting the crew come so they don't look like asshats. Please come keep me company," Zoltan near begged.

"Too late for that isn't it?" Geralt thought back to the television stories and the articles about Jaskier.

Sure, maybe Geralt had given into his curiosity and googled Jaskier's name a few times after his first night home but the man really had vanished. No photographer had been able to capture any images of him and his team weren't responding to any questions.

Geralt wasn't sure if it was Jaskier's team at work or someone in his corner but certainly he had read a few articles about instances of Jaskier's kindness. He had experienced that first hand and judging by the rest of the stories, he felt they had to be true. Most of Jaskier's generosity came anonymously but he hadn't always been as good at covering his tracks as he had been with Roach.

"Well, perhaps. Valdo made sure of that."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I just meant. All those rumors he spread about Jaskier. Turns out this wasn't the first person who he had done this too. I heard tell that Valdo is going to be blacklisted in the industry and then sued for gossip. Defamation or something. I'm not too sure. It'll be out in the papers soon enough."

"Libel," Geralt murmured, thinking back to the articles he had read. "Even I heard gossip around the set."

"I didn't believe any of it, personally. Jaskier was always a polite fellow and some of it was nasty. Well, I'm sure you didn't either. Otherwise Jaskier wouldn't have done you that solid."

"What solid?"

Zoltan was quiet for a beat too long.

Geralt sighed. One more piece of the puzzle. "You mean Roach. I know he bought Roach for me. But how did you know?"

"Ah well..."

"I had to go through a lawyer to find out," Geralt added.

"I did the paperwork," Zoltan admitted. "He did want it to be anonymous but I thought that was just so production couldn't give him a hard time about buying two horses."

"He bought another horse?"

Zoltan paused again. "He really never mentioned this to you? He was in the stables near every morning."

"For training."

"Not just for training. Though I guess we know now that he was just trying to stay away from Valdo and his cronies." Geralt wasn't sure what to say to that. He had never been anyone's idea of a respite and his guilt at knowing he hadn’t made the time easier for Jaskier still weighed on his mind. Though perhaps Jaskier had just been after the horses. "He bought the one he rode. Pegasus."

"Oh."

Geralt hadn't expected that. He knew Jaskier had gotten along with the horse, of course. That had been easy enough to see, sweet even. But it was still a surprise. A pleasant one.

There was something about Jaskier buying a horse for himself and for Geralt. As if the man understood the responsibility and the importance. He wasn't just buying Roach as a gift for whatever reason, he knew everything the job would entail.

"The premiere is in London. Should be a good time so long as no one leaks the news about any legal cases beforehand."

Geralt rubbed his hand over Roach's nose and made a snap decision. "I'll meet you there."

"Really?"

"You owe me a drink."

"Should be an open bar, mate."

"Well, that makes it easy for you then."

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

Geralt wasn't exactly keeping up with Jaskier's story but Aiden and Lambert watched enough entertainment news for the rest of them. Gossip papers would be left out around the barn by visitors without issue. If Geralt just happened to see that Jaskier hadn't been heard from in a few weeks since production shut down then, well, that was just a fact that lived in Geralt's brain.

One that he definitely didn't overthink. Not with the premiere already on his mind.

"It really was Valdo," Lambert had told him one morning. "Apparently he wanted that role of Jaskier's so badly that he decided that he'd try to make sure the guy would never have any other roles again."

Geralt didn't let on that he had known. Still, he hadn't thought about the creep since Zoltan had brought him up.

Valdo. Like Zoltan had said, it was no wonder Jaskier had always signed up to be the first person at the stables with Geralt. Valdo Marx would never deign to get to the stables early in the morning, even when it was a necessity that he do so.

"Loads of other actors apparently apologized for listening to Valdo. They'd been giving Jaskier the cold shoulder for weeks now. But still, no one has seen him."

"I can't blame him for wanting to take a break from acting. Even now with the rumors out, I think I'd find another industry to work in all together." Aiden shook his head. He looked up at Geralt hopefully, nudging Lambert conspicuously. "You haven't heard from anyone from set talking about it?"

Geralt gave Lambert an exasperated look. "I know you had overheard that conversation. I'm not taking either of you to the premiere. I'm staying for one drink and then getting on the train again."

"Told you so," Lambert muttered. "Fine. Be that way."

“Poor guy,” Eskel murmured. “I’d hide too if I just had to spend months contractually obligated with people all poisoned against me.”

Geralt kept his eyes down, wishing the conversation would change. Wishing he hadn’t been such a fool. At least he knew why Jaskier had always signed up to be the first person at the stables. Not that the information helped Geralt’s newly-acquired nausea.

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

It would be fine.

That's what Geralt kept repeating to himself on the tube ride into London.

Geralt would go in, have a drink with Zoltan, find Jaskier, thank him, and then never have to think of the man again. A strange sense of closure for someone he never had a relationship with, platonic or otherwise, but it was the right thing to do.

Everytime he looked at Roach or rode her around the ranch, he thought of Jaskier. It wasn't guilt or anything owed to the man. Geralt believed in the actor's earnestness and no-strings gift.

He managed to find Zoltan right away, the two of them hiding in a corner of the hotel bar through the actual film and more when crowds finally came back.

"I had wondered if Jaskier was even going to come," Zoltan confided in Geralt, leaning closer to the bar and looking over their shoulders as their lobby filled up.

"Because of Marx?"

Zoltan nodded. "I suspect there will be a healthy number of people keeping them away from one another."

"For good reason." Geralt tried not to be too obvious in his glances behind them but Zoltan knew enough of the cause. "Why come at all, I wonder?"

"Contract," Zoltan told him, pressing his lips thin. He shook his head at the thought. "It's written in the contracts that they've got to do press and this counts as press."

"The red carpet beforehand, surely. But I can't imagine a party is." Geralt shifted uncomfortably. The bar was filling up and he and Zoltan were getting squashed to one side already. The gracious and well-tipped bartender had thought ahead and topped the two of them off before the rush began.

"You've been in this business for a few years now. Surely you're not that naive."

Geralt finally caught sight of Jaskier. In a plain blue suit, unlike such patterned clothing he had worn even after Geralt had told him he’d only get the fineries dirty.

Without turning to look at the crowd or see if anyone was watching him, Jaskier hurried up the side stairs to where Geralt knew there was another reserved space, a small but grand library room that hadn’t been alrered since the 30s. He and Zoltan had stumbled upon it earlier in the afternoon while hiding from cameras.

"I'm more naive than I think sometimes." Geralt nodded to Zoltan and held out his hand. Zoltan took it to shake instantly. “It was good to see you. Call if you’re ever by the ranch. We’d be happy to have you.”

Following Jaskier’s path and manners, Geralt also didn’t look behind him as he slipped up the same stairs, closing the paneled door after him.

Geralt allowed himself a moment to look at Jaskier. The man had his coat in hand and was staring out of the rather large window flanked by two bookshelves.

“I just wanted to—“ Jaskier spun around, hand to his chest. Geralt took a step backwards. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier finally said, even though his heavy breaths were still evident. He stood up straight and blinked a few times too quickly. Geralt softened his voice, hoping to ease his nerves.

“Jaskier. I just wanted to catch you to say thank you.”

Jaskier flinched, just slightly. He tilted his head and looked at Geralt as though he was the picture of innocence, furrowing his brow slightly to sell the confused image.

"For what?"

"Jaskier," Geralt chastised. He was in no mood. He had been around far too many people this night. Jaskier thought so too judging by the fact that he had left the main party room for this quieter one. Still, Geralt knew that wasn’t the only reason. "Thank you for Roach."

Jaskier's mouth opened a bit and then closed again. He seemed to be eyeing how Geralt was blocking the only exit out of the room. "How do you know?"

"Was I not supposed to find out?"

"Well, it was— anonymous. I thought." Jaskier's confused expression tightened as though he was trying to remember the legal jargon he had gone through when setting up Roach's purchase and fund.

"I--" Geralt felt his face go a bit red with embarrassment at that. "I wanted to make sure she really was mine. No strings or anything. I had a lawyer friend look into it just to double check."

"Right.” Jaskier shook his head, a few locks of hair coming loose from their coiffed position. “Yes, of course."

Geralt hated that Jaskier was agreeing with him. As if it was perfectly all right for Geralt to be suspicious of a gift and also of Jaskier himself. What a pair they were.

"Look," Jaskier held up his hands in front of him, "I know you don’t like me and I didn’t to it so you’d be— beholden to me or forced to pretend to like me or whatever. You weren’t supposed to find out. But that awful man from production was going to buy her and I couldn’t let that happen and I had heard that you were had turned down the opportunity which just seemed wrong. I mean, she’s clearly your horse and—"

"Thank you." Geralt said firmly. “Just...thank you."

"Oh. You’re welcome." Jaskier swallowed and chanced a look out the window again. Geralt watched him, very aware that he had done what he came to do. Still he couldn’t make himself leave.

"Are you planning on hiding here all right?"

Jaskier shrugged. "I haven’t decided yet.”

Geralt wasn't sure what to do with that one.

"Would you like to come visit Roach?" He tried next.

Jaskier still looked uncomfortable.

“Right now?”

Geralt remembered the early training calls, how quiet Jaskier was when other people began to come around the barn, the rumors he heard even his first week on set. How he had let them affect the way he handled being around Jaskier more than anyone else. Fuck.

"Where do you live?" Geralt asked suddenly, not realizing the strangeness of the question.

"What?" Jaskier seemed taken aback which was more than fair.

"I only meant— Here in London or LA or New Yo--"

"Here. England, I mean. I’ve got a little place a little ways outside of London."

That could be anywhere, Geralt didn’t say. Jaskier still looked uncomfortable. His shoulders were hunched and he was holding himself tightly with his arms straight down at his side so his hands could be shoved into his pockets.

It had been weeks since they had seen each other last and Geralt just. He had so many things to say now but couldn't make the right words come out of his mouth.

He thought about Jaskier every time he rode Roach around the farm. He wished that it was just the two of them at 6am on the training set again. Jaskier on Pegasus and Geralt on Roach, going through the obstacle courses.

He wanted a second chance to ignore rumors and laugh at Jaskier's jokes and flirt back at him. Geralt had that open Jaskier still in his mind, who was so pleased to see both Geralt and the horses even though it was barely past dawn and he had had a late shoot the previous night.

"Did you really buy Pegasus too?" Geralt asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Jaskier blushed. "I did. He's with me. Well, a stable near me. I know I'm not the greatest at care as you saw it but I visit him and ride as often as I can." His smile was soft just thinking about the horse and Geralt again ached, thinking about the morning dew, riding with Jaskier around the ring. The soft voice that he used for the horses regardless of who could hear him.

"You’re welcome to come see Roach anytime. Especially if you want to bring Pegasus. My father’s ranch is remote and private. Sometimes we get writers or other people stay for retreats in some of the smaller cabins."

Jaskier still looked uncomfortable. Upset, even. He had taken his hands out of his pockets and he was leaning backwards, clutching the window frame. Geralt wondered how much acting he did on a daily basis.

He really hadn’t meant for Geralt to find out about Roach.

"He's really fine. I promise," Jaskier said quietly.

Geralt swallowed his nausea at just how still Jaskier was holding himself. At how Jaskier thought Geralt only inquired after Pegasus because he assumed Jaskier couldn’t take proper care of him.

And that was Geralt’s fault. For listening to rumors. For being colder to Jaskier as the shoot weeks had gone on. The man had sometimes beaten Geralt to the stables in the morning and in return, Geralt had barely spoken to him.

"I have no doubt that he is enjoying your care. As well as you sneaking him too many treats," Geralt joked, trying to lighten the mood. He hadn't mean to imply that Jaskier wasn't taking proper care of Pegasus. That hadn't been it at all. He was just. He wanted to be near Jaskier. He didn’t want to leave him just yet.

He took his eyes off of Jaskier's and they fell to his long fingers. Even though he was facing Geralt, Jaskier’s fingers were clutching the window lip.

He hadn’t been looking out the window or catching his breath in an empty room.

Jaskier had been trying to get out onto the fire escape.

Of course.

Geralt sighed, he could feel a dull ache behind one of his eyeballs. Perfect. He had already caused Jaskier enough panic for one night and now a headache. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"Here is a card for my friend. She’s a fantastic lawyer and if you mention my name, she’ll take you on. She might laugh but she’ll do it. The laughing will mostly be at me,” he added. "You might not need her, of course. But she's the one who helped figure out it was you who got Roach for me."

Jaskier took the card from Geralt's outstretched hand and near cradled it in his hands. "Thanks."

"Do you want help opening the window that you were trying to escape out of?"

There was a spark in his eye that Geralt hadn't seen in months and he was willing to bet he wasn't the only one who missed it.

"Please."

Geralt used one hand to gesture for Jaskier to move out of the way and he did, with almost too much glee. There was a bounce in his step that Geralt was relieved to see. None of the tabloids or entertainment shows could see that when they talked about him.

He carefully examined the large window. The expansive sash was sturdy enough but Geralt was more than a match for its age. He reached up and unlocked the top before heaving under the lip.

It opened without issue.

“Thank you so much,” Jaskier gushed. He didn’t even wait for Geralt to move out of the way before climbing into the fire escape. He turned to look back at Geralt. “I really appreciate it.”

Geralt gestured again, this time for Jaskier to step back, further out the window.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier asked as Geralt had one foot out the window.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “I opened the window. Am I not also allowed to climb out of it?"

"I guess." Jaskier looked bewildered. “There’s still a party downstairs.”

"I think you know me well enough to know that it’s not my kind of party.” Geralt enjoyed seeing the flush on Jaskier’s face at the possibility that the two of them might know one another at all. “I'm not letting you fall down the fire escape."

"Just because my upper body strength is lacking doesn't mean I've never climbed down a fire escape before," Jaskier argued even as he made for the ladder.

God, did Geralt want to know that story. He could do nothing but follow Jaskier.

Out of the window, down the fire escape, and to the ground, where Jaskier landed safely with a soft "Oomph."

"Thank you,” he told Geralt again. Then, before he could lose his courage, he added, “It was good to see you again.” He took off down the street, collar popped up around the lower half of his face.

Geralt wanted to call after him, invite him to get a drink, spirit him away before the cameras out front could find him. He imagined them getting the tube together and riding away all while Jaskier huddled closer to him, whether for warmth or so no one recognized him. Geralt fantasized the worst case scenario, with himself stepping in as the hero for Jaskier, blocking him from the cameras.

In the end, he watched Jaskier, hunched over himself in a foreboding navy coat, make his way around the corner. And then he went home to the ranch and told Roach all about it.

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

“Just like that?” Priscilla asked, graciously not mentioning the fact that Jaskier had put on her favorite sweatpants or that he had heart eyes whilst talking about this mysterious horse guy.

Jaskier shrugged, swirling a wine glass with one hand. “Just like that. I’ve gotten a new agent. A new lawyer seems like a good place to start.”

“And you trust him?” Priscilla held up the card. “He couldn’t afford a horse and yet has a friend who works here?”

“She’s how he found out I bought the horse for him.”

“Your funeral.”

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

"Geralt von Rivia," Yennefer's voice came through his phone. Geralt winced and so did Eskel even though he was near three meters away. Yennefer only used their full names when they were in trouble. "Did you give some twink my number?"

"Can you help him?"

"Yes, I believe I can. i just wanted to check his story."

"He bought Roach for me."

"Yes, the mystery-horse buyer. I remember." Yennefer's quiet voice used to grate on Geralt. He never knew what it meant. He used to think he was a fool but as their relationship developed, he realized that Yennefer's version of caring contained a lot of frighteningly quiet determination.

"I wasn't supposed to find out, apparently."

Geralt wasn't grumpy about the situation.

He wasn't.

He just wished that everything was different. That was all.

"Well, he didn't anticipate you having me for a lawyer." Yennefer paused and Geralt heard some paper rustling in the background. "Did you know about all this? His situation, I mean.”

“I’ve heard rumors.” Geralt didn't mention that he had been reading Lambert's discarded tabloids and doing some googling of his own.

“Rumors of the situation or the rumors being spread about him on set?”

“The latter,” Geralt mumbled, embarrassed. "Both, I suppose. Lambert reads the tabloids. So does Aiden."

“No wonder he talked himself in circles about you. His friend had to stop him twice from rambling on.”

Geralt wanted to ask about that but he knew Yennefer wouldn't answer. Or couldn't, with a confidentiality clause.

“Can you fix it?”

She scoffed. “Of course I can. It’ll be a bit messy but luckily, this isn’t the only lawsuit against this guy. Tons of evidence and witnesses too. He managed to get a new agent who hasn't been doing half bad of a job. Don't worry, Geralt. I'll protect him.”

"Marx?"

"Yes. It's not the first time he's done this either." Then, softer. "I'll help him, Geralt. I promise."

"Thank you."

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

“Jaskier!” One of the farmer’s son sprinted up to him, coming to a stop once he reached the stables. Jaskier had just gotten himself onto Pegasus for the day. “We had a man come round asking about you yesterday. Dad wanted you to know.”

“Here?” Jaskier dismounted quickly and looked around the farm to the tree line, expecting the press to come racing at him after the teen. "Take a breath, Matthew."

Matthew and the rest of his family had been nothing but kind to Jaskier since he had started boarding Pegasus at their farm. He hated to think they were being harassed by some reporters.

“One of those newspaper people. Had a camera and everything.”

Jaskier's heart sank but Matthew shook his head.

“Posh twat!” One of the farmhands yelled from the loft. “We ran him out!”

Jaskier didn’t bothering covering his mouth as he laughed along with Matthew. “He didn’t cause any trouble?” He asked earnestly.

“We said that we’d never heard of you," Matthew said proudly.

“Thank you so much.” Jaskier heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against Pegasus. He gave the horse a kiss and nodded to Matthew again. The boy, realizing just how close he and Jaskier were standing, blushed a bit before racing off.

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

It had taken Geralt a long time in his life to learn never to doubt Yennefer but it was a lesson that had stuck.

In keeping up with the news about Jaskier, Geralt had learned a lot about him. To the point where, when Jaskier’s best friend, Priscilla, was interviewed on the red carpet of her latest premiere and asked about the missing man, Geralt knew exactly who she was. It also meant that Geralt could properly appreciate her viciously telling the interviewer to fuck off.

Jaskier still hadn't worked on a film in weeks but Yennefer assured him it was for the best and that Jaskier was doing fine. Laying low was a part of the plan.

The successful plan as it so happened.

Lambert slapped the newspaper down on the breakfast table. Geralt and Eskel both jumped back.

"The guy who saved Roach has been saved!" He crowed triumphantly, dodging a spoon thrown by Geralt.

"Jaskier?” Eskel asked. “The trial went off all right?”

Lambert nodded towards the paper. “It says Marx was found guilty. So Jaskier and the other people he talked about are in the clear with any luck. Have you talked to him?"

"What?" Geralt looked up from the front page. Jaskier looked good in most outfits, of course, but the official black suit for court did nothing but match him to Yennefer, who was barely in the photograph, as the newspaper had tried so hard to cut her out.

"I know it says he won the case but he looks here miserable, mate.”

"Tabloid photos aren't real indicators of a person's well-being," Geralt said stiffly. Even though Lambert was right. Geralt kept picturing the animated Jaskier that he had been privileged to see for a whole thirty seconds at the premiere party.

"You texted him though, right?"

Geralt hummed. "Yennefer's helping him out."

Eskel and Lambert responded at the same time.

"That's not an answer to his question."

"That's not an answer to my question."

Sometimes Geralt really hated his brothers.

"You gave him Yennefer's name?" Eskel urged on.

“Must have,” Lambert commented, tapping on the partial shot of Yennefer buried under headline text.

"Her card." Geralt also remembered Jaskier's uncomfortable body language at the party. Curled in on himself, not meeting anyone's eyes and when he did, he looked right past them. Sometimes when Geralt closed his eyes he saw Jaskier's white knuckles against the windowpane, desperate to make an escape. Geralt provided that. He gave that to him. And Yennefer's information. "He seemed like he just needed someone in his corner."

"And now?"

"He's Yennefer's client right now. They're not friends. Yet,” he added. “Knowing Yennefer, it will depend on if she likes him or not."

Lambert turned back towards his breakfast but Eskel still had a knowing eye on his brother.

“Looks like it’s all wrapped up. He’s not her client anymore.”

"I don't have his number." Geralt admitted, just barely audible. “I never did.”

Eskel reached over and tapped on the screen of Geralt’s phone. "I bet Yennefer does."

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

Geralt: Do you have Jaskier's number? Yennefer: Finally. Yennefer: I can't give it to you. Yennefer: But I can give your information to him. Geralt: Thank you. Yennefer: He's sweet but skittish. Be gentle.

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

Yennefer: 033 0058 0058 Jaskier: What's that? Yennefer: Geralt's number.

Jaskier sighed and touched his thumb to Yennefer's name.

"You're calling the wrong number," she told him in lieu of a greeting.

"I don't know him," Jaskier argued. "We were never supposed to see each other again."

"I expect a gift basket after the wedding then."

"Shall I expect one for you and Priscilla?" Jaskier asked coolly. Thankfully, Yennefer laughed and he managed to keep going. "He didn't want to talk to me when we had to spend near every day together. I don't think I can manage a phone conversation if it's just me." He wasn't worried about being too honest. Not with Yennefer, not after the trial.

He'd woken up plenty of times in Priscilla's flat after an emotional night to Yennefer at the door with breakfast for all three of them.

Yennefer hummed and in a way, she sounded almost like Geralt. "You're right. Can I make another suggestion?"

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

Yennefer: Are you home today? Geralt: Yes Yennefer: All day? Geralt: Yes Yennefer: Good. Stay there. Yennefer: Or outside. By the driveway. Geralt: Why? Yennefer: Trust me, Geralt. It's a lovely day. Yennefer: Just enjoy yourself.

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

Geralt stuffed his phone back in his pocket and asked Roach, “What do you think?”

Roach just looked at him which was fair but Geralt’s heart started to race with the anticipation.

He couldn’t be sure of what was coming but he hoped. He left the stables and headed for the house. Sitting on the porch did nothing for Geralt’s nerves so instead he found himself standing in front of it.

Barely twenty minutes had gone by but still Geralt found himself picking the paint off of the porch railing.

An unfamiliar engine caught Geralt’s ear and he turned towards the front drive.

Then, there he was.

Jaskier.

In a shoddy little truck with faded red paint that was nearing pink. It looked as though perhaps Vesemir was only one old enough to have purchased it as new. He was towing a trailer behind him and Geralt would be willing to bet that he knew who was in there.

He also clearly didn’t know where to park. No doubt Yennefer had given him an address only. Geralt didn’t bother to hold back his enthusiasm, waving Jaskier towards the neat line of vehicles by the stables.

Geralt wondered if it would be too much to open the door for him but he remembered Yennefer’s words.

He's sweet but skittish. Be gentle.

Geralt could do gentle. He’d soothed plenty a horse in his time. So he hung back, just giving Jaskier what he hoped was an encouraging smile as he opened the car door himself.

"Um. Hello," Jaskier said shyly, a little nod of his head. With his priorities in place, he was already headed around to the trailer door. Geralt knew he was going to let Pegasus out but he couldn't help but feel as though Jaskier was trying to avoid contact with him at the same time.

He remembered how Jaskier needed to do something with his hands even on a good day, whether that was the infuriating clicking of the pen he used to make notes on his script or the constant twisting of Pegasus' leather reins around his fingers.

Geralt liked to think that this would be a good day but he knew how much courage it took for Jaskier to drive here with his horse.

Jaskier gave Pegasus a happy smile and guided him out of the trailer. It wasn't until the horse was solidly on the grass that Jaskier met Geralt's eyes again. Geralt could see that it wasn't just shyness. It was nerves.

Jaskier was biting at his lip and playing with the leather of the reins just like he had those mornings on set. "I wasn’t sure if the offer to visit was still there. Yennefer said—

"Yennefer was right," Geralt said quickly, beating Jaskier to the trailer door. He latched it shut, staring unblinkingly at Jaskier.

"Did Yennefer tell you to say that?"

“In my experience, it’s usually true,” Geralt joked. He took a step forward. "I'm...glad you're here."

"Oh. Oh, good," Jaskier sounded so relieved that Geralt wanted to convince him to stay forever. To gain confidence as Geralt did around his brothers, to be fed delicious meals by his father, and most importantly, to find peace with Geralt.

"I'm not...I'm not great over the phone anyway,” Geralt offered.

"I thought that might be the case,” Jaskier admitted honestly. “I wasn’t sure if I could stand to carry a whole conversation. Yennefer thought it would be easier for us just to..."

"Be together in person?"

"Well, I was going to say be with the horses. So we both have something to focus on if we need it." Jaskier lovingly stroked Pegasus and the horse nuzzled at him. Geralt had seen the same scene dozens of times over but that had been on set. Seeing it again here, on his family’s ranch was almost too good to be true.

"That works too." Geralt paused a moment and then urged Jaskier to follow him. “Come out to the barn. She’ll be excited to see you.”

Jaskier walked Pegasus through the stables. He let out the sweetest sigh upon seeing Roach again and Geralt never wanted Jaskier to leave the ranch again.

"Oh, hello, darling," Jaskier said quietly. Geralt took Pegasus' reins and Jaskier used his free hands to rub at Roach's nose. She leaned into the petting and Geralt wished he could take a photograph.

“I was a twat,” Geralt told him while Jaskier was distracted by a beautiful horse. “I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked down and shrugged. “I’m sure you see all sorts on film sets. I can’t even imagine.”

“I bet you can.” Geralt stroked Pegasus. He unlatched Roach’s stall and gestured for Jaskier to lead her out. “You weren’t any trouble, you know.”

“I don’t know if you remember but you…you yelled at Marx one day. He was crowding me in the stable and Roach picked up on my mood and became irritated with him. You told him off.” Jaskier told all this to Roach and Geralt did him the courtesy of not commenting on it.

Geralt didn’t remember though. He had chased away dozens of actors from horses over the years. It didn’t surprise him that Marx had been one of them.

“I’m glad she was there to protect you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.”

“I won’t say that it’s all right,” Jaskier said, with more strength than he looked. He swallowed and finally turned to Geralt. “It’s been…a long few weeks. Months, really. But we’re here now and—“

Roach nudged him again and he let out a little laugh. Some of the tension leaving him.

Roach nuzzled closer and Jaskier could tell she was eager to get out of her stall. “Yes, darling. I brought your old friend to come see you. I thought perhaps--" He looked at Geralt. "I thought perhaps we could go for a ride together? If you'd like."

"I'd love that," Geralt croaked, wondering how Jaskier could still be so brave after all this. That he was here and talking and asking Geralt to spend time with him. "Let me tack him up for you?" He asked, hand on Pegasus' flank.

Jaskier's brow furrowed. "I can do it."

"I know that you can. I want to do to it,” Geralt stressed. "Please," he added.

"Let's swap," Jaskier said, still lovingly petting Roach. "I haven't seen this girl in a while. It'll be nice."

"All right," Geralt agreed. He could see what Jaskier was doing.

It wasn't about a penance. Jaskier wanted them on some kind of equal footing. That was fair, Geralt supposed. Even though as of that specific moment, Geralt wanted to give Jaskier the world.

"Are you all right now?" Geralt asked, hesitating in a way that he hoped made an answer not necessary if Jaskier didn’t want to respond.

"Well, I don't know about 'all right,'" Jaskier huffed. His eyes were looking straight ahead. "Yennefer certainly settled some things. I'm not sure I'll be acting anytime soon. Or um, answering my phone calls. I've actually changed my number again. Remind me to give it to you."

"I'd like that." Geralt didn't mention that he never had Jaskier's number in the first place.

"It's not the press," he assured Geralt. "Just a lot of people trying to apologize or offering to support me. I'm talking to the same few who always believed me before everything, you know? Mostly just Priscilla and Yennefer right now."

Geralt didn't know. He was one of the people who...well, he's not sure that he believed the rumors. He wasn't someone to go around sets making friends regardless. But he had certainly heard the gossip, listened to it even.

He liked to think he made up for some of that but in actuality, Geralt knew it didn't matter. He'll always wish he had behaved differently when he first met Jaskier. He could have maybe had Jaskier in his life for so much longer. Could have supported him better during this shit time instead of just handing over Yennefer's card and begging her to take the case.

Geralt's mind was full of questions that he wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask. He wasn't even sure he wanted the answers either. What was Jaskier going to do now? Geralt knew that one was selfish because he so wanted the answer to include him.

They worked in silence to get the horses ready but it wasn’t a silence that Geralt minded. Especially not when it was broken every moments by Jaskier giggling whenever Roach tried to interrupt his actions. He watched Jaskier get up onto Pegasus before following on Roach.

“You could always keep Pegasus—“

"I was thinking maybe I could board Pegasus here? If you've got the room—"

"Yes!" Geralt said immediately, cutting off what he had started saying as well as Jaskier's nervous rant. He didn't want Jaskier to be unsure of himself ever again. Not where Geralt was concerned. "You could come by whenever you'd like. Hopefully...often," he let himself say, voice growing stronger as the sentence went on.

"Yeah?" Jaskier asked. Geralt couldn't look away from how his teeth trapped his bottom lip between them. He was grateful that they were both on horses, otherwise Geralt wasn't sure he could have stopped himself from taking his thumb and slipping the abused lip to safety.  "I don't live too far away. I hadn’t realized.”

Geralt swallowed. He met Jaskier’s big blue eyes and knew his own were rounded in vulnerability. “Please."

Jaskier finally, finally, smiled at him in such a way that Geralt felt his chest loosen. Jaskier nodded and Geralt felt his heart beating in his chest again. He grinned back at Jaskier and felt something swirl around them.

“Stay for dinner? My brothers would love to meet you. My father too.” Geralt was horrified at himself. He hadn’t rambled on like this in years. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop himself, not when Jaskier was giggling and trying to hide it with a hand over his mouth. “My brother Eskel’s horse is the one I’m planning to pair Roach with but I’m making him grovel for it if you’d like to help.”

“That sounds nice,” Jaskier laughed openly at him. Geralt didn’t mind one bit. “I’d love to stay, thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Geralt couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Jaskier as they mounted. It seemed Jaskier didn’t mind, snorting each time he caught his former horse master. And then he did the same, with Geralt trying not to preen too much in response.

Jaskier told him about Priscilla and Yennefer meeting and how he couldn’t go to dinner with the two of them alone again, Geralt, please.

Geralt explained how the farm worked and how much he disliked being on set away from his brothers, even when the money was good. How mercilessly they had teased him about Jaskier when he had returned.

They rode through the ranch, to Eskel’s farm, and Geralt found that both of them were becoming freer with their laughs by each trot.

The two of them had a strange beginning and a tumultuous middle but perhaps, if Geralt and Jaskier worked for it, they could have a lovely end.

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

ao3 link here

[brogues-b4-hoes]

Kingsman the secret service, first draft liveblog.

I’m reading the original draft for Kingsman: The secret service and being just blown away by how different but the same™ it is so I’m gonna list some things that made me go :0 

Huntsman and sons doesn’t really sound like a spy org. it sounds like a rustic b&b in the scottish countryside. Not a bad thing but Kingsman does sound a bit more “knightly” and “cool” 

Also Jack Lincoln is just not it. Harry Hart is where it’s at. 

SO about the ages: In this script Eggsy is 21, Harry is 49, Merlin is middleaged (I’m assuming that means like 44-45 ish), Roxy is 22, Charlie 23, Lancelot 39. 

Merlin was supposed to be “black, handsome” And frankly my first thought was “....Idris Elba?” lmao 

The medal Eggsy gets is called a Guinevere Cross and I immediately came up with a whole scenario of how the first Guinevere sacrificed themself in an act of bravery, which is why the Kingsman medal of honor is named after them. 

Lancelot was supposed to fight Gazelle before losing but ig getting cut in half from behind has more shock value. (Just give my boy a bit more screentime) 

I’m glad they changed Michelle’s whole approach to Daisy, cause in this script it comes across like she couldn’t care less about her literal toddler, which makes her kind of unlikeable :// I’m glad they didn’t do Michelle dirty like that in the final script. 

Arthur really was just a sexist, elitist bastard now wasn’t he (while looking at the candidates his reaction to Eggsy being proposed is “at least it’s not a woman, I mean wtf are all these women doing here??” .....There’s three women being proposed out of twelve candidates, Chester.)

On that note, I’m glad they ended up giving Merlin more of Arthur’s lines - mostly because it makes sense for Merlin’s character to play the part of handler besides being the tech wizard he is- but also Make! Arthur! Say! Less!

I think it’s an interesting choice to have the candidates be from all over the world, as I Imagine the agents who were abroad just chose the best person they could find from that area, and if that’s true then the other agents were away in: France, Germany, Denmark, Japan, Italy, Ethiopia, South Africa, India, Persia and America. Do what you want with that info.

Yeah Roxy was american originally lol

I’m glad they acknowledge the lack of privacy in the first dorm set up, because I always looked at that in the movie and thought “If I had to use a bathroom out in the open with eleven peers just hanging out behind me, I would simply not use the bathroom lol” 

Glad they cut the whole subplot of Harry infiltrating some bank, especially because it involved dressing up as a woman to get acces to the ladies room, which, given the current climate and the whole jkr situation would not have gone down well, to say the least. 

“That sounds exhausting” in which Harry is me. 

"Training starts tomorrow, which I will have nothing to do with. Watching people train is boring.” Spoken boldly for a guy who then subsequently shows up at every. single. training scene, Merlin. 

God I’m glad they cut the whole puppy obstacle course scene, it was just alot lol 

A lot of stuff is the same but what really stands out to me is how little Eggsy actually does on his own, in this version he only passes tests through dumb luck or because Harry straight up gives him the answers, which makes it difficult to root for him in this script. So I’m glad they changed that. 

Idk what to think about the implanted chip being a bluetooth earpiece originally, like who wears an earpiece all the time?..... Ig the writers thought the same thing in the end lol 

“Medic! We need a medic!” Me, internally: SO YOU ARE SAYING YOU HAVE MEDICS?? Merlin: “No we don’t.” me, internally: IM NOTING THIS AS PROOF THAT YOU HAVE MEDICS, GALEN IS CANON CONFIRMED

I like that Elton John is just fully in this movie, what exactly is it about Elton John that made Matthew and Jane continue to write him into both movies??? IS HE GOING TO BE IN THE BLUE BLOOD TOO? :0

I’d like to note that I do not like Elton John pelting shit at Valentine lol 

The way that they really wrote a whole Heathers the musical “shut up, Heather!” scene but with Arthur, Harry and Merlin saying “shut up, Eggsy!” I CAN’T WITH THIS SCRIPT

Broke: “Lady Gaga” woke: “Lady G’gar” (as pronounced by Arthur lmao) 

Okay so in a cut test, there’s a mentioning of Huntsmen security, which I will take as proof for my whole “The entire plot of TGC is bullshit because there had to be more staff at Kingsman than just Merlin, meaning more survivors of the bombing” 

AND THE PLOT THICKENS WITH THIS: Harry (to Eggsy): “Look, I’ll be back in a few days. Stay here ‘till then. I’ll call Merlin, and when everything’s calmed down I’ll take you in and finesse things. If we’re lucky we can get you a job in admin or train you as a pilot.” HELLOO WHERE WERE THE ADMINS AND PILOTS AND SECURITY IN TGC 

“Thank you. I’ll do anything. I’ll be a cleaner, even.” THEY HAVE CLEANERS TOO MATTHEW YOU’RE KIDDING ME

The ending is so different omg What is Happening? why is Usain Bolt, Lady Gaga, Jamie Oliver and Elton John fighting together avengers style? 

All in all: I much prefer the way they handled things in the final script because this felt a bit too much like the types of movies you write with your friends in middleschool for shits and giggles and less like an actual film you’d go see in theatres. But of course it’s important to remember that this mess led to one of my favorite films ever, and I really enjoyed the insight into the process and changes that led the writers to the final version. T’was very cool. 

Also I read the novelization of The Golden Circle and I can’t say which one I get the biggest yikes from (yes I can it’s the novel. It’s so bad lol) 

[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.

[pandoraborn]

Part three

(previous)

Characters: c!Tommyinnit, c!Ranboo Word count: 1598 Content: dark!fic, angst, ranboo-as-puppet, tommy-as-puppet, manipulation, heavy conversation, tommy is conflicted and depressed, mention of torture, mention of abuse, tommy&wilbur sibling dynamic, ask for tags.

---

He’s the only one who can’t really sleep. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him, but this time, it means he’s left alone with his thoughts. Ranboo can’t remember anything. He can’t remember how he got here, or why he and Tommy are stuck with two of the worst people on the server. He doesn’t even know how Tommy and Wilbur are even alive.

What had he missed in his enderwalk state?

It’s not the first time’s he’s blanked out and woken up somewhere different. This just happens to be the first time he feels guilty over it, because he’d blanked out in front of Tubbo. God, Tubbo. Ranboo has no idea what Tubbo’s thinking now, or even if there’s still even anything between them. His stomach is churning with guilt and nausea, because anything could happen at this point.

Ranboo forces himself to stare at Tommy. Tommy’s asleep, held tightly in Wilbur’s grasp. If he squints, he can almost see puppet strings protruding from Wilbur’s fingers and wrapping around Tommy, but Ranboo knows that’s just his vivid imagination at play. He knows Tommy wants this about as much as he does, which is not at all. But he’d also seen the way Tommy had leaned against Wilbur. It all reminds him horribly how little he knows about Tommy at all.

The kid had crumbled.

Everything Ranboo had heard about Wilbur had been negative, how no one liked him, everyone was glad he was dead. He’d even heard that Tommy detested Wilbur, but the way Tommy’s defenses had shattered...or the way Wilbur had called them brothers... it doesn’t make any sense.

Inching closer, Ranboo shakes Tommy, trying not to wake Wilbur as well. “Tommy?” He keeps his voice low, hoping Tommy hears him. “Tommy, wake up.”

“Hmm?” Tommy turns his head toward Ranboo, blinking his eyes open. “What?”

“Can we go talk in private somewhere?” Ranboo nods pointedly at Wilbur’s sleeping form. “Just the two of us?”

There’s a moment where it seems like Tommy is going to ignore him, but he’s de-tangling himself from Wilbur before pulling himself out of bed. They glance over at Dream’s sleeping form, deciding he’s not a problem either. The pair retreat over to a corner far away from the sleeping ‘guardians’, then Ranboo grips Tommy’s arm.

“Tommy, do you want this?”

Tommy stares at Ranboo for a moment, chewing on his lip. Shaking his head, he whispers a single ‘no’. It’s enough that Ranboo’s shoulders are slumping. But Tommy’s not done speaking yet.

“Ranboo, I have Wilbur back.”

“What is he to you?” Ranboo asks. “Because he sounds off the rails, if I’m being honest. You can’t possibly-”

“I don’t want this Wilbur. I don’t want either of them to do anything. God, I want to go home and stay home. I want my hotel, I want my friends, I want to be left alone. But... Wilbur’s here, and alive, and I don’t know how, Ranboo. I’m confused and honestly, kind of scared.”

“You heard what he said Tommy. He and Dream are going to destroy everything. They’re the bad guys. You don’t... we don’t...”

“I know. I know they’re the bad guys. Ranboo, Wilbur was like a brother to me. He was the only one I had for a long time. You...you weren’t here back then.” Tommy leans back against the wall before sliding down. “You weren’t here when Schlatt took over L’Manburg. Everyone acts like he was such a good leader but like. He exiled us on the day of the election. He had everyone try to kill us. We had to live out of a ravine, start over from scratch. That wasn’t exactly fun for either of us.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.” Ranboo sits down next to Tommy. “Is that when Wilbur started going downhill?”

“Yeah. Everything seemed to make it worse. Nothing I said or did made any difference to him. But I still had him. Yeah, he was bad and scary and turning into a prick, but I didn’t have anyone else. I was okay with our situation because I still had him and he still had me.”

“You stayed with him knowing he was going to blow up your country?”

“Yeah.” Tommy sighs heavily. “He picked me, Ranboo. Wilbur always picked me. That meant something. Because even now, when it feels like everyone else is against me, he’s still choosing me out of the crowd and making me feel like I matter.”

“You matter to a lot-”

“Shut up.” Tommy’s tone is harsh now. “You don’t get to say people care, not when you yourself have turned your back on me.” He points an accusatory finger. “No one was there for me. I was exiled alone. I was tortured alone. I was trapped in prison alone. I was killed. Alone. Do you see a pattern here? You think I don’t know what people are saying? I’m a menace, I’m as bad as Dream, I’m annoying. You even said it. You and Tubbo both talk about it.”

“That’s banter, Tommy. No one actually means it.”

“Wilbur sat there calling me his brother and promising nothing else would happen to me. I want the pain to stop, okay? I want it all to stop. I’m tired of hurting, I’m tired of feeling like I have to defend myself. I’m sixteen years old and taking on everything. Alone, again. You even have Techno and Phil on your side. I don’t even have Sam, I have his robot.”

“Tommy, if we run away and go back, we can fix it. We can talk to your friends, we can make sure you have people to talk to.”

“Ranboo...” Tommy trails off and turns back toward Wilbur. He’s silent for a long time. “Ranboo I spent two months in the afterlife, or void, or wherever the fuck I was. I spent two months with people who...yeah, they’re my enemies. But they welcomed me with open arms. They didn’t make me feel like shit. It was a shit place and I hated it, but I felt wanted for the first time in a long time. And then I come back to life, with Dream stood over me and... I have no idea anymore. I just want the pain to stop.”

“You can’t seriously be considering sticking around here.”

“What about you?” Tommy asks. “You really want to go back to a life where you have to hide from people? I’ve noticed you acting shady and avoiding everyone when the tiniest conflict rises up. Is that the life you want? Where you don’t trust anyone and you live in self isolation? Because I’ve been isolated and separated, and it fucking sucks.”

“I know it sucks!” Ranboo’s voice rises with frustration, so he hunches over and glances back at their still-asleep handlers. Dream rolls over onto his stomach and lets out a quiet snore. He turns back to Tommy. “Maybe I want it all to stop too. I want everyone to be at peace, but I don’t want to destroy an entire world for that to happen. This isn’t right.”

“Isn’t it?” Tommy scoffs. “What even is right versus wrong anymore? No one can do anything without being labeled as a villain or a hero. I’m labeled as a hero and targeted, you’re labeled as a hero because you can touch grass.”

“Tommy that’s not...mm. Okay.” Ranboo resists the urge to snicker at that. “I see what you’re getting at. But... you remember Dream is a monster, right?”

“Yes, and he’s torn both of us apart. I don’t think there’s any coming back from this. Everyone watched us leave the prison. You don’t remember because you were...whatever that was. But we enderpearled away. I wouldn’t be surprised if people thought we were in league with them already. People already hate me.”

“No one hates either of us,” Ranboo insists firmly. “None of this is our fault. You can’t think that way, or you might as well side with them.”

“Ranboo...”

“What?”

“...I don’t want to leave Wilbur.”

Ranboo waits for the cold, depressing shock to settle over him, but instead, he nods. He’d known Tommy was going to say that this whole time. In a twisted way, he can even understand Tommy’s reasoning. Seeing his brother figure come back from the dead has to be shocking; Tommy’s emotions are probably all over the place. This is only Tommy’s view, though.

“What about me though?” Ranboo’s voice cracks when he asks that. He could leave and go back, but...

“I don’t think Dream will let you.” Tommy looks away. “Ranboo I’m so sorry. Neither of us deserve this. But... what other options do we have?”

“We can leave! We can...we...” His expression crumbles when he realizes Tommy’s right. “Dream won’t let me, and... and Wilbur won’t let you...and that means...”

He remembers his earlier vision of Wilbur holding Tommy on puppet strings.

“Tommy, did we just lose our free will?”

Tommy doesn’t have to say anything. He doesn’t even have to nod, the stare alone answers everything. It’s depressing, but there’s one ray of sunshine in this dark reality. Only one: Tommy.

The pair continue to say nothing as they lean against each other. He doesn’t know when Tommy’s fallen asleep again, but he wraps an arm around him anyway. If no one else is going to look after Tommy, then he will, even if it means protecting him against Wilbur.

They’re stuck in this situation together, but Ranboo knows they can eventually get out together too. At least he has one person he can semi-trust.

[chaniters]

Intermission

Cyrus agrees to modify Riley's feelings, gets confronted by her, then remembers some of his worst moments at the farm and discovers Ortega's Epilepsy. All in the same evening. TW Suicidal thoughts. TW Motorbike accident. ------------------------ “Are you sure you want me to do this?” you ask, hoping he’ll change his mind.

The look in his eyes tells you he won’t take no for an answer on this.

“Please don’t get cold feet on me now Cyrus. You already told me you’d do it...”

“Yes, I did…  Fine. I’ll do it. Whatever.” you shrug as he stops the bike.

The mansion is far from the city. A little spot of private heaven, paid for with taxpayer dollars by the look of it. The Carters have been in politics for long, and public officials are often very rich in Los Diablos’ corporate government.

You can’t help feeling out of place here. Every time you’ve been at a place like this, you were wearing a disguise, maybe a junior janitor, bellboy, or waiter. Always an extra layer of protection to keep people from looking at you.

But coming here in a hero suit, drawing everyone’s eyes?

That’s… something.

The door opens as you approach, with who you assume to be Riley walking outside, a wide smile on her face.

“Ric, so glad you stopped by...!”

“Sorry I didn’t call first, I was in the area and…-”

“And you wanted to apologize for what you said last time! It’s ok silly, I forgive you!

” she says, wrapping her arms around him and giving him an intense kiss that he doesn’t seem to be returning, not that it's stopping her, with her hand going lower and onto his butt.

“Rye, I just wanted to … Rye… Rye, I didn't come to apologize. I told you it's over… we need to talk...” he keeps trying to talk through the awkward kiss.

“I know you didn't mean it!" she laughs "Come on, say it! You missed me!”

“Rye… please cut it out...”

“Hmm.. now why would I do that…”

This is new. You’d have never expected to see Ortega look so helpless...

You imagine this would be what Anathema calls cringe.

She pauses as she opens her eyes, noticing you standing right there, staring at them. Her smile suddenly loses its intensity, looking just like something that’s splattered on her face.

“Oh. And you brought Sidestep.”

“Hello” you wave, trying to fit into the awkward moment, extending your hand.

“Hi. Riley Carter pleased to meet you” she replies, putting herself back together and letting Ricardo recover his breath. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“He’s my ride,” you point at Charge. He’s the culprit here, not you. Her mind is far too intense, and this is going to be hell…

“Like I said, Riley… I need to talk to you about something. Something important.” Ortega says, his voice more serious now.

Coward. Is that another reason he brought you, to rescue him? “Oh” Riley seems to have finally paid attention to what he was saying. “I’ll give you two some space,” you say, returning to the bike. Ortega looks alarmed by you leaving, but you have enough range that you don’t need to be right next to her to do it.

You lean on the motorbike, taking some chewing gum from your pocket as they start walking around the gardens, your mind following hers, and the conversation from her end. Ricardo tells her about the last events, how Psychopathor managed to assemble a tank in prison and blow the walls in his escape, the clash that happened afterward, and how some heroes and villains ended in the hospital. Or dead, like Darkfist, and Dr. Incredible who were vaporized in a plasma blast when the tank exploded. He then goes over the investigation that determined it was built using nano-construction techniques, and how the only portable device available for something like that was in the rangers HQ before it got stolen, without anyone knowing who told the thief it would be there. The trail ends with her... She stops him there, asking what does any of that has to do with her, asking him if he’s accusing her of something so ridiculous. Shouts at him that she didn’t know about any of it, and that’s when he decides to bring it out to show her. The bug that was placed in his communicator. The expensive, unique bug that was made to blend with his insulated tech. The bug that could only have been placed by someone really close to him… A pause in her mind. Hesitation…

She denies it. He insists. He tells her Steel had everyone’s hardware analyzed and only his costume was affected… and that there was only one person he had left the costume with.

That’s when she breaks. She tells him how she got tricked, how someone she met at a party told her he was cheating on her. How they told her where to get the bug… how to apply it… He yells at her, and you begin to feel like perhaps you shouldn’t be watching this, you shouldn’t be listening in…

But he wants to know, and you said you’d do it, so you stay hooked to her thoughts, like a parasite, feeling emotions you’ve never experienced herself. Guilt. Remorse. Shame.

She tells him she’s so sorry, that she didn’t mean for this to happen, that it’s all her fault… She starts crying, apologizing, asking him not to leave her…

Thinking she should kill herself.

The thought doesn’t get said out loud, but is so intrusive and enforced by so many negative memories that you have to block it out, pull out of her mind, run away, hide inside your own thoughts and lock down your shields so it doesn’t follow. You got the answer he wanted, so you can go back to feeling like the little guy chewing gum by the motorbike. But you’re crying too now. You’ve heard similar thoughts before, but not without the drug cocktails they gave you. Not without a team of specialists helping you scrub your mind of awful thoughts you took from people.

Your trainers told you plenty of times that humans get too emotional about their partners, and that you should stay clear of such thoughts. You should have listened. Now that you had a taste, you can tell they were right because It’s terrifying.

You open your eyes to see Ortega hugging her as she keeps weeping.

Blinking doesn’t make it go away.

Why? Wasn’t he angry at her a moment ago? You can’t understand it...

But you have to go in again.

You agreed to do this, and the answer was only half of it. You can’t walk back now…

Can’t help asking yourself again why did you agree to this...

Gathering all your strength, you focus and plunge deep into her thoughts once again.

It’s terrifying in there, like a building that’s falling apart, only held together by Ortega’s arms, or at least that’s what she thinks. She thought they would get married. She thought they would have children.

SHIT.

It’s getting to you, like a flood, and you’re drowning under it…

Is this love? Why can’t I be without him? Why does it hurt so much?

She doesn’t know, and you have no clue about these questions. “ Have you ever been in love?”  She asks.

“No. I haven’t” you reply, because she’s right there. She can sense you now because you’re lost, and your training is useless here.

“But you have,” she says, pulling one of your own memories. One that you locked deep below, where it would never see the light of day. “You were in love and you made him go away.”

“ Stop. That’s not true! ” “ You loved him and you made him go away because you were afraid. And now you are going to make me go away because he is afraid. Afraid of me. ” This shouldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t be able to hurt you like this! But she isn’t… she’s just making you remember… You’re the one hurting yourself.

“ Oh my god, he’s such a coward … so you’re going to do it, no? ” she asks, bitter and relentless.

“ I told him I would,” you reply, elevating yourself above the flood that is her defense. Regaining control. Out of her grasp. “ Then do it,” she asks. “ Make me stop hurting .” Standing tall now, you can look down and see that the demons in her mind are many… Ortega is wrong. How is this going to help at all? “ DO IT, YOU FUCKING COWARD !” she dares you. “ DO IT !” The waters begin rising, trying to drown you again, but you’re ready this time, holding her back. burning deep, modified thoughts into her mind.

Turning her love to indifference. Annoyance to hatred. Breaking down her image of Ricardo to pieces, and scattering them through the waters, where they’ll never get put together again.

How far can you go?

Not much, you can sense an incoming migraine, a hard stop to your powers.

You keep going as much as you dare and then erase your own presence as well. Just like they trained you, replacing your thoughts with a tired rage aimed at the horrible boyfriend that made her cry.

You retreat for the second time, feeling your head hurting as never before. Your pain gate is no use, there’s no stopping it once it’s already inside the brain.

With a last effort, you awaken her, bringing her back to reality.

She stops weeping immediately, pushing him away, staring in shock.

What have you done?

You’re tearing up, as she looks at him with eyes that show no little recognition, before muttering a curse, telling him to get off her father’s property and going back inside, leaving him alone at the footsteps.

Why did you do this again?!

It made sense last time. You would have been discovered and reprogrammed. He wouldn’t stop having feelings for you. It was wrong.

So you reprogrammed him yourself because you couldn’t bear them doing that to him… NO!

No, you were just trying to save yourself. There’s nothing else to it.

Why did you do it again this time? Just because he asked? He’s not your handler! You know that.

Should have said no… why agree? You don’t have an answer.

His eyes are reddened as he gets closer, and by the look on his face that he’s equally shaken.

“Let’s go,” he says, without another word. You’re too weak to argue, and so you sit behind him, as he starts the engine, speeding you both away

________________________________________

The Carter mansion soon disappears in the distance, wind flowing heavily against your suit as Ricardo goes full throttle. Too fast to be able to talk normally, so you switch on your helmet’s intercom.

“We’re going really fast… are you ok?” “No I’m not ok” the reply comes a few seconds later. “Did you get anything?”

“I did,” you reply “Then hit me.” “As far as she knows, she didn’t lie, so they must have manipulated her into planting the bug..” He relaxes slightly as you say that, slowing down the bike. “That’s… good to hear,” he says at last.

“Did you really suspect her of being behind this?”

“Not her. Her father… he’s dirty and…” he sighs. “Mierda. That’s why it’s so hard to be in a relationship, you know? They’ll use anyone against you. They’ll do anything to get an advantage over you.” “She was still spying on you.” you point out. “And you still hugged her after she confessed.”

He doesn’t say anything else for a while, so you focus on the road ahead. It’s dark, and you can’t see much beyond the bike’s light. The city lights shine in the distance, but you still have above an hour to get there.

“Did you do it?” he asks in a shaky voice when you had started to think the rest of the journey would be silent.

“Yes. Yes, I did.” is all you can say.

“Thank you.” he lets out as if this had been a simple favor. Just some mind-trick, like making someone’s gun point the wrong way. Like finding out who’s looking at us…

“How was she?” he asks, not letting it go.

“What do you mean?”

“Her mind… how was it from the inside?”

“It was… I… You know I’m not a shrink, right?”

“Just tell me, Cyrus. Please” Shit.

“It was… bad. Like real bad.”

“How bad?”

You tighten your lips. That isn’t your memory...

“Cyrus, I'm only asking because I want to know if she’s going to hurt herself!”

“I did what you asked! I’m not a shrink, I just changed her feelings! She’ll stop trying to get together with you. That’s all I know!” you repeat, a lot louder this time. “Just answer the fucking question!” Deep breaths. “You don’t get it,” you complain, to no one in particular, because of course, he will never get it. Doesn’t he understand that you don’t want to think about this? It’s her thoughts, not yours, and you want it to stay that way!

“Tell me Cyrus, or we’re going to have a problem.” Your handler’s words coming from his mouth, making your skin crawl. Making you want to throw up.

Tell him. It’ll be easier.

But it’s not easy. The thought is charged with deep shame, now your shame and she rattled your own memories...

“Yes, Ric! Yes, she thinks of it sometimes. She thought of it today when you started yelling at her! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” “Yes.” he croaks through the intercom “Yes, I needed to know,” he says, the life sucked out of his voice.

“Fuck you.” you let out, feeling the beginning of the migraine, overloaded with too much baggage that doesn’t belong to you. “Can you help her with that?”

“FUCK YOU!” you scream louder.

“Cyrus, if you can help her with this then…”

“Help her with this? Listen to yourself!”

“I just want her to stop hurting!”

“And what? You want me to rewrite her into a better person, is that it? Newsflash, I can’t! I can’t handle my own problems and you want me to fix hers?” “But…” “You think I have some fucking magic wand? You don’t know what it’s like! It hurts both ways!” “I just wanted to help…” “FUCK YOU! All you want is to feel better about yourself!” Your head is about to explode, and you’re tearing up under your helmet, your eyes drifting onto the white lines on the road, going one after another in quick, endless succession. Focus on them. That’s safe. You can feel him sigh as you hold on tighter to his skinsuit, feeling him take a curve, with another incoming in the distance or so the signs say.

“Slow down. I want to get off…”

“We’re still far from the city.”

“Do you think I care? Let me off!” “I… I’m…” he’s mumbling erratically, the white lines on the road losing cohesion.

... something’s wrong! Your eyes widen as his hands begin slipping from the handlebar. There’s only a massive surge of static where his mind should be. Not normal, even for him.

“Wait, don’t do that!”  You try to wrest control of the handgrips, but you’re not fast enough, and the bike goes sideways on the incoming curve, off the road, and down the cliff.

Down the cliff.

You barely manage to brace for impact, covering your head during the fall, bumping and rolling several times until you land on your stomach, the bike falling next to you. You stay there, immobile for a few seconds, internalizing what just happened. Wondering if this is where you die…

The question lingers until you struggle to sit up, finding you are still pretty much in one piece. Taking off your helmet reveals it’s cracked on several spots.

Shit.

Standing up is a chore, but your pain gate hasn’t activated. The suit must have spared you the worst, it would seem.

“Charge?” you ask, looking around in the darkness. The motorbike’s nearby, and you walk towards it, struggling to get it back to a standing position. You maneuver the wheel to point the light around, looking for him in the direction of his static, until you find him lying on his back.

You leave the light pointing at him as you get closer. “Are you ok?!” you ask, but there’s no answer. His neck is trembling, as are his hands, emitting pitiful noises… You try to hold him down, but a bolt of electricity almost catches your hand. It takes a moment before you remember that your suit’s gloves should be sufficiently insulated.

You kneel next to him, making sure only the gloves come into contact to take off his helmet, cracked just like yours. Underneath, his face is contorted to the side, trembling and breathing noisily.

“Seizure,” you say, immediately starting to follow the guidelines they implanted in you. Left arm bent to the side and out of the way, right hand on his cheek, right knee raised and bent, and then roll him over on his side, then steady his chin up to clear the airways… That’s about all you can do without getting caught in the current… but what if it doesn’t stop? What if sets his emitters to a higher setting and fries you?

No. That shouldn’t happen, he can’t accidentally change the power setting in this state.

“Breathe. Breathe. Keep breathing” you say, holding his hand, going wildly against yours.

You keep him steady, hoping it does stop, until after two minutes, he finally does, going limp,  breathing noisily. His emitters die down too, thankfully.

“Hey…can you hear me?” you ask, tapping his arm.

He can’t, so you repeat the question a few times,  waiting. Waiting for him to come back until he finally answers with a quick nod, pressing the hand you’re holding.

It’s a relief to see him coming back to his senses somewhat, but it presents a different challenge because he’s also been in an accident on top of the seizure and you need to check if he’s ok. So you start asking him questions about his arms and legs, getting one-word responses with a delay, as he’s close to non-verbal.

Head hurts. Both arms fine.  Chest fine. Right leg fine. Left leg hurts.

Nothing seems broken, which is a relief.

You try your intercom, but the pieces are broken and you can’t reassemble it without tools. You take his helmet but the inside smells burnt, he must have fried it.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, stepping up to drag the motorcycle closer to see what the damage is. That’s when you notice the rear wheel is completely bent.

Great.

“Now this thing has to have a radio…” you begin checking the features “YES! Here!” You kiss the small device, looking for the on the switch to…-

“Wait,” he says, a hand extended towards you.

“Wha… why?”

“They can’t know I had a seizure…”

“You don’t want me to call?”

“Please no,” he asks.

You look at him, finally starting to understand what’s going on…

“You're epileptic!”

“I just missed a few doses! Haven’t had one in years! If you tell them...”

It’s all too clear what would happen. If the media found out the Marshal had a seizure while speeding on the highway...

You keep staring back at him, in shock, before tossing the radio down and sitting back next to him.

“Alright…  I won’t call them. It’s ok” you reassure him. “It’s going to be fine.”

He replies with a pained “Thank you”

“I’ll… I’ll fix this. Somehow.” Why are you doing this after what he just pulled on you earlier? Why do you care so much about this asshole?

Why do any of it? The answer comes almost immediately. It seems you’re not THAT dense.

It almost makes you laugh, with the absurdity of it all.

Luckily it takes you less than an hour to get a car to stop to take you back to town convincing the driver that you’re just wearing costumes for a party and crashed on the way. He asked you what kind of party this late at night and Ortega decides to intervene, claiming you’re strippers for a bachelor’s party.  That works like a charm, he can make up all the answers he needs in his own mind. Ricardo is silent through the rest of the journey, you don’t know if he’s still recovering or if he simply has nothing else to say. It doesn’t really matter, because you couldn’t be more thankful for it, as the migraine explodes in full force. ____________________________ My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero world. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for his wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist. Full fic is on AO3 as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/30292125/chapters/81514135

[whumpinggrounds]

Gotcha Day

my first non-Febuwhump piece of writing! here goes :) this is set before the last day of Febuwhump (You Have To Let Me Go) and i mean i really don’t need to explain much i don’t think bc it’s fairly self-explanatory but i am nervous so. yes

tagging @shapeshiftersandfire and @killtheprotagonist ! lmk if you want to be added/removed from being tagged it is a lot a lot of content so sorry about that

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, memory loss, discussion of scars, past burns, implied non con,

Director Hammond’s office is much like the Director herself – alternately welcoming and terrifying, depending on what mood has struck her. Today, the curtains are open, the room is filled with light, and the Director has a bouquet of flowers on her desk in a vase. That’s good, right? All of that is good.

Mara still feels the nerves in her stomach buzzing like a hive.

“I don’t want to drag this out,” the Director begins, and Mara’s heart sinks. It’s some polite dismissal, something like that. There’s a self-satisfied little smile playing around the woman’s lips, and Mara tries to brace herself, folding her hands neatly in her lap and staring down her doom with icy eyes. “We have decided to let you train her. 067493.”

Stunned, Mara stares at the Director. There are no words in her mouth, no words in her head. She wants to speak, knows she should speak, but she can’t. An incredulous smile starts to curl up her face.

“Now, before you get too excited, there are some conditions.” Despite her lecturing tone, there’s a smile on the Director’s face – probably because of Mara’s huge ferocious grin. “She’s not your pet, technically speaking, not until the trial period is over. Obviously, she’s coming with what we call a factory defect, so you got very lucky there, otherwise we’d never let her go. She’s not fully trained, but honestly, Ms. Langford, we’re not going to spend the money and time to finish out the training on a model that we’re essentially giving away.”

“Yes.” Mara’s head is nodding on her neck like a bobblehead. “Yes, okay, that’s fine. That’s okay. That’s so okay.”

Amused by her eagerness, the Director nods. “Good. Now, primarily, Ms. Langford, we want to explore two things with 067493, and we feel that gifting her to an employee, while highly unusual, will give us an opportunity to answer some outstanding questions.”

“Okay.” Mara’s heart is racing. God, she feels like she’s going to pass out any second. “Okay, so, so, um, what are those questions, then? The things…what it is you want to, um, explore?”

The Director smiles at her, fondly, warmly. “First of all…” she pauses for effect, “some of the higher-ups loved this therapeutic aid idea. If it’s workable, there could be a strong market there. Of course, we’ve been trying to work a caregiver angle for a while, but the medical stuff is often just too complex for pets. This emotional approach could give us a very similar sector, but with none of the concern about pets operating medical machinery incorrectly.”

“Y-yes.” Mara’s breathless, dazed, struggling just to keep up. “Yes, definitely-”

“Now, not everyone is convinced, but enough of us think that it’s worth a try. Which brings us to our second objective.”

Here, the Director pauses long enough that Mara can stop focusing on her breathing and look up inquisitively. Finally, tentatively, she prompts her superior. “Ma’am?”

The Director shakes her head as if to clear it. “Yes, well. What we are interested in is…is…” she purses her lips, clearly wondering how to explain. “Pets who may end up living with someone they know or recognize from their former life. As you know, pets are prone to false memories.” Mara nods dutifully, despite knowing full well there’s no such thing. “We want to see if our Boxies can be taught and trained in such a way that they can be…reintroduced to their old life, or one like it, while maintaining good behavior and accurate memory blocks.”

“That sounds…” Mara swallows. “That sounds…difficult.”

“Indeed.” For the first time, the Director looks grim. “Of course, that’s exactly what you’re attempting with 493, and if you could pull it off…we’ve had some interest. People who want to…serve their loved ones in a more straightforward and simplified fashion.” For just a moment, Mara tunes out, thinking with a sort of horrified fascination on the kind of environment that would lead to someone wanting to erase themselves while staying where they were.

Or, even worse, Mara pictures someone coming in asking for a loved one to be erased, returned sweet and pliable and empty. She barely represses a shudder. Ignorant of Mara’s internal monologue, the Director forges on.

“We are proposing that you take 067493 home as your Domestic. You will be responsible for making her into a…a prototype, essentially, for this therapeutic aid program. You will also be expected to report any aberrant behaviors that could conceivably result from…ah, memory confusion.”

“I can do that.” That all sounds absurd, and difficult, and unfair, but Mara doesn’t care right now. All she cares about is getting Jude and taking her home and, and having her. Having her back.

“We’re going to allow you an adjustment period, and then we’re going to ask that you bring 067493 in for regular checkups, where we’ll be looking for signs of this memory confusion, as well as updates on your progress.”

“That…yes, that sounds very doable.”

Once again, the Director smiles fondly across the desk at her, and Mara has a funny, frightening feeling that she’s become Barbara Hammond’s newest little pet project. “I believe that it is, Ms. Langford. Despite the cosmetic defaults, she seems like a sweet thing. I can’t wait to see what you do with her.”

___

When Handler Collins leads Jude out, Mara’s heart about stops in her chest. There she is. There’s Jude. There’s…Jude, and not Jude.

A pair of black shorts, a WRU white t-shirt over skin that’s much paler than last time Mara saw it. Her stocky frame diminished, all her old rugby muscle losing or lost. She looks like...Mara hates the cliche, but she looks like a ghost of her former self, literally. Skinnier, paler, a whole lot more haunted. Her hair, her hands, the freckles and the way she walks just a little pigeon-toed – that’s Jude, that’s Jude all the way. The flat, false calm in her face and the fear in her eyes…that’s someone else. Swallowing, Mara clasps her hands together in front of her, trying to quell the urge to reach for her girl.

“Here she is!” Handler Collins throws his hands out grandly from his place beside the boxgirl. “All yours.”

“Wow,” Mara manages. “Uh…wow.”

Collins shakes his head. “Wow is right. But, hey, wait – you want to check the damage?” He’s still grinning, like it’s no big deal, like it’s all a joke. Mara sucks in a deep breath. The-the Box Babe in front of her is wearing a t-shirt, but Mara can see her cracked reddened palms and wonders what the thin cotton over her chest is hiding.

“I…I guess, yeah. I mean, I’m taking her either way,” she mutters, trying for a joke. Collins is more than happy to laugh at her.

“Shirt off, 493.”

Hesitantly, the trainee obeys, darting a wide-eyed glance at Mara as she does. The cotton goes over her head and oh.

Oh. There, on the right side of the girl’s chest, is the burn, red and angry and raised, covered in blisters. The scarring is worst on her collarbone, but the pink, stretched, destroyed skin crosses her neck below the line of her collar in one direction, creeps toward her armpit in the other. Mara’s horror must show on her face, because the girl flushes, looks down.

“That’s um. That’s pretty bad.”

Handler Collins shakes his head. “You don’t have to tell me. Fucking Underwood. Fuck.” He spits on the ground near the trainee’s bare feet. “She’s finished the antibiotics she’s supposed to be taking. The vet thinks she should be set. Just uh, she’s got this stuff she’s supposed to spread on it.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Mara can’t stop staring at the burn, at the way it glares out, crimson and furious, from Jude’s pale, freckled skin. With effort, she tears her eyes away, to the downturned head of the waiting boxgirl. “Put…uh, put your shirt back on.”

The girl obliges quickly, and, Mara imagines, gratefully. She’s too well-trained to even wince when her movements stretch and ripple her healing skin. Mara’s eyes move hungrily over her face, her skinny body, searching for the parts of Jude she recognizes. The girl keeps her eyes on the ground but her cheeks go pink under the scrutiny.

“Doc, I gotta say.” Collins is shaking his head, and reluctantly, Mara turns her attention to him. “I don’t know how you got this one past the Director. I mean – a Box Babe for free? After what, ten months of working here?”

“Fourteen,” Mara corrects, a little too quietly. She clears her throat and tries again. “Over a year, Handler Collins.”

Rolling his eyes, Collins dismisses her with a flap of his hand. “A couple months, a year, whatever. A matter of months and you’ve got yourself a bonus worth tens of thousands? You must’ve shrunk the Director’s head to get her to agree to this one.”

Mara manages a tight smile for him. “I’m definitely…I definitely feel lucky.”

Leaning in, eyes gleaming conspiratorially, Collins puts his mouth near Mara’s ear. “You have good reason to feel lucky, Doc. Me and the guys – well, you’ve given some good advice, these past few months. It’s helped. And business is up. Company’s talking about padding the paychecks a little, and you’re a part of that, you know?” He gives her a hearty slap on the back and Mara forces a smile. “You’re part of the team! And the pet’s a gift from the company, but we thought, hey, why not a little something from us handlers, for our good doc?”

A shiver runs down Mara’s spine. “What…” she wets her lips, tries to sound amused, curious. “What did you do?”

“We only had a week or so to do it. Director Hammond decided so late, and all. But, but look, we crammed in some Romantic training, just for you.” Collins’ leer is too much. “None of the positions, of course, that shit’s extra, but a few of the lines, a few, ah…habits you might like.”

Mara thinks about him touching Jude and wants to tear the grin right off his face, wants to snarl and scratch and chew him out right there. Instead, she finds the girl’s eyes, searches there for some help, some hope, some recognition. Anything.

Her new Box Babe looks back at her with eyes that are flat and dull and empty.

[dianaburnwood]

HITMAN 3: First Impressions

This post is full of SPOILERS. Also, it is LONG, so.... yeah. Be prepared lol 

HITMAN 3. Also known as: Diana’s Game. 

Dear GOD I am in love. 

I’m going to do my best to make this coherent. But. I am still freaking out. And I have SO much more to explore!!!! This won’t be very in-depth because I played each map exactly once so far. There’s so much left to see, conversations to overhear, opportunities to exploit - but, I DO have some first impressions, oh hell yes. 

Menu: 

That menu music!!! I was not expecting that at all. It was a mix of choral and classical with previous themes intertwined, and it reminded me of Blood Money. Speaking of Blood Money, this game is Blood Money. 

Dubai: 

Very, very beautiful. Kinda thought Grey made it all about himself lol of course he wanted to say “in your face” to the partners, but it was like 47 was just there to pull the trigger, like he’d not been hurt by them too. But, I really liked it. Trapping them in a room and watching them freak while Grey watched me kill them?? Helloo??? Popping off HARD from the start and I love it.

So - here’s the thing. I don’t get the timing. Diana tells them then that Edwards escaped. Did he escape just before the boys got to Dubai? Or were they unavailable to reach until then? It seems that the message Grey got at the end of HAVEN was after Olivia hacked the HAVEN servers, and then the boys were out of reach so after Diana discovered Edwards was gone, she couldn’t tell them until Dubai? And it was shown to us in a different order to leave us hanging? I dunno. Maybe? It seems weird. 

THE CUTSCENE here omg - once again establishing that 47 and Diana are ride or die. “Diana will make it right, she always does” - BABE. BABE. SWEET BOY. His little face when Grey doesn’t trust Diana. OMGGG.

Dartmoor: 

I went the murder mystery route, of course. I figured it was Emma from her conversation with her husband, but I got all the clues after just to be sure. Can’t believe Carlisle just handed 47 the file on Edwards and then went out alone on the balcony like I wasn’t gonna kill her??? Bitch????? do you forget who i am?????? Anyway, the murder mystery was SO much fun, but I can’t wait to infiltrate this manor in other ways. Lots of Beldingford vibes here.

THE CUTSCENE bdsfgafhlsjfah WAHT????? Ok so HOW did Edwards know where they were? And - ok, so it made for an amazing scene, but Grey is a badass. He is a mercenary genius that duped the ICA and brought Providence to its knees. How did he get himself surrounded in the woods by CICADA? But he did, and it was beautiful, and he literally only shot himself to save 47, and the LOOK in 47′s eyes on his balaclava face - I just bfjKSFasad. I can’t believe he died so early tho. I was very sure he’d die somehow, but SO early. WOW. 

Berlin:

fucking hell. Berlin. fuck. fucckkkk. 

I wanna shout out to Mini (not gonna tag you in case you’re avoiding spoilers) but hot damn girl if you’re reading you were BANG ON about 47 wearing Grey’s coat. I really didn’t think it was his. It was. It is such a beautiful way for 47 to express his emotions about this death without actually saying anything. Omg. It was perfection. I’m crying thinking about it.

BERLIN was where this game really upped its... game. Like WOW. 5 targets, and it’s the ICA. Clearly Edwards went to the ICA board at this stage and was like uhhhh so you need to take these ppl out. HOWEVER I am amazed that the ICA is like “oh, ok”. DO you not remember what happened in SOUTH DAKOTA. 

But going after the ICA is a fucking trip and I love it. I love how 47 says each agent’s name to himself. I love how he listens in and the team handler realises it. I love how she pulls the rest of her team out once you get 5. I love that the ICA agents use disguises too!!! This is truly APEX PREDATOR and I love that they named it that. Y’all think you have the balls to go up against 47??? bitch?????

But the fact that you have to find the targets and none of them are marked is so fantastic. I found 6, but I have no idea how many are actually available - but I’m gonna find out!!! The club is HUGE as well, and lots of throwbacks to Contracts, especially with the biker gang. Amazing. Amazing level. I’m so excited to replay it. 

Also they really addressed the elephant in the room with the ICA agents describing 47 as a caucasian male, bald, average height and ppl being like uh that’s every man here, and then he said yeah but he’s got this big tattoo lmao 

Chongqing

ok this is where I started to think this game was my fanfiction. Inside the ICA? Showing off how truly international it is, and high tech. Hidden in plain sight. Ready to dismantle in 12 hours if needed. SO perfect. This lore builds on Absolution and Blood Money ICA lore in wonderful ways. 

Also, I don’t know why the IOI and DK of the logo looked different in the trailer, they must have been just hard to make out. Cos in the game, the ICA logo is the same as all previous games. 

Also, analysts do client vetting? Intrigue. Always assumed that was part of the handlers’ job. I take it all back Diana, you have never done anything wrong in your life, ever 

I killed Royce by firing the ppl she recommended so she’d get trapped in the data core cleaning. I killed Hush (what a name I love it) as his patient. 

Working with Olivia is really fun. I missed Diana, but Olivia brought a whole fresh perspective. I also really like how neither Grey nor Olivia are as good as Diana - they both fucked up while guiding 47 at least once. 

47 saying “...I will leave you to prepare” to Olivia, I yelled fdagsfa

Also I love how 47 decided to expose the ICA exactly like Diana did in Absolution. Those two. One of a kind. My heart. And his desire to protect her. I love that the files showed their start together. Olivia saying “I can see why you...” and then she stopped herself. We all KNOW what she was gonna say. 

AND AND AND AND 

the cutscene - I screamed

“47 has one weakness. Me.” 

I swear to fucking GOD, IO has seen into my soul. I’ve said all along that Diana is 47′s weakness, and he is hers. But to hear it said, aloud, by my girl? WHAT???!!!!!

Mendoza

Ok. OK. OKKKKKK. OK. I can’t even write about this one. This was where I was pretty sure I was hallucinating the entire level. This is my Diana and 47 dreams come true. This is insane. This is EVERYTHING.

So we have OUR MOMENT IN THE SUN. She puts her HAND on HIS HAND and he looks in fucking wonderment at it. ahugarhiewEG;FEJGHEFlejlhsgfes;gjrsgt. I can’t. I can barely get through writing about this. 

Diana - the dress, the Jolie thigh slit, the jewellery, the hair (they finally fixed her fucking hair), SASS. “I have tango fever” omg. 

How do these ppl not have a pic of 47 by now lol 

I followed Diana and Vidal around cos I was entranced by my girl. Diana was fucking amazing each time. So much sass. Little did I know I interrupted them enough times for Vidal to say “ok son let’s talk”. I saw the tango and I was like omg imagine if I could dance with Diana. 

well.

WELL. 

Anyway, got to kill Vidal via her own setup for me, and that was amazing. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I snuck into the house to kill Yates, and overheard him calling Edwards’ voicemail. Also, it is April 2021?? So, yeah. My previous dates were way wrong lol. 

And then, ALL MY DREAMS CAME TRUE. Diana and 47 fucking dancing the tango? I was pissed that I was in a security guard outfit, next time I play he will be in his tuxedo baby. 

Diana’s comments to 47 when he’s in disguise tho, I was freaking. As security “you look like a true professional. I feel so much safer with you gentlemen around” aaahhhh

UH HE FELL TO THE GROUND COS OF POISON fngjfagfljgnsdfa

I am so glad I was right about my baby girl tho. She even told him “you didn’t have a choice” about her parents. Good. I’m so glad I was right about that. But omg it broke my heart to have 47 so, SO, SOOO sure of Diana all along, defending her to Grey and Olivia, knowing, KNOWING that she was on his side, and then, he eventually started to doubt it. 

I was screaming at my screen - this is BLOOD MONEY! SHe is doing what she did in BLOOD MONEY!!!!

But, for a second, 47 wasn’t sure anymore. And Diana played her part well. 

Carpathian Mountains

Ok, what I love most about Contracts was how it gave us an insight into 47′s psyche, and this game upped that tenfold. Him seeing all his targets surround him? Him imagining Diana and the Constant dancing together? Him imagining her say terrible things about him, things he’s thought about himself deep down, always, omg, but he finally snapped out of it. Ironic that thinking about Grey snapped him out of it, when in life Grey had not trusted Diana. But 47 came to the realisation on his own. Diana would never betray him. 

opening that door and finding out you’re on a fucking train?????? I screamed. 

I am a bit disappointed that it turned out Romania wasn’t significant, they just happened to be passing through. But omg the fact that you are “subject 47″ again. I freaked. This is 47′s worst nightmare. 

I love that you have a free pass to kill everyone in this level. I did it in stealth anyway, cos it felt wonderfully tense to sneak through that train. But wow. This is another BIG risk that IO took. The train was straight out of Uncharted, and crafting a silencer for your pistol??? Hello The Last of Us????? But I don’t care. They used those elements super well. 

I think some people will be angry at this game because parts of it (especially the last level) were a departure from how HITMAN and HITMAN 2 worked. But I love it. I love that they took risks to tell the story they wanted to tell, and those risks paid off. 

47′s undying loyalty to Diana, omg. Telling Edwards bye bitch, I’ll never forget who I am again, and Diana thinks you suck. <3<3<3<3<3

ENDING

OH MY GOD. ONE YEAR LATER????? 47 obviously took some time off cos he fucking needed a break. But he’s back, baby. Ending on “it’s good to be back” was wonderful. The game ended where the 2015 trailer for HITMAN started, and I’m crying. He’s ready to continue with Diana, and not because it’s what he was made to do, not because he doesn’t know what else to do, but finally, because he CHOOSES to do that. 

But one year later? What does that mean? Has Diana rebuilt the ICA like in Blood Money, or will she and 47 work together without anyone else? They’ll need the infrastructure that an organisation like the ICA has though. Diana said she would dismantle Providence from the top down once Edwards was gone, but how? Does that mean dismantling what’s left of the ICA? They were one and the same by the end of the game. All that didn’t just disappear. I’m left with so many questions. 

I was disappointed Diana wasn’t in the cabin when 47 got there. And I wonder why she wasn’t. She knew he was coming, but they are clearly still on good terms. Maybe she wasn’t sure what to expect. But does that mean they hadn’t spoken in a year since??? But she didn’t sound surprised to hear him, and he had coordinates that he was following, so I think they arranged to meet. But her phone was in there when he arrived, and she wasn’t. Maybe he was tracking her phone? Did she come back there to him after????? 

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT 

the game 

ended

with 47

smiling 

And for that I will be forever grateful. 

Ok bye, I need to play it again. RIP work tomorrow lol