#so basically be back to write things aimed only at my personal taste

[elliemarchetti]

The Snake and the Wolf

Chapter 3 - Hounds

The plot took over this story, as did the POV changes. I hope @erisweek2023 readers are ready for a complete detachement from the canonical events of the book, because the moment of Nesta's escape has arrived.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Words: 1.281

Nesta didn’t know how she got to the stony coast of the Night Court. One moment she was walking down the steps of the House of Wind and the next she was running away from Velaris, crushed by guilt and fear of what Rhysand might do to her. She gave away his secret, she gave back to Feyre what had been taken from her, and now she no longer had a home. Her mind raced to Gwyn and Emerie, to what might happen to them, since Cassian and Azriel knew they were her closest friends. She had to find a way to make them escape, to warn them to get to safety, because Nesta knew that the High Lord would try to enter their minds to see if they had any idea of her whereabouts. She hadn’t told Feyre that her first pregnancy would also be her last just because she had a good heart, but deep down they all knew she deserved to go to her death with her pride intact, like she already did to free them all. Furthermore, there was probably a solution to the problem. Considering how they took the fact that Feyre possessed a drop of everyone’s powers, Nesta doubted that the High Lords would’ve ever agreed to bring her back to life again, but maybe another Death-God resided somewhere, trapped in a mountain or a tree, and Rhysand could’ve sold his black soul to save his Mate. Nesta wondered if she would’ve done it in his place, given the chance, but didn’t like the answer she found within her, so she resumed her walk, going further and further south, with the sand under her bare feet and the now cold water lapping at her ankles with the rhythmic motion of the waves. She’d never been to the seaside before. If the situation had been different, she would’ve tried swimming, and then she would’ve found a house and wrote to Elain how beautiful it was, and how she had nothing to fear, unlike when she was thrown into the Cauldron, but the situation was no different and there were no villages in sight, so Nesta’s only hope was to reach a Court willing to help her before Rhysand tracked her down. In the library, she had read countless books that explained how to defend herself from the powers of a daemati, but since she hadn’t met any other beside her sister’s husband, she didn’t know if she was using those techniques well or if even a child could’ve destroyed her mind with just a snap of the fingers. Another incentive to keep up the pace, until her knees gave in and her vision went blurry from exhaustion. Before the Valkyries, before she rediscovered the joy of having purpose and friends, she would’ve gladly accepted the oblivion, better than the one provided by alcohol, but now she realized she had reasons to live, places to explore and lessons to learn. Allowing herself the luxury of dreaming, Nesta would’ve liked to visit the Autumn Court first, that enchanted and colourful place described in the novels she had shared with the House. She was sorry she had to leave it behind, even if it was depressing to say that her first, true friend in the Night Court hadn’t been a person but the darkness inside a building. Maybe, in honour of that bond, she would’ve indulged its desire to delve deeper into her powers, now that she didn't have to endure the pressures of the Inner Circle, or maybe she would’ve not, her life as Fae full of possibilities, if only she managed to survive and crawl out of the niche in the rocks where she had taken refuge for the night.

She though she would’ve woke up because of the humidity, or the pangs of hunger and thirst, but she discovered to her amazement that it was something wet touching her hand that shook her from her torpor. Even opening her eyes, caked by the salty air, cost her immense effort, but the cries of the creature managed to completely steal her from her dreamless sleep. The dog, clearly a hound of some sort, had a long and slender body, his ribs almost protruding from how thin it was, but it was its muzzle that struck her, so elongated and elegant, and at the same time almost grotesque, with those big eyes and short ears hanging down at the sides of its small head. It was the strangest beast she’d ever seen, yet something in her desired to reach out to pet it, to seek some comfort in its short gray fur. It must’ve been an excellent hunter, judging by its long sharp teeth, but it was also very playful, seeing how happily it wiggled its tail while she scratched its belly. Nesta had always wanted a pet, not necessarily a dog, perhaps a cat or a bunny would’ve sufficed, but her mother always forbade it, and her father never bothered to get her one, despite the huge numbers of requests. It wasn’t noble enough to take care of something else beside themselves, and when they fell from grace, it was too much, yet Nesta knew she had it in her to be a trainer, perhaps a little soft-hearted if all puppies had the same expression as the creature she was snuggling at the moment, but always attentive to her pet’s needs.

“Where is your owner? Are you lost?” she asked as if it could answer, her voice hoarse after more than a whole day of not using it. It had been a meaningless question, to which she certainly hadn’t expected to receive a reply, but the dog stood up on his long legs and ran out of the niche, into the sunlight flooding the dark beach. Nesta followed with great difficulty, but the beast didn’t move any more, as if it was waiting for her to catch up. They went on like this for hours,  the dog advancing and Nesta dragging herself through the sand to reach him, until the sun almost completed its descent arc and another dog barked in the distance. Nesta knew they couldn’t have moved too far, not with her in those conditions, but all those animals could mean only that she’d reached a town, and the larger the settlement, the more the possibilities of someone offering asylum to a dying young female, at least for a few hours. Her bones ached even more at the thought of a soft bed, and her stomach growled as she pictured every kind of food known to both men and Fae, but although she was almost certain the sun had burned the exposed skin on her arms, the worst torture had been the dryness in her mouth, which made it difficult to even swallow the little saliva she had left. At some point, when imagination and reality began to merge, she heard someone call her name, and a male figure appeared at the horizon, the burning red of the sun the same shade as his hair. The glorious hallucination approached her at a brisk pace, one dog at its heels and the other trotting alongside, satisfied with its distressed discovery. A pair of muscular arms, thinner than Cassian’s but no less strong, caught her before she could fall to the ground again, and Nesta could’ve sworn the smell of burnt wood, fresh apples and sweet cinnamon engulfed her as it used to do when her maids cooked her favourite treats.

“I found you,” murmured a familiar voice, full of concern and apprehension, its owner’s face buried in her matted hair. “I’m here, and we’re going home.”

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

academic rivals request! viktor x fem!reader, nsfw

request: @4-leafed pls... if u have time pls write a viktor x reader that r both geniuses at the academy but very much toe the line of rivalry and sexual tension...i love competitive smart people that fall in love when the rivalry becomes respect ... and they FREAK IT!!! possibly in a lab ! up to you : 3c

i liked this request so much that i ended up writing a decent-ish one-shot….

update: i wrote a part 2 because it was highly requested! you can read it here :)

rating: explicit

word count: 3,5k

warnings: academic rivals. LOTS of dialogue and bickering. dubious science because i skipped it in school, had to do some basic chemistry revision to write this pornographic catastrophe, so please pat me on the back. rough sex? rough… foreplay, that’s for sure. dirty talk, if you can call bickering that. penetration. reader tries to slap viktor, spits in his mouth and he cums in his pants. normally, i only write vanilla stuff, so i have no idea how it turned out THIS kinky (at least for me okay). not proofread (yet). nsfw under the cut:

—

“How do you take your coffee?”

His voice betrays the feeble intention of civility, fusing that polite inquiry into a hiss—a phonetic torture you didn’t even know could occur before. So much for killing you with kindness. Outstaging quips by desecrating courtesies. 

“I don’t care,” you mutter on autopilot. Can’t let him in on any personal preferences, no matter how insignificant. “Just don’t put arsenic in it.” 

Viktor scoffs. Puts the kettle away and peers at you over his shoulder, all wretchedly complacent. 

“So the rest of the periodic table is welcome, I presume?” 

Viktor. The local Nikola Tesla knock-off. Never a moment of peace with him; and the fierce taste of competition grows coppery in your mouth whenever he’s in your sight—the most handsome trigger of your cheek-biting reflex.

His name is an insult on your lips and you want to taste it. Chew it, crush it with your teeth and spit right out, preferably aiming for those poignant eyes seeking you in every classroom—so eager to light up with objection the second your opinion differs from his. 

Always the first prick to disparage your input. A never-resting generator of all the meticulous ways to denounce your projects. 

“If I may.” 

Sickeningly polite, too. With that lithe finger pointing in the air— so irritatingly comical. He may not, but there isn’t a chance he’ll shut up, now, is there?

And so he’d clear his throat, straightening his tie in that ridiculously solemn fashion. As if stepping on a pedestal to deliver a life-changing speech—not some shallow nitpicking regarding your circuit breakers. All eyes on him while his kept staring only into your soul. Special treatment, if you will. 

You will not.

“Using magnetic frames is careless,” he’d state. With his hand imposingly pointing to the blueprint on your slide. “Copper coils may oxidize. Not to mention the overheating. I would use thermoplastics. They’re significantly more efficient. And heat-resistant.”

Oh please. Like someone here gives a shit about what you’d use. 

But you can’t say that. Not in a room full of professors. And, judging from the countless nods of approval, the shits were, in fact, being given. 

“Too risky,” you oppose. “Thermoplastics often degrade at high temperatures. Electric insulation is not worth the damage of releasing hydrocarbons. I assumed that you’d be aware of that, Viktor. But I suppose that was an omission on my part.” 

More nods of approval, now in your favour. Here it goes again—the ever-lasting spectacle of hatred. Elegant, when entertaining the audience. Anything but discreet, in private. A perpetually drawn game of chess. By repetition, not agreement. Both of you refuse to retreat until checkmate. 

Oh yes, the sentiment was mutual. You and Viktor were notorious for tearing at each other's throats. The things you’d sacrifice to make that more than a mere metaphor, though. To pull him by that neat tie to sweet asphyxiation and hear him rasp for mercy with eyes full of pathetic condemnation. And he dreamed of that, too. His cane was itching to give you a smack—to paint your behind a plum so deep you’ll have troubles sitting without wincing. When it came to making metaphors literal, he’d pick being the pain in your ass.

However, your mentors couldn’t care less about the rivalry. The Collegiate Inventors Competition was coming up. And who could possibly make better candidates than two greatest minds of the engineering department, with academic excellence so accurately neck and neck that both of your names now occupy the honorary first place in every ranking table? 

That’s how you ended up with your sentence—three weeks of after-hours cooperation in the lab with the incorrigible bastard himself, a quarter of which you’d already successfully wasted on pointless bickering. Well, not without achieving some common grounds. The choice of prototype landed on one of your personal ambitions—a wearable exoskeleton for post-surgery rehabilitation, with plenty of robotics involved. Endorsed by Viktor, for once. The greater good must have swallowed even his dispute. Off to a nice start, if someone were to ask you.

However, the first issues struck early: on the very stage of development. Viktor volunteered for modelling: meaning, the framework would be custom, to accommodate his spine specifically. An object lesson for everyone involved, it would seem—but only in an ideal world. Which, considering what you had at hand (acrimony, bitterness, an entire picky bit of gall), was filtered out by default.

Now, five gruesome days and who’s-even-counting-anymore restarts later, you’re nowhere near close to at least a draft, yet borderline keen on murdering each other. And you’re certain the latter is approaching. He did just contemplate putting arsenic in your cup, after all. 

Viktor stirs the coffee. Watches his reflection smudge in the dark, whirly water, shooting you an askance glance from beneath thick brows when you start stirring yours—the spoon clanking a tad too loud, as if you were doing it on purpose. Which, you undoubtedly were. 

“Stop that,” he groans, almost leaping out of his chair. Heavy, disturbed gaze meets your cheeky simper. “You don’t have to stir it so thoroughly. It’s not like you take it with sugar anyway.”

“Of course.” You shrug. “I don’t drink slop.”

“Oh, I figured. There’s nothing sweet about you, so why would your coffee be any different?”

“There’s plenty of sweetness about me. I simply don’t squander it on entitled pricks.” 

That finally grounds him. And you’re giddy for the way his sturdy hand grips the cup so hard that it almost shatters into his palm, knuckles growing pale enough to match the porcelain. More so when you take a loud, languid sip, feigning innocence. Fully wallowing in his darling, defeated speechlessness. 

“Excuse you,” he mutters. “Entitled?!” 

“So you agree with the ‘prick’ part?” 

“Yes, and I take great pride in it. You may mark me flustered.” 

“Don’t forget to bust in your pants.”

Viktor sneers: chapped lip twitching, scowl growing defensive. Lanky legs untangle as he rises to his feet, towering above you in an angry lean on his cane—long frame transforming into your personal, scrawny menace, pissed exhale sharp and nasal above your head. And you admit to looking small beneath him—all hunched shoulders, weak smile finally tumbling lopsided. 

“Don’t you dare call me entitled,” he demands—and means it. It’s palpable in the way he twists the handle of his cane, the squeaky sound violently scratching your brain. “I sweated blood to achieve my privileges in this establishment.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “So did I, and yet you keep ordering me around as if I’m some braindead apprentice. We’re counterparts, Viktor. You’re supposed to be mindful of my perspective.”

“I never see you being mindful of mine,” he counters.

And, well. You can’t argue with that. 

Your coffee break continued in avoidant silence, but the ambience simply reeked of hostility—stifling enough to make you leave the lab feet first. The deadline’s chokehold besieging your neck wasn’t of any help, either—you had to submit the draft for approval by Sunday. And, so far, you haven’t even agreed on the design plan. 

You shoot Viktor a reluctant glance. Pensive, he sat slouched over his parchment, emitting pure peril. Like his shoulder blades might stab you if you attempt a single tap, belligerently peeking through the thin shirt. You tucked your lip under your teeth, chewing hard, tongue running over every small, neurotic wound inside your mouth. Fruitless negotiations held a special spot amongst your least favourite endeavours, but this conundrum called for a desperate measure.

“Viktor.” You winced at how chocked up it came out. He noticed that, too—because of course he did—turning in his chair to nod at you, ever so shit-eatingly. Lancing eyes scrutinised their way up to your face. What an affront. 

“Yes?” Always chiding in that condescending tone of his. Hissy ‘s’ echoed in the lab, gnawing at your nerves. 

“We have to submit something by the end of this week. Let’s at least decide on the blueprint.” 

“Fine.” He shrugged, returning to his sketch. “We’re going with mine.” 

“No!” You snapped. “We’re coming up with a new one. Together.” 

Viktor hummed in mock consideration. The strand of hair he’s been twirling unraveled, claiming more attention than you deemed him worthy of. Sighing, he lazily reached for your graph, frowning as his eyes started skimming over the scribbles. You made your way to the desk, claiming a spot behind his shoulder. That required a tacit truce. 

“You really want to wield… hydraulic actuators?” He winced, looking up at you. Had your breath hitching at that respectful attempt, the effort prominent in the very way he uttered those words—as if struggling to filter out swear ones. 

“Yes,” you mustered. “For high power.” 

“But they’re so heavy.”  

“Well, what would you use?” 

He chuckled—rich and malicious. Flipped the page and finally averted those curious eyes, arching a bushy brow. 

“I thought no one gave a… crap about what I’d use.” 

Oh, well. It felt nice while it lasted. 

“How did you even—“

“You ought to be more discreet with your vitriol,” he retorted. “I’ll let you know that I’m a decent lip-reader.” 

“Then don’t stare at my mouth next time. What would you use, Viktor?” 

Now that left you both startled. His fingers stilled above the diagram, flexing in disbelief, hollow cheeks hued a puzzled rouge as you almost chomped your tongue off, showing an embarrassed curse back into the depth of your throat. 

“Ahem. Electric motors,” he chanted, pretending to overlook the slip-up. And for once, you were grateful for his tact. 

“I see. Well, er… put that down, please.” 

He instantly complied, fetching a pen. Left you to reflect on your misery to the rhythmic sound of his scrawling, pressing a sweaty palm to his forehead. 

“Right.” He sighed. “What about the power supply?”

“Rechargeable batteries?” You suggested weakly. “Lithium-ion.”

“Very well. Frame?���

“Something durable. Titanium?” 

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, pushing the notes away. “Why must you always insist on using the heaviest equipment?”

“I don’t know, corrosion resistance?” You muttered back, hovering over him. “Biocompatibility?”

“That’s perfectly manageable with carbon fiber!”

“So it shatters after the tiniest bump? Bravo, Viktor, how ingenious.” 

He lurches forward—rigid breath quivering over yours. Close enough to crush that thick skull with your forehead—if only you ventured, that is. But, alas, you’re not as brave just yet. Some brief eye-stabbing is about all you’re good for. 

“Fine,” he agrees, pulling away. “We’ll use aluminium alloys. Corrosion resistant and easy to machine. No one wins. Does that suffice?” 

“Yes. Now will you finally let me take your measurements for the sketch?”

He doesn’t answer—at least not verbally. Merely stands up and nods to the measuring tape, face still heavily contorted with displeasure. But you don’t oblige just yet. How can you, when Viktor’s fingers suddenly reach for his collar, fumbling with the button? And—oh no—now they’re sliding lower, reiterating once, twice, thrice, until his chest (flushed, but that might just be wishful thinking) is fully peeking out, teasing the smooth scrap of ivory skin. 

“What… are you doing?” You mumble, utterly startled. 

“…Undressing?” He says matter-of-factly, looking up at you so askance as if you’d just asked him if the sky is blue. One more ministration and the shirt is neatly folded next to the parchment—waiting for you to be through with the measurements to be slid back on his bony shoulders. 

“That, I can tell,” you mumble. “Why did you undress?”

Viktor’s gaze daggers into you again. “Don’t tell me you were actually intending to measure me clothed? Can you not comprehend precision?”

“Precision?”

“The prototype is expected to cling to me. I don’t see how that’s achievable with my shirt on— I assumed that was rather obvious.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Ah, sweet civility. I even started worrying that other entitled pricks must’ve depleted your decorum, but it seems like you saved some up for me after all. I’m flattered, really—“ 

You don’t even register when it happens.

Next thing you see is Viktor seizing your wrist—sternly yanking your slap off his face before it gets the chance to land there in a flared handprint. Nothing but pure rage and prickliness—right where his short nails are lancing your skin, engraving an ugly bracelet you’ll wear for hours.

Well, maybe there is something else. Something inexplicable, and tremendous—deep in the way your eyes keep drifting south—where his pants sling low on defined hips, and the pretty trail of dark hair runs from navel to waistband—no doubt circling exactly what you manage to make out in the convex slope of his crotch. And you want to slap him for that, too—sonorous, and frenetic. Going in again with full force, but his force always turns out to be fuller—and in an instance he firmly twists your arm, pinning it behind your back—pale face barely five inches away from your flushed one. 

What happens next is beyond any explanations. Later, he’ll blame it on inertia—that stupid urge to maintain the speed, to stay in motion with your messy antics until some external force stops him—a simple need to claim you before the inevitable collision.

But there’s no inertia in escalation. In the way his free hand grabs you by the nape and clashes agape mouths together, teeth bumping hard enough to make you consider booking a dentist appointment later. Not a sign of inertia when you grab him, either—a little clumsy through the sharp pain in your twisted arm—bold fingers raking his scalp in a vengeful tug on his hair. 

And it’s more than a kiss. If anything, it looks like you’re trying to eat him—tongue out and thrusting into his throat so fiercely that he gags on it, almost tearing up. Now you know what sheer desperation sounds like, and it’s grunting against your mouth, suddenly pitching to a pathetic moan when you grab a handful of chestnut hair and pull so hard that his eyes roll back, lean frame shaking under your violent approach. You use that startled momentum to try and pry your arm free, but he still keeps it in place. 

“You’re hurting me!” You hiss, attacking his neck—the very one you always shamefully admitted to finding the sexiest any man can possess, and your teeth roughly pinch at his voice box, coaxing another whine. 

“Good.” He groans with spite. “I hope I am.” 

And yet, he releases your aching arm, trading it for a calculated squeeze of your waist. But the audacity overshadows his little mercy. You instantly use the unrestrained privileges to force a finger into his mouth—astounded at the way he instantly opens up, almost mockingly pliant. More so when you spit on his tongue, sparing no shame—as if trying to rile him up beyond recognition. Grinning, when your saliva dribbles down his chin. 

“Ah.” He huffs, instantly licking up the remnants. “Thank you. Ever so disrespectful.”

“You haven’t earned my respect,” you lie, nudging him towards the chair. Not even bothering to wait until he lands, impatient hands already messing with his belt—so treacherously earnest as you shake, unfastening the buckle, and the bastard chuckles at that, looking down at your eager work. 

“That’s a new low, then,” murmurs coyly, helping you into his lap, heavy head leisurely thrown back. “Sleeping with someone you don’t respect.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Oh yes. You’re about to.” 

You glare at him from under heavy lids, but the anger refuses to linger—not when he stares back full of indignant awe, so clearly basking in your attention. With his cock half-springing out of undone pants, shamelessly twitching against your palm. And not a single breath was hitched to conceal his excitement. 

“Must you always be so insufferable?” You reproach, pushing his hair back—too domestic for your own liking, and yet it doesn’t feel unfitting. Especially when he leans into your hand, welcoming your touch on his sweaty forehead—like he wanted you to feel it fever up with want.

“No.” He shakes his head. “But if it can grant me this, I’ll triple the effort.” 

“What happened to new lows? You don’t have a fraction of respect for me, either.”

“You’re right.” He shrugs. “Fractions could never encapsulate my tribute to you.”

And his hand slipped under your skirt, shakily crawling home—precisely where you’d never confess to needing him a mere minute ago. But the sentiment did a decent job at diluting your rancour. There came no protest when he introduced two long fingers into your underwear, openly gasping at the evident dampness. And you allowed him that with no regrets. Moreover, you helpfully sank yourself knuckle deep, wincing at the brief burn, arms wrapping around his neck as he sweetly looked up, seeking your  permission. Which was instantly found in the pretty moan you spilled into his mouth, slick tongues back at their futile attempts to strangle each other. 

However, your patience was running thin. As much as you wanted to indulge in proper foreplay, whatever masochistic dance he exposed you to had you in agony ever since it started—and it was getting unbearable to ignore the ache, no matter how bad Viktor  craved to postpone the main course. 

Your thighs clenched hard as you crouched above him, fingers wrapping around the hilt to awkwardly line the tip up with your cunt—the slick sound of it slowly sliding down suddenly igniting some tender bashfulness. Like you didn’t just spit in his mouth with a vile smirk. Like he never had to confine you from slapping him in the face. 

That stretch felt different from the one after his fingers. Significantly richer, it made you whine—a pitiful sound reverberating against his skin as you held on tighter and allowed him to bottom out, savouring every little crevice inside you. Raw, yet neither of you seemed to care—that concern was pushed alongside your underwear, then forgotten altogether when your walls clenched him, offering tight bliss. 

“Move,” you demanded, grabbing him by the chin. Viktor rasped something back, but you didn’t catch it—already too busy tongue-fucking his pretty neck, turning your teeth into sharp tools ready to stain it mauve with bites. 

And he complied again. One hand trembled on your hip while the other crawled between your legs—first missing your clit in the chaotic pace of thrusts, then finding it again as it grazed his fingertips. So cheeky when he dared to pinch it, avenging every pull on his hair. Though, he couldn’t gloat in your wince. Not when it clearly was one of the pleasured kind. 

But you didn’t feel like letting him regain composure. You already missed his husky groans—ached to test what else fucking you could make him mutter. Fogy gaze found his face again, softening at the sight—all wet forehead full of concentrated creases and thin lips bitten to bloodless paleness. 

You took over. Let him lean back and rest as you roughly rode him into the chair—and for that he gave you a grateful moan, the insistent thumb toying with your clit never stopping even for an instant. Good with his hands, and he knew it—proudly grinned when you struggled to keep going, taut legs treacherously giving up astride him. 

That didn’t please you in the slightest. You wanted him to be close, too: slid a hand up his chest and angrily tugged at one nipple—chortling when his mouth dropped in a stunned gasp. Bewildered, but he didn’t mind it—amber eyes squeezed shut when his head lolled, and you finally got his lovely moans back—raspier than before, ravenous enough to make your head spin. 

You could already feel it, pulsing somewhere deep within. Blurry vision couldn’t make him out anymore, the lab smudging into a mess of weird shapes—you were about to cum, hard, and Viktor threatened to follow suit any second—his thumb failing to hold steady, and yet the pressure was still there, courtlesly helping you chase that sweet relief. Such a gentleman. 

“Close,” you chanted. “So, so close.” 

“I know,” he answered, choking on a groan. “Me too.” 

And you melted, almost crushing him with your weight. Quivering in a spasm so intense that it had him struggling to keep moving, and yet he was mindful of the risk—used the last fractions of his brain capacity to gently nudge you off his cock and pump it fast and hectic. Cumming in one endlessly thick rope, with a moan so vocal that it reached you even through the layers of foggy, ear-buzzing aftermath. Had you shuddering when you clung off his shoulder, glassy eyes wide with trembling astonishment. You stared at him through the approaching wave of disbelief. 

No signs of regret so far, or maybe it was simply still forming—for now, you silently admired not a snarky bastard, but a pretty, fucked out boy beneath you. 

“Oh, would you look at that.” Viktor chuckled, sheepishly looking down. “I didn’t forget.”

“What?” You mumbled in confusion, following his gaze.

And when it finally caught your attention—sticky and relentlessly staining his pants—you slammed a hand over your mouth, muffling the hysterical laughter. 

“And here I thought I finally fucked your remarkable memory out.”

“Oh, by no means. As, eh… intense as that was, that misery of mine is not going anywhere. However,” he trailed off, his hand skittishly moving towards yours, “sex clearly proved beneficial for our… dynamic.”

You smile, sliding your palm into his warm grasp. 

“Can it ensure us enough civility to win the competition?”

And Viktor scoffs, coyly looking you in the eye. 

“Why should we limit it to just that?” 

[mrhaitch]

hi mr haitch!

i received a lovely response from haitch that has helped me quite a bit in processing and working on my fear of death. however, i saw a post of yours just now and it made me think. it was your response to someone basically arguing about democrats and republicans, and your opinion on the potential impacts of another trump presidency. so i ask, as a fellow non american, how do i not feel so anxious about this? i try to think that no, trump is not going to cause the heat death of the earth, but it freaks me out.

as an australian, i can say that we are quite influenced in america. just the other day, coming back from my university counselling, there were two young women wearing MAGA hats on the train just days after he got in. it infuriated me, though everyone is allowed their own opinion (even if it makes me want to rip my eyeballs out and throw them at them). how do i not think that this is the end of the world? for some it is. i have heard far too many people expose their genuine plans for suicide now that trump is in. someone said they are taking their girlfriend out for one last dinner and they’re committing together. that horrifies me to my core.

in my state, we recently just elected our state premier, which is now a party i would describe as on the right, for an easy comparison. abortions, breast cancer screenings, and thousands of hospital staff are to be cut. children committing crimes will be doing adult time, which i can only imagine you understand just how antithetical that is to actually solving the problem. after this election, there was a nazi rally in our central city. i worry that with trump’s election, it might truly come home to us.

so, how do i not feel so scared?

on a side note, i HAVE to ask your opinions on deathcore? i’m seeing thy art is murder and brand of sacrifice in a few days, and i saw ice nine kills and amity affliction today! i’m seeing lorna shore and to the grave in feb, TTG is a super cool deathcore band from NSW here in aus! even things like suffocation, dying fetus, infant annihilator, or cannibal corpse? (and the terrifier series if you have watched them!)

but yeah, it’s a weird time to be alive, but i want to believe that after this, we will not have to experience it again. perhaps someone will have better aim, we will never know.

this is far too long, so have a good night or day!

As time goes by, I find myself more convinced by Foucault's writings on biopower - and especially when it comes to anxiety.

We need to start thinking about how we're defining anxiety: when we talk about it do we mean the emotion arising, rationally, from a particular stimulus? Or do we mean generalised, non-specific anxiety which arises from a disease or abnormality in the mind? The latter needs treatment - the former needs scrutiny, but also not to be ignored or discarded.

The fear many of us are feeling right now is rational. We feel it for a reason - fear is what keeps you alive in moments of danger. It helps us think and move faster. It helps us see clearer (if we learn to direct and control it). While it can be a hard emotion to sit with, we can't push it away or try to treat it. Use that fear to motivate you to build connections with the people around you, to organise, to strengthen community bonds if the worst happens and you need people to support you.

So the short answer: you don't need to get rid of your fear.

Now for the second part:

I'm really not a fan of deathcore. I know it's the genre of the moment, but it's never really done it for me (and I say this as someone who previously moonlighted for a deathcore band a few years ago). Call it personal taste, but I feel that there's a race to the bottom with regards to guitar tuning: everyone is going lower and lower and you end up with a bass heavy mush with little articulation. Everyone starts slamming the lower strings, more than one breakdown per song, etc.

(very much old man shaking his fist at the eyounger generations)

With that said I'm a big fan of cannibal corpse (although, let's be real, they are very much OG Florida death metal) and quite like Ice Nine Kills. One band I am quite excited about, though, is a UK local act who blend elements of deathcore with black and death metal. Link below:

[slowthinkingreader]

Swordspoint - Ellen Kushner

What a fun book to start off this blog with. My first review! Wow. I'll try to keep these relatively structured. I will be-- mosty likely-- spoiling things as I write these reviews. I'm not especially interested in trying to convince people to read any of these books more than I want to write down my thoughts and maybe start a conversation. I'll try to keep my reviews limited mostly to personal observations, unless I find something that might be worth bringing up outside of the scope of the book I'm reading. Anyway I won't meander.

(Started April 21, finished May 12th, 2024)

Brief summary: Swordspoint is a book belonging to the 'fantasy of manners' subgenre. It centers around St Vier, a swordsman-- which is a profession similar to a hired assassin, only sicker-- and the nobles of a nameless capital city whose dirty politics he keeps getting pulled into. There's romance and betrayal and basically everything you can possibly expect getting out of the genre. There's also gay sex. A lot of it!

I have to note this, because I think it's very funny: I didn't expect this book to be so gay. I'm usually seeking gay books like this out on purpose; this snuck up on me. I have a habit of browsing bookstores without any real aim, and I picked this one out of the shelves on a random good impression. I hadn't heard of the book before. I read the first page and the blurb on the back and, as you may have seen by looking at the cover pictured above, noted that it was well received-- by George R. R. Martin? I like his tastes enough, and I have a running obsession with 80's fantasy novels, so I bought it. Now I'm deeply curious about how well received it was at the time. I'd love to know what George R. R. Martin liked about this book. Really.

I read through this one pretty quickly; if I hadn't put it down for such a long time in between I'd say I could've finished it in a weekend. The prose was easy and sometimes very sharp. It's fast-paced-- it's a Manners book, so of course there's a lot of dialogue-- and the drama does what it needs to. The romance works, it got to me, I loved the dynamic between St Vier and his rude-ass, scholarly, suicidal paramour. That's a romance that will stick in my brain for some time: Alec siccing his swordsman on people that are rude to him just because he finds it entertaining? That's real gay antics. That was good. I feel sometimes that the characters were a little detached from reality, in the sense that their reactions to things felt very out of place or disproportionate at times, but it manages just fine with the momentum of the rest of the book. I was able to roll with it.

The characters were fun. Aside from that... I have to be honest, the plot was OK. It carried itself forward on the premises that it sets out. I felt like I could see every machination in this book laid out perfectly from beginning to end, it didn't exactly try to deviate from its trajectory, so nothing was particularly surprising, but it worked. It did what it had to. It's far from the primary appeal of this book and I don't really care to get into it. It had nothing especially interesting to say about its own politics because they basically don't exist. I couldn't tell you what Halliday's or Ferris' politics were. In the end, I didn't really feel like I got anything especially interesting out of this book in terms of what it had to say about, for example, literature as a whole, or queerness, or rulership. It's just really good, trashy entertainment. Really good entertainment!

If I were to make one serious critique, it would be that Ellen Kushner decided to leave the short story "the swordsman whose name was not death" as a short story, rather than working it into the novel somehow. I don't care how she'd do it. It just frustrates me that it's a side thing. This is main course business. It brought some real depth to Alec that I would have liked to see in the novel, and some real depth that was honestly lacking in every character-- despair and regret that felt real and believable. And it also stopped pretending that women didn't exist. It was so good. Damn you!!!!

Wait actually one more serious critique. Why is everyone so pale in this book? I get that it's winter, whatever, but ghostly pale? Every single one? And bright-eyed?

I'm very interested in seeing where the second book in the series could possibly go. I really have no idea. I hope it gets nastier. I deeply enjoyed the little noble drama in this, but it could've been a lot nastier. Trying to get someone killed is dramatic, but there needs to be more despair. More stakes!!!!

And finally-- my rating. 6/10. I like Swordspoint. It was a lot of fun. Not enough books out there that commit to their premise like this and do it well. Being trash and worth reading is an art.

[linaket]

Monthly Writing Update (February)

A slow January led to... a crazy quick February. I can't even believe its over, and I definitely dragged in my writing this month. Honestly, even sitting here all I have is a vague sense of what even happened this month.

I was promoted at work right at the beginning of the month, and spent a lot of time stressing over the drama and dynamics around that change this month. It even changed my shift schedule. I was working four days a week, ten hour shifts, and able to set aside an entire day for writing a week. My new position doesn't allow for that schedule, but while this is the first week in about two years that I'm back to working 5 days a week (and... six in a row on the first week) I spent most of my days off this month once again getting the house in order, and just being a general nervous mess about things...

Books Read

Untethered Sky by Fonda Lee

Jade City and Jade War by Fonda Lee (guess it was a Fonda kinda month?)

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Four books at least meets the minimum of my (kinda unofficial) reading goal, even though I was pretty lucky this was a leap month because I only just finished Jade War today.

While I'm quite enjoying the Green Bone Saga, I've found something about it doesn't connect with me on a personal level, as a reader. Perhaps it is the POV that it is written in, but I am not getting the emotional connection that I often crave with books that truly sit with me. I'm absolutely going to finish it, and recommend it for anyone who wants to write epic fantasy. But I do think every book can teach a writer something new, and what I've been learning from this one is that I want to be more aware of the emotional stakes of my characters, and making that aspect more active in the narrative.

That being said, Untethered Sky? knocked it out of the park. Likely due in part to it being a novella, so everything was far more condensed. But 12/10 either way.

Writing Accomplishments

Honestly I am fighting the failure feeling just trying to type up this paragraph... basically, I tried to work on the extra for Shadow's Prey but ended up dropping it. I will likely still be aiming to release the ebook, but it will probably just be a very quiet release. It's mostly done and edited, but I don't think I'll be able to include an extra like originally intended. I started working on something, and MT kept singing its siren song and distracting me.

Also, I got art of the boys now! I'm excited to share it, and make some fun things for them.

That said, I did at least manage to finish something...

Favorite Excerpt

Valor told himself that it was better, that Ruse’s consistent prattling and teasing was an irritating distraction. But he couldn’t stop looking over at him. Though Ruse squinted against the brightness of the sun, the gaudy sunglasses hung on the collar of his shirt, stretching the already worn fabric. The bruises on his neck from the confrontation in Petra had faded over the last few days, gone from deep purple to a mottled yellow along the pale column of his throat. It was better that Ruse had gotten quiet. Better that he kept his gaze away, that he wouldn’t look at Valor. Every minute, every moment that Ruse didn’t look at him, didn’t focus his depthless attention on Valor, didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound, was better because it meant that Valor didn’t have to think about what his hair would feel like between his fingers, what his throat would taste like under his lips. He could ignore the fact that he wanted to drown in Ruse, press his mouth against him and never come up for air. Valor tightened his grip on the steering wheel and went over the plan. Take Ruse into the Graves, retrieve the part for Jarl Nero’s scryer, and trade for information on the location of Noble Marek.  Then he’d find his father, and he’d kill his father. 

On Loop

Abe Parker - it is what it is

You're walking on the water that I'm drowning in Thought I heard a whisper, was it just the wind again Or the trail of blood I'm following? And if I'm the one to blame I guess all that I could say It is, it is, it is what it is All the things I couldn't change I lay with someone else's sins Let my soul just fly away All the way up to Heaven's light I pound those gates with no reply

Final Thoughts

I wish I had done more, and I also wish I could stop being hard on myself about this. It's no good. I am not nearly as hard on myself for not doing what I thought I should as I used to, but that's something really hard to shake, even if it doesn't help anything.

That said, it was a bit of a tough and strange month for me. I felt like I was dragging myself through each day, even dragging myself through reading. And while I did manage to at least finish some writing, I simply did not have the energy for anything more.

Hoping that I get used to this new schedule quickly. My work days feel much shorter now, since I'm used to the longer ones, and I've had more energy after. Also the position I took, while it was a promotion, is less stressful than the one I've been working. At least, so far. We'll see how the month shapes up. I am always far more productive, writing and other things wise, when I'm not carrying the work stress around, so. I'm hoping for the best here.

March Goals

Read 4 books again, and I've got a pretty good idea of what they'll be and excited about it, so at least I won't get struck by some kind of decision paralysis with that.

Release Shadow's Prey: Act 1 ebook! Yeah, it's still on goal for next month, despite that I wish I had it completely ready now. Really, its just final touches and me figuring out some of the technical details that need to be done. And like I said before, it'll probably be a very quiet release. I'll probably make a few posts about it after its up, but mostly its just to get it out there. I'm not really promoting the heck out of this one because, well... it's already tested with audiences. Probably the wrong audience, but it has been tested and it was difficult to get interest/attention, which is a fault of mine. I am NOT GREAT at marketing. And while I'm very happy with and proud of it, I know the work I'll have to do to really draw an audience to it. Especially considering the... not good at marketing thing. I have been researching and keeping an eye out for ideas and being practical about what it takes and what to do, but the task itself takes a lot of energy from me and I simply can't do that in time for a release. But I'm tired of simply sitting on all these books and doing nothing with them.

For Mortal Teeth, I need to finish the next arc. It's actually only two more chapters. This is a bit of a low goal, but I want to make sure I set something that I know I can do without feeling awful. Especially since these were supposed to be done last month.

Maybe a stretch goal of releasing character intros/aesthetics for the MT boys?

[mangodestroyer]

Yes! It can be helpful to see someone else talk about the works of various authors. Like I said, I do think about these things, but I personally find it difficult to analyze all of this in a more sophisticated way. I have studied various techniques for creative writing. I've seen so many people analyze works. I've visited sources like Fiction University (which I found life-changing). I do try to think about my own stories and look over them a lot. But for some reason, I can only ever get a feel for certain things. There are just certain parts of the process I struggle to articulate.

Truth is... I'm just not sure if I can do any of this "correctly." I know there are tons of ways to write a story. Everyone has different methods and all that. For me personally, I feel like my writing turns out better if I just let it flow out onto the page. Maybe think about it before or after. And even if the story can be dark and cynical, I feel like I still need to have light-hearted, humorous, or borderline unhinged scenes just to make it "fun." I also like writing exposition in a way that feels conversational at times. Like I said, I feel like all along, maybe Pratchett was more up my alley than anything else I've read. The moment I read the first few pages, I thought, "Was this what I was aiming for with my writing all along?" I mean... I definitely don't write like Pratchett. But damn if his voice doesn't resonate with me! It just kind of helped with my writing confidence as well. Feeling less weird about liking the style I tend to gravitate toward.

I just didn't get that feeling with Stardust. Everyone told me it was an amazing book. Tbh, I do think there are aspects of it that can be fun (and my current longfic idea does vaguely take inspiration, it's just a very changed and much darker story). But... not quite like the first book of Harry Potter levels of fun when you're reading it as a child. It's a clear example of the hero's journey, so probably a good book for learning the three acts and pacing (something I had a lot more struggles with back in the day). However, there was a part of me that felt bad for finding aspects of it boring. I thought at the time that maybe I wasn't getting it. The characters seemed emotionless and lacked personality. Same with the prose. Because I put up with so much emotional abuse growing up, I did worry that maybe my characters were too strange and emotional (things I was often told I was). So maybe characters who talk the same way and hardly react are more appealing? I was starting to feel pressured to write my works in a way I didn't enjoy. I've had so many works pushed at me with characters and prose I didn't enjoy. I thought maybe I lacked a knack for writing because I didn't see the appeal of popular characters and writing styles.

Again, I will be rereading it. See if it's the same as I remember it. But more importantly, I will try to be engaging in far more media. And will read more books from various authors. Aside from Pratchett, who else am I missing out on who might also resonate with me? So many works I set aside because I thought liking them meant I didn't have good enough taste.

I plan on finishing up Mort soon. Tbh, it feels like I flew right through everything I've read so far, so it probably won't take much longer. I have other Discworld books as well. And... so many more on the way! I basically already own a quarter of the series. Not that I meant to get carried away like that. After looking into what the series was about, and reading what I read of Mort, I just knew I'd be super into it.

Okay I lied I do have something else to say about the neil gaiman allegations

Do NOT drag Terry Prachett into this. I haven’t seen anyone do so myself yet, but I’m sure someone probably will and it disgusts me.

And also, stop giving neil all the credit for everything. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that the GO fandom gives neil WAY too much credit. I’m even guilty of this. But it isn’t right and it absolutely isn’t fair to Terry Prachett or anyone else who was worked so hard on the show. People only give neil so much credit because he is alive to answer questions about GO and talk about how it was written while Terry Prachett unfortunately no longer can.

Sorry that this isn’t very well articulated it just was something that came to mind and made me very upset. Hope this makes sense.

[roses-dreams-andthorns]

Hello! Could I request something for Silver, Sebek, Jamil and Jack?

They have a female s/o who's skilled at mixed martial arts, swordfighting, archery, and pharmacology (especially poison). But combat is not the only thing she's skilled at, she's also really good at cooking and making/fixing clothes.

Imagine after sparring, she makes them a nice cup of cocoa and cookies. My heart

A bit of a weird request and it's very specific. Hope it's okay.

:0 strong reader!

F! Reader

(Most of this will be about the fighting and stuff because Trey loves writing things about fighting- but the other parts will be included!)

Silver

You two tend to spar quite often, though most of the time with swords. Though you do have a tendancy to throw in your martial arts skills and archery to challenge him a little, your aim is percise, and almost every punch or kick lands, you're good at parrying, countering, blocking, swinging, etc etc. Lilia tends to have you train him now because of your advanvced skills, and it gives ol' peepaw's back a break from it. Silver finds your skills quite impressive, your speed and endurance are also at an advanced level, making some of your attacks hard to dodge or parry, so he ends up with a few cuts and bruises sometimes, because you never tend to hold back during a friendly spar, though it is worth it, because afterwards, you always treat his wounds, and make him some nice warm cookies afterwards. Though he hasn't seen your Pharmacology in action, he's aware that you are able to craft poisons, especially really powerful and fatal ones like Cyanide poison, Mercury poison, VX Poison, Arsenic and many more, but he isn't worried about you poisoning him, because A. Lilia probably trained him to detect poison, and B. He knows you'd never poison him anyway.

Sebek

Like with Silver, you both spar quite often, swords clanging back and forth as you fight, attempting to prove your worth in a fight. While Sebek was trained by Lilia, you were basically self trained, your master later became your student instead, after about a week of your training. Your strength shows no bounds, same with speed and endurance, the speed in which you fight is faster than a fighter jet, sword swings and punches and kicks almost always hitting Sebek in some way, the arrows you fire almost always hit the targets... he would hate to be a target for your archery... he won't admit it, but he's quite impressed, he also won't admit the fact he looks forward to your fresh cookies afterwards. He is completely oblivious to the fact you can make powerful poisons, but he is aware you are a master in pharmacology, you never let anyone use store bought medicine anymore, you just make your own for them to use, and it actually works better than half of the stuff they sell at your local walmart, and, bonus, it actually tastes good.

(do they have walmarts in twst?)

Jack

He quite enjoys sparring with you, though he does end up with a few heavy bruises afterwards because of your strength and how hard you hit, but you always treat those afterwards, and treat him with some food, he witnessed your archery skills while he and walked in on you practicing your aim in the backyard of Ramshackle, you had targets set up around, and you fired with perfect percision, always hitting the bullseye... its almost like you're a sniper... You could fire a bow with your feet, and it would still hit bullseye, you could even not be looking and it'd still hit bullseye, its like you have eyes on every side of your head that tell you "Bingo, this is gonna hit bullseye", and don't even get me started on your swordsmanship, he could never win against you with that... he witnessed you cut a dummy into a million pieces in none but a milisecond! Crazy person, you are... He now fears you, plus a side of respect for you for these skills. He does know about your poison making skills, but he isn't worried about those, similar to Silver, he can detect poison with his wolf senses, and he just knows you'd never poison him.

Jamil

Sir... Sir you're shaking. He doesn't spar with you too often, but when he does, he has to physically prepare himself for HOURS because of how strong you are, he is good at hiding the expression of fear, though the fact he's sweating so much when you're only a minute in tells you otherwise... Honestly, why don't you become Kalim's bodyguard? Clearly you're more suit for the job. Not only is he scared of you, but he's also kinda a simp for you... A Scared Simp? A Scarimp? He would let you crush him, punch him, kick him, anything... and he'd probably Thank you. I guess his type is Strong, kind hearted and attractive. (because that's what you are obviously) He's fully aware of your skills in the poison department, but he's good at detecting poisons himself (like the others) and he knows for a fact you won't ever poison Kalim or him for that matter, so thats not something he worries about often, as for your cooking, he absolutely loves it, and he also gives you pointers to help you improve certain dishes, and the advice always helps you improve more and more everytime!

[utakoi]

Office Yandere HCs

Pairings: Assistant!Izuku Midoriya, Investor!Shoto Todoroki, Chauffeur!Hitoshi Shinso x Boss!Fem!reader

Summary: Ever wonder what it would be like to be the boss of some office yanderes and basically have a harem? Well, look no further, cause here it is!

Warnings: smut !!18+ ONLY!! (spunking in food + masturbation + dirty thoughts + oral), yandere themes (noncon)

A/N: Bc my brain kept me up at night with this concept and has made it’s final decision on turning a one shot I was in the middle of writing into a series, I decided to write some messy hcs to take a lil breather from long works (evn tho this is kinda long already). Also, if you think this is the last you’ll hear about office yanderes, no no no, I have some other thoughts for other characters

Assistant!Midoriya Izuku

He is over the moon to hold a position that’s the closest to you

Out of your entire yandere office harem, he gets to spend the most time with you

He also definitely has an advantage since he practically schedules your entire day

For example, Shoto constantly tries to schedule one-on-one meetings with you in the guise of it being a matter of business, but Izuku cock blocks him by filling your day with a bunch of other events in order to make the meetings as short as possible, and sometimes, even cuts them out completely

He doesn’t like doing it often tho since he knows you can get too stressed with too much going on so he reluctantly has to give away some time for you to meet with the other yanderes (he’s still kind of a sweet and considerate bby as a yandere)

Will not give you personal space

Stands close to you during meetings, constantly visits your office to work (even tho his personal office is right next to yours), etc etc

Even if you don’t ask him to, he will fetch your meals and give you snacks throughout the day because he wants to take care of you and show how sweet he is (also because he wants you to imagine how good of a boyfriend he’d be if you just gave him a chance)

Now let’s get to the part that just popped up into my mind and inspired this entire post: if he can hide his cum somewhere in your food, he will do it

That coffee he gave you that tasted a little salty? Izuku spunked inside it.

The sandwich he bought that seemed to have more mayo than usual? He spunked in that, too

Whatever you think doesn’t taste right, it’s definitely because of Izuku

// // // // //

Izuku is thankful for his job because of two specific things: he gets to interact with you for most of the day and his office has a built in personal bathroom.

If he were to be forced to use the regular employee restroom, his lewd acts would have been exposed immediately by anyone who happened to walk in; he was never the best at holding his moans and grunts while jacking himself off after all.

In the privacy of his own bathroom, he could be as loud as he wants with both his breathy, pleasure-ridden voice and the slick sounds of him stroking his lube-covered cock. In fact, he’s even trying to be as loud as possible. 

Since your office is right next to his, there’s a small chance that you may be able to hear him through the walls. He can visualize you entering his office, concern decorating your features, wondering what he could possibly be doing to make such noises. If you were to open his bathroom door, you’d be met by the sight of Izuku sitting on the lid of the toilet, his hand vigorously pumping up and down his shaft. 

And he wouldn’t stop.

He’d just keep going, all the while staring at you right in the eye. He wonders what you’d do then. Would you just stay frozen at your spot, being unable to take your eyes off of him? Or maybe you’d get on your knees, completely turned on and ready to have a taste of his cum? What if you were actually more dominant than he thought and you’d just dig your heels into his dick, punishing him for slacking off his job by not letting him find release?

Fuck, any of those scenarios would be fine by him. 

Unfortunately, as he gets close to reaching his peak, you don’t come into his office at all. That’s alright, though.

He’ll just settle with spunking into your coffee, for now.

Investor!Shoto Todoroki

Needs your attention

Like I said earlier, Shoto will keep trying to schedule meetings with you in the guise of it being a matter of business 

really, he just wants to spend time with you

During the meetings, he will also try to convince you to fire Izuku so that he can get rid of who he deems as someone deliberately keeping the two of you apart (which, for once, is a pretty spot on theory from Shoto)

Will try to spoil you with gifts and make excuses or pass it off as a casual thing so you don’t reject it or deem it as inappropriate for a workplace relationship

The beautiful bouquet of flowers? He was buying flowers for his mother on the way over and  the flower shop had a 2 for 1 deal so why not?

These gourmet chocolates? A fellow business partner of his gave him a box as thanks for his investment. Unfortunately, he’s allergic to one of the ingredients, but it would just be a waste to throw them out, no?

This exquisite diamond necklace? weLL-

You get the point (also, these gifts are definitely inspired by romance movies he saw his sister watching while growing up cuz oof he did not know any means of romance until he met you)

He aims to schedule his meetings with you around lunch time so that he has an excuse to treat you for lunch

He loves providing for you AKA he loves providing for you and showing off how he has the means to take care of you (much like Izuku)

If you were to become his wife, you wouldn’t have to work another day in your life

You can just stay at home and relax

Maybe you can even cook him breakfast and pack lunch for him before he works

That’s basically his dream

He wants you to stay home, waiting for your sweet husband to come back from work

Basically, he’ll take care of your every need, and he means EVERY need

// // // // //

It’s one of those nights again.

Shoto can’t sleep because he’s plagued by thoughts of you. Today, you weren’t able to meet him for lunch because you already had a flood of other appointments to attend (he was willing to bet his entire fortune that it’s because of your stupid assistant’s scheduling that you weren’t able to make it). 

So, needless to say, he was pent up. He can only hop that you fall in love with him sooner. Did his charms just not work on you? Do you not like the cool stoic type? Maybe he just wasn’t giving you the right gifts. Were they not expensive enough to impress you? Not expensive enough to show he could provide for you?

He knows he can take care of you so well. You would never have to work another day in your life. You can just stay home, surrounded by luxurious gifts and servants who’ll be at your beck and call while you wait for his return. 

And once he actually did come home after a long day of work? You’d be bathed in affection. Kisses, hugs, cuddles... and more.

You’d want him just as much as he wants you, right? 

His poor wife, lonely and deprived of the one person she loves for such long hours. He’s got to show that he’s sorry for neglecting you. 

Pushing you down onto the bed, he’d run his hands all over your body, massaging your shoulders, pinching your hardening nipples, brushing over your sensitive thighs... And since he’s also quite needy, he’d be grinding down his still-clothed cock on your pussy, showing off that he’s missed you, too.

Shoto doesn’t even think he’d have the patience to take off your clothes. He’d just keep dry humping you, desperate for his own release. The thin cloth preventing the both of you from making actual skin-on-skin contact would make such great friction. He can practically feel it now.

... And yup, the feeling was definitely not just from his imagination. Without even needing to glance down, Shoto already knows that his thoughts of you has caused him to pop a boner. 

Hopefully, a quick jerk off session can tire him out enough to fall asleep, but with how much his hard cock throbbed, he doubted it.

Chauffeur!Hitoshi Shinso

2nd most envied out of your office harem for his job (he’s right next to Izuku)

Why? Well 1 - he gets one on one time with you daily and 2 - that one on one time is him and you in an enclosed space

Sure, he may not get as much time with you as the others, but he sure makes the best use of it

He’ll be chatting you up, getting to know you personally in order to make the atmosphere less awkward between the two of you (tbh, because he gives off standoffish and cold vibes, y’all are gonna be kinda tense when he’s just gotten his job as a chauffeur)

and he does it so discreetly

He’ll start the conversation of lightly, talking about the weather, how busy you’re going to be that day...

and then somehow it just transitions onto friendlier and more personal topics such as your favorite places to eat, what hobbies you’ve been trying out lately, etc

And he uses that info to his advantage

If he senses that you’re feeling stressed or down, he will drive you over to your favorite places and remind you that you should relax

But not only does he get brownie points for that, but would you really be so mean as to make him wait for you while you eat a meal or walk around the mall when he’s the one who’s trying so hard to cheer you up?

Of course not, you’re going to invite him and thank him for considering how you’re feeling

And if not, well, that’s okay, too, he understands (so long as he gets his brownie points)

As the boss of your own company, you’d often be asked out to meetings or social gatherings that involve drinking

Shinso’s always there whenever you get shit faced, and happily so

You’re drunk and you’re not gonna remember it the next morning, anyway... so why would he waste such a golden opportunity?

// // // // //

Shit, you feel great on his body.

Currently, Shinso is living out one of the best moments of his life. He’d come to pick you up from a drinking session with some investors and was ecstatic to find you drunk out of your mind. Hell, you could barely even slur out your orders for him to drive you home. Now, you’re pressed up against him as he holds you up and guides you to the car. 

Testing out the waters, he cheekily squeezes the flesh of your ass. If you were conscious enough to reprimand him for it, then he could easily just apologize and pass it off as an accident since you were stumbling around so much. 

And if you didn’t mention anything... well then, that was the single indicator he needed to know that you wouldn’t remember anything once you woke up in the morning. 

To his delight, you barely reacted to his touch and even let out a high-pitched giggle at his actions. As quickly as he possibly could, he opens up the back of the limousine and pushes you inside. You plop down onto the seat with a huff, completely inebriated. 

You don’t even register when Shinso crawls in and nudges himself in between your legs. 

When the door slams shut, you flinch a little, prompting Shinso to massage your thighs in an attempt to soothe you. He gazes at you lovingly as you look down at him with your dilated pupils. Fuck, you look way too innocent and adorable for what he’s about to do. 

Quick with his hands, he pulls down your waistband and completely exposes your sex. Before diving into his meal, he places light kisses that trail from your calf all the way up to your thighs. He wishes he could leave marks on your skin, but he wouldn’t want you to panic the next morning when you see clusters of purple and blue spread out all over your legs. 

He eats you out like a man starved, slobbering all over your pussy. All the while, you’re making such cute noises for him. When you gush all over his face, he’s happily lapping it all up, trying not to waste a single drop. 

Once you’ve come down, he dresses you back up as if nothing happened, which, in your mind tomorrow, nothing did. 

Shinso hesitates when he’s about to slide the panties back onto you. Maybe he could get away with just a little souvenir?

[baggebythesea]

Love your Evil Queen Glimmer series. However as you said it's more ruthless Glimmer than Evil. Have you thought about just going full on Glimmer is the Villain as part of the series?

Illustration by @lorvikk for my fic "Queen Glimmer - Supreme ruler of the universe"

Wow! Thank you so much. The inspiration for Evil (Ruthless) Glimmer came already as I watched the show (s4) the first time, and it's the biggest reason I got into writing spop fanic at all.

Basically, it is an extension of those scenes where Glimmer lash out against Bow and Adora, where she takes such joy in powers while fighting Catra, where she makes deals with Double Trouble, where she allow Shadow Weaver and Light Hope to mentor her and where she kindly and sweetly manipulates Scorpia into potentially destroying the world with the power of friendship. I loved it and I wanted more. add to that some Glitra dynamic, where the two of them enable each other, and things get very destructive very fast.

The thing with ruthless Glimmer though is that she still does bad things for a good cause. It's not like Hordak, who is in it for his personal salvation, or Shadow Weaver who just wants power (power power blah blah blah) or Catra who futilely tries to stop the hurt by lashing out at everyone else (or Horde Prime, who's just a dick). Ruthless Glimmer is trying to save everyone. She might be full of hubris, she might might be misguided, but her motivations are good. She might have talked to Light Hope out of desperation, but when she talked Scorpia into connecting to the black garnet, she genuinely thought it would end the war. When she allowed SW to teach her magic she thought she could prevent the witch from manipulating her - and for the most part she was right. Without Double Trouble doing the heavy lifting, the Best Friend Squad would probably not have fallen apart.

a truly evil Glimmer would still need to have a misguided sense of doing the right thing. 0f being the only one doing the right thing. She would have to buy into Shadow Weaver's world view of it all being up to her and her amassment of personal power.

That means, the Best Friend Squad would have to go. It's extremely hard to write evil Glimmer with Adora and bow being all 'nooooo, don't do evil, you will get huuuuuugs' at every turn. a truly evil Glimmer would need to be even further isolated from her friends than what happened in S4.

another thing with Ruthless Glimmer - which is a big difference between her and Catra - is that it's really hard to make Glimmer stay 'evil'. When she realizes that her plan has failed and Light Hope has backstabbed her, she immediate cut her losses, abandons the plan and tries to do damage control by attacking the Black Garnet. and even when she's truly isolated at Horde Prime's ship she is right back to the power of friendship together with Catra.

For a true 'evil glimmer' story, you would have to keep her rage burning and make sure to keep the overwhelming hubris stronger than the crippling self doubt. Give her the occasional taste of sweet, sweet triumph; give her betrayal by those she trust and deference from those who aim to manipulate her, give her a just cause and make her believe that it truly is up to her.

and in the end - and this is the part where you really see the similarities to Catra - that terrifying queen, shining like a star and burning like a sun, flinging deadly magic and manipulating with sweet words, is still a terrified little girl on a throne she inherited too soon. any evil Glimmer story is a redemption story just waiting to happen.

One could also use plot devices like corruption, chipping, dark magic, some mind-overwriting from Light Hope... to kick-start her transition to evil. Personally I think those things should be used sparingly. They are best when they amplify a dark seed that's already present, such as the clearly already power hungry Light Spinner using the spell of obtainment or the already ready-to-destroy-the-world Catra finds herself as a corrupted version. That said, the She-Ra production team love their visual metaphors for corruption, and who am I to deny such readily available tools? an evil Glimmer with her eyes glowing green, with her skin etched with first one's writing, with her flesh burnt by dark magic... One could even give her an angelic form - like down in the crypt - with wings and a terrible shining beauty. a dark queen. all will love her and despair.

I currently don't have any plans of writing a true 'Evil Glimmer' story (in fact, I currently don't have any ideas for any new Ruthless Glimmer story besides Queens of the Horde, but plot bunnies tend to breed), but if I did it would probably focus on her manipulating side.

One could for example spin a wonderful dark Glimmadora story with Glimmer as the Queen and Adora as the Knight, finally finding the absolution that comes from following orders from someone she trust and love without questions, without hesitation. as long as Glimmer would be just slightly better at manipulation than Shadow Weaver was, slightly better at spinning a narrative with her as the good guy, Adora would stay loyal, despite the more and more desperately nagging voice inside her.

One could also see a Glitra story where Catra in her desperation for love and affection latches on like a limpet to a Glimmer who is more than happy to give the desperate catgirl enough crumbs of attention to... but let's not spoil Queens of the Horde :-)

Thanks for a lovely ask :-)

[dearvitya]

Hi dear! For the WiP ask, can you share a little bit about An Artist, a Mutiny, and a Baby? Or something else of your choice? Thank you 💕💕

OH BOY THIS IS GONNA BE A LONG ONE. this one is special to me ;_; so, An Artist, a Mutiny, and a Baby will actually be the prequel to a pirate fic i've had outlined for ages (like seriously 2 years now), however it'll be uploaded after the main fic is done! i'm just starting with it so i can mentally be in the very beginning of the story and then work my way forward... does that make sense?

it includes all original characters (victor's parents), and is one of the first ~technically~ original things i've ever written--and i'm in love with everyone in it and the universe i've created which is a big confidence booster to me as a writer! the story is basically how victor came to be a pirate in the first place (born out at sea lol) and how his parents got together. their relationship is pretty complex though because it consists of victor's father (pyotr), mother (julia, who actually goes by the name william and is disguised as a male so she can be a pirate), and a third person named timothée! the story is told from the perspective of him, and he's a french artist who was kidnapped by pirates and taken aboard, and he eventually ends up falling in love with julia and pyotr... ugh. it's just all so very romantic and sweet to me and writing them all falling in love with each other made my heart ACHE.

i doubt anyone cares about these characters as much as i do, but here's a couple of my fave paragraphs anyways!:

"He didn’t know how it happened, only that it seemed inevitable. Pyotr’s lips tasted of rum and the lemon candies he purchased in town earlier that day, and they clung to one another with a desperation so fierce it sent Timothée’s soul singing, crying out, so intense he wanted to pull back and just scream; it felt as if they had been marooned for a woeful eternity, now finally rescued and taking that first sip of fresh water, finding sustenance but within each other."

"William caught a gold coin with ease, one that was obviously aimed to strike, then looked over to lock gazes with Timothée, as if he had felt his eyes on him all along. “Impressed?” The pirate grinned. The butterflies in Timothée’s stomach suddenly multiplied, fluttering with enough abandon to make him sick with it, and… oh.  That’s why Timothée couldn’t hate him. Either of them."

AH okay i'm done freaking out and being annoying now, thanks for sending this one :')

//ask me about my wips!

[thepriceofbeingaroseisloneliness]

GIGS No519 Interview Toshiya [Bass]

Despite the hidden gimmick elements in the new single “Oboro”, which brings to the fore “simplicity” and “clearness”, Toshiya’s bass sound has a strong presence. With his words, we are going to start the second half of the solo interviews.

“[Oboro] is a song that holds both DIR EN GREY’s essence and novelty. For me, rather than that uniqueness and novelty, I felt this is going to be the core song of the album.”

Notes before reading: This is Toshiya’s solo interview from GIGS No519 June issue released on April 27th. 

You can buy the magazine at Amazon Japan.  Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes or any confusing parts. Links or credits to this post when the content is reposted or captured in other SNS is appreciated :) ----------------- *Toshiya’s interview comes after Kaoru’s, Die’s and an analysis of the latest gear, that’s why in the introduction of his interview the “second half” of the solo interviews is mentioned.* Text by Yukinobu Hasegawa Photos by Reishi Eguma. -You were already composing and arranging songs for the new album and from that, “Oboro” was first announced as a single. What kind of mindset did you have when you tried to move on to the next album from the previous one “The Insulated World”,released in 2018? T: At the beginning, I didn’t have any specific image of the album as a whole. -I think you want that (image) to appear naturally while you are doing the creation work. T: That’s right but as I feel like I’m always making songs, whenever I start, I only have the mindset of “let’s make something good”. -The songs you composed (from early stage) have not been released to the world yet but, what kind of songs did you make? T: Surprisingly, simple songs. Not very detailed. But I think it depends on the song. I started writing songs thinking I wanted to make something different from the previous DIR EN GREY, but there were some parts that seemed too different for me. So, I feel like I'm still searching for the direction of them. -Looking back at the various songs that you’ve made in the past, I feel like you tend to prefer an avant-garde* approach. So, I was a little surprised when you told me you were working on a simple song.

* Avant-garde is a tend for music that  sounds nothing like the music we're accustomed to, experimental, considered to be at the forefront of innovation. T: Ah, I see. But basically, I think I'm a simple person. I've made songs that feel avant-garde but it’s just that such songs were easy to be accepted/used (by the band). I don't know the specific reason, but I think it's probably because the range of the band will be expanded. However, many of the songs I make myself are very simple. -Even if you say "simple", I think people feel differently about it. For example, Shinya also says his drum playing is “simple" but it's actually very difficult.  How does that simplicity that you mentioned feel for you? T: That's right…..I'm wondering how to describe it, but to put it simply, it may not be something very DIR EN GREY-ish. I think many of the simple songs I make are like that. -What do you think that is “DIR EN GREY-ish”? T: Our band is probably "heavy" or "intense"…. Another things that is often said (about the band) is “complexity”, I think that’s the image of the band. With that in mind, the songs I make aren't very DIR EN GREY-ish. Of course, when I write a song, I'm aware of that. -Do you dare to make something that it’s far apart from those ideas? T: It’s the other way round. I’m not trying to do something close to that, but I’m like “I have to take it in the direction of DIR EN GREY a little more". But from that point on, I started thinking, "How about getting too close?”, "It's more interesting to be in a slightly different place." Well, I might just think those things on my own (laughs). -Are the avant-garde songs born from those thoughts? I think musical input and stimulation are also important when you are composing.  In 2020, we were in a situation in which you couldn’t do many public activities but, how did you get that input during that time? T: Basically, even with this corona situation, there are some things that haven’t changed much. If I had to say something, I can spend more time on composition and production as there are no tours or live performances. Regarding the input part, it seems to have changed, but I feel like it hasn't changed. Besides, I don’t think it’s something I’m conscious about so, I haven’t changed anything in my music because of Corona. -Last year in August, “Ochita koto no aru Sora” was released in a digital format but, I think this song has a complex pattern in the development of the next step. What was in your mind when you were arranging and recording this song? T: Riffs are also the main melody of the song so I basically listened to the guitar riffs and arranged it so I could put my own play in some parts. In terms of sound making, there isn’t much change. Making in a basic way the feeling of my favourite distortion, it feels like mixing various things there. -For the past few years, you've been actively experimenting with various bass effectors every time you record, but have you tried several of these in the "Ochita koto no aru Sora" recording? T: Basically, I don’t remember which one I used anymore (laughs), but the basic system hasn’t changed, the head is an ampeg cabinet from the 70s, I think it was SWR. In the recording of the previous album "The Insulated World" the bass I used was also a dingwall one. That bass can be used for almighty (pedal). *1.A bass cabinet is the box with the speaker.   2.Ampeg is a manufacturer best known for its bass amplifiers.   3.SWR Sound Corporation is a specialist manufacturer of bass guitar       amplifiers, preamps, speaker cabinets, and acoustic guitar amplifiers.  4.  Dingwall Designer Guitars is a  canadian manufacturer of bass guitars.  5.  Almightty is driver pedal for bass.

- “Ochita koto no aru Sora” was a song with a positive message. Did you find a new direction as a band giving shape to this song?

T: There might some different aspects now but at that time, it may not have changed. I don't think we can completely overlook that, so I can't say anything about it. However, “Ochita koto no aru Sora” itself was made completely to be a single. That's why there may be new things, but surprisingly, I have a strong sense of putting out what was inside us in that way. In what way is it the opposite? Does it feel “new”?

-There are various elements, but I feel that each one is like DIR EN GREY-ish. However, it resonates very much that the lyrics leads from a negative perspective to a positive one.

T: I see. Regarding the lyrics, I think it’s a continuation of the taste of other songs we’ve done so far, but I don’t know because I haven’t asked. However, although the flow of the lyrics are not the same in content, I felt like it was written from a close place.

-The song that follow this one is the new single “Oboro”. Kaoru wrote the original melody but, what was your impression when you first listened to it?

T: I don't think it's much different from the finished form in terms of feelings. The intro had this kind of atmosphere from the beginning. I think it's a song that holds both DIR EN GREY’s essence and newness. However, I personally felt that "this is the core song in the album" rather than being unique or new. As a result, “Oboro” became a single, but at first it wasn’t written with that purpose. We suddenly talked abour releasing a single and after that, as we all agreed that it was a good song for that, we decided to choose it as a single.

-From what part of the song did you feel that it was going to be the core of the album?

T: I felt that this ballad-type atmosphere and feeling really stands out in the album. Because of that, we decided to release it as a single, but we haven't released many singles like this, so I think it made a good change.

-The fact that you feel that  a ballad with a melody  it's going to be the core of the album….does that mean that the other songs are the opposite of it? It seems to be quite an atmosphere where this amazing song was born! (laughs)

T: Well, I can't say anything about that because not all of them have come out yet (laughs). However, it's easier to make a slightly up-tempo songs, so I wonder if there are many songs like that for now. Even if I actually make a song, I don't know if it will be included in the album, so I can't really say anything about the direction of the album or the feeling of the songs. However, "Ochita koto no aru Sora" was made to become a single, so there are a lot of parts of it that hit the target. And as for "Oboro", I felt that it was meant to be release as a single, but also that it was meant to be kept for the album.

-For example, do you change the arrangements and the bass approach if it's an album song or a single song?

T: Yes, it changes. It's completely different for me if is going to be a single or if it is going to be a song for the album. Even if I make  the original melody, it’s different on how much time it takes. Singles are harder to do. You can work more relaxed if it is a  the song for the album. For singles, I feel that the part I am aiming for as a bassist is very strong at the time of elaborating the arrangement.

“If you think that everyone has slowed down in many ways, I think you can start running again. I think it's better to act than to think. So, I'm looking forward to the future.”

-Did you do a lot of trial and error in your part when you made the bass arrangement for "Oboro"?

T: It’s really a minor part. It feels like the details are boiled down when it seems to be a bass phrase like that in a rough flow. The bass in the demo of the original song had many root-playing (basic) phrases so, how to elaborate them from there? what do to with the cadence?  However, “Oboro” has a bass line that snuggles up to the song, I think this phrase has the strongest awareness of song melody.

-While focusing on that sustain-based roots playing components, some bass phrase will come up when you are doing the arrangements but won’t turn out very showy. And when it comes to the ending of the song, it will show fierceness while increasing the distortion of the sound. I felt it was a carefully selected phrasing.

T: I think it’s easier to hear it at the ending of the song, but that distortion is actually there during the whole song. Not only the ending part is distorted but also the beginning. However, when all the instruments came together, I don’t think that distorted feeling could be properly heard. Even if it's distorted that much, surprisingly, it goes well easily. I usually have two patterns at the time of recording. For example, even if you use the same distortion effect, the distortion is applied with a little shallow sound like a hunting sound. So, this time, it was a way of finding what I felt comfortable with when it got mixed with the sound of the band.

-So the reason why you can’t hear that distortion in the first half or the middle of the song is because it got completely blended once the sound of the band got together?

T: That's right. I think there is a perception that if it is distorted, the sound will inevitably be drawn into it. However, if it's distorted that much, it gives a plump low feeling and you can see the phrase. It's simply because we don't stack as many guitars as we used to. Sometimes the sound of each instrument can be heard firmly, so the approach can be focused on what you want to hear. To put it simply, I think it's a big thing that the direction of the band has become simpler. So, in recent years, I think the balance of the band is very good at the time of put together each member’s part. I think that vocals are especially attractive in "Oboro".

-Kyo is very fast adding the lyrics, I’ve heard that he finished recording his part before the instruments  (recording) were done.

T: That's right. "Oboro" already had the vocals done at the stage of recording the bass. However, although he recorded it first, in the end this part will be the last one. After all, it seems that there are parts  he wants to record again once the other parts (instruments) are added. However, even if it is not the final form of the lyrics, if they are already included, the nuance of the phrase will change. Maybe it’s the same with the other members. I think everyone ends up arranging their parts for the lyrics.

-So, the idea was to keep the bass of "Oboro" as simple as possible?

T: Whether you're playing or listening, it was a simple form that seemed comfortable. I think a phrase that requires a lot of work is also good. If there is a song that suits that idea, I wonder if I should take a laborious approach. In that aspect, I thought the dynamic of “Oboro” feels as pleasant as possible. However, I was allowed to play a bit with it. I think the proportion and the sense of balance are also good.

-Did you choose to record some takes while changing your approach?

T: "Oboro" was decided by the current phrase from the time I did pre-production work at home.So, when I recorded in the the band's pre-production room, I just made a few minor corrections when I made the actual recording. As for the mix,  regarding my part, it was a good feeling from the beginning

-Neal Avron has been appointed as a mix engineer this time. Did his mixing work significantly change the nuances of the bass sound?

 T: It has changed. But the biggest change depending on the engineer is the sound of the drums. More like, I feel that the personality of the engineer can be understood in this aspect. Personally, I think the vivid and deep sound of the "Oboro" drums is good.

-A remake of your song "T.D.F.F" is recorded as one of the couplings. What kind of mindset did you have approaching this song including the arrangement?

T: As always, I thought about the phrase from the perspective of what it would sound like if it were done by my current self. When we do a remake, I listen to the original version of the song to confirm what I was playing at that time. Sometimes it's interesting to discover that I was playing it live with the wrong idea(laughs).

-The person that you were at that time is brought back as well?

T: There are times that happens when we rethink our approach. It was like this at that time, but I think it's different to do this phrase now, or to do it with a different feeling. Some of the old songs are due to youth, I have a variety of knowledge and experience now. So, there are times when I change to an approach with a completely different interpretation, and there are parts where I want to play faithfully to the original. For example, keep faithful to the main phrase that  would change everything if you changed that. At the time of "THE UNRAVELING" (released in April 2013), I had a strong desire to change everything if I wanted to remake it, so I changed it completely, but in recent years I have been thinking about the original carefully and the idea is to put my current sense into that. Because when you're making a song, it's your song, but it's not only yours. In that case, it’s better to capture our thoughts and the memories and the thoughts of the fans together in order to shape that song in a good way. If you want to make a bold change, I think you should use that idea to create a new song with it.

-The other coupling song is a live track from the concert without audience at Meguro Rockmaykan. What do you remember about this?

T: It's one of the first stages I've stood on since I became a member of DIR EN GREY, but the Rockmaykan with no audience felt strange. When the live starts, there is only one thing to do, so it's not much different from usual. But I’m not sure if there is something extra in it. It’s not about the call and response (from the audience), I think that the tension inside me is different depending if there are fans or not. After all it is more interesting to have audience. It can also inspire you. I think that such a form of live is also a possibility in times of Corona, but it doesn’t have to be like this every time. However, I learned a lot from this new experience with this new way of expression. Besides, it was a confirmation that there are various things that can be done in a situation like this.

-After this, there is a concert with audience on May 6th. How are you feeling now?

T: I'm looking forward to it and I'm happy. Above all, I am very grateful to be able to perform in front of the audience. Something that used to be normal is not normal anymore, so I wish I could do it with a new feeling.I think the world has simply changed due to Corona. Until now, everyone was running, and I think there was a huge difference between each person’s position. However, because it's all gone, to put it the other way around, everyone restarted from the same position. How does each person perceive that? Of course, the negative effects of corona are huge, but just thinking negatively does not change anything. So, if you think that everyone has slowed down in many ways, I think you can start running again. I think it's better to act than to think. So, I'm looking forward to the future.

[taki118]

Go Watch the Venture Brothers

So just heard the complete and utter Bullshit news that Adult Swim has cancelled one of (if not the best shows) they have the Venture Bros. This series is one of those shows that for WHATEVER reason never got to the level of fandom Rick and Morty has even though they’ve been at the genre parody game longer and in my opinion better. 

The series is about Rusty Venture former boy adventurer and failing super scientist who in an attempt to keep his head above water in debt goes around with his two boys Hank and Dean, and bodyguard Brock on misadventues while various legal archnemisis go after him, such as the Monarch. 

So if you never watched or never heard of this 7 season series let me give you a break down on why you should, 

1) Art Style & Animation

Venture bros is one of those rare Adult aimed animated series that that really truly tries to utilize their medium to the best of their abilities. Season 1 had like such a small budget and corners had to be cut so it can be a little hard to watch at times. 

But with each passing season they get a little better, a little more fluid, go just a little harder and it truly feels rewarding to watch. Like seeing an artist you follow online improve over the years. Like they COULD have stayed with the choppy and stiff animation from season 1 it fit right in with its fellow adult animated shows but it didn’t. They strove for quality to have something that matched the story they were telling.

2) The Writing 

Venture Bros has some of the tightest and consistently great writing of ANY serialized show I’ve seen, adult, animated or other wise. Wanna know why? Cause it’s all done by TWO people (save for like one ep each season where one other person is allowed to touch their baby). Yeah TWO people and they work their asses off every season to interject, humor, refrences, parody, plot and character development in equal measure. 

3) Character Development

Um yes in case you were wondering that’s right an adult animated show has CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT  that holds as the series goes on. Not to give spoilers but characters will go through changes in alignment, relationships will develop and change, some characters will go through negative arcs where they are straight up unbareable for a season before coming out the other side even better than they were before. There is no end of epsiode or even end of season reset. Characters, settings, and dynamics all change over the course of the show and it feels just so god damn good.

4) Story Development 

Just like the characters the story of the Venture Bros grows and changes each season. Things that are set up even as early as season one are paid off as the series goes on. Like not to be that bitch but you know how RIck and Morty teases an overarching plot ALL THE TIME but like will often just spit in the face of fans hoping for more than like one episode a season addressing it? Yeahhhhhhh that doesnt happen here, fans are consistently rewarded for putting the time in to rewatch and really think about what happened in the series. Characters that are seen in the background or are just referenced by other characters will be brought in to be recurring characters, things that start off as a small detail or gag will be given larger relevance and each time they do this you get that “OH I remember that from last season! So thats what it was!” The writers WANT you to rewatch, they WANT you to analyze and they WANT you to theorize, and they give you a show that gives back the time you put in.

5) Parody & Reference 

This series does a great thing with parody. They make real characters  who are just as enjoyable as the characters they parody, they make story lines that both poke fun at the absurdity of the media but shows the writers love for it. So often parody and references are just used to mock the thing but with Venture Bros you feel the love and care so when you know the thing being parodied you can laugh but feel good about laughing cause they are never laughing at a thing maybe you cared for in your youth but rather laughing with it.

And it’s never just one thing. When they parody a thing its often layered with other things to make it even more unique. Scooby-Doo is overlayed with famous criminals, Laura Croft is mixed Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, GI Joe is given the look of the Village People and so on. They never go for the easy joke or reference. Hell theres an episode that starts with them reciting the lyrics to David Bowies Space Oddity for really no reason other than they could. They weave these things in naturally with their setting and characters so nothing feels out of place. Like if you dont catch a reference or parody you dont feel like “I think this isa reference to something?” like a LOT of things do not just adult animated shows. You arent taken out of the moment cause it all feels so natural. 

6) The Characters 

God damn these characters, I could go on for hours about these characters. From main to one off these are some of the most likeable characters you can find. I mean it when I say I can’t think of a single character I wish they had cut cause they are all so well created. Even the ones I hate i have fun hating cause they were made to be that way. I’ll be good though I’ll only talk about my absolute top faves.

- The Monarchs

You ever sit and wish villain couples could have functional  healthy relationships? Well look no further than Malcom Fitzcarraldo aka The Monarch and Dr. Shelia Girlfriend (yes that is her last name). The Monarch is a high strung impulsive saturday morning cartoon villain whos tendency to over react is only matched by his unspecified hatred of Dr. Venture. And Dr. G is his nonsense partner in crime who will cut a bitch if they don’t play by their admittedly weird rules. Both characters are great on their own but are better together. Though that doesnt mean they always get along. Like a real couple they have their ups and downs they fight, break up, make-up and grow stronger in their relationship with each season. 

- Shore Leave

Ok ok so I want you to imagine James Bond, mixed with GI Joe simmering in a cocktail of the most flamboyant gay men you have ever seen and you have one of my favorite gay characters/characters in general. Shore Leave is a member of OSI (the shows SHEILD/GI Joe parody organization) he’s loud, brash, flippant, sassy and highly competent at his job loving every second of getting to beat bad guys down within an inch of their life. I love seeing him play off the stoic Brock and the two have this great brotherly dynamic that’s never called into question. He also gets to have a very cute romance with Al the Alchemist (who is also great). I could talk about this man all day.

- Dr. Rusty Venture

They did such a good job with this man. He’s a self serving, sexist, perverted, whinny, self important asshole and yet you feel pity and genuine sympathy for him and want him to succeed. You can see how Dr. V was given a raw deal by his father who seemed to care more about his adventures than his sons well being and how this molded him into the bitter man he is today, but on the flip side you can see where he chose to use that as a crutch for his worst behaviors and impulses. Seeing him slowly grow and change and be an actual good father to his boys while all the while still be a giant dick is actually really great. 

- Dr. Byron Orpheus 

Ahhhhh Dr. Orpheus part Dr. Strange Parody part busybody stay at home dad, he’s just such a delight. Dr. Orpheus is a divorcee, with an unfulfilling job of maintaining order to the cosmos (which isnt as hard as one might think), and uses his magical ablities in ways most of us would (ie menial tasks and home chores). Overly dramatic and affectionate Dr. O is a delight whenever he appears, but he’s at his best around his daughter and old friends The Order of the Triad. 

Again I can go on but all these characters ranging from main to recurring are crafted with the utmost care for you to want to see them succeed or fail, to see them again even if you know it’ll never happen, and want them to cross paths with other characters. 

The Venture Bros is one of those series that I will ALWAYS recommend even to the pickiest of humor tastes. But if you don’t believe its as good as I said or don’t think the concept is to your tastes I’ll recommend a few eps that I think best show off the base idea of the series without giving much away. In terms of plot and spoilers, though somethings wont make a lot of sense. 

- S1 ep10 "Tag Sale – You're It!" - Dr. V is having a yard sale so of course all manner of costumed weirdos show up.  - S2 ep5 "Twenty Years to Midnight" - basically a fetch quest around the world to save the planet with daddy issues - S3 ep2 "The Doctor Is Sin" - Again daddy issues but with one of the best recurring characters and a great showcase of the series deeper emotional plots - S4 ep6 "Self-Medication" - Really embraces the parody as Rusty goes to a former boy adventurer support group.  Anyway the show is 7 seasons with 80 episodes, please go watch it. I will never forgive @adultswim​ for cancelling what was to be their final season. And in closing GO TEAM VENTURE!

[contemplativepancakes]

Following the Thread Transcript

AKA all the "canon" there is of Aiden. Google doc to save for easy reference is here. Providing this is entirely selfish of me, please use it and write some lambden <3

EXT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

GERALT approaches a GUARD standing outside of a door.

GUARD: Don’t like folk wandering around here.

GERALT: Oh yeah? Well, got a beast you need someone to get rid of? I’m here about the notice.

GUARD: Ah, supervisor Lund posted it. Yeah, a beast haunts the outskirts, murdering folk. Got ‘em scared to leave their homes after dark.

GERALT: I’d like to talk to this supervisor.

GUARD: Too bad he don’t receive petitioners.

GERALT: So what’s he do, exactly?

GUARD: Delivery relief on behalf of the city council—flour and groats for the paupers. Meaning, he don’t do it personally. He’s got men for that. He, himself, he, uh. (GESTURES BROADLY)

GERALT: Supervises.

GUARD: Exactly!

GERALT: I aim to hunt down this monster.

GUARD: Best hurry, then. Some other bloke’s already after it.

GERALT: Who took the contract?

GUARD: Didn’t see the man. Was just told some brave fool’d turned up.

GERALT: When’d you find the last victim?

GUARD: Just last night. Hubert, a beggar, but a decent man. I’d let him sleep in the shed from time to time—that one, on the right. Eustace hasn’t come for the corpse yet. It’s lying in there, where I found it.

GERALT: Any eyewitnesses to these attacks?

GUARD: No, just the bodies. Beast appears only at night, chooses isolated victims.

GERALT: Thanks. So long.

Geralt goes to the shed and examines it, finding a puddle of blood that’s not human, and Hubert’s body, which is drained of blood. There’s ekimmara tracks in the shed that Geralt follows along the river’s edge, until they disappear at a dock. Geralt swims across the river and finds the tracks again, leading him to another building. Geralt notes that’s there’s rat corpses outside that have been drained of blood.

INT. DARK HOUSE

There’s the sounds of combat upstairs, blade clashing, an ekimmara screeching, and a whoosh from aard. Geralt rushes up the stairs to see LAMBERT fighting the monster. They kill it together.

GERALT: Greetings, Lambert.

LAMBERT: Damn, it’s good to see you, Wolf.

GERALT: Decide to do some hunting in Novigrad? Far as I remember, you never liked this city.

LAMBERT: Still don’t. Thing is, got a certain matter to take care of.

GERALT: What have you been up to? Any luck on the path?

LAMBERT: A lot, in fact. Quite the takings in Lan Exeter. Was asked to hunt down a giant, who turned out to be a forest troll and some bandits.

GERALT: Bandits?

LAMBERT: (SHRUGS) Came as a package with the troll.

GERALT: The matter you mentioned, anything I can help with?

LAMBERT: Hmm. Maybe. But we’ll talk about that later. Got our reward to collect. I’m kinda in a hurry. Let’s say you’ve earned half, what the hell.

EXT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

Geralt and Lambert approach the guard from earlier.

GUARD: So?

LAMBERT: What do you think? We did what we had to do. Time to pay up.

GUARD: Wait here, I’ll go see the supervisor, get your reward.

LAMBERT: Do that ourselves. No reason you should leave your post.

Geralt gives Lambert a sideways glance.

GUARD: Hmm, can’t argue with that logic. Go on in.

EXT SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING, COURTYARD

Lambert and Geralt approach SUPERVISOR LUND in an outdoor space. There’s three guards milling around.

LAMBERT: We dealt with the monster at the docks. Here for our reward.

LUND: Witchers? Since when do you travel in pairs?

LAMBERT: Lots of dangers for a lone witcher. Bandits, for example.

LUND: I’d advise you to change your tone.

LAMBERT: Where’s Jad Karadin? Talk!

GERALT: Who?

LAMBERT: Trust me, Geralt. This is important. There’s something I gotta know.

LUND: I do not know any Karadin. Take your coin for the before and bugger off before I lose my temper!

LAMBERT: (YELLING) Where’s Jad Karadin? Asking you for the last time!

LUND: Guards, to the dungeon with them!

Lund runs out of the courtyard, and Lambert chases after him, leaving Geralt to fight the three guards.

INT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

Geralt walks inside to find Lund cowering from Lambert.

LAMBERT: This guy’s more trouble than the ekimmara.

LUND: Karadin’s disappeared. I swear! The others, too! I only know of Vienne.

LAMBERT: What about Vienne?

LUND: She drinks at the Seven Cats. There day and night.

LAMBERT: See? You can be helpful.

Lambert unsheathes his sword and stabs Lund in the gut while Geralt watches. Lund collapses to the floor. Lambert turns to look at Geralt in challenge.

GERALT: That was murder. Was that really necessary?

LAMBERT: Yes.

Geralt shakes his head.

LAMBERT (cont.): More guardsmen’ll show soon. Let’s go. Meet me at the Seven Cats. Tell you everything there.

GERALT: The tavern Vienne frequents?

LAMBERT: Yeah. See you later.

EXT. SEVEN CATS INN

Lambert is leaning against a rock when Geralt approaches him.

GERALT: All right. High time you explained some things. Why’d you kill Lund? What’s this all about?

LAMBERT: Want the short version or the long one?

GERALT: Lemme hear the whole thing.

LAMBERT: Had a friend. Aiden was his name.

GERALT: You? Had a friend?

LAMBERT: Oh, hi-fuckin’-larious. I met him soon after I'd accepted a contract to lift the curse from the Ogre of Ellander. Aiden had been hired to kill it. He was a witcher from the school of the cat.

GERALT: Far as I remember, the ogre was killed in the end.

LAMBERT: Yeah, after it gutted my employer, we really didn’t have a choice. I cut a deal with Aiden. We joined forces, split the reward for killing the ogre between us. After that, we worked together a lot. Hands down the best man I’d ever met. I mean, I like you, you know that. Still, no comparison.

GERALT: What happened to him?

LAMBERT: Some time ago, Aiden took on a contract to lift a curse off a duke’s daughter. It was a political mess from the start. Then there was the hatred for the school of the cat to deal with.

GERALT: They worked hard to deserve that hate. Basically hired assassins.

LAMBERT: (SNAPS) Aiden wasn’t like that. (PAUSES, LOOKS AWAY) Anyway, some of the duke’s courtier’s had designs. Weren’t all keen on the curse being lifted from the duke’s first born. So, a band of trained assassins ambushed Aiden, murdered him. Our dear supervisor was one of them.

GERALT: And Jad Karadin?

LAMBERT: The assassins’ leader. And the one to deal the mortal blow.

GERALT: Sorry about your friend.

LAMBERT: Don’t need your sympathy, just your help. (PUSHES OFF ROCK HE WAS LEANING ON TO STRAIGHTEN) We have to talk to Vienne. Must’ve had enough to drink by now. Let’s go.

INT. SEVEN CATS INN

Geralt and Lambert approach VIENNE, a lithe elvish woman wearing a deep cut purple blouse with her dark hair in a braid. She has a drinking glass in front of her where she sits alone at a table.

GERALT: Vienne?

VIENNE: What do you want?

LAMBERT: We wanna see Jad Karadin.

VIENNE: (LAUGHS) Now why would I help you?

GERALT: It’s really important to my friend here.

VIENNE: And what will I get out of it?

LAMBERT: Pay for your beer, for starters. Then we’ll see how valuable your information is.

VIENNE: (CONSIDERS, TAKES DRINK) I was part of Karadin’s band, but… When was that? I don’t know where to find him; I’ve fallen out with the lot.

Geralt sits at her table.

VIENNE (cont.): Besides, he’s no longer chummy with his old mates. Word around town is he’s changed.

Lambert sits down, also, now.

GERALT: Karadin’s changed? What do you mean?

VIENNE: He’s dropped all his old connections, stopped taking on petty killings. He’s hidden himself away in some hole. Must be planning something big.

GERALT: Who else was in Karadin’s band?

VIENNE: Aside from me? Selyse, Hammond, and Lund. But they’ve scattered all over the world. Selyse went to Tretogor, Hammond to Skellige, and Lund—

LAMBERT: Lund’s dead.

VIENNE: (CACKLES) Finally met his match. Well, you’ve only Hammond or Selyse to talk to, then.

GERALT: What about you? What’s your story?

VIENNE: Scoia'tael was decimated, so I joined Karadin. They never treated me as an equal. No. I could hit a sparrow from a hundred paces, but I was never good enough for Karadin. He always preferred that cunt Selyse…

LAMBERT: You have a hand in the murder of the witcher Aiden?

VIENNE: Perhaps. I don’t remember.

GERALT: We need information about Hammond.

VIENNE: Karadin’s right hand man, once. When the band broke up, he went back to Faroe whence he had come. He’s a pirate, now. Even the jarls treat him with respect.

GERALT: This Selyse, where can we find her?

VIENNE: She’s done well for herself. Runs a brothel in tretogor, the kind rich men frequent. Whores suck information out of them, then she sells it.

LAMBERT: Name of this brothel?

VIENNE: The Black Lily. Selyse always did have horrible taste.

GERALT: (TO LAMBERT) Satisfied?

Geralt and Lambert both stand.

LAMBERT: She doesn’t know anything. We need to talk to Hammond and Selyse.

VIENNE: Don’t go looking for Karadin. If he senses you nipping at his heels, he’ll kill you without batting an eye.

LAMBERT: We’ll see. As for you…

OPTION ONE

GERALT: No, Lambert.

LAMBERT: Right, better to leave her like this.

VIENNE: What about my coin?

Geralt and Lambert exit the inn.

VIENNE (cont.): Arseholes.

OPTION TWO

GERALT: Do whatever you think is right, Lambert. Not here to preach morals.

VIENNE: (LAUGHS) “Do what you think is right?” Only one thing worse than cold blooded murder—hypocrisy. Informers, racists, snitches!

VAREN: Vienne, bloody hell. What is it?

VIENNE: They’ve come for me, Varen! I told you someone would, sooner or later!

VAREN: (IN ELDER) Don’t be afraid.

GERALT: Shit.

A fight breaks out in the inn and ends with Vienne dead.

EXT. SEVEN CATS INN—NIGHT

LAMBERT: You’ve gotta help me, Geralt. Best thing will be to split up. You sail to Skellige, try to squeeze something out of Hammond. I’ll go to Tretegor and try to get something out of Selyse.

GERALT: Lambert, let’s talk about this.

LAMBERT: Let’s not. This is one of those situations, serious situations, where you don’t ask unnecessary questions and just help your friend.

GERALT: Where’ll we meet once I’m back?

LAMBERT: At the Nowhere Inn.

GERALT: All right, I’m off. Good luck.

They both nod to each other, and the scene fades to black as Lambert walks away.

EXT. PIRATE’S SETTLEMENT, SKELLIGE

Geralt approaches two men standing guard outside of the settlement he’d been pointed to in order to find Hammond.

GUARD: Whaddya want?

GERALT: I’m looking for Hammond.

GUARD: What for?

GERALT: Business.

GUARD: He prays at the chapel on the hill this time of day. If it’s slaves you’re looking to buy, you’ll have to wait ‘til he’s done.

GERALT: He’s praying? Wouldn’t have thought him a god fearing man.

GUARD: Hmm. Yet it’s not something that would surprise any man who knows him.

GUARD TWO: Another snoop! You know the drill!

A fight breaks out with all of the pirates. After Geralt defeats them, he travels across the island.

EXT. HAMMOND’S SHRINE

Geralt walks into the shrine, and it’s an outdoor space with wide, curved beams driven into the ground that create a circle. Hammond is in the middle of the area in front of a pile of weaponry and shields. Hammond is shirtless and wearing a green tartan kilt with a wide leather belt. His hair is in a ponytail, and a leather strap encircles his left bicep. There’s a brown arm guard on the same arm, and there’s a gold band wrapped around his right bicep. There’s a large war hammer strapped to his back.

HAMMOND: Gods of the sea, I’ve never begrudge ye no gifts. Grant me another victory, so I can make an offering of me loot. (STANDS AND NOTICES GERALT) Fuck, what now?

GERALT: Heard you were in Karadin’s band.

HAMMOND: Fuckin’ say what you want. C’mon, spit it out, you arse lickin’ bastard!

GERALT: I’m looking for Jad Karadin.

HAMMOND: And just who the hell’re you?

GERALT: A friend of a friend. I’m looking for Karasin, thought maybe we could make some sort of deal.

HAMMOND: What, our business rubbing some Novigrad pricks the wrong way? Ploughin’ guild! (TO HIS GUARDS) Come on, what are you waiting for? Kill the fucker!

A fight breaks out and Geralt kills Hammond and his three guards. After, Geralt searches Hammond’s body and retrieves a letter on elegant stationary.

Hammond,

Thought I made it clear during our last face to face talk. I don’t want to keep in touch and I especially don’t want to do any business with you. I’ve no doubt the enterprise you proposed would be profitable. Nevertheless, to speak colloquially, count me out.

There are plenty of other potential buyers in Novigrad: goldsmiths, jewelers, and merchants dealing in luxury goods, for starters.

I don’t want to get involved.

Whatever you decide, I will wish you well in it. Treat this letter as our final farewell.

Karadin

INT. NOWHERE INN

Geralt approaches Lambert. Lambert is sitting at a table scattered with gwent cards and with a tankard in front of him.

LAMBERT: What the hell took you?

GERALT: Pretty likely Karadin lives in Novigrad. And he never severed ties with Hammond. They’re actually in business together.

LAMBERT: Mm. Learned something, too. He trades in, uh, live goods on the sly. Owns a ship called the Pearl of the Coast. Runs between here and Skellige. Changed his name, too, to Roland Treugger, who officially is a respected Novigrad trader and philanthropist. Has a residence in Gildorf.

GERALT: Anything on Selyse?

LAMBERT: Hmm. Well, didn’t have you there to stand up for her.

GERALT: All right, let’s pay Karadin a visit.

EXT. KARADIN’S HOUSE

Lambert and Geralt stand in a stone alleyway, looking at several guards.

LAMBERT: Think I know how to get in. Got a plan.

GERALT: If your plan doesn’t include dealing with an escort of guardsmen, best revise it.

The guards approach Lambert and Geralt.

GERALT (cont.): Calm, now. Let them start it.

GUARD: You’re expected. Come in.

Lambert and Geralt share a glance, and the scene fades to black.

EXT. KARADIN’S BACKYARD

There’s a child in a blue smock, who points at Lambert and Geralt and runs to Karadin. Karadin has yellow slitted eyes, dressed nicely, and there’s a sword at his hip.

KARADIN: Make yourselves at home.

GERALT: (TO LAMBERT) He’s a witcher.

KARADIN: Very true. Let me introduce my wife, Laetitia, and my two little tots. (GESTURES TO A WOMAN AND TWO CHILDREN SITTING IN THE GRASS) You know who I am, and I’ve heard of you. You’ve been asking questions about me. That always draws my attention.

GERALT: What school’d you come out of?

KARADIN: That of the cat. So few of us left.

Lambert sneers.

GERALT: Witchers can’t have children.

KARADIN: But they can have wards. Or take in a woman along with her children, embrace them as their own.

GERALT: I could understand a witcher becoming a hired assassin, but a merchant?

KARADIN: Why ever not? Not one among us doesn’t dream of changing our life. I simply did not stop at dreaming. They say no witcher has ever died in his bed. I aim to be the first.

LAMBERT: Remains to be seen.

GERALT: My friend needs to talk to you.

KARADIN: (TO GUARDS) Lads, take the children and Laetitia and leave us. Our guests wish to speak with me.

His family leaves.

KARADIN (cont.): I’m all ears.

LAMBERT: Talk to him, Geralt. If I do, first word he says to me, I’ll lose it and throttle the fucker.

GERALT: Nice place you got.

KARADIN: As it turned out, I’ve a flair for enterprise. Now I’ve coin enough to provide my family with the finer things in life.

LAMBERT: With some left over for philanthropy.

KARADIN: Miss Marabella’s institute does not scorn small donations. Neither does the city's Widow and Orphan Relief Fund, amongst others.

GERALT: Your wife know who you were?

KARADIN: We are thoroughly honest with each other, harbor no secrets. She prays for me each day. You know what? I think it’s working.

LAMBERT: Fucking hell.

GERALT: Relax, Lambert.

KARADIN: I confessed all just before we pledged to marry one another. Began a new life that day, with a clean slate.

GERALT: Remember Aiden? A witcher. Murdered in Ellander. Guessing the killers were paid well.

KARADIN: I remember him as I remember all the others—with the deepest regret. Yet Aiden was different, in a way. Contrary to rumor, we did not set out to kill him. We were forcced to, when he attacked us.

GERALT: What’s your version of this story?

KARADIN: Aiden had accepted a contract to lift a curse from the duke’s daughter. He took the coin, bungled the job, then left once the girl passed on.

LAMBERT: You lie!

KARADIN: We were not to kill him. We were debt collectors. He’d spent the coin already, so we demanded his swords. When he refused, tempers flared. Vienne, positioned as sniper, lost her nerve, hit Aiden square in the eye.

Lambert looks down. Geralt glances over at him.

KARADIN (cont.): Later, she devised her own version of the story. To silence her guilt, I expect.

GERALT: I’ve heard enough.

KARADIN: What now?

OPTION ONE

GERALT: You’ve changed. You have.

KARADIN: Forgiveness. It’s my sole aim now.

LAMBERT: You’re buying this bullshit? Bastard’s lying his ass off!

OPTION TWO

GERALT: You know what, Karadin? Your remorse—it’s feigned. Completely dishonest. You put on a good show, but I just don’t believe you.

LAMBERT: Don’t even know why we bothered with this chat. We came here to kill you.

OPTION THREE

GERALT: Maybe you’ve changed, maybe not. To me and Lambert, it doesn’t matter.

LAMBERT: You killed Aiden. Fuck your new life. I don’t believe in giving second chances.

OPTION ONE

GERALT: Do what you want, Lambert. Your friend, your vengeance.

LAMBERT: Been waiting a long time for this.

KARADIN: (UNSHEATHES SWORD) And I don’t aim to die.

A fight breaks out, ending in Karadin dead.

LAMBERT: Thanks for your help, Geralt.

GERALT: You’re welcome.

LAMBERT: Wanna talk about it?

GERALT: No.

LAMBERT: See you later. Some day.

GERALT: So long, Lambert.

OPTION TWO

GERALT: Leave him. Let’s go.

LAMBERT: What? Are you fuckin’ nuts?

GERALT: Lambert, this is one of those situations where you have to realize you’re pissed as hell, rein it in, and trust your cool headed friend. Let’s go.

LAMBERT: For fuck’s sake, Geralt. Don’t know that I’ll be able to forgive you.

GERALT: I said let’s go. You can always come back.

Lambert storms off.

KARADIN: Thank you.

Geralt sighs and walks away.

EXT. KARADIN’S HOUSE

LAMBERT: Explain yourself.

GERALT: Don’t intend to. Just felt Karadin didn’t deserve to be murdered in cold blood. If you feel otherwise, you can always go back. Without me.

LAMBERT: I feel like beating the shit out of you. See you later. Some day.

GERALT: So long, Lambert.

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 02

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: This is a slice-of-life series where you, the reader successfully shifted realities with the goal to spend time with Loki. Nothing too intense.

A/N: I was quite scared to write a fight scene, especially since my knowledge about actual fights was... limited... but here it is! I hope y'all like it!

Feel free to shoot me a request and I'll see what I can do!

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: Fight training with the god of mischief. There isn’t much else to it.

Chapter warnings: fight training, self doubts, Loki being Loki

Word count: 2016

9:50pm.

Lucky for you, a pair of black sweatpants plus an oversized zip-up hoodie just waited for you in your wardrobe.

You couldn’t waste any more time and felt comfortable with your choice of clothes, so you opened the door and stepped out on the hallway. The whole tower felt more silent than it had been a few hours earlier which might be caused by the time Loki had picked. Everyone was following their respective evening routine, but it isn't too late to be seen in the corridors.

While strutting to the gym, you checked whether you had everything with you. You got a bottle of water, that's it. After all, what else did you need?

Contemplating your choice, you were doubting yourself. Would Loki be a good teacher? What would he teach you? He is a true genius when in regards to all things magic, he was also a master manipulator, but the god of mischief doesn't seem like someone well-versed in hand to hand combat.

However, Loki really seems to love his daggers. Honestly, it's kind of weird how he isn't the god of daggers as well, it would surely be a fitting title. Maybe you can somehow convince him to give you a dagger and show you how to fight with it.

Receiving one of Loki's truly beautiful daggers sounds like a great idea, but it would probably hit too close to home for Loki. Giving someone their dagger, is a huge tradition in Asgard connected with courting someone after all.

So, looks like you won't get a dagger.

As you entered the gym, the smell of new gym mats and sweat flew in your face, but what ended up taking your breath away was the backside of someone's infamous asgardian combat clothing. Why was he standing there? Has he been pacing up and down while waiting for you? You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him waiting for you impatiently.

“Oh look at that, right on time. I didn't expect that  from a midgarian.”

Of course Loki would talk down on you based on your midgarian heritage, that was predictable. It would have been out of character if he didn't, honestly.

He sighed and he finally turned around, a hint of a smirk was still visible on his face.

“But at last you're here, so let's...”

Slowly mustering you, he took a moment to finish his sentence, dropping his smirk.

“...begin. Is that what midgarians deem as 'fashionable'?”

And with it the grin you wore was washed away. His mischievous tone vanished rather quickly, causing you to feel quite self aware. Your confidence from earlier? Gone, just like that.

His words hurt you more than you anticipated, but you tried your best to hide your vulnerability.

In an attempt to defend your choice in clothes, you told him that you valued comfortability over style. “Unlike you, I don't have to dress to impress.” you added. Scrunching his nose the god wanted to drop another sassy comment, but he decided otherwise.

You shook your head. Being still a bit salty after his rude comment, you voiced your doubts.

“Honestly, I don't know anymore if you were the correct choice.”

Nothing.

You both just stood there and looked into each others eyes. For a second you thought Loki's eyes looked... disappointed?

The silence was unbearable, but neither of you knew what to say, until Loki found his voice again.

“Pardon me?” he asked, finally breaking the silence after what felt like hours, but could have been only seconds.

In an effort to do some sort of damage control, you couldn't stop yourself from rambling and explaining yourself.

“You're an awesome sorcerer and I can't even imagine what you're capable of doing with those... those daggers, but... how much do you actually know about hand to hand combat?”

Now, he stopped being disappointed, if he ever was. He chuckled and started acting offended:

“I know my magic abilities are... out of this world, but I can assure you I have earned my fair share of experience in hand to hand combat.”

“But having experience doesn't mean you're good”, you intervened his arrogant praise with a sly smirk. Having seen a glimpse of emotional vulnerability in his eyes, you felt oddly calm around him. Your newly found confidence manifested itself in one sassy comment after another. “If I recall correctly, Valkyrie easily bested you.”

“Why don't you go ask Valkyrie for help then?” Loki asked boldly.

“Touché.”

Just like that, you both stepped into the boxing ring.

“I would assume I'd have to explain the basics to you first, now.”, Loki exclaimed whilst spreading his arms. “Everyone has their very own distinct style. Whereas Valkyrie” - he made sure to stress that name derogatorily - “likes to show off and tends to pride herself with... well, everything she possibly can, whereas I personally-”

“You prefer debating, silver-tongue. I get it.” you taunt him with a smirk. He didn't seem touched by your commentary. While you rolled your eyes, the god of mischief continued his speech.

“It's usually easier to complete the missions stealthily or to talk yourself up the ranks. Infiltrating the enemy, that's my speciality. You shouldn't underestimate the power of subtlety.”

You knew he was good, but you couldn't help yourself but to keep teasing him. To see him mildly annoyed filled you with joy, letting him taste his own medicine, although you felt as if you started to understand, why he made the comments he made.

“Is that because you can't-”

Loki requited your comment so quick, you hadn't the opportunity to finish it. The next thing you knew was how your back hit the floor and you saw Loki towering over you.

“First lesson: You shouldn't aggravate your opponent unnecessarily, you might end up with a... disadvantage.” He emphasized the last word with his raspy voice, not imaginable what he was alluding to.

With a slightly hurt pride you stood up again. “You're quick.” you stated the obvious. Acting like you would know more than you did, you put your fists up and in front of your face the way you saw it in movies often. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, you could feel it, and you glared at the god in front of you.

With a quick jab, you aimed for his stomach and were sure to hit, but with a swift step he avoided your punch altogether. Astounded by his quick movement, you weren't able to retrieve your arm quick enough to protect yourself from his counter.

He grabbed your arm and stepped a foot behind your leg. In one fluid motion your legs were kicked up and you were sent flying with an involuntarily backflip. Lucky for you, your forearms were at least quick enough to protect your face.

“Oh dear, you really don't know anything about fighting, do you?”

With an exasperated groan you pushed yourself up, back on your feet. This was way more exhausting than you thought it'd be. With heavy breaths you assessed the situation for the first time.

Loki was way quicker than you, a surprise attack wouldn't work. A feint attack? He'd probably still be quick enough to evade, if not counter. But what if...

“Al...right” you panted demotivated. “I...” and you fell forward and followed through with your plan.

Loki's reflexes forced him to catch you. Predictable. You slithered your arms around his neck, adjusted your position and swung your legs around his waist. Due to the momentum of your legs you were able to make the god stumble, but it wasn't enough to make him fall yet.

In your books, that was a win. Not only have you been able to make contact at will, you have successfully tricked the god of trickery.

Who would've imagined that thinking before doing something would ever turn out to be so efficient?

Of course he was quick to push you off and have you land on the floor again, but that wasn't enough to negate the sense of achievement that was flooding your mind.

You didn't even try to hide the grin.

“I have tricked you” you joyfully retold the event, small giggles escaping your lips.

“I'm still standing” he nonchalantly stated. While he wasn't wrong, you felt like you made progress.

“But I made you stumble.”

After a few more rounds of your attacks and some sparse tries to defend yourself, you didn't have any more energy to focus on fight training. It must have been midnight already, two hours filled with training have passed. Your zip-up hoodie was thrown in a corner, discarded a while ago as you felt like you were sweating too much, and you had revealed the plain t-shirt you wore underneath.

“Alright, my dear, I think this is the time to finalize the conditions of our little deal.” Loki tried to conceal his heavy breathing and knelt down next to you, not bothering helping you up. Reluctantly you sat up and told him to go on.

“Since you want to learn how to fight properly, we'll have to train more often, however I am not going to do so without... compensation.”

This simple sentence rang alarm bells in your head, especially since you are already planning on baking a cake which you intended to be enough. There was no way he had forgotten it already.

“You can't have forgotten it already.” You shot him a quick glance as he followed up with something that lead you to believe he was planning something.

“Lemon cake, I didn't forget, but I'm afraid that won't be enough for all lessons, darling. Let's just say... you owe me. Plus, today I was just assessing your skills. I have yet to show you a few exercises to train for yourself.”

Scrunching your nose at his not very concise proposal, you decided to bluff an told him you were just going to ask someone else to teach you, if he was being serious, but to no avail Loki saw right through it. He proclaimed “If I were you, I wouldn't do that. I figured you would prefer me to keep these interactions a secret, wouldn't you?”

The god of mischief clearly had the upper hand in this negotiations.

Albeit you were visibly displeased by his threat to tell everyone you couldn't fight, you gave him your final reply with a scoff.

“Well, I don't really have much of a choice now, do I?”

There it was. That mischievous twinkle you saw in his eyes earlier, paired with a smirk. You don't know how, but you couldn't stay mad at him. You just couldn't.

You shook your head and smirked again. “It almost feels like I just sold my soul.”

Surprising to you, Loki tried to calm you down. Did he think you were actually afraid of losing your soul to him?

“Don't worry, my dear, even if it would be possible to separate one's body from one's soul, I would never intend to steal yours. Quite frankly, I wouldn't even know, what to do with it!”

He even put his hands up in front of him to show you, he wasn't trying to 'grab your soul' or something. It looked rather adorable and made you laugh, which left Loki staring at you confused.

You were contemplating whether you should explain it to him in full, but ultimately decided against it, it would take too long. Instead, you said the next best thing. “I was kidding, Loki!”

After some more laughing you asked him what has been on your mind since you sealed the deal.

“So, when will we meet again?”

The raven haired god turned to you and thought about it for a second while looking at you. You looked in his eyes for longer than you should have, but the answer he gave you with a smirk was quick to grab your attention.

“Tomorrow, same time. If you want to see me only at the gym, that is.”

You copied his smirk with a quick glance at lips.

“You'll see.”

[bunni-bino]

Shot » With Izo

A/N : First time writing Izo~ 🤍 major ooc— TuT hope ya enjoy! ☺️

Note : this is short. No one requested this.

Give me a title. I can’t think of a good one.

Summary : Finding one of Izo’s pistols in his room, you play around with it before ‘shooting’ him.

-

“His pistol..”

Entering Izo’s quarters, in hopes of coming across him, instead you stumble upon an empty room with and found the 16th commander’s pistols on his desk.

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit when you saw how his room looked though.

Everything was intricately detailed and designed exactly to his taste, from his large desk mirror, to the layout of his bed with Sakura blossoms on the sheets.

Pushing the appearance aside, you head on over to the desk with his pistols and carefully picked one up, not planning on accidentally firing it.

Just as you were examining it, the door opened to reveal just the person you’ve been waiting for.

“[Name]? It’s always a pleasure to see you in my room, but what are you doing here?” Izo’s gentle voice reached your ears as he closes the door, walking towards you.

The noise would startle you, making you jump and nearly stumble but caught your balance, gripping the gun tightly in your hand.

You thanked yourself for not having accidentally pulled the trigger.

Izo’s eyes scan your form to see if there was something wrong and he smiles slightly, sweatdropping when he saw that he had startled you. “Ah, my apologies, [Name], I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He then saw his pistol in your hands and hums. “Please be careful, love. You might hurt yourself or destroy my room..” he trailed off the end, not really wanting to imagine the thought any of his things with a bullethole in it.

You giggle at him and nod, continuing to inspect the firearm closer, pressing your index finger over the intricate details on the handle and the engraving on the sides.

“I was looking for you, I wanted to discuss with you about something.” You answer his earlier question, turning to face him in all of his kimono glory.

In his usual pink kimono, and his usual hair up in a bun, you smile at him softly and just took in how amazing he looked.

Though Izo crossdressed, he was truly handsome yet so beautiful in all the same, who wouldn’t have a crush on him?

“Yeah? What was it that you want to talk about, since I’m here now?”

You almost didn’t hear him, since you were so focused on admiring him. Your mind then drifted to his kind yet elegant personality. Everything about him was detailed, everything was precise and delicate and even though he was so elegant like, he wasn’t snobby.

In actuality, Izo was truly one of the sweetest and softest people met, and could do one hell of a makeover for you. He was always up for a good cup of sake and was great company, always knowing how to keep the conversation going.

His smile.. it was always warm and filled with care, displaying his true emotions. He was always sincere about everything.

If you ever felt down, Izo was one of the greatest people to talk with, offering the best advice he could give and emotional support by making sure you had a smile present on your face, or if he didn’t succeed in that, he was always a great shoulder to cry on and someone to rant to, who listened to every word.

You were truly crushing on Izo.

If only you knew just how much he was crushing on you as well.

The way your eyes light up when you talk about your day to him, since you two promises to talk about your days together after work ended, which often resulted in commenting about something Ace did.

The way our smile brightens when you laugh at a joke one of you had said, simply because it was ridiculous. Or when you laughed because the two of you decided to see who could do the best makeup, but you purposely messed up his.

The way you call his name, even if I was to ask a simple question, like to reach somethng on a upper shelf that you couldn’t get.

There was never a time where he didn’t think about you, ever since you joined Whitebeard.

Of course. You never knew.

Being so distracted, you hadn’t realized how many times Izo was calling out to you.

“[Name]?”

“...you’re incredible.”

Your sudden comment had Izo taken back, brows furrowing at you. “Pardon? What do you..”

Walking towards Izo, you smile gently and gripping the pistol in your hand, before holding it out and aiming it directly at his chest.

Continuing your walk, you press the end right onto him and look up at him, confusion clear in his eyes.

“Izo, I’m in love with you.”

It was a sudden confession, and he was most definitely not expecting it.

You then wink and pretended to shoot, acting as if you had actually fired.

“Bang!”

Blowing at the imaginary smoke coming out of the end of the gun, you grin cheekily at Izo, despite your pink cheeks.

Izo stood still, unmoved.

And then his heart began to beat faster. He became breathless and felt as if he had been shot.

By an arrow of love. His heart had nearly bursted.

Was Cupid in the vicinity?

The adorable grin plastered across your face made his chest beat even faster and he didn’t believe he could be any more in love with you than now.

Slowly pressing his hand against his rapidly beating heart, he couldn’t suppress the smile that formed, before finally letting out the many chuckles and light laughs that escaped him.

You smile at the sight of him and went to place the gun back, ignoring the fact that you had basically confessed to Izo but received no response.

But Izo grabbed your hand to stop you, smiling teasingly a bit. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You hum as you faced the male, shrugging playfully. “I have duties to fulfill. We can discuss later on.”

Izo tilts his head skeptically and kept his soft smile. “Do you plan on taking responsibility for your action? You aren’t going to bring me to Marco? I’ve been shot, both emotionally and mentally.”

“Hm, are you in any pain?” You continue to stay clueless and innocent, looking at Izo’s body to see if there were any signs of injury.

“Yes, I am.” Izo confirms, a sly grin forming as he brings his other hand up to grip your chin between his two fingers, forcing you to look up at him.

“Oh? And where are you hurting?” You ask, slightly biting your lip and felt the quickening beat of your heart.

“Right here. I’ve been shot in the chest.”

Pressing his own hand to his chest, right over his heart, you focusing more on his lips then where he was gesturing to.

“Oh yeah?.. and who is the cause of your pain?”

Unknowingly, the two of you were leaning closer and closer to each other, until you were inches apart.

Izo stifles a laugh at your comment as he slowly leans further to close the distance, shutting his eyes as he did so.

“They’re right in front of me..”

And with that, the distance between the two of you closed and were now sharing a kiss.

Smiles formed and sparks flew as you leaned into him, Izo wrapping his arms around your waist as the kiss began to fill with soft passion.

-

A/N : OOC AND THE ENDING IS SOO BADD OMGG. I thought of this idea but I never really considering an ending for it? And it’s Izo so I couldn’t do one of the endings I had in mind because it doesn’t really match Izo and UGH OMG.

this doesn’t have a proper ending- aaAHHhh

Hope you still liked it and I’m sorry it doesn’t have a proper ending. 🤧🤍

[saladejin]

Lost & Found | Jimin (M)

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 18.6k (hahahha kill me) 

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

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

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

<< masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵  

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

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

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

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

“Morning, bud.” 

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

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

“Officer Park…”

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

“Park, is it because of yesterday?”

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

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

“Jung! Jung, where-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avenge him.

“Park…”

“Officer Park? Are you with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Of course, Chief.”

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

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

  ~ three months later ~

 “That’s it for the day!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mandu, why…”

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

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

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

He clears his throat. “You…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should go now.

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

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

How were you supposed to think of anything else now?

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially for someone like you.

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t look at him, don’t.

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

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

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

Great. Fucking great.

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Idiot, of course there was one left.

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

Things were changing…

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

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

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

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

“How dare you roll your eyes at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weird thoughts, but whatever, I guess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But … he feels the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, sorry if I overstepped.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Holy fuck. You really did that. You did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, sorry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin blinks in shock. “You did?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a fan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Left?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus, way to be depressing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dog agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll help him get stronger?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jung wait…”

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

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

“You okay Jiminie?”

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

“Thursday sounds great, (Y/n).”

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

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

“Lovely. It sounds lovely.”

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

He needs to be by your side now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my parents. How they died….”

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

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

Oh fuck. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart leaps in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just saying!”

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

Mandu was shit scared of water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have a pool? What in the hell-”

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

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

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

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

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

“He deserves the slander.”

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

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

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

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

“So who was wrong and who was right?”

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Literally fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimin I swear-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, why is he looking at you like that?

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

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

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

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

He wants you, right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop you’re going to make me...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, not in front of Mandu.”

“Never in front of him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And with that, you could ask for nothing more.

 ~

~

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

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

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

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

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

I’m coming home. 

.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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