#// and something I expect to have to grapple with myself in a different way

[heesdreamer]

BETTER THAN I KNOW MYSELF

PAIRING ➩ jungkook x reader

WC ➩ 13k

SUMMARY ➩ grappling with what it means to be helplessly inlove with your best friend

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Been an army since 2014 and been writing jungkook for about that long too and this is my first time actually posting for him somehow. Hope you enjoy!

Most of your friendships didn’t feel like such a frail connection, they didn’t quite make you tiptoe around certain phrases and bite your tongue when you felt like you were saying too much of something consequential. 

Albeit, most of your friendships were not with Jeon Jungkook. 

That happened to be singular and one of a kind in a way that left you tossing and turning throughout the night and fixing your hair for a few extra heavy seconds before you left to meet up for a casual coffee. 

You struggled with explaining how your friendship started to most people because you could almost feel the cliche surrounding your words and you felt their annoyed eyerolls they were keeping locked behind their polite nods and smiles. It naturally felt like you were bragging even when you weren’t.

It was ideal to have met your closest friend so early on, never missing a single birthday party and forming your personalities side by side in a way that led to you being in perfect sync despite being such opposites in most ways.

You had friends you had met a decade ago that would still get jealous of the length and depth of your friendship with Jungkook and you always met their groans and sighs with a soft shrug and a helpless smile, genuinely helpless.

They didn’t quite understand the hidden burden that came with having a connection so deep with somebody who was borderline perfect, the expectation and rituals that used to excite you now bringing you a heavy exhaustion. 

Jungkook thrived off of being a social battery and he always had a dozen different clubs, activities, and performances for you attend through school and they only seemed to grow as he did. Now you were his partner for important dinners and weddings of mutual friends that hadn’t talked to you in years but not Jungkook, never Jungkook, because no one could ever forget about him.

You had grown truly accustomed to being his side kick and blending into the background unnoticed otherwise but occasionally it got to you and tonight happened to be one of those nights.

Taehyung was celebrating his 27th birthday and this was a social event that you actually had not been dreading, considering how close you were personally to him. He was not just Jungkook’s friend that tolerated your presence and you actually felt emotional watching him blow out his candles and squeeze his eyes shut during an exaggerated wish. 

“What did you wish for Tae?” Your voice was quiet when you found him half an hour after the cake had been cut and the drinks had been served, waiting for everyone to be tipsy and distracted before you made your own individual birthday greeting. 

“I’m not 17 anymore Y/N and you can’t trick me into saying it this time. We all know it doesn’t come true if you do.” He had a tendency to lightly banter in a way you were envious of, always knowing what to say in rebuttal to teasing and jokes while you would freeze up and stutter through an awkward reply. 

You had slid into the booth he was in the back corner of the diner you all frequented, otherwise empty except for a trio of older women at the counter who didn’t at all look like they minded the way your group was scattered about and having various loud conversations. 

“If you can’t tell me your wish can you atleast tell me why you are hiding over here at your own birthday party?” You raised an eyebrow and leaned onto your hand so you could watch him closely, less serious than your face might have showcased you as. “Some would say it is the event of the year.”

He laughed a little at your dramatic wording and serious tone before shaking his head and sipping his drink. “Those people would probably be geniuses.” You had expected him to banter with you over getting at all genuine but you still watched him silently in hopes he would say more. “Just grappling with the number on the cake a little.”

You understood what he was getting at as soon as he said and you nodded while you sighed and leaned back in the booth seat. 

He was older than you by two years but turning 25 a few months ago had felt like somebody put a heavy ball and chain around your neck and threw it overboard the deck of a rickety boat, leaving you to fight the weight of it or fall over the side too.

Taehyung was a lively soul and while he had matured greatly in the last five years, he definitely still had a boyish energy to him that you always admired. He seemed almost embarrassed about it now and it made your stomach turn a little.

“Sometimes I still wake up in a sweat thinking I forgot to study for an exam.” Your tone had gotten lighter to try and make him feel better while also letting him know you understood where he was coming from.

He glanced at you from the side of his eye and smiled the same smile he’d given you since you were teenagers, your heart warmed when he leaned his body over to bump his shoulder against yours and you knew the conversation was over before it ever really began.

His eyes left you in favor of scanning over your other friends from different walks of life all mingling and yours stayed on the same person your gaze was always on in a crowded room.

“There’s one thing that hasn’t changed.” His tone was teasing and you rolled your eyes although keeping them on Jungkook. 

Taehyung was one of the only people that seemed to realize the way you felt about your best friend and suddenly you were glad he wasn’t the type to get serious with people, not knowing what you would do if that information got to the wrong person. 

You weren’t exactly pining and losing your mind trying to wrestle with your feelings towards somebody who strictly saw you in a platonic way but it also was not simple. You had already spent years grieving any chance of a relationship with Jungkook and you were barely an adult when you accepted nothing would ever happen.

Now you were just stuck with a lifetime of affection stuffed into a locked part of your heart that rattled violently everytime he smiled at you or looked in your direction. 

It was a good thing you were the more emotionally reserved one of the two of you because he rarely questioned the times you were short and cold with him in an attempt to save atleast a fraction of your broken heart. 

Jungkook was, in your biased eyes, perfect.

And you didn’t mean that in an unrealistic way that celebrated the fact he could do no wrong and he was the most pure soul to ever exist because that certainly wasn’t the case but he was perfect to you. With all of his flaws and messy edges, you still couldn’t find a single thing about him you disliked.

You saw beauty in his loud awkward laugh and his short temper and you had fallen inlove with the fact he was always a few minutes late to things and never seemed to have a matching pair of socks on.

It was almost more annoying because you were otherwise a pretty overly cynical person, quick to evaluate and judge in the most matter of fact way. 

He must have felt two sets of eyes on him because suddenly he was looking in your direction and you felt that damned box start to rattle again. His already doe like gaze was widening even more and he broke into a boyish smile that almost made you outwardly sigh, charismatically excusing himself from the conversation he was having in favor of making his way over to you. 

Taehyung silently slid out of the booth in a way that could only be meddling and you sent his back a glare.

“Where’s he going?” Jungkook’s tone was soft when he finally reached you and he flopped down beside you, close enough that your sides were pressed together and you could smell the 

faint scent of alcohol rolling off of him.

“He needed a smoke.” You had considered lying and saying he had diahrea just to get back at him for ditching you but you remembered your conversation about aging and decided against it. 

Jungkook hummed in agreement like he figured it made sense and you hated how much more relaxed you felt now that you had him next to you. It wasn’t necessarily stemming from the fact you were harboring feelings for the boy but moreso because he just felt like your other half, you better half according to you and most likely other people.

“Are you having a good time?” He was turning his head to be able to watch your face as you answered, a habit of his that he picked up around middle school when he realized you didn’t care much for social events. “We can head back whenever you want, I’ll walk you home.”

“I’ll finish my drink and then we can say our goodbyes.” You took a hefty sip after answering, ignoring his first question in a way that let him know your mood anyways. 

He didn’t say anything for a few long seconds that caused you to raise an eyebrow and sit up a bit so you could turn to look at him without your faces being overly close, your face scrunching in confusion when you saw the ridiculous fond smile he was sporting now as he started to laugh at your casual response. 

“What?” You glared at him playfully as he get chuckling and you put your drink down in favor or pushing against his chest. “What did I say wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He was raising his hands in mock surrender but laughing even harder, only stopping to catch his breath when an uncharacteristic pout formed on your face. You internally blamed the alcohol for causing it and he kissed his teeth in apology, cupping your cheek. “Just the way you said it was funny, I’ve never seen you so eager to ditch a party.”

You were back to rolling your eyes at him and pulling his hand away from your face but keeping your grip on his wrist for a few seconds even when it was back down in his lap. He kept the goofy smile on his face although more subtle now and you watched him for a few seconds that made you squirm awkwardly in your seat.

“Say bye for me?” You cleared your throat and moved to stand up as he nodded, knowing the drill. 

It was alot easier for him to go and individually say the goodbyes, tagging your name onto the end as you slipped out of the door and went to wait for him.

You were pleased to find Taehyung had actually gone outside to smoke and you smiled at him, pulling him into a hug that was reserved for your closest friends and laughing into his shoulder when he started to sway your bodies back and forth. 

“I’m glad you came, thanks for indulging me.” He kept you tightly in his grip as he spoke and you recognized a vulnerability in his voice that you didn’t hear often. 

Clearly this birthday was casting a certain type of melancholy over your friend and you squeezed him harder, rubbing up and down his shoulder blades in an almost maternal way.

“I will always attend your overly social birthday parties Tae.” You hoped you sounded as sincere as you felt despite your joking tone and luckily it seemed to work judging by the way he lightly lifted you up for a second before putting you back down and pulling out of the hug.

“Interrupting?” Jungkook’s voice was behind you and you turned to watch him approach with a raised eyebrow and a friendly smile as he pulled Taehyung into a similar embrace, wishing him happy birthday under his breath and patting his back roughly.

“Always, I was just about to propose.” Taehyung was easily playing into his joke as he winked at you over Jungkook’s shoulder and you rolled your eyes even though you had a bright smile on your face, feeling suddenly struck by both fondness and the vodka you had in your cup.

Jungkook weirdly didn’t reply to his flity comment and you almost found that funnier, watching the way he slightly stumbled away from the hug and realizing he might be a bit more buzzed than you had initially taken him for. 

The two of you paid him one more sincere goodbye before you were turning away from the diner and starting your walk back to your apartment, only a handful of blocks away. You actually wished it was further, enjoying nothing more than a late night walk with Jungkook through the quiet city. 

He seemed to be in his own head and you snuck your arm between his and his chest, forcing him to link elbows with you as you walked together. It wasn’t unusual for you to be connected physically in some way or another especially late at night and a few drinks but you felt the box rattle again and almost regretted it. 

You both stayed quiet for most of the walk but you didn’t mind the silence, your social battery drained even though you didn’t exactly count him as something that did that to you. He was the only person you could spend weeks straight with and not feel like you were crawling out of your skin, an exception in more ways than one. 

“Do you think Taehyung has a crush on you?” His voice cutting through the night air felt sharp and disoriented and you almost stopped walking from the shock of his sudden question, pace faltering slightly as you looked up at the side of his face. 

He kept his gaze locked on the sidewalk infront of you and you weren’t sure if it was because he felt awkward or because he was drunk and had to apply extra effort into not tripping. Awkwardness was not a thing he typically seemed to experience so you hoped it was the latter and you were just applying your habit of overanaylzying useless tidbits of information. 

“Is that a joke?” You know it wasn’t but you certainly felt like it could be one considering how ridiculous it was. “Did he say something like that?”

“No, well atleast not to me.” He emphasized the final word like it was more important and your head tilted in confusion. “Just thinking about the little comments he makes sometimes.”

You didn’t disagree that Taehyung could come across as flirty but that was just his persona and how he was with most people, closeness and gender be damned. You were used to it and you knew Jungkook was too so you weren’t sure where this thought process was stemming from. 

“That’s just Taehyung.” You shrugged your shoulders and felt his arm tense where it was intertwined with yours, like he had thought for a second you were pulling away and wanted to stop you. 

Jungkook didn’t respond and the silence now made you uncomfortable instead of the peaceful air it had held a few minutes ago. You didn’t know if it was possible for him to be mad at you, something you really hadn’t experienced much, but you wondered if this was what it looked like on his end of things.

“I mean maybe.. would that be so ridiculous?” You posed the question with a sincere want to know but a childish and selfish nudge was wondering if there was any part of him that would care. “Someone like him having a crush on me?”

“Someone like him?” He seemed almost offended at the way you had phrased it and you rolled your eyes at his tone, overbearing and protective like he had been in highschool whenever you got asked out by a boy. 

“I just meant that he’s so extroverted.” You shrug again as you start to feel more awkward, never really discussing this topic with him. 

The two of you had very little boundaries when it came to what you talked about between each other but you had never really gone out with somebody long enough to bring them up to him and you made a point of shutting down talks of the girls he hooked up with.

You played it off like you were disgusted at the idea of hearing about his girls to try and hide the fact your entire body felt like it was going to shrivel up and die whenever he brought somebody to a party or introduced you to one of his girlfriends that never lasted more than a month or two.

Jungkook was actually weirdly romantic for a guy who had only cared about sports and liquor growing up but for some reason he never could keep anybody around for long, although never seeming too upset when it eventually fizzled out. 

Thankfully you were finally arriving to your apartment building and you watched as Jungkook typed in the code, leading you inside and silently informing you he planned to stay with you tonight. It was more often than not that he ended up at your place or vice versa so you didn’t need direct confirmation to understand his line of thought.

“Sure he’s well liked but so are you.” He broke the silence again and you outwardly groaned at the resurrection of the tired topic.

“I am hardly anything especially not well liked.” You rolled your eyes and you know he could see it even if you weren’t looking at him, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open with your foot so he could step inside. 

You’d untangled your arms in favor of pressing the buttons required to get to your floor but Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, standing close enough that your shoulder was against his bicep and you could feel every inhale he took. 

“I hate when you say things like that.” He was mumbling under his breath but you heard it clear enough, stomach clenching as the rattling returned again.

You didn’t respond to him, mostly because you didn’t know what else to say about such a ridiculous topic and you felt a wave of relief when the elevator came to a shaky stop before releasing you into the familiar hallway.

He stood there silently, leaning against the wall on his side and watching you closely as you fumbled through your purse for your keys. You didn’t need to look at him to know he had that soft smile on his face and a fond look in his eyes, taking a breath when you finally felt the metal on your fingertips.

It was a instant comfort to enter your apartment even though you had only left a few hours ago and you suddenly felt glad that he had come up with you, chest tightening preemptively at the reminder he would have to leave at some point.

Jungkook and you had lived together right after highschool, moving out of your small town half an hour away together and feeling the rush of the big city you had only taken daytrips to. He had sworn since he was thirteen and wearing thick eyeliner that he was meant for bigger things in bigger places and you had decided that following him around was better than staying behind alone. 

Although you doubted he would have let you stay back in your home town anyways, a slight relief considering how ridiculous you felt when you occasionally remembered you had only moved for him. 

You’d felt all the emotions when you moved, the sadness of leaving behind a simple life that you had finally started to appreciate and the excitement of getting to start over somewhere with so much life and possibility.

There was finally a chance for you to be your own person, to fit into the mold in your own special way. 

Then Jungkook had thrown a housewarming party and you listened to everybody all night congratulate him on his new place.

There was almost a chorus of praises on ‘his furniture choices’, ‘his choice of neighborhood’, even the gasp from an old highschool friend that struck a particular nerve ‘Oh Jungkook what a beautiful place you have’.

You stood there in your living room, full of things you had brought from home and things you had spent hours thirfting while Jungkook trailed behind you looking bored, and watched yourself be erased from your new life before you even got a chance to appear in it.

Two years ago you had decided to move into your own separate places and your own internal battle was not on the list of reasons why, infact it was the hardest decision you had ever made. There was nothing easy about it for both of you but you found yourself becoming roomates instead of best friends and suddenly it was a chore to hang out and you stopped seeking eachother out for comfort, the constant presence almost exhausting.

The final straw came in the form of your office relocating a few blocks over and the few blocks made all the difference. 

You had both spent the night with tears in your eyes, passing a bottle back and forth and cuddling on the couch as you recounted the best and worst times of your time in the shared space.

Jungkook had decided to renew his lease there individually and he stood there with a conflicted expression as you packed up the stuff you deemed yours. You had wondered if he even realized how much you left behind so he didn’t feel like the space was suddenly empty but you knew that he had because Jungkook always noticed everything you did for him.

It had ended up being exactly what your friendship needed and you had grown closer together in the last two years than your entire lifetime of a friendship but sometimes you missed the unity that came with living together.

He had multiple drawers of clothes in your apartment and you still came over a handful of times a week to cook meals in his but there was a difference. 

Like the way he was slightly lingering in your bedroom doorway like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to come in just yet.

You gave him a look and a raised eyebrow as you sat on the edge of your bed and began to unlace your boots, the green light he needed to come in and flop down on your blankets like he owned them. 

He was unusually silent as you stood up to go into your closest and change into something comfortable, bringing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to toss at him as you emerged. He was propped up on your pillows and eyeing you with a thoughtful look that made you sigh and cross your arms where you stood at the end of the bedframe.

“Just spit it out already.” Your tone was sharp because you could tell whatever he wanted to say wasn’t going to be something you liked hearing but he smiled gently at the sound of it, not capable of being intimidated by your attitude. 

“I don’t think you should date Taehyung.” He said it in a rush like he knew you’d shut him down and you groaned loudly, grabbing a throw pillow and chucking it in his direction. “Just hear me out okay! I think it would be weird for the friend group.”

“That’s ridiculous. Not that either of us are even considering dating but if we were, he’s my bestfiriend, how weird could that be?” You circled around to join him on the mattress and you almost frowned when you saw the look on his handsome face.

His eyebrows were furrowed in childish upset and his bottom lip was pouting subtly, just enough for your gaze to circle down to it.

“I’m your best friend.” He raised a hand like he was appalled at your wording and you spit out a laugh at the ridiculous of that interjection. 

“You know what I mean Jungkook. You have like a hundred best friends.” You leaned onto your side, propping your head up on your palm and yawning softly as you watched his expression morph again.

He was shaking his head and whatever styling gel he had in his hair for the party was long gone by now, leaving it fluffy and falling into his face whenever he moved. He was dramatically laying down in the same position as you so he could look intensely into your eye, his slightly wide while yours were crinkled in a silent laugh.

“I have a hundred people who think I’m their best friend, you are my only actual best friend.” He sounded extremely serious about a very childish topic and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing in his face.

Jungkook was always baffled at the fact you did not realized just how cool you came across to people, even your closest friend groups. 

He had made a very strong attempt at the mysterious and edgy guy thing in high school, only wearing dark clothes and spending an hour every morning on a single dash of eyeliner but he could not keep his mouth quiet to save his life and absolutely nobody who met him for more than a handful of seconds would consider him any type of mystery.

You had a naturally closed off demeanor but a strong sense of style and energy that he had never seen somebody even purposefully replicate, which made it even cooler than it just came naturally to you.

Most people at parties would ask him about you in an attempt to get closer but he knew better than to spill your business to anybody who asked and he also felt a little lucky that he got to know you so intimately.

The phrase ‘a guy like him’ had bugged him since you said it and now he figured you must have totally lost it to be calling Taehyung your best friend. Sure the guy had been around since high school and he definitely was alot closer to you than any average joe but he was still just Taehyung.

“You can be such a sap sometimes.” You couldn’t help the smile on your face and he matched it, pleased he had gotten such a reaction out of you especially since he could tell you were not enjoying his topic of conversation. 

“Only for you.” He shot you a cheesy wink and you rolled your eyes in hopes he would be too busy laughing to be able to hear the box rattling obnoxiously in your chest. 

You were glad he didn’t say anything else about it after that and you quickly pushed any thought of Taehyung and a potential crush to the very back of your mind. You didn’t have time to think about any of that, not when you could barely stand to see the sight of your best friend and that annoyingly perfect twinkle in his eye. 

You were rolling onto your back with an exaggerated groan that let him know you were too tired to keep up with the small talk, grateful that he had stayed for the company but not quite for the sake of entertainment. 

Jungkook could read you like a book and he sat up so he could pull the lamp string and turn it off, throwing the covers over both of you and settling back against the pillows that, more often than not, smelled like his shampoo. 

You could see the irony in the fact that you were hopelessly internally pining over the same man who slept in your bed like it was his own and treated you like you were his number one priority constantly but that was just Jungkook. You considered yourself lucky that you were the main source of his affection but he would treat a stranger like they were family and you knew he didn’t think twice about pulling you against his chest and throwing his arm over you.

You let him get comfortable as you urged yourself to sleep, ignoring the persistent rattling.

-----

The sight of Jeon Jungkook in the morning was truly a dangerous thing for a heart as fragile as yours so you kept your eyes sharply on the mirror once you noticed him start to rustle around behind you in the reflection.

You had been awake for hours and already cleaned up the kitchen, showered and gotten ready by the time he began to stir. Your gaze was naturally drifting to the right as you saw his bed head perk up from the mess of blankets, eyes squinting like he was trying to remember where he was. 

“Why are you up so early?” His devastating morning voice was making your lips turn up just enough for you to feel foolish, shaking it off so you could continue with your mascara. 

“It’s almost noon.” Your reply was flat and detached in a way that told him you were focused, interrupted by a groan from behind you as he stretched his arms above his head and tried to wake himself up more. “There’s pain killers on your table.”

You stopped your precise movements so you could watch his expression morph with interest, leaning over to his assigned bedside table and quickly tossing the three small pills in his mouth to fight any possible sign of a hangover. 

He had the same habit of taking off his shirt in the middle of the night since you were teens and it had bugged you as much then as it did now. You almost smacked against your heart to shut the rattling up but instead you took a deep breath and averted your gaze as he stood from the bed, finishing up your eye makeup and moving to put your hair up. 

The magnet that seemed to always draw him to you was making it so he was slowly moving in your direction, stopping behind you and watching you in the mirror and you fiddled with a few stubborn pieces of hair.

“I like when you wear it like that.” His voice was gentle and nostalgic and you once again found yourself meeting his eyes in the reflection, bobby pin between your teeth as you affectionately furrowed your eyebrows.

You almost told him that you knew that and that’s why you did it so you were thankful for the object keeping your mouth occupied at the moment and stopping you from admitting such a silly thing. 

“Where are you going?” He sounded half curious and half worried that he had potentially forgotten plans you had made together. He waited patiently as you tucked away a piece and took the pin out of your mouth, silently passing it to him as he gently took it and nudged it into the back of your updo. 

“Some work thing with Taehyung.” You hoped he had mostly forgotten about the conversation from last night even though you knew he was not the type to forget and he was not even that drunk. 

You locked eyes again and his hands froze in your hair like he was caught off guard and thinking of what to say. You stayed still, both so you didn’t mess up your hard work and so he didn’t lose his train of thought. 

Eventually he was humming thoughtfully and his hands were moving again to tuck away pieces as he looked down. “An artsy thing then?”

You were nodding your head even though you were not exactly sure what it was going to be. Taehyung was somewhat all over with his work as a freelance artist and it was only a few years ago that he started to make actual money from his paintings and sculptures, being noticed during one of his busking events by a woman who worked at a gallery.

It was honestly borderlining on lucrative so you felt a bit touched that he had invited you, possibly spurred on by your semi deep conversation the night before. 

“Well I hope you have as much fun as you can without me around.” He was finishing up with your hair with a satisfied soft clap and you smiled at him in the mirror before turning around, thankful he had dropped the weird demeanor and returned to his usual goofy character.

You were gifting him a quick kiss goodbye on the cheek and a reminder to lock up before he left, grabbing your purse and heading out the door so you were not late.

The train ride to the gallery had activated the anxious butterflies in your stomach and you found yourself thinking more actively about the little things Jungkook did and the things he had been saying lately.

It was just beginning to drive you to insanity when you reached your stop and you were happily rushing out onto the platform and ascending the stairs out onto the noisy street, searching intersection signs and shop names as you looked for the unfamiliar place.

You weren’t sure Taehyung had ever invited one of your friends to his place of work so you felt a bit bumptious at the ask, smiling to yourself when you finally saw the fancy sign above the building with large windows.

Your friend put his cigarette out against the brick as soon as he saw you and you were beyond grateful he had waited outside for you, knowing it would have taken alot for you to walk in on your own and actively look for him.

“You look perfect.” His compliment was genuine in a way that made you want to do a twirl just to show off and you grinned brightly at him, turning your face in acceptance as he went to kiss both of your cheeks in a uniquely Taehyung way.

“I wasn’t sure what to wear, I’ve never been to an art show.” Your voice was soft as you nervously glanced at the building, realizing now how many people were scattered around inside.

“There isn’t a dress code but if there was then you would have nailed it.” He had a hand on your back as he moved you both inside and you were a bit fascinated by this professional side of him, much more intense and pointed than you were used to from your childish friend.

There was no surprise that you had a pleasant time considering the mix of good company and atmosphere. You fully understood the appeal to this type of setting after an hour of quiet conversations and halfway awkward greetings from people who seemed to just as anti social as you.

Even Taehyung was unusually tame and reserved, matching the energy of the buyers and viewers around him while still coming off beyond charming and poised. It was almost magical to watch him work casual small talks into somebody buying his work or commissioning their own custom piece.

“You’re good at this.” You had taken a moment to break away from the now mingling crowd and you sent the compliment his way in a hushed whisper.

He gave you a look that told you he already knew that but you could tell he was still thankful somebody was there to witness and confirm it. You watched him take a hefty sip of his wine and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden nervous look on his face, following his wandering gaze over to the front door where a handful of people had just entered. 

“Why did you invite me and not somebody else?” You weren’t sure why you figured that line of questioning would get some answers out of him regarding his behavior recently but it seemed to work considering he turned to you with a heavier gaze.

“Somebody else wouldn’t have understood any of this.” He was vague enough to leave you confused until his eyes moved back over to the newcomers, lingering on one just long enough for your mouth to part slightly in realization.

Taehyung had never publicly dated somebody in your entire decade of friendship and while he was more androgynous in his style and personality, he also hadn’t come out to any of you with a particular label.

The way he was looking at the man standing in the corner silently was enough for you to understand what exactly he might have been hesitant to showcase to your other friends. None of them would have judged him from your knowledge but you imagined he didn’t want the lighthearted teasing from your male friends or the insistent meddling from the extroverted girls.

“He’s gorgeous.” Your eyes stayed on the man, similar to your friends and you heard him let out words of agreement accompanied by a longing sigh you were all too familiar with. “Have you spoken to him?”

“He owns a gallery downtown with his sister.” He was quick to respond and you got the feeling he had been waiting to talk to somebody about this for a long time. “I did a show there and we got dinner afterwards, it was mainly business.”

You were nodding softly as he spoke on and on about the pretty man who was now laughing softly with an older woman and you suddenly wanted to laugh when you remembered your conversation with Jungkook last night, realizing just how wrong he was.

You wanted so badly to tell him about it but later that evening Taehyung had softly gripped your forearm and asked you sincerely to keep this a secret, his tone the most serious you had ever heard it.

The entire train ride home your head was buzzing with both pride for your friend and the urge to do something more with your own life, almost feeling envious of his passion for both art and romance. 

There was a part of you that wanted to get home as fast as you could so you could start to figure out what direction to take your life at the ripe age of 25 and the other half was considering taking the subway past your stop just to see where you would end up.

You were sensible enough to head back to your apartment with the knowledge the sun was quickly setting but your feet faltered when you saw a familiar frame sitting on the steps outside your building.

“Did you lock yourself out?” You practically jogged the rest of the way over to Jungkook, concerned he had spent the entire day outside of your apartment but you felt a wave of reassurance when you realized he was wearing clothes you definitely didn’t keep in your small drawer for him.

He was dressed nice or atleast as nice as you had seen him get in a while, ironed shirt tucked into a good grown up pair of pants with a leather belt. You watched him semi suspiciously when he pulled a small bouquet of flowers out from behind his belt and presented them to you. 

“Oh god, what did you do?” Your eyes widened in a slightly panicked manner and he glared at you harmlessly, thrusting the flowers in your direction and only smiling once you took them from him and sniffed them curiously.

“First off, very rude to assume I did something wrong.” He was stepping off of the steps so he was closer to you and you eyed him and his unusual outfit. “Second, can’t I just get you flowers?”

“They are very pretty Jungkook, thank you.” You felt guilty for your initial approach even though you knew he wasn’t actually offended and didn’t mind your teasing. You lowered the flowers away from your face so you could give his outfit another long scan that told him you wanted a better explanation. 

“You looked nice earlier and it made me realize it had been awhile since we had gone out together.” He was shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world and your eyebrows furrowed. 

His casual compliment was not lost on you and you felt that stupid chest rattling so hard you almost tipped over in your heels, shifting on your feet to remain steady as he watched you closely. You were sure your hair was messier now and your back was slightly hurting from standing all day at the event but you were not able to deny him on a regular occasion let alone when he applied effort into something for you. 

“We’ve never ‘gone out together’ Jungkook.” Your tone was teasing as you wobbled a bit. “We just end up places.”

You weren’t exactly lying, despite your hundreds of lunch outings and adventures around the city, they had never been planned and never been mature enough for you to consider it a night out. 

Jungkook seemed to be allergic to a stable job and luckily he was charismatic to be constantly pulling money from half a dozen half committed hustles. You had been barely above an intern when you first moved here and lived together so most of your meals consisted of quick serve ramen places and cheap street food just to stop the rumbling in your stomachs.

“What, Taehyung is the only guy who can take you to a nice outing?” He was smiling teasingly as he said it like he felt like he had figured you out and your mouth parted, almost forgetting you were not supposed to tell him what you had been told earlier.

Instead you pushed a hand against his chest and rolled your eyes, allowing the box to rattle when he was laughing boyishly and grabbing your wrist so he could tug you with him as he stumbled backwards, linking your arms together as he began to walk. 

You didn’t bother asking him where you were going and you weren’t even sure he actually knew, letting your feet fall in unison with him as you allowed yourself to pretend you weren’t exhausted so you could indulge him. 

Selfishly, it was mostly for you and the opportunity to pretend you and Jungkook were just a normal pair who were heading out for a typical date night and not two best friends who had a little too much time on their hands.

Jungkook was telling you all about his day and the story that came along with how he got your flowers, exaggerated like always as he tried to entertain you. It worked as you laughed along with him and his sound effects and hand motions, listening to him as you walked together. 

He shocked you by leading you back to the subway entrance and you glanced at him suspiciously, the two of you typically sticking with your local spots whenever you got dinner together. 

“What are you up to Jeon Jungkook?” Your voice was low and mimicking an interrogation as the wind from the approaching train sent your loose hairs flying around your face.

His was in a similar state as he stood infront of you to block you most of the gust, fluffy locks falling forward above his eyes and making him frown as he reached up to push it back. You laughed at him and how ridiculous it looked and he sent a glare your way although you avoided it by boarding the now stopped subway car.

He was right behind you when you turned to face him in the packed space, leaning against one of the free support poles and smiling when you saw the infectious one he had. His hand was above your head so he could hold the metal as the train lurched forward and you tried to ignore the way he caged you in made your head spin.

“So I don’t actually have a plan.” He had to lean closer to you to be heard over the rattling of the car and the stackiy robotic voice over the speaker making announcements. 

You couldn’t help imagining what the two of you looked like to the various strangers around you, both dressed nicely and standing closer than the space called for. Your flowers were clutched tightly in your hands and you knew exactly what anyone who saw your eyes as you stared at him would see, anyone except for the recipient.

“I figured you were winging it.” You shrugged softly and huffed out a laugh when he was scrunching his face up in offense, free hand over his heart like you had hurt his feelings with your correct assumption. “As long as you feed me I am happy.”

“Taehyung didn’t provide food on your date?” His eyes were curious but you could sense something else that you couldn’t put your foot on, pushing his shoulder.

“Will you cut that out?” You tried to sound firm enough that he would get you were actually uncomfortable without ruining the positive energy of the night. “It’s not like that.”

He raised an eyebrow down at you like he didn’t believe a word you said but he thankfully didn’t push any further for now even though you imagined it would be brought back up eventually considering how persistently annoying he was being regarding it. 

Jungkook was taking your hand in his as the train stopped a few minutes later and you let him drag you out of the busy station with a sigh, weaving your way through the post work pre dinner crowd as you stayed behind his large frame with your arms dangling between you. 

It was easy to fall inlove with him for the thousandth time as he glanced behind his shoulder routinely to make sure you were keeping up despite his tight grip on you already ensuring that, his wide eyes so patient and affectionate it almost made you want to throw up.

There was something about him against the landscape of a city at dusk that was completely devastating to your fragile heart and you had to look away before the rattling box full on exploded. 

The two of you were making easy conversation as you walked together and you were overly aware of the fact he had no removed his hand from yours, most likely due to the heavy foot traffic around you but it pained you nonetheless and your skin felt like it was burning.

You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt and he was smiling at you like it was his singular goal and you barely realized you had been walking for so long until he was stopping infront of a deli and telling you to wait outside for him.

You stood there with a stupid smile on your face and your flowers in hand, tricking yourself for just a moment that this was something more than what it was.

“Those are pretty.” A voice from beside you pulled you from your dazed train of thought and you glanced at the man ruffling through the newspaper stand, pausing his movements to gesture towards your bouquet when you gave him a confused look.

“Oh.” Your mouth parted in surprise and your cheeks turned pink at the unexpected small talk. “Thank you, I think so too.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly and shuffled on your feet, glancing through the dirty glass to see if you could catch sight of Jungkook inside without making it too obvious that you felt ready to run away just to avoid an easy going conversation.

“From a boyfriend?” His eyebrow was raised and you shook your head instinctively with a soft shocked laugh at the realization he was potentially flirting with you. “Good to know, I’m Hoseok.”

His hand was jutting out towards you and your eyes widened, shifting the bouquet between your forearm and chest so you could shake it. It was weirdly formal in an endearing way and you mirrored your name back to him in a soft whisper that made his eyes crinkle like he thought you were cute. 

“I have to go but..” He paused and glanced at his watch with a sigh that made your head cock paitently. “Is it too forward to say I think you are beautiful and I would love to get your number so this interaction isn’t so brief?”

You felt like you had somehow entered a different dimension today, one where you wear clothes that had been in the back of your closet for years and go to art galleries before a handsome stranger flirts with you outside of a corner store. 

Your mouth is just opening to respond to him, not quite sure yet if you are going to agree or make up some excuse that you hope he doesn’t see through, before the soft chiming bell of the door is ringing above you and Jungkook is wandering back out with two bags in his hands.

He is smiling when he sees you and then it fades when he sees your company, eyes narrowing a bit before he glances back at you and moves to stand by your side, hand on your lower back. 

“Ready to go?” His voice is stiffer than you were used to and you dumbly nod as you give Hoseok an apologetic look to which he gives you a polite understanding smile as he lifts his hand in a quick wave goodbye before going to cross the street. 

Jungkook moves you forward down the street with his hand still on your back, an unfamiliar touch in this type of circumstance. You and him were no strangers to a touchy friendship but his hold felt almost pointed and you felt confusion swirling in your chest.

“What was that?” Your voice was hushed and you looked briefly at the side of his face as you walked together, his side profile showcasing no emotion you could understand or read. He was looking straight ahead and shrugging softly. 

“You look uncomfortable.” He said it simply like it was an easy given answer but you knew him well enough to know he didn’t really believe what he was saying. 

“I did? I didn’t feel uncomfortable.” You were pushing it further than you typically would but you were a bit annoyed with how unusual he was being lately. Not annoyed in any way that mattered considering his hand on your back was still lighting your stomach on fire and you were deluding yourself into believing there was another reason for his interruption.

He shrugs again like he isn’t sure what to say and you drop it, walking closely together as he silently leads you to a small park near one of the cities waterfront points. 

You watch his large frame as he reaches into one of his paper bags and pulls out a small plaid blanket, throwing it down on the soft grass before he looks at you and gestures for you to sit. He seems awkward now and you give him a soft smile to let him know you aren’t upset and he can relax. 

“I pretty much just cleared them out.” He laughs a little as he joins you on the small blanket, close enough that your legs are pushed together and you watch with excitement as he pulls out various food items from the bags.

He ends it with a small single serving of cake in a plastic box and two drinks that remind you of the cheap liquor you used to sneak from your parents in high school. He presents with a small exaggerated noise and both of his hands stretching out to frame the display.

“Wow just wow.” You’re teasing him by raising your voice a bit and covering your mouth in mock gratitude, giggling as you pretend to wipe a tear from your eye. “This is just above and beyond Jeon Jungkook. How did you know I loved bodega salads?”

His grin is bright like he hadn’t expected you to play along with his theatrics and he waves you off casually like it was no big deal. 

You are still laughing as he opens the containers and hands you things to try but you are genuinely a little taken back by the gesture, giving yourself a second to take in the view of the water with the city directly behind it. The sun had set by now and the lake seemed endless, wind blowing your hair over your shoulder as you looked back at him.

He was already watching you and you raised an eyebrow in question, not getting a response as he looked back down at the food.

“I think this is better than any dinner I’ve had since we moved here.” Your voice is soft as you finally speak, taking small pieces of things from his side of the blanket and tossing them into your mouth. 

“Are you making fun of me?” He looks at you suspiciously and you laugh a little at the skepitcal tone he has, shaking your head and watching him fondly. “Then I think I agree with you.”

You stayed like that for atleast another hour and a half, eating the food slower than you usually would to keep yourselves there longer and you once again let yourself forget that this meant nothing at all. 

It was easy to pretend when he was pulling out his small digital camera and taking candids of you as you laughed and told him to cut it out, easy to imagine when he was making you sit in the soft grass while he cleaned up your picnic, and devastatingly simple to feel like you were inlove in a different way when he was making you get on his back instead of walking back to the subway in your heels.

“Did you have a good time?” He sounded unlike himself when you finally got there, managing to get a seat now that most people had gotten home from work. You were leaning your head on his shoulder and watching your muddied reflections in the dirty and scratched window across from you.

Jungkook never sounded unsure or insecure, especially not when it came to something regarding you and your friendship and your stomach tightened at the realization he might actually be looking for the reassurance you were so typically seeking from him. 

“Silly question.” You had a tired smile on your face that he couldn’t see but you figured he would be able to hear it surrounding your gentle words.

“Indulge me?” He pushed for specifics and you only then realized he was very serious about this, picking your head up so you could look him in the eyes.

He easily met your gaze like he always did and the intensity was a bit much for you to handle although you weren’t capable of looking away just yet. 

There was a large part of you that knew exactly what to say, exactly what would be an easy answer that would both satisfy his random need for verbal feedback and also keep your ridiculous secret hidden for atleast another night more.

A much tinier and more pathetic piece was begging you to push just a little bit more, say something that would make him cross any singular line. You didn’t need him to step out of your fairytales and profess his desire for you but maybe just enough of a hook to keep you from feeling so pathetic and almost conniving.

You knew he would probably take personal offense if you told him that you felt that way about yourself but you almost couldn’t help it, knowing there was something more than friendship in this for you. It felt almost evil to keep something like that from him even though you could almost picture how gentle and amazing his rejection would be.

He would probably lecture you about how it’s not you and it’s him and he would give you a look so pitiful that it would make you sick.

“What was this Jungkook?” 

The stupid part of you wins and you want to blame it on the low alcohol bevarage you had chugged in an attempt to quiet your stupid box down but you knew there wasn’t a single moment in life you were more sober than you were now and you were just plainly outrageously deluded. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says it softly with an edge of confusion but you see it. 

As the train pulls to a stop at a station that isn’t yours, you see the telltale sign that he lying to you. His expressive eyes are almost wide and he is trying his best to act casual but you had spent almost a decade telling similar lines and your mind starts to spin. 

“Yes you do.” Your voice is firmer now and you sit up a little bit on the smooth seats, turned sideways so you are facing him while he still has to turn his head to look at you fully. “I think you really do.”

He doesn’t say anything and you are not stupid enough to say the words outloud, to accuse him of the exact crime you are guilty of would have consequences you can’t even begin to think about and you almost look away if it wasn’t for that look in his eyes. 

You want to pry and pull it out of him, reach deep into his chest and see if you had gotten it all wrong or if he had a box of his own somewhere in there. 

It lurches again as it begins to move and he sways with it, eyes shutting for a second as he turns to face forward and get away from your intense and almost knowing gaze. 

“Let’s not do this.” His voice is tight and pained now and you had heard it a million ways but never like this, never like he is scared of what is going to come out. 

“Do what, what am I doing?” You are genuinely puzzled and you’re almost frantic to keep him talking about this. “What are we doing?”

He takes awhile to not speak again and you almost think he is going to sit like that until the train stops again, leaving you in the non silence and weight of the things he will not say. His eyes open and they are colder when they look at you again and it’s in a way that knocks the breath out of you.

They are not angry but they are detached and such a vast difference from the adoring expression he normally gives you and now you wonder again what you look like to other people riding home late after a long day. Maybe two strangers in a disagreement or a couple bickering about trivial things, something much simpler than what it actually is.

You suddenly feel like you’re going to vomit when you realized how similar his frustrated is to the one you’d been feeling since before you even had your drivers license. It is far too familiar and you turn in your seat so you are facing forward again and your hand comes to your mouth, either to catch the puke or your next words.

“How long have you known?” You wince as you say it and you hate that he is the one looking at you now, eyes boring into the side of your face as you fight to not look at your reflections. 

Your question is vague enough to avoid putting it into the verbal world of existence but if your thoughts are correct then he knows exactly what you are referring to. 

How long have you known I was inlove with you, how long have I been failing at deceiving you, how many years did you know our friendship was a big fat scam on my end and how long have you tried not to detest me for it?

“Maybe forever? I don’t know.” He sounds exhausted and his pitch raises a bit as his hands jut into the air before landing back on his legs with a smack that almost makes you jump.  

Your mouth parts in surprise, both at his answer and the tone he says it in. You’re standing up before the train has a chance to stop fully and you aren’t sure if you’re stumbling because of the way it pulls or because you genuinely feel like you are about to be sick if you have to sit here for another second and listen to him sound so upset about this. 

Your feet tangle together as you rush out of the station and you know he is close behind you because he always is but you can’t bring yourself to look at him anymore.

The universe must be laughing at you for finally getting your camera because the clear skies of the night are gone and it’s beginning to sprinkle now, making your walk to the next block over much faster as you nearly run towards your apartment.

“Y/N.” His voice is loud behind you and your body whips around on instinct, not able to ignore him in any circumstance but especially not when he sounds so wounded. “It.. it doesn’t have to be a big deal, you won’t hurt my feelings if you just pretend this didn’t happen. We don’t need to change things.”

He almost sounds like he is pleading for you to forgive him and the irony of that hits you hard. 

You aren’t even sure what he is really asking for you to do here, is he suggesting you go back to pretending (quite awfully apparently) you aren’t inlove with him or is he saying he doesn’t quite mind if you are. You can’t decide which answer hurts you more and you glare at him for being so selfless and kind. 

“What part of this makes you think this won’t change things?” You have venom in your voice now and you watch his face flinch just enough for you to feel terrible.

You aren’t sure why you are suddenly so angry at him or why you just want to scream and leave him standing in the light rain that is slowly picking up like its mocking your emotional state. 

It is not his fault he is so easy to love and that he can read you so easily, of course the boy who can tell when you are upset or hungry or tired off of a quick glance would know the feeling that never leaves your mind and heart no matter how hard you try.

He didn’t even do anything wrong in his attempts to fix what you had broken, willing to take any course to keep your friendship the same because he thinks it is what you want. You decide you are angry that that is his solution because it is all he can give you, friendship, and you are more fucked up than you realized for being upset at him for that.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounds hurt and pleading still and he takes quick steps towards you that make you want to sob but you won’t, not here and not with him staring at you like that. 

“I am.” You shake your head and sigh, suddenly feeling very cliche and stupid for yelling at each other in the rain like some shitty cheesy romcom. You easily slip your hand into his and pull him in the direction of your apartment, hoping he is willing to stay with you despite the potential awkwardness and isn’t planning to run away as soon as he gets you home safe. 

He squeezes your hand in his and you close your eyes just as tight, wishing he would be a little less sweet just for a few moments.

You don’t think he is capable of being cold to anybody, especially not you, but it makes it all the more painful to know you don’t deserve it. 

You are back to heavy silence as you enter your apartment and you glance at his hoodie from last night still draped over your arm chair, looking away and kicking off your heels that are collecting water inside of them as it drips off of your clothes. 

The urge to change into something dry and warm is surging your entire being but instead you head into the kitchen and you hear him take slow hesitant steps before he is sighing and going in the direction of your bedroom. You grip your counter and close your eyes to stop from asking him what he was going to say.

Instead you busy yourself with the stove and a familiar recipe that makes you sigh in premature relief just from the scent alone. 

Jungkook eventually returns and follows the smell to find you setting too warm mugs down on the coffee table in the living room, dressed in a large shirt and the same sweatpants from last night. His hair is damp from the rain and falling over his forehead in a painful way and you awkwardly glance at him. 

Any other day you would warn him that it is too hot to drink before going to change too but now you just watch him as he shifts awkwardly before sitting down slowly on the carpet infront of the table. You clear your throat and walk down the hallway, moving on autopilot as you pull off the wet clothes and replace them with pajamas. 

You are back in the living room with him before you even process your feet moving and you listen to him sip the hot chocolate before wincing at the scolding liquid and placing the mug down.

“It’s hot you know.” Your teasing remark is meant to break the tension and bring a sense of normalcy back into the heavy room but it comes out forced and awkward and he barely manages to pull a chuckle out. 

You sit next to him with a sigh and pull your sleeves over your hands so you can nurse his hot mug, blowing on it gently and ignoring your steaming one next to it. 

It’s a habit you had always had but he was looking at you like it was his first time realizing you did that and it was another nail in the coffin of change. Things were going to be different now no matter what he said or how hard you tried to avoid it.

“I really am sorry.” His voice was soft and a whisper that struck you harder than anything he could have shouted. You gave him a sad smile and nodded your head in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it or are you tired?”

“We can talk.” You shrugged like it was a casual choice but you weren’t sure what the alternative was. You had anxiety thrumming in your chest that he might leave before you were ready and talking about it kept him here for atleast a few more sentences, atleast until your mugs were empty.

Your agreement didn’t kick start him into any type of conversation and it fell silent again outside of your soft breathing on the mug and the rain pattering against your window. 

“Are you upset about how I feel?” He finally spoke again and you paused your blowing in favor of watching him, setting the glass down on the table and giving him your full attention. The distraction wasn’t working anyways and you felt sick again.

You shook your head because you didn’t trust yourself to speak and he looked more pained at your silence, eyes low and wounded. Your suddenly felt watery and you knew you would truly have to dig a hole for yourself if you cried, the last thing you wanted to do was to make him feel bad about any of this.

“You can’t help it.” You internally winced at the way your words shook and cracked, very telling signs of somebody who was about to pathetically sob. “But I can’t either.”

He looked equal parts confused and accepting of this answer and you got the urge to just lay it all out in the open since everything was already falling apart in a way you could not control.

“I thought I was doing a better job at hiding it and I’m sorry if I made you feel weird or like I didn’t value our friendship because that isn’t true at all, it means the world to me. I am just an idiot and I-I don’t even know what else to say other than I am so sorry Jungkook.” You are speaking so fast you feel dizzy at the pace and you are suddenly facing him again so you can be positive the words reach their destination.

You had practiced a hundred times how to tell him how you felt and none of those scenarios ended up sounding like this, a jumbled and desperate plea to be forgiven.

His mouth had parted halfway through your speech like he was wanting to interrupt you and you wanted to run out of your own house when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, maybe at the realization of just how fucked up you actually were.

The room fell silent again and this time it was tortuous, your soft breaths from speaking so quickly being the only thing you could focus on. 

“I’m confused.” 

His voice cut through the air and you almost wanted to scream, knowing you could not repeat any of that again. You gave him an intense stare as you tried to figure out where exactly you had lost him in your spiel and his eyebrows furrowered at your look.

“I thought you were mad at me for liking you.” He was pointing between the two of you as you spoke and suddenly the box was rattling so hard you weren’t sure if it was just an imaginary metaphor anymore. 

“What?” It came out loud and aggressive but he didn’t react, sitting up a little straighter and watching you with an almost frustrated expression. 

“Do you have a crush on me?” He was pointing at his chest again and you wanted to smack his hand away.

You weren’t sure how to answer that because it was honestly the most ridiculous thing you had heard outloud all night and there quite a few contenders. You were dumbfounded both by the fact he had to ask what you thought he realized forever ago and also because the idea of having a mere crush almost made you laugh.

A crush was not what you had but you dumbly nodded your head, settling for accepting the vague notion that you had some sort of romantic feelings for him.

His hands were covering his face and he let out a groan so loud you flinched. His noise turned into something that you thought was a sob until you realized he was laughing at you, almost hysterically laughing so hard that he was leaning over onto his knees before rocking backwards again.

The tears that were sitting on your waterline were falling freely now and you were frozen in shock at the fact he was actually laughing at you.

You had never felt so hurt in your entire life and you were even more blindsided that your sweet best friend was apparently capable of this kind of cruelty. The idea of him being upset or disappointment in your firm confirmation was way more appealing than him finding you straight up comedic.

“You should go.” You had never uttered those words to him before and you had hoped they came off as fiery and angry as you felt under the devastation but instead it was said in an unchareristic choked sob that had his hands immediately flying off of his face.

His eyes were wide and guilty as he took in the expression you had and your wet cheeks and he was shuffling forward to cup your face.

“Oh shit, fuck.” He was wiping your teary trails as fast as they came and staring at you with remorse, only making you cry harder. “Wait don’t cry.”

“You’re laughing at me.” You sounded childish and whiny but you didn’t know what else to be in this situation, too comfortable to be truly cruel to him despite the want to be. How can he be so hurtful and then hold you like he wasn’t responsible for your extreme reaction?

“What? No I’m not.” He was shaking his head and his face was creasing with confusion like it was the most ridiculous thing you could have said. “I’m laughing at us, at how stupid we are.”

You were exhausted from this entire night and you had no response to give him despite your confusion and want for him to explain what could possibly be so fucking funny about all of this stupidty. You sat there silently crying and staring at him as he sighed like he only just realized he needed to speak what he was thinking and was finding it burdensome. 

“You have to know that I like you too Y/N.” He was whispering it like he was still trying to keep it a secret and that damned box flew open, sending its lock and chains flying around your chest in a million sharp pieces. “You’re the last person in the world to figure it out apparently.” 

You had absolutely zero idea what to say to that or how to even begin to process the level of misunderstanding and blurred communication that had happened in just a few hours. His apologies on the way home and guilty expression suddenly made alot more sense considering he wasn’t sorry about breaking your heart and instead apologicetic he had made you break his. 

“I thought you were messing with me until I saw you were crying and, god you don’t like to mess with people anyways. I really fucked this all up didn’t I.” It was his turn to ramble now and you watched him with a quivering lip and soft sniffles as you stopped crying slowly. 

“You’re not rejecting me?” You’d be caught dead before talking in this tone around anyone else but he wasn’t just anyone and his eyes softened like you were the cutest thing in the world to him.

“I may be stupid but I’m not that big of an idiot.” He was laughing a little at himself or maybe the idea of ever rejecting you and now it was your turn to groan. “I thought you were inlove with Taehyung.”

“Taehyung’s gay.” You were blurting it out from the frustration of the situation and you covered your face like he had a few seconds ago. 

His mouth was parted in surprise when you gathered the courage to look at him again and you almost laughed, mouth barely turning up from the ridiculousness of everything transpiring. 

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” His slow reply made you burst into delirious giggles and he smiled at your reaction. 

It seemed like the hard part of the conversation was finally over and you leaned on your side against the footrest of the couch, sighing softly. 

“We have to be the two stupidest people alive.”

“You’re not stupid.” He was shaking his head and there it was again, that familiar offended tone he always had when you insulted yourself. 

You suddenly felt like you must be because it was increasingly obvious to you that he must feel some sort of positive non platonic way towards you. The look in his eye was so apparent now that you weren’t sure how you ever missed it before, so stuck in your own attempts to disguise your own gaze. 

“I don’t know what to do now or what this means.” You’re staring straight ahead but not really looking at anything as your mind spins and reels. It all is starting to feel a bit far from reality and you let out a humorless disbeliving laugh. “I mean you are you and I’m..”

You trail off but he knows exactly where you were going with that statement and that same annoyance he radiated when you made the comment about Taehyung was back tenfold. His glare was on you but you knew it was directed towards that mean insecure voice inside you and not anything else.

“Maybe you are stupid because you really have no idea what happens to a room when you walk into it.” He looks angrier than you’d ever seen him but it’s the type of anger that comes when he tastes a particularly delicious bite of food or sees a cute dog on tiktok, nothing like the face he has whenever his dad calls or when a job falls through. 

Everything about what he is saying makes no sense to you and you suddenly have the urge to crawl into your bed and sleep this off, hoping you can wake up tomorrow either ten steps backwards or four years in the future.

There is a lengthy silence where the two of you just stare at eachother and you keep waiting for it to feel wrong or feel like you made a grave mistake that you can’t take back but your heart seems to recall who you are sitting with much faster than your brain.

You can’t think of a time where you had ever felt wrong when you were in the same space as Jungkook and the uncertainty of the future and what this conversation means for your connection and friendship has nothing on the tie between you that flows with every look and nervous smile.

Loving him was as easy as any breath you could take and you looked away with silence in your warmed chest as you took another sip of your hot chocolate.

[bettelaboure]

⊹Two out of twenty⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

second part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: strong language and suggestive content, themes of manipulation and power dynamics, emotional tension and uncomfortable social interactions, entions of body image and self-esteem issues

⊹ Summary: Seung-Hyun, a shy trainee at YG Entertainment, faces pressure from the popular and manipulative reader, who offers him a deal—she’ll help him improve his chances with girls, but in return, he’ll tutor her in English. Despite his initial rejection and distaste for her attitude, Seung-Hyun finds himself grappling with his feelings after witnessing the reader’s cruelty and undeniable allure. After an uncomfortable encounter where she attempts to seduce him, Seung-Hyun wrestles with his emotions and, influenced by his friend Young-bae’s advice, ultimately agrees to her terms. Their complicated dynamic is just beginning, and the consequences of this deal remain to be seen.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Your phone buzzed against the plastic of your vanity, a faint vibration that barely registered over the sound of your playlist echoing off your bedroom walls. You glanced down at the screen out of habit, expecting another snap from So-ra or a comment on your latest post.

Instead, it was a message from a number you didn’t have saved.

[Unknown Number]: I’m in.

Your gum froze between your teeth mid-chew.

You stared at the screen, waiting for the context to correct itself. Surely, this wasn’t him. You tapped the message, confirming the number—yup, from the class chat. Definitely Seung-Hyun. A laugh bubbled in your throat, breathless, disbelieving.

"Am I glitching?" you muttered to no one, blinking like your brain needed to reboot.

You typed out your reply on impulse, fingers moving faster than thought.

Great. Send me a pic of you.

You hit send, then smirked—just imagining his face twisting in confused panic. Predictable. It only took five seconds before a follow-up notification hit your screen.

?

You didn’t let him stew too long.

I’m joking. Chill, trainee boy.

There was a pause. You could almost feel him internally short-circuiting through the silence. Then, finally, another buzz.

8pm. Library.

You sat up straighter, chewing a little slower. The smirk on your lips curled into something different—curious, maybe even a little impressed.

You’re serious now? Don’t flake on me, Choi. Bring your boring notebook.

The library smelled like old books and industrial cleaner, the kind of sterile scent that clung to the air long after the last class ended. Most of the lights had been dimmed, except for a few clusters near the front desk and the far tables. Rows of shelves loomed in quiet formation, casting long shadows under the fluorescents.

You were already there, legs crossed at a back corner table, tapping your pen against a paperback you had no intention of reading. When you saw Seung-Hyun walk in—hood up, backpack slung low on one shoulder—you straightened, slipping your phone into your jacket pocket.

He saw you and paused like he wasn’t sure this wasn’t all an elaborate setup to mock him in public.

“You’re late,” you said.

He raised a brow. “You’re always late.”

You shrugged. “Fashionably.”

He sat across from you stiffly, dropping his notebook and textbook on the table without a word. You watched him in silence for a second, noting the way his hair curled near his ears, slightly damp like he’d showered just before coming. He smelled faintly of soap and something warm, maybe cinnamon gum or laundry detergent. It didn’t suit him. It made him too… normal.

He opened the notebook to a fresh page. “So what’s your problem in English?”

“Where do I begin?” You leaned in dramatically. “I suck at tenses. Present perfect makes me want to throw myself down a flight of stairs. And don’t even get me started on prepositions.”

He blinked. “That’s… a lot.”

You grinned. “You’re the one who said yes.”

He began scribbling something down—simple examples, neatly spaced and painfully legible. You watched his fingers more than the words. They were long, calloused at the knuckles, a little ink-stained.

“Why’d you say yes?” you asked suddenly.

He looked up, pen hovering over the paper.

You cocked your head, voice softer. “I didn’t think you would.”

He didn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure yet if I regret it.”

Your lips twitched. “Wow. Brutal.”

He almost smiled—but didn’t. “Just being honest.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “So honest. So serious.” Then, with a mischievous glint: “Is this how you flirt? Because it’s tragic.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I’m not flirting.”

“Pity.”

He looked down, trying to hide the way his mouth threatened to betray him with a smile. You saw it anyway.

You flipped the notebook toward you and squinted. “Okay, explain this part again. ‘I have eaten’ versus ‘I ate’—why does one sound like it’s bragging?”

“It’s about context,” he said, adjusting in his seat. “Present perfect is used when the experience matters more than when it happened. Like if I say ‘I have eaten octopus,’ it means I’ve tried it at some point. ‘I ate octopus’ is just a story about the past.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So if I said, ‘I have kissed a boy,’ I’m flexing?”

He froze. Then coughed. “I guess. Yeah.”

You leaned in further, voice low. “Want me to try both in a sentence?”

“Please don’t.”

You laughed, loud enough to make the librarian at the front glance up over her glasses. You stifled it with a grin, flipping a page.

Seung-Hyun shook his head, but his eyes had that glint again. That mix of discomfort and fascination. You were chaos in lip gloss and eyeliner, and he had no defense for it.

He pointed to the next exercise. “Try this one.”

You took the pen, your hand brushing his. It was deliberate.

You didn’t speak on it.

Neither did he.

But something in the air had changed—less like rivalry, more like tension tied with invisible string.

The silence between you had settled into something like rhythm—pages turning, pens scratching, the faint buzz of a dying ceiling light overhead. You stretched your legs beneath the table, your knee brushing his just enough to feel it. He didn’t flinch, but he definitely noticed. The slight hitch in his breathing gave it away.

“You know,” you said lazily, closing your workbook, “you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

Seung-Hyun glanced up from his notes. “That’s your way of saying thanks?”

“That’s my way of not throwing this grammar book out the window.”

His mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile, then vanished like it wasn’t allowed to stay.

You tilted your head. “You always that serious?”

“I’m just focused.”

“Focused,” you echoed. “Right. That’s what they call it now.”

He frowned slightly but didn’t answer.

You tapped your pen against your lips, watching him. “You ever think about relaxing, Choi?”

“It’s Seung-Hyun,” he muttered without looking up.

You grinned. “I know. I just like how your eye twitches every time I say it wrong.”

He gave you a sideways look—dry, tired, maybe slightly amused.

You let the moment sit, then leaned in, just enough for your voice to lower without needing to whisper.

“So. About our deal.”

He stiffened slightly. “I said I’d help with English.”

“Mmhmm. And I said I’d help you stop being an adorable little ghost that no one notices.”

His brows knit. “I don’t need help with that.”

You tilted your head again, fingers dragging through your hair like you knew what it did to a boy’s focus. “Don’t you? Because I’m pretty sure Se-mi didn’t even see you.”

His expression faltered.

Too far?

You softened your voice. “Hey. I’m not trying to be mean.”

“You’re doing a great job not trying,” he said, dry.

You smiled. “Fine. I’m blunt. But I don’t lie.” You paused, eyes dragging over him slowly—measured, not predatory, just seeing. “You’re not invisible, Seung-Hyun. You’re just... hiding. And if you really want someone to see you, you’re gonna have to step into the light.”

His gaze met yours then—longer than it should’ve been. Still guarded, but curious.

You leaned closer, your voice slipping into something softer.

“I could teach you, you know. What to say. What not to say. What kind of smile works best in a crowded hallway. The science of attraction.”

He pulled back slightly, blinking. “You make it sound like a formula.”

You shrugged. “It kind of is. People are predictable. You just need the right tools.”

He gave you a look—half skeptical, half intrigued. “And you’re offering to be… what? My dating coach?”

“Think of me as a… social translator.” You grinned. “You’re fluent in verbs and vocabulary. I’m fluent in chemistry.”

He stared at you. “That sounds—”

“Dangerous?” you interrupted, smug. “Only if you have something to lose.”

You stood, slowly gathering your things. “Same time tomorrow?”

He hesitated. “I guess.”

You stepped close—close enough to brush his arm as you passed. “Good. Maybe next time I’ll teach you how not to look like you’re about to bolt every time a girl gets within three feet.”

He flushed slightly, opening his mouth to reply—but you were already gone, walking out the door with the kind of sway you knew he was still watching.

Behind you, the sound of his notebook closing was quiet, but not quiet enough to miss.

Friday morning the school bell rang out over the courtyard like a warning shot. Students swarmed in waves, laughing, groaning about homework, phones out, sleeves tugged down over fingertips to fight the early chill. Somewhere near the front gate, a soccer ball rolled across the walkway and two boys chased it with half-eaten bread in hand.

You stood by the cherry tree near the main path, surrounded by your usual orbit: Jae-mi, glossy-lipped and whispering about weekend plans; Eun-ji, scrolling through her feed, eyes sharp behind her bangs; and Soo-ah, picking at her acrylic nails with the concentration of someone solving world peace.

“Did you hear Se-mi turned down three guys this week?” Jae-mi said, voice pitched for performance. “She’s on a power trip.”

You smiled vaguely but didn’t answer. Your gaze was fixed on something—or someone—past their shoulders.

He was walking with his head down, backpack slung low, hoodie up despite the clear skies. Seung-Hyun. Moving like he wanted to disappear into the crowd, invisible as always.

Until now.

“Hello, Choi,” you called, voice easy. Not loud. But clear enough.

His steps faltered.

He looked up. Blinking. Like maybe he imagined it.

You lifted a hand in a small wave. Not coy. Not dramatic. Just… familiar.

His mouth opened slightly. Then closed. He gave you a slow, unsure nod. No smile. Just confusion simmering behind his dark eyes.

Your friends froze.

Jae-mi tilted her head. “Did you just say hi to that guy?”

You didn’t look away. “Yeah.”

“Like—out loud?”

You finally turned back to them, unbothered. “He helping me with English. I’m being polite.”

“Right,” Soo-ah drawled. “Polite. To that guy. The YG trainee one?”

Eun-ji narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t he cry when that drama teacher yelled at him last year?”

“He didn’t cry,” you muttered.

They stared at you, then at each other, like something in the social weather had shifted.

You could feel the judgment simmering beneath their lip-glossed smiles. But you didn’t care. Not this time.

You watched Seung-Hyun’s retreating figure disappear up the stairs toward the east wing, and for a second, something tugged deep in your chest.

Seung-Hyun walked fast.

Not enough to draw attention, but fast enough that his steps had an edge—like maybe he was being chased by a thought he didn’t want to catch up to.

“Hello, Choi.”

He heard it again in his head, the way you said it like it wasn’t strange at all. Like saying his name in front of your friends didn’t cost you anything.

He reached his locker with a sharp twist of the dial and tried not to think. But the voices carried.

“That was weird, right?”

“I thought she hated guys like him.”

“Maybe it’s pity. Or a dare.”

He didn’t look back. Didn’t let them see how his fingers clenched tighter around his combination lock. He wasn’t new to whispers. But this one hit different—because this time, it was you.

Not mocking. Not dismissive. Just… acknowledging him. Like it meant something.

He pulled open the locker door and let it shield his face for a moment. Just long enough to breathe.

Behind the metal, his mind flickered through every interaction this week:

Your teasing smirk.

That moment in the library when your knee brushed his.

The joke text about a selfie.

The way you said "chemistry" like it was a secret.

What are you doing? he thought.

Not just you.

Him.

Because part of him wanted to disappear again—fade back into the background where no one asked questions.

But another part—the quieter, buried part—liked that you’d said his name like it belonged in your mouth.

He hated that part a little. It made him feel like he was standing on glass.

A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

He turned. It was Young-bae, hoodie half-zipped and a lollipop in his mouth, eyebrows raised.

“Dude,” Young-bae said around the candy, “you look like you just got asked to prom by Satan.”

Seung-Hyun blinked. “What?”

“I saw her,” Young-bae said. “Her. Popular girl. The ‘I only chew cherry gum and date athletes’ one. She said hi to you like you weren’t a ghost.”

“I don’t know what that was,” Seung-Hyun muttered.

“Oh, I do.” Young-bae grinned. “That was social suicide—hers. You’re officially dangerous.”

Seung-Hyun shoved a book into his bag. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Young-bae leaned against the locker beside him. “Sure it doesn’t. And the moon is made of rice cakes.”

He paused, eyes narrowing.

“But... let’s say she’s not messing with you. Let’s say she’s actually trying to be cool. You still tutoring her?”

Seung-Hyun nodded.

“And she’s still gonna ‘teach’ you how to get girls?”

“I guess.”

Young-bae popped the lollipop out of his mouth. “Then maybe don’t run every time she gets within five feet.”

“I don’t run.”

“You bolt like the building’s on fire,” Young-bae said. “You’re allowed to like her, man. Or hate her. But either way, stop pretending you’re not in the middle of something weird and probably life-ruining.”

Seung-Hyun stared at the floor for a moment.

He didn’t like how true that sounded.

He should have felt in control. This was supposed to be transactional. Mutual use. But the moment you said his name like it mattered, something shifted.

It wasn’t about English anymore.

The school library at night felt like a different world. The lights hummed low and warm, casting golden pools across rows of aging encyclopedias and dusty fiction. Outside, rain tapped gently against the tall windows. The kind of sound that made everything feel slower. Closer. Like the world had narrowed down to just this moment.

You were already there, lounging in the far corner near the back window—the one with the soft green chair you always claimed during exams. Legs crossed, a hoodie slouched off one shoulder. Casual, but calculated. Your phone glowed in your hand, but your eyes flicked up the moment he appeared in the doorway.

Seung-Hyun hesitated. One foot in, one out. His hair was damp from the drizzle, curling slightly at the ends, hoodie clinging to his collarbones.

“You’re late,” you said, your voice a soft tease.

He checked his watch. “It’s 8:02.”

“Exactly.” You grinned and gestured for him to sit. “Every minute matters when you’re flunking.”

He dropped his backpack on the floor and slid into the chair across from you, already pulling out his notes. His movements were precise, like a soldier on a mission.

You watched him for a beat. The way his fingers drummed lightly against his notebook. The slight crease in his brow when he read. You’d seen boys try to look smart. He didn’t have to. It just... lingered on him.

You leaned forward, voice low. “Why do you look like I’m about to interrogate you?”

He didn’t look up. “Because you usually are.”

You smirked. “Touché.”

For the next twenty minutes, the tutoring actually resembled tutoring. You flipped through grammar worksheets. He corrected your sentence structure with calm efficiency. There were moments when your knees brushed under the table, and he’d shift just slightly, a controlled flinch. You pretended not to notice.

Until you did.

You waited until he was mid-sentence about verb tenses before interrupting.

“So,” you said, casually twisting a strand of your hair, “when do we start your tutoring?”

His pen froze.

He looked up, slowly. “My what?”

“You know,” you said, voice syrup-smooth, “the whole how to get girls part of our deal. Or were you hoping I’d forget?”

He blinked, visibly uncomfortable. “I thought you were joking.”

“You think I came up with that whole plan just to flirt with you in a library twice a week?” you said, cocking your head. “Cute.”

He hesitated. “I don’t... need help with that.”

You raised a brow. “Right. Because the whole Se-mi thing was flawless.”

That hit. He stiffened, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You said we’d help each other,” you said, softer now, less sharp. “I don’t make empty promises.”

He studied you. Like he didn’t trust the version of you in front of him. Like he was still looking for the catch.

"You want me to flirt with you?" Seung-Hyun said it like the words tasted strange in his mouth.

You were sprawled across the soft green library chair now, one leg tucked beneath you, hoodie slipping further down your shoulder, exposing a thin strap. Your smile curved slowly, lazily—like a cat stretching in the sun.

"Don’t sound so horrified," you drawled. "It's practice. You want to learn, don’t you?"

"I just..." He looked down at his notes like they might offer a better answer. "I’ve never... I don’t really do that."

"Exactly." You leaned forward, voice low, amused. "That’s why we’re here."

He hesitated. "What am I supposed to say?"

"You’re overthinking it," you said, shifting to sit straighter, eyes locked on him. "Flirting’s not about being perfect. It’s about making someone feel like they’re the only person in the room. That little moment of tension." You let the pause linger. “Of possibility.”

He didn’t respond, but you saw it—the way his eyes flicked to your mouth and back, quick and cautious.

“Okay,” you said, tapping your pen against your lower lip. “Let’s make it simple. Pretend I’m a girl you like. What’s the first thing you’d say?”

“You are a girl.”

You gave him a slow, amused look. “Wow. Killer instincts. No wonder Se-mi was swept off her feet.”

He sighed. "I’m serious."

“So am I,” you said. “This is how people flirt, Seung-Hyun. Not in textbooks. Not with flashcards. It’s energy. Look at me.”

He did.

Not cautiously this time. Not flinching.

Just... looked.

Something in your chest flipped.

“Better,” you murmured. “Now say something that’d make me want to keep talking to you.”

Silence.

Then, he said, carefully, “You look different when you’re not pretending to hate everyone.”

Your mouth parted, just slightly.

He blinked, startled at himself. “Was that—was that rude?”

You tilted your head, studying him. “No. That was... honest.”

He looked like he was waiting to be teased. Waiting for you to call him awkward, or weird, or hopeless.

But you just smiled. Small. Genuine.

“You know what the trick is?” you asked softly.

He shook his head.

“You don’t have to say the perfect thing,” you said. “You just have to mean it.”

He looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

You leaned in, voice like velvet. “Want to try again?”

He hesitated. Then glanced at you from beneath his bangs. “You look really good tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “A little generic, but points for effort.”

He groaned quietly, hiding his face behind his notebook. You laughed.

“Don’t hide. Confidence, remember?” you teased, nudging his shoe under the table.

“I don’t know how you make this look so easy,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed.

“It’s not about ease,” you said, the playfulness in your voice softening. “It’s about not being afraid to try. Most people never do.”

He looked up at you again. This time, something steadier settled in his eyes.

“What if I said... I notice when you laugh for real. Not that fake one you do with your friends.”

The smile on your face stilled. Your pulse ticked in your neck.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

He blinked. “Was that—?”

“That was good,” you said, barely above a whisper.

The air between you shifted—electric in its stillness. The quiet hum of the library faded into background static. You didn’t look away. Neither did he.

It wasn’t a line. It wasn’t a performance.

It was connection.

The kind that sneaks up on you. That sinks in beneath your skin.

“I think,” you said slowly, “you’re gonna be better at this than you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, “you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

You grinned. “Don’t ruin my reputation.”

You both laughed, soft and close, the moment easing just enough.

Then you pulled back slightly and tapped his notebook.

“Okay, lover boy,” you said, tone shifting. “Back to grammar. Unless you want to fail and die alone.”

He groaned. “You’re evil.”

You smiled at him over the rim of your textbook. “Yeah. But I’m the kind of evil that’s helping you win.”

He shook his head, but that smile—half shy, half real—lingered on his lips.

And for the rest of the hour, he didn’t look at his notes the same way.

Monday came faster than you wanted. You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jae-mi, talking about the upcoming week.

“What are we talking about?” the irritable voice of Se-mi popped up beside you. If only human bug repellent were a thing.

“None of your business.” You replied.

“C’mon, Y/N. We’re all friends here.” You looked towards Jae-mi to see if she felt the same about Se-mi. You couldn’t stand her after witnessing her humiliate Seung-Hyun. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Jae-mi tiredly asked Se-mi.

“Don’t you have a diet to start?”

“Don’t you have some small dicks to suck?” You fired back. You could deal with Se-mi coming for you, but not your friends. 

“No need to be so rude, Y/N. I was only playing around.” She giggled and flicked her hair behind her shoulder, and left your table.

You looked back at Jae-mi.

“Remember that the part of me teaching Seung-Hyun about girls stays a secret. I cannot have anyone finding out about it. It’s embarrassing enough that I need a tutor for English.”

“Loud and clear, Unnie! But don’t forget to give me all the juicy details afterwards.” She winked and you got confused. You weren’t sure if there ever will be any.

Near the end of school, you managed to find Seung-Hyun by his locker down an empty hall. 

“Hi, I wanted to know what times you can do for tutoring this week.” 

“How’s about tomorrow at lunch?” He answered, pulling a book from his locker.

“Where?”

“The library.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Can’t we go somewhere with a little fewer people?” You suggested and he turned around to look you down in the eyes, obviously irritated. 

“So you said “hi” to me this morning, but then you don’t want anyone to see you with me?”

“That’s not it.” Seung-Hyun wasn’t buying it. “I’m just a little embarrassed to be tutored.” That wasn’t a lie. Showing a weakness meant people would be ballsy and you did not want that. 

“Okay.” He nodded understandably. “How about your place after my dance practice?” 

Your place? That was a no.

“Your place.” You corrected. “My parents are having a dinner party and it would be a little bit disruptive.” You bit your lip, hoping he’d buy it. He did.

“Okay, my parents won’t be home tomorrow. Are you okay with that?” What a gentleman. 

“Sound good, text me your address.”

You were late.

By exactly forty-seven seconds, not that anyone was counting. But judging by the look on Seung-Hyun’s face when he opened the door, he had been.

His neighborhood surprised you. Quiet. Too clean. The kind of place where the streetlights hummed gently and the air smelled like laundry and trimmed hedges. You pulled your coat tighter around you, hood still up, and stepped into his world like you didn’t belong.

“You’re late,” he said, deadpan, stepping aside.

“Relax. I’m not a whole minute late,” you muttered, brushing past him.

He led you to the kitchen, and it was almost laughably domestic. The table was covered in neatly stacked textbooks, printouts, and pens lined up like soldiers. Seung-Hyun’s version of war.

“I’ve made a schedule,” he said, already sounding exasperated.

You blinked. “A what?”

He turned to look at you, gaze sharp behind his bangs. “If you ask that again, I’m kicking you out.”

You lifted your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, geez. Chill, Mr. Corporate.”

“It outlines what we’ll cover in each session,” he continued, ignoring you. “No questions. No whining. I’ve got dance, vocals, and now tutoring you, so forgive me for being efficient.”

“Give me the damn thing,” you muttered, grabbing it from his hand.

Your fingers brushed his. Warm.

You ignored that.

The paper was... thorough. Grossly so. Charts. Time blocks. Tiny notes like "focus on past perfect" and "reinforce participles." You grimaced.

“Is this your version of foreplay?” you asked sweetly, flipping the page.

He didn’t answer. You took that as a win.

Two hours later, you were practically cross-eyed from conjugating verbs you didn’t care about. Seung-Hyun sat across from you with a red pen and an expression that read deep disappointment.

You watched him sigh, rub a hand through his hair, and mark something down.

“Well?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

His eyes met yours, flat and unimpressed. “You don’t know anything about English.”

You snatched the test sheet out of his hands. Bold red ink glared back at you: 2/20.

“Two?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me? I thought you were supposed to be some genius tutor.”

“I never said you’d magically become literate in two hours,” he muttered, already packing up his notes.

“It’s not me. It’s your methods.”

“It’s not the method. It’s you,” he snapped, glancing at the clock. “We’re done anyway.”

You grabbed your bag and stormed into the living room, flopping dramatically onto the couch. You hated English. You hated past tenses. You hated that he was right.

A moment later, Seung-Hyun stepped in, arms crossed, watching you like you were some strange animal loose in his house.

“What are you doing?”

“Recovering,” you replied. “That was mental warfare.”

“On me, maybe,” he muttered. “That was basic grammar.”

You patted the cushion next to you. “C’mon. Your turn.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “What?”

“Your part of the deal. I suffer through verbs. You suffer through girls.” You raised a brow. “Or was the tutoring thing just one-sided?”

Understanding dawned in his face—and with it, color. A faint red dusted his cheeks. You watched it crawl up like a slow sunrise.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. “Relax. I’m not gonna make out with you on your mom’s couch.”

He looked like that exact thought had just sprinted across his brain. Twice.

You patted the cushion again. “Sit, Choi.”

He did, slowly, like it might be a trap.

You turned to face him fully, elbow on the backrest, head propped in your hand. You were close enough to count the faint freckles near his temple. Close enough to see how fast he blinked when you looked at him too long.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” you asked casually, like you were asking about the weather.

He froze. “What does that have to do with anything?”

You shrugged. “If we’re gonna teach you how to talk to girls, I need to know what kind of damage I’m working with.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a cough and a protest. “I... I don’t think that’s relevant.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice. “So that’s a no.”

He swallowed. “It’s not—none of your business.”

You smiled slowly. “That’s adorable.”

He looked like he wanted the couch to eat him.

You didn’t press further. You just let the silence sit for a moment, not awkward but heavy—charged. Like the edge of something that hadn’t tipped yet.

Then you reached over, gently nudging his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” you said, voice softening just a little. “You’ve got me now.”

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

[1nsan1tysan1ty]

Do you guys know that thing where when you try and play a sport against someone who has never played—

For example, you’ve been playing soccer for two years while your friend barely knows how to kick a ball

—and you just…can’t beat them??

(Example videos: one, two, three)

Now take that and throw that onto the Robins who’ve just started being Robin

They’ll pull the craziest shit ever because they still haven’t learnt that that one move they’re doing right now leaves them open in three different ways but it works. It’s works because A) those are children and why would you willingly attack a child near Batman and B) why would you expect anyone to pull a move that dumb?? Oh and an extra C) it works cause of beginners luck

BUT LISTEN

As they train, because they now know how open they’re left, all that beginners luck goes away. If they tried those same moves, they’d be off duty for three broken bones and fractured ribs

In sports terms, the more you learn the harder it is to not get tricked because you know the tricks

I how I’m explaining this well LMAOO

The previous Robins talking would probably go something like this:

Dick: “Yeah, I one time poked Killer Croc in the eyes cause I thought he’d be blinded the same way sharks are. It worked. A year later when I tried to same thing I ended up with a broken arm and bruised ribs.”

Jason: “You’re the stupidest fucking idiot ever.”

Dick: “Okay you can’t be talking Mr. “I-fed-penguins-army-of-birds-sunflower-seeds! You tried the same thing literally half a year later and you were pecked and swarmed!”

Jason: “Okay fuck you that was a great idea—“

Damian: “Most of penguins birds do not eat sunflower seeds. That was an idiotic move, Todd.”

Steph: “At least you guys weren’t throwing your grapple gun before jumping off roofs. I did that for a solid two months before B taught me how to really do it. Next time I tried my party trick I went home lacking dignity.”

Collective silence.

Jason: “We all agree that’s the stupidest one right?”

Duke: “How are you even alive?? You were jumping off roofs from fifty feet in the air?”

Steph: “I honestly have no idea. I’m pretty sure I was magical but suddenly knowing how the magic worked made me unmagical.”

Damian: “That’s not even a word, tt.”

Dick: “Oh wait! What about you Duke? You were a Robin for a bit.”

Duke: “Oh I don’t think it’s anything crazy. I did take on Clayface and shoved him into water by blinding him and then temporarily blinded the Joker.”

Jason: “See, this is just badass.“

Duke: “I also tried to make myself invisible on a stealth mission at a warehouse but accidentally shone way too brightly. My cover was nearly blown but thankfully a pigeon crashed into the big light which caused it to spark again and my cover wasn’t blown.”

All: “…”

Jason: “I take back what I said.”

[juunobox]

── it means everything. (pinocchio x gn! reader)

summary: reader is a writer, feeling sad about the state of krat and their hobby. mulling in their own thoughts, P returns and comforts reader. p is sweet and supportive<3 fluffy moments warnings: very subtly implied passive suicide ideation, mc feeling hopeless and crying a little note: first time writing p x reader. sorry if it isnt the best i genuinely just needed to feed myself bcs there is an urgent lack of p x reader out there. i tried to make this cute-

You stretch your upper torso in your seat, staring at the pile of papers in front of you. You've just finished writing the second chapter of your book, as well as rewriting the prologue—an effort that consumed your entire day. You glanced at the nearby clock, checking the time. You thought about your puppet partner Pinocchio, it's about time he'd return from a day of stalking. It's getting late at night, the usual time he would come back.

In the meantime- you reach for your cup of tea, sipping it carefully before setting it down on the desk as your gaze drifts to the pile of freshly written papers. Sometimes you wonder why you continue writing your book. Krat is falling apart, after all. It's not the city it once was, the city you had known. What's the meaning?

You were lucky to be saved by Geppetto's puppet amidst the chaos and fortunate not to have contracted the petrification disease. Your near-total lack of self-defense skills makes your survival among the frenzied puppets seem like a miracle. You were hiding beneath a carriage in Elysion Boulevard when P found you and brought you to the refuge known as Hotel Krat, the only safe place left in the decaying city.

As you read through your own writing, paragraph by paragraph, you realize something isn't quite right— the prologue chapter. You think the writing isn't as good as how it was written the first time. You remember losing it while running for your life through Krat, barely managing to stay alive. Maybe that was the cost of being saved by P.

You set the papers aside, feeling an invisible weight settle in your chest. Why do you still write? Why are you still here? You've lost everything—friends, family— all to the petrification disease or the frenzied puppets. Maybe surviving is a curse, to grapple with the guilt of being the only one left.

If Pinocchio hadn’t found you that day, maybe it'd be better off that way. You don't know how much longer you can live like this...

Knock knock.

The soft noise snaps you out of your musing. You quickly run to the door, only to realize tears have been rolling down your cheeks. You hadn't noticed them amidst your thoughts and what-ifs. Quickly wiping them away, you compose yourself. You wouldn't want your puppet partner to see you like this. Despite being a puppet, you treat him as a real boy, even though he's still learning about human emotions. He ventures out daily on errands— navigating the dangerous streets of Krat. While he may not comprehend exhaustion nor fully grasp human feelings just yet, you empathize with his efforts. Despite these differences, you find comfort, sincerity and a sense of belonging in his presence.

You swing the door open, meeting Pinocchio's blue eyes with a forced smile. You try to remain casual, despite the turmoil inside you. "P! You've returned. How was today for you?" you ask, not expecting any verbal response. Pinocchio is a puppet of few words, usually replying with a nod, a shake of his head, or one and two words. Today is no exception, either. He nods with a slight smile, a way of telling you that it was fine. His head soon slightly tilts while pointing his index finger at you, that you interpret as- "What about you?"

"My day was okay. I spent it writing some of my book again," you say. To your surprise, P remains still instead of giving you another nod or smile- now looking at you with what appears to be a small frown.

You rose a brow, "What is it, P?" you ask, not quite understanding his intent. His eyes widen momentarily before he fidgets, struggling to express himself. He points at your eyes, pleading for you to understand. You glance at him, puzzled.

"…My eyes?" you murmur.

P nods almost hesitantly.

"Tired?" he finally speaks, his voice gentle.

"Your eyes… tired?"

You blink slowly, not expecting such a question. Your mind races, searching for a response. The way P's blue eyes implore you only increases your nervousness. "Oh! Yes, must be because I haven't been able to sleep much lately… but don’t worry. I plan on sleeping earlier tonight, though, so don’t you worry!" You laugh lightly, trying to sound casual and lighthearted.

P doesn't appear convinced. He stays motionless, his eyes silently urging you to say more. For a moment, you wonder if he can see through your lie—he's a puppet capable of lying himself, after all.

Before you could say something more, P steps forward and enfolds you in his arms. He pulls you into his embrace. Despite his wooden and steel body, his embrace brings you immense comfort. The weight that has burdened you for weeks—no, months—seems to melt away, at least a little bit of it.

You linger in his embrace for a moment longer before P gently withdraws, yet his grip remains on your shoulders. His expression is filled with genuine concern as he gazes at you.

"You hugged me..? Why?" you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense scrutiny.

P fidgets, clearly searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. He gestures towards the pile of papers on your desk and then back at you, his eyes brimming with curiosity and hopefulness. "Your writing... important," he says slowly, as if trying out the words to see how they fit.

You blink in surprise. "You think my writing is important?"

He nods. "Yes. It… gives meaning."

A lump forms in your throat as you realize he's trying to tell you that your work, your words, still hold value, even in a crumbling city like Krat. How can he tell? Is your distress so obvious that those around you can easily notice? You feel a little embarrassed at this realization, but P's simple affirmation fills you with a warmth you haven't felt in a long time. Your cheeks warm slightly at his words, and you nod, offering him a gentle smile.

"Thank you, P. That means a lot to me," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly.

P smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his usually stoic face. You know he still struggles to emote, so his smile looks a little awkward, but the effort warms your heart. He gestures towards the pile of papers again and then back at himself, silently asking if he could hear your story.

"You want me… to read it to you?" you ask, a bit taken aback.

He nods again, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright," you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's sit over there."

You both move to the small couch in your room. You pick up the papers and sit down, P settling in beside you. The close proximity is comforting, and you feel a sense of calmness wash over you in his presence. As you start reading, P listens intently, his eyes constantly switching from your face to the writing in your hand.

You read aloud, the prologue and chapter one unfolding in the quiet room. P's attention never wavers, and his expressions shift subtly with the spoken narrative. It's endearing to see how engrossed he seems to be at your little story, even though it doesn't feel that much interesting to you. Paragraph by paragraph, the story eventually reaches a tender moment between your characters- a kiss shared under the moonlight. P's eyes lit up with a spark of curiosity flickering in them as you read aloud the scene for him. As you’re about to turn the page, he places a hand on the paper, stopping you.

“Is something the matter, P?” you ask, trying to understand his concern. His index finger points at the word 'kiss' on the paper, looking at you with a curious expression.

"You're asking what a kiss is?" you clarify, trying to make sense of his question. P nods, confirming it.

You pause, taken aback by his curiosity. "A kiss is… well, it's a way to show affection. It's something humans do to express their love and care for each other," you explain, feeling a bit flustered. “And there are various kinds of kisses—romantic and platonic, depending on the context. The kiss shared between my characters here is more like a romantic kiss. It’s shared between lovers, while platonic ones are shared with friends and family…” You speak slowly, hoping he’d understand the explanation.

P nods slowly, processing your words. You can hear his gears ticking a little faster than usual, indicating he's processing all this new information. He seems satisfied with your explanation, treating it with the same seriousness he applies to everything he learns.

Taking his nod as encouragement, you continue reading to him, pausing and slowing down whenever you notice P needing further explanation of certain phrases or sentences. Sometimes, he gently stops you from turning the page if you miss a cue.

As time passes, fatigue catches up with you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning against P's shoulder, your voice trailing off as sleepiness overtakes you. P notices immediately, glancing down to see you asleep. Gently, he sets the pile of papers aside, ensuring not to disturb you. Leaning back, he gazes down at you sleeping soundly against him while sensing an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. His gears and springs tick a little faster, a new sensation that he finds oddly pleasant.

P watches you sleep, observing how relaxed you look. His human hand gently caresses your cheek, moving a stray strand of hair away from your face. The puppet leans closer, hesitating as his gaze drifts to your forehead. The memory of your explanation about kisses comes to mind. After a brief pause, he cups your cheek in his hand and finally presses a little kiss to your forehead.

As he pulls away, he could feel his mechanical heart's beat slowing down. He hadn't realized they had been ticking a little faster up until then. The now familiar warmth settles in his chest again as he takes in the sight of you sleeping peacefully against him, not fully understanding the gesture yet but liking the feeling of giving you a tender kiss like so.

The chestnut-haired puppet then wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, holding you close to him as you sleep. In this quiet moment, he feels like he had gained a deeper understanding of human emotions and the connections that bind people together.

Though Krat may be falling apart, in this small, intimate space, there is still peace and comfort.

For now, that's enough—for both you and P.

[quinngefail]

You can answer this privately if you want but I wanted to know your opinion on apprentice Lawrence? Very so valid if you don’t like it coz different strokes for different folks and also coming from a place of genuine curiosity :0

Coz I got my idea of the whole Saw universe but I defo LOVE to hear others on their thoughts and ideas of the universe 👀

Okay lmao time to be a little hater on main

Putting a cut coz this got to be a bit long HSKS

But yeah uhhh. I completely despise it, I've said it across scattered posts here but truly and genuinely there is nothing in this franchise that I dislike more. It just makes my eyes glaze over so fucking fast, man 😩

Like. Putting aside any attachments I have to the character, the concept in itself is just so forced to me. Like ermmm wouldn't it be freaking crazy if we brought Lawrence back, but he's like kinda fr*cked up and evil now 😱 regardless of if it makes sense for his character or not 😱 it'll go hard fr, coz like dude HE'S FROM THE FIRST MOVIE!! and now we're on The Final Chapter so we have to do something crazy, so GUY FROM THE FIRST MOVIE IS BACK and you won't see it coming but he's evil now 😱 that'd be crazy fr!!!

And I know I'm much more biased towards stories of redemption, + I'm not gonna act like my opinion is fact or anything. But to me, it's just so frustrating that he has this whole arc in the first movie only for it to be thrown away in favor of something that feels so fucking abrupt and jarring for him 😔

And people can call me 'Too Ship-Brained' all they want, or that I'm into 'sanitized' content, but it's just. 1) I would feel this way regardless of chainshipping 2) I'm just personally way more interested in seeing someone trying to recover from the situation he went through; trying to grapple with the trauma and his new reality, while also taking the initiative to become a better person.

And idk people may look at that and be like "Oh so you're validating John's methods, then" but I feel like the statements "yes this did help me wake up to my flaws and how my actions affect others, and now I want to work to become better" and "but no one else should go ever have to go through what I went through" can co-exist, and I personally just. Do not see Lawrence taking the route he does in canon

Obviously he's made some horrible decisions (as we very clearly see in the first movie), and no amount of personal inner turmoil should excuse that. I do feel like he is a good person at his core though, but he had lost sight of how to be that person. And I'm just way more interested in seeing his journey to becoming that person and living as happily as he can over whatever the fuck is happening in canon lmao 😩

And like I don't doubt that there is an interesting story to be told with his canon self, and I also don't want to make anyone feel bad or belittled for enjoying canon. I also know there are also people who have put a lot of thought and care into headcanons and characterizations based on his canon self, and I don't want to just dismiss all that effort,, it's just not my cup of tea at the end of the day. And I'm very fine with people feeling that way about the way I prefer to characterize him :]

Idk. I see the whole tragedy that canon presents, but I'm just way more interested in exploring a different kind of tragedy with these characters 😩

I do try to keep this to myself, coz it's like. I'd rather just focus on creating what makes me happy vs. stewing over shit that frustrates me and taking that out on other people in petty ass discourse, y’know-

I've said it before but ultimately I'm just here to have a fun time, and even if I don't fuck with Apprentice Lawrence at all, I will still fall asleep and wake up all the same. At the end of the day these are fictional characters and my life will go on lmao

But yeah uhhh. Don't expect to see any Apprentice Lawrence content around here, I truly just cannot fuckin stand it so I choose to look away 🙌

I'm also a diehard Luke Skywalker fan in a world where that fuck ass sequel trilogy exists so like ignoring canon + entire movies is nothing new for me HESKGRKGK

Those are my thoughts though, thank you for reading if you made it this far :]

[ofmermaidstories]

@bluemotifofsleep and I were recently talking about books about/for grief, and I thought I would share my recommendations in a post of their own. The following books cover a range of griefs, however imperfectly; terminal illness, sudden death, child death, pet death. None of us will be untouched by loss: it is a simple and devastating fact of life. The only difference between any of us is when we experience it, and how.

A lot of literature for grief runs personal. In my experience, whether it’s self-help or memoir, it can tend to lean towards the author grappling with their faith. For most of these books that is often christianity, although sometimes you will find people bastardising indigenous and eastern spirituality and religion (the appropriation and impact of which is a different conversation for a different day). I’m not particularly religious myself, so when things turned heaven-ward in some of these books it didn’t matter to me either which way, but obviously your mileage will vary.

Another note: most of the following authors and books are white/based in a white American experience. My own experience with death and loss is informed by both cultural and family views and beliefs that a white experience cannot help with, nor encapsulate—I have not approached any of these books with the expectation that they could account for that. It’s something to keep in mind, especially since some of the authors in question turn towards/co-opt the spirituality and beliefs of other cultures.

Despite some of their shortcomings, what I’ve picked these titles for is their strengths. At the heart of each of them they show just how normal it is to feel abnormal, when going through something as monumental and inescapable as loss. No one book will be perfectly tailored to you or the person you’ve lost, or the grief that follows them. The single most isolating thing about grief is that no matter how many people loved whoever it is that you are missing, you grieve the version of them only you knew, alone. No book can capture that. No book can do them or the journey justice. At best they can act like second-hand directions to a new house in a town you’ve never been in: keep driving past the bridge, when you reach the fork turn left, follow the road and when you see the red roof through the trees, you’re finally there.

MEMOIR

The following books fall into two distinct categories: memoir and self-help. If you are just morbidly curious about grief in general, memoirs are the more “reader-friendly” experience. If you are in the middle of grieving/mourning, then they’re a good way to feel seen in your grief by someone else’s, without also feeling like you’re being prescribed something (like you might get with the exercises in a self-help book). I’ve picked three here, just to start, but grief is one of those constant human miseries: there are so, so many memoirs out there that involve/focus on death in some form. It’s almost primal—it is primal. We might always be forever doomed to lose the people we love, but we will also always as a species try to immortalise them, too. Them and the wake they left behind.

THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING, Joan Didion ⭐️

Famous journalist/essayist Joan Didion loses both her husband and her daughter within the same year—this one of the memoirs she writes about that time.

I could not count the times during the average day when something would come up that I needed to tell him. This impulse did not end with his death. What ended was the possibility of response.

CRYING IN H-MART, Michelle Zauner

After the death of her mother to cancer, Michelle tries to find connection to her through teaching herself how to cook the dishes her mother used to make.

Now that she was gone, I began to study her like a stranger, rooting around her belongings in an attempt to rediscover her, trying to bring her back to life in any way that I could. In my grief I was desperate to construe the slightest thing as a sign.

(Honorable mention to I’m Glad My Mom Died, by Jennette McCurdy—it’s less about grief than it is the abuse Jennette suffered at the hands of her fame-chasing mother, Debra, and the complicated emotions that come with grieving someone who can hurt you so badly, while loving you too)

SELF-HELP

Self-help is a fraught term with derisive connotations, that makes it both unfair and not completely accurate for these next books. There’s an element of autobiographical show-and-tell that permeates all grief-based literature that will either be reassuring or repelling, depending on your own experience, and it’s strong here. They are instructional, in a way—they’re reminders. Make sure you’re hydrated, try not to isolate, it’s okay that you’re not okay, your friends will be awkward, etc etc. The spoken directions by a kind local, to direct you the easiest way to your new neighbourhood.

IT’S OK THAT YOU’RE NOT OK, Megan Devine ⭐️

A psychotherapist, Megan’s world is turned upside down when her husband, Matt, drowns. It’s OK That You’re Not OK is her response to that loss.

Some things cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.

BEARING THE UNBEARABLE, Joanne Cacciatore, PHD

Inspired to write this on a train-ride home from an engagement where she taught grief-focused meditation, Joanne Cacciatore divides the book up into 52-chapters, exploring both the different facets of grief through varying case studies, and the practises she teaches to channel and cope with it.

Make no mistake: losing someone we love deeply changes us, inescapably and for all time, and it is painful beyond all imagining.

(Honorable mention to Feeling Left Behind, by Kim Murdock, written after the loss of her husband. Whereas Devine and Cacciatore both cite other cases in their books, despite their own personal losses, Murdock focuses solely on her own grief.)

RELATIONSHIP-SPECIFIC

No two people are alike, which means it stands to reason that no two griefs are alike, either. Your relationship with who you’re grieving can profoundly affect how you need to talk about it, how you’ll want to; what you’ll need for yourself in order to start rebuilding around it.

SURVIVING THE DEATH OF A SIBLING, T.J. Wray

Losing her brother as adults, Wray quickly discovers just how complicated it can be to grapple with the loss of such a foundational part of your life when you have both splintered off and started families and lives of your own, and how maligned sibling grief can be.

Only your brothers and sisters know firsthand what it was like to grow up in your particular family. Only they are able to view family life through such a similar lens. Sure, my siblings may have different reactions to and interpretations of the same event, but the fact remains, they were there.

HEALING THE ADULT CHILD’S GRIEVING HEART, Alan D. Wolfelt ⭐️

With the subtitle “100 practical ideas after your parent dies”, Wolfelt’s books are more workbooks and self-reflective prompts than they are something you read. Out of every author listed here, he and Devine are my go-to recommendations for self-help grief. I’ve chosen The Adult Child for this post, but Wolfelt’s power is that he has dozens of titles that cover a range of relationships and griefs.

Don't think of yourself as a powerless victim or as helpless in the face of grief. Instead, empower yourself to "do something" with your grief-to mourn it, to express it outside yourself, to find ways to help yourself heal.

(Honorable mention to The Unspeakable Loss, by Nisha Zenoff. Specifically about losing a child, the book is walk-through in common feelings and questions and resentments that can arise after the loss of a child: am I going crazy, will I always feel this pain, how can anyone ever be able to relate? I do think it’s quite shallow in it’s advice (there is a fair bit of: eventually you’ll be able to live with it! which isn’t incorrect, per-say, but also it’s incredibly unhelpful if you’re right in the thick of things), but I do think child-loss (at any age) is a very, very particular and brutal grief that needs its own space within grief-based literature for people to find themselves in. In that vein (of specialised lit), The Baby Loss Guide by Zoë Clark-Coates deals with miscarriage and still-birth.)

And last, but not least, the only recommendation I have for pet loss: The Loss of a Pet, by Wallace Sife. Thorough in that it reinforces (and affirms) why our pets (and their deaths) are such a significant part of our lives, and how that bond and it’s loss can deeply affect someone. It’s probably more clinical than some might need or want—but it never loses its compassion, for it.

That old adage about time being the healer can be very misleading. Time only dulls the sharp edge of new pain and then gives us a better opportunity to heal ourselves of the worst of it. But some of the ache remains with us forever. Yes, time does help with that transition. But it is not a cure; there is none for this.

I have a bunch more books—some that pivot into more specialised areas of grief (like twin loss, for example, violent death or complicated grief)—but even with the limitations a lot of these ones have (american, white), they’re a good starting point. I personally approach these books and others like them not as prescriptive, but general guides; no one can truly tell you what to expect, what you will do. Grief is like an impossible fairy-tale task—it is tailored to you, for you, by the very person you lost. Make seven shirts out of stinging nettles to get your seven brothers back. Go to the underworld where the only thing that convinces the lord of the dead to let you try and lead your dead lover’s soul back to the living is a song only you could sing. Cut your hair so that a witch will give you a knife that will return your sister to you and your underwater kingdom. These books will not bring back the person you love, but they will—hopefully—let you find the tools (the singing birds, the ants that sieve grain, the good witches who help) you will need to lead you out of the woods and ground you in the next part of your story, whatever that looks like.

The Unspeakable Loss, Nisha Zenoff

Fourth of July, Sufjan Stevens

[lilacura]

”Uh oh”

Genre: College

Tw: No tw

Summary:As Y/N faced the aftermath of her accidental love letter revelation, she grappled with the unexpected turn of events, hoping that amidst the chaos, she might find a silver lining to this cringe-worthy chapter in her college life. before reading this i suggest you read part 1!

In the aftermath of the unintentional revelation, Y/N found herself engulfed in a sea of whispers and pointed stares. The love letters, once carefully crafted expressions of her feelings, had become public spectacles. However, amidst the chaos, there was an unexpected turn of events that awaited her.

As the drama unfolded, Y/N noticed that Kim Minjeong's reaction differed from the others. Instead of exchanging amused glances or appearing bewildered, Minjeong seemed thoughtful, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and contemplation. It was as if the revelation had sparked a curiosity within her.

A few days after the embarrassing incident, Y/N found herself face to face with Minjeong by the lockers. The usual bustling campus hallway had quieted down, creating an almost intimate setting for their encounter. Minjeong, with a seemingly indifferent expression, approached Y/N.

"I read your letter," Minjeong admitted, her tone firm but not unkind. Y/N's heart raced, unsure of how Minjeong would react. "I must say, it was unexpected, but also incredibly sincere."

Y/N, still grappling with embarrassment, managed a nervous smile. "I didn't mean for anyone to read them. It was supposed to be a secret."

Minjeong raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. "Secrets have a way of finding their way into the open, don't they?" She paused, studying Y/N with a thoughtful expression. "Your words were beautiful, though. And I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to them."

Y/N, surprised by Minjeong's response, stammered, "Well, I... I just didn't know how else to express my feelings. It wasn't meant for everyone to see."

Minjeong's expression softened ever so slightly. "I appreciate your honesty. Maybe it's time we create our own narrative, away from the prying eyes of gossip."

In the days that followed, Y/N and Minjeong started spending more time together. Minjeong's tone remained consistently firm, her words often carrying a no-nonsense attitude, but beneath that exterior was a genuine care that gradually became evident.

Their interactions deepened, from casual conversations to shared laughter over inside jokes. Y/N discovered that Minjeong's seemingly cold exterior was a protective shield that hid a person of depth and complexity.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the school courtyard, Minjeong led Y/N to a quiet bench beneath a blossoming cherry blossom tree.

"You know," Minjeong started, her tone as firm as ever, "I've never been one for grand gestures or flowery confessions. But there's something about you, Y/N."

Y/N met Minjeong's intense gaze, captivated by the vulnerability that flickered in her eyes.

"You've managed to get under my skin," Minjeong continued, her words deliberate. "Your sincerity, even in the chaos, drew me in. And despite my best efforts to keep things straightforward, I find myself wanting to tell you something."

Y/N's heart raced as she waited for Minjeong's next words.

Minjeong took a deep breath, her demeanor softening. "I... care about you, more than I thought I would. Your letters, your honesty—it all made me realize that maybe I've been avoiding something genuine for too long."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. This was not the Minjeong she had come to know—the one who had been consistently firm and guarded. This was a vulnerable Minjeong, baring a truth she might not have expected herself.

"I'm not great with words, Y/N," Minjeong admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her expression. "But I want you to know that there's something here, something beyond the chaos and the drama. I care about you, and maybe that's enough for now."

As Minjeong's confession hung in the air, Y/N felt a rush of emotions. It was a different kind of vulnerability, one that transcended the tough exterior Minjeong had always presented.

The cherry blossoms rustled gently in the breeze, creating a serene backdrop to a moment that marked the beginning of a new chapter in Y/N and Minjeong's unexpected love story.

Their relationship continued to evolve, navigating the challenges of high school life. Minjeong, still true to her firm demeanor, showed her care through actions rather than words. Y/N, appreciating the depth of Minjeong's feelings, found solace in the steady presence of someone who had seen through the chaos and discovered the sincerity beneath.

Days turned into weeks, and Minjeong's protective demeanor slowly gave way to more vulnerable moments. One evening, under the soft glow of streetlights, they found themselves on a quiet park bench.

"Y/N," Minjeong began, her tone softer than usual, "I may not say it often, but you mean a lot to me. More than I anticipated."

Y/N smiled, appreciating the sincerity in Minjeong's words. "You mean a lot to me too, Minjeong. Even if you don't say it often."

Minjeong's gaze softened, and for a moment, the tough exterior melted away, revealing the depth of her emotions. "Maybe, one day, I'll get better at this. At expressing what I feel."

Y/N chuckled. "I'll be here, waiting for that day."

As the days unfolded and Y/N and Minjeong's connection deepened, the school hallways buzzed with whispers and comments about the infamous love letters. The once-private confessions had become fodder for gossip, and students couldn't resist speculating about Y/N's feelings and the reactions of her crushes.

One day, as Y/N was navigating through the crowded hallway, she overheard a group of students exchanging sly remarks about her letters. The comments ranged from mocking laughter to speculative whispers, and Y/N felt the weight of judgmental eyes on her.

Amidst the sea of gossip, Minjeong, always perceptive, noticed the discomfort in Y/N's eyes. With her usual firm tone that brooked no nonsense, she stepped forward, creating an invisible shield around Y/N.

"I suggest you all mind your own business," Minjeong declared, her voice cutting through the chatter like a cold wind. "Y/N's personal matters are just that—personal. If any of you have an issue with that, take it elsewhere."

The students, taken aback by Minjeong's stern demeanor, fell into an uneasy silence. It was a side of Minjeong they hadn't seen before—an assertive and protective force shielding Y/N from the judgment of others.

Y/N, grateful for the unexpected defense, glanced at Minjeong, who met her gaze with a nod of reassurance. The hallway, once filled with whispers, quieted down as the students dispersed, leaving Y/N and Minjeong in a momentary oasis of calm.

Later that day, in the peaceful shade of the campus courtyard, Y/N approached Minjeong with a thankful smile. "Thanks for stepping in back there. I didn't expect you to defend me like that."

Minjeong's expression remained composed, but a subtle warmth glinted in her eyes. "No one messes with what's mine," she stated, her tone still firm but carrying a protective undertone.

Y/N chuckled, appreciating the sentiment. "I guess I'm yours, then."

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Minjeong's lips. "Yeah, you are."

From that day forward, Minjeong's protective instinct became a constant shield against the prying eyes and judgmental whispers. Students soon learned that commenting on Y/N's letters meant dealing with Minjeong's cold, unwavering defense.

Their relationship, born amidst the chaos of unintentional confessions, flourished in the face of adversity. Y/N found solace in Minjeong's protective embrace, and Minjeong, with her seemingly impenetrable exterior, revealed a softer side reserved for the person who had managed to unravel the layers of her complexity.

Together, they faced the challenges of college life, their connection growing stronger with each passing day. Minjeong's cold tone, once a shield, transformed into a comforting reassurance for Y/N—a reminder that love, in its truest form, was an unwavering force that could withstand the scrutiny of the outside world. And so, beneath the cherry blossoms and the watchful eyes of their peers, Y/N and Minjeong's love story continued to unfold, marked by sincerity, protection, and the resilience that comes when two hearts decide to brave the storm together.

[burningcheese-merchant]

You've mentioned that deep down pepper jack is insecure to en extend.why? Is he scared he'd hurt someone? Does he feel like he's not enough? Drop the angst🙏🙏🙏

Are you referring to that one line in his soulstone description? Haha

Jack has some insecurities he's grappling with internally, yeah :( they have different forms, but ultimately come from the same place: the fear he isn't good enough, like you suggested. There's a more general side to it, plus one more closely related to Burning Spice

🔺 Jack secretly fears/worries that his father does not like him/is disappointed in him. They're quite different from each other in a lot of ways and don't always know how to communicate their thoughts/feelings to each other, so there's a bit of a gap between them in that sense (one that doesn't exist between BS and his sister, which makes it a little worse). He yearns for his father's approval and often goes out of his way to do things that he thinks will earn him that (ex: asking BS to read history books with him, or asking him questions about the past. Jack likes history already, that's a natural-born interest of his, but because his father was once the Herald of Change/History, there's that additional point of "if I show my dad I'm smart like him, and like the same stuff as him, he'll be happy. He'll be proud of me"). It isn't necessary, of course; his fears are entirely unfounded, Burning Spice loves his son dearly, just as he is. He just isn't the best at expressing it sometimes (I imagine BS being. Like. Very emotionally constipated lol. He makes a lot of progress w GC but a brand new hurdle is made with the kids bc he can't necessarily talk to them like he does to her, at least not right away. Children need to be handled/spoken to differently). They'll patch this up eventually but it's a bit difficult and awkward for a lot of Jack's childhood

🐦 Jack naturally holds himself to a very high standard. It's just who he is and has always been. He's not arrogant by any means, but he does expect a lot from himself. Admittedly a little bit of it comes from external forces - his family, his friends, the kingdom - but it's really mostly him. People expect a lot from him (not out of malice ofc, no one is trying to make him feel pressured/insufficient at all), but he expects the most from himself. He needs to always be his best, for everyone else's sake.

I've been drafting little playlists for both kids (I like doing that for characters I like + OCs, it's a way I help myself understand their vibes) and one song I attribute to Pepper Jack is "Surface Pressure" from Encanto. These lines in particular encapsulate his feelings pretty well imo:

"Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service"

"Under the surface, I hide my nerves and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us"

Under the surface, I think about my purpose, can I somehow preserve this?"

"But wait, if I could shake the crushing weight of expectations"

"Who am I if I can't run with the ball?" / "Who am I if I can't carry it all?" / "Who am I if I don't have what it takes?"

Jack is the firstborn. Jack is the son of two gods. Jack IS a god, himself, by virtue of the power he inherited. Jack is the crown prince, expected to one day inherit his mother's throne. Jack is the older brother, meant to be his sister's protector and guide, meant to be a good example for her. Jack is a hero, he wants to be a hero, he's supposed to be a hero; someone who uses his power for good, who serves the public. The strong have a duty to help the weak. He's strong. He has to be. So that duty falls on him. All the time. No matter how heavy it gets. Who is he, otherwise?

... But he's scared he'll fail. There's nothing he fears more than failure. Letting everyone down. Everyone thinks so highly of him... everyone expects so much from him. People count on him for things. So he'll be strong. If he can't, he'll pretend. He'll put on a mask. His feelings matter less than his responsibilities. If both he and Paneer are scared of something, he'll be the one to put on a brave face and hold steady, because being there for her is more important. Others will always be more important than him, and he always has to do a good job for their sake. A self-sacrificing perfectionist. Dangerous combination

[the0doreslover]

Friends in the dark | m.r

In the shadowed halls of hogwarts, Mattheo Riddle, the enigmatic son of the feared Dark Lord, found himself grappling with conflicting emotions. The weight of his lineage bore heavily upon him, as did the burden of his own destiny. He was surrounded by whispers of power and conquest, yet a gnawing sense of emptiness gnawed at his heart.

Amidst the darkness, a glimmer of light emerged in the form of Y/N Potter, a witch who possessed a fiery spirit that matched her famous surname. Though they hailed from different worlds, their paths crossed one fateful evening during a clandestine encounter deep within the Forbidden Forest.

"I never thought I'd find anyone else wandering these woods at night." she said.

"Likewise. It's a place of solace for me." he replied

Their first meeting was marked by a sense of curiosity and wariness, an unspoken recognition of each other's struggles. Mattheo, accustomed to manipulation and deceit, found himself surprised by Y/N's genuine concern.

"You're Mattheo Riddle, aren't you?" she asked

“Yes, that's me."

She saw past the name he bore and glimpsed the boy within, trapped between loyalty and the longing for something more.

"You know… you don't have to be defined by your family. You have a choice."

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the forest floor, Mattheo shared his fears and desires, confessing the internal conflict that tormented him.

"I'm torn between the path I've been born for and the one I secretly yearn for."

y/n in turn then voiced her worries

"Living up to the Potter name isn't easy. Everyone expects greatness from me because of harry."

Their conversations continued in secret, each encounter revealing more layers of their shared vulnerability. Mattheo discovered Y/N's passion for reading as well as poetry.

"You have bravery in you, Y/N. a certain type bravery I wish I could find within myself."

“maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough” the girl said giving him something to think about

Their bond deepened, and they found comfort in each other's presence.

"With you, I feel understood. I've never had that before." the boy voiced

"We're not as different as it seems. We both want something more." she replied

But their connection did not go unnoticed.

"Interesting company you keep, y/n." her friends would often say to her

hogwarts corridors became fraught with danger, and the choices they made could alter everything about their lives.

"We must be careful. Our friendship could have consequences." mattheo said one night before they sat and talked till the sun set.

In the heart of the forest, under the same moon that had witnessed their first meeting, Mattheo and Y/N vowed to support each other, and be each others lifeline.

"No matter what happens, we'll face it together." y/n made him promise one night

"Y/N, you've given me hope. Something I thought I'd lost."

the girl, in turn, found a confidante who understood the complexities of her world.

In the midst of a world torn between light and darkness, Mattheo Riddle and Y/N Potter discovered a rare and precious connection. United by their shared struggles and a shared desire for a different path, they forged a bond that would shape their destinies in ways neither could have anticipated. The love they shared couldn’t be described on paper

[nova--spark]

Hallo I return with a small snippet from what I’ve been writing-

This is Bumblebee- not Smoke- officially holding a conversation with Denny. So basically the events a little before Episode 3: Trust Exercises and after Episode 2: The Pilot 👀

~~~

~~~

“Thank you, again, for letting us stay here, Mister Clay,”

The adult man, Denny Clay, seemed to be in a state of shock at them all being present in his home. But nevertheless, the human was still quite peaceful and oddly relaxed about the whole thing than Bumblebee was expecting. “Please, Denny is just fine. Uh… Lieutenant… Bumblebee, right?”

Bumblebee crouched down to Denny’s level. “Yes, my name is Bumblebee. I apologize for not being able to introduce myself more formally in the beginning,”

“Right, well, we were all kinda occupied with not dying,” Denny awkwardly offered his hand and then stiffly held it out, probably after realizing that massive metal aliens from a different planet most likely don’t have the same greeting rituals that humans did. Why he held it out though was beyond Bumblebee, but he had learned a lot of human greetings during his time on Earth and that to reject such a greeting was ‘rude’.

In order to try and minimize the offense Denny might feel if the handshake were to be rejected, Bumblebee curled all of his digits except for one and then slowly lowered it down to the human.

Denny seemed to take the makeshift handshake in stride, shaking the digit offered, and he offered to show his teeth in a non-threatening way. “Right! Bumblebee, please, make yourselves at home. Mi casa, tu casa, as they say. Um… how, uh- where… why exactly…?”

Bumblebee lowered his servo down when Denny released the handshake. “We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron. Also known as ‘Autobots’,”

The idea seemed to be absurd, but Denny once again surprised Bumblebee by simply nodding. “Okay, so, you’re aliens from Cybertron. And you’re here, why, exactly?”

“My sire sent me here to try and prepare your planet once more for a conflict that even he wasn’t able to explain in detail,” Bumblebee admitted. “The only instructions he left me was to build a defense for Earth in order to protect it, so that it’s inhabitants can continue to exist,”

“Once more, huh?” Denny nodded his head in absent understanding. “Okay, so your sire- father- gave you a mission to protect Earth, but you don’t know from what. You wouldn’t happen to think it’d be from more monstrous bots like that- um…”

“Underbite?”

“Yeah. You don’t think you’re here to protect Earth from bots like Underbite?”

Bumblebee thought for a moment, trying to recall anything else that Smokescreen had surrendered to him during their meld. Something that might give him a clue as to what Optimus was hinting at, but whenever the vivid image of Optimus appeared his spark seemed to pulse and ache within his chassis and he had to stop.

“Maybe,” Bumblebee finally said. “If so, then Underbite might be the least of our worries, Denny. Decepticons are smart, clever, and resourceful. If the con’s we’re dealing with are coming out of stasis, then that means they might be trying to grapple with the fact that the war is over. Or they might not know the war is over outright,”

Denny gave him a confused look. “The… war? Like two different social factions?”

Bumblebee’s motor began to quietly rumble. “Two different war factions that became interchanged entirely with social factions. The Decepticons originally strived to eliminate all propagandic materials from wars prior, whilst the Autobots strived to keep peace. In the end, it didn’t exactly go down positively. Our planet was reduced to nothing but a phantom husk. I’ve been fighting since I was onli- since I was born,”

Denny seemed to sense his distress and automatically moved closer and placed a hand on Bumblebee’s knee. The fearlessness and the compassion was something Bumblebee had missed coming from humans, and it was refreshing when he looked down at Denny and saw nothing but sympathy radiating off of him. “I may barely know anything about where you guys come from or how in depth your history goes, but if you guys are here to protect Earth from whatever faction is trying to cause harm, then I’ll be ready,”

Bumblebee hummed at the words, a lighter feeling floating up into his spark and filling it to the brim with renewed energy. “Thank you, Denny Clay,”

Denny gently patted the plating on Bumblebee’s knee. “Anytime,”

“Lieutenant,”

Bumblebee had heard her approach halfway across the collection yard, but he knew that others found it eerie when he pointed it out or when he didn’t turn his helm to address them when they did come into audial range.

“Yes, cadet?” He responded, turning his helm.

The cadet looked frazzled and annoyed. She stood with one servo on her hip as she gestured pointedly with her other. “Sir, the punk seems to be having difficulty following the direct orders I gave him,”

Bumblebee craned his helm at the familiar scenario and silenced his motor. “I see,” He turned his helm away from the femme and down to the human. “I apologize, but if you’ll excuse me for a moment,”

Denny brought both his hands up and wordlessly stepped away, allowing Bumblebee the space to rise back to his peds.

Once the human was clear, Bumblebee moved to Strongarm. “Show me,”

~~~

I hope you enjoyed!

It’s a little shorter, but that’s cuz the next part is a little messy, and I’m not ready to reveal it. I’m hoping to write more soon, but trying to find motivation to rewatch episodes has been a struggle 😭

Oh god it took me a week to reply but MY GOD DARLING KNOW EVERY TIME I READ YOUR ANONS I AM DELIGHTED BY IT???

ans OHHHHH THIS IS SO GOOD IN SHOWING HOW DIFFERENT BEE IS WITH THE CLAYS RATHER THAN SMOKEY

[saneandrocking]

Far beyond the perfomance

At first glance, everything I thought about Hyugo could be encapsulated in one word: ethereal. The long blue hair, the smile, and the way he carried himself—all of it mesmerized me immediately. Sol, despite being much kinder than one might expect, didn't offer to introduce me to his friend—which, in hindsight, might have been for the best, because hearing the voice of the owner of those intelligent eyes revealed a melodious tone as well.

Naturally, the friendship between the two was intriguing in itself, making me wonder if there was a different kind of bond not visible to outsiders. But Hyugo clearly joked about Sol's shyness around me, indicating that he saw me as a potential interest for his friend. The thought seemed absurd by my standards—Sol was remarkable with his good manners and subtle humor, yet during those brief interactions in art class, I wasn't as captivated by him as I was by the figure with blue hair. It didn't make sense, though. I couldn't judge Hyugo's interpretation of me and Sol when I knew I was grappling with a strong attraction for someone with whom I'd barely spent more than fifteen minutes talking.

When I agreed to spend my lunch with my new "friends," I found myself observing Hyugo intently as he devoured that well-prepared bento box (after all, the boy only seemed to stop talking when he was eating, and Sol seemed to appreciate the comfortable silence, although I found him somewhat restless). There was something about the way he seemed comforted by the taste of the food that gave me a sense of familiarity. So far from home and so distant from the person I once was on that farm I called home, this feeling warmed me, reminding me of the comfort of having food for everyone and people to share that intoxicating warmth that only a meal after a tiring day can provide. Suddenly, he turned his eyes to me, not seeming surprised that I was basically staring at him with such intensity that I could emit a flash with my eyes and capture his image in my mind, and smiled in a... mischievous way? I felt my face flush completely and looked away.

"For someone who said they already ate, you seem kind of... hungry," he teased, in a lower tone than he had used before. Sol, beside me, seemed to tense up, and when I turned my head to escape Hyugo's gaze, I saw him glaring at the blue-haired boy, and I stifled a laugh. "Oh, come on, Sunny! Are you going to be upset if [Y/N] says she was unsatisfied with your food?" Now, with the blush on my face fading, I was sure that this statement wasn't in the same tone; there was something different in the way he shifted his focus.

"I'll casually forget to make food for you in the coming days." Sol said, his voice filled with annoyance, but lacking true intent. Hyugo made a comical expression of helplessness and began to say it would be cruel to let him starve, while I reserved myself to a low laugh, absorbing the interaction.

A little later, as we walked down the streets to the cinema, when Hyugo's arm casually brushed against mine, I looked at him and saw that he also returned my gaze, with a cool assessment. The shiver that ran through me was more satisfying than I would like to admit, simultaneously unsettling and stimulating. The sparkle I had noticed in the university corridors was lost, but in those seconds of walking, I saw it transition again, this time from a concentrated and almost unyielding expression to the persona I had come to know. It was a brief moment for me to decide if it wasn't my own tendency to create depth in the gaps of reality around me, or if it was real, but I can say that when I gave him a shy smile and lowered my eyes, I knew I wouldn't be watching that movie out of interest in seeing the detective.

If there was something I wanted to see, it was who Hyugo was when he wasn't performing.

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

The Kid at the Back does not belong to me, and I have no rights over the game, nor will I be earning anything from this work.

Hi, everyone! This is my subtle tribute to the game The Kid at the Back, now that I've spent the last hours of this morning trying to experience all the versions and outcomes of the two days. I have a slight, unhealthy obsession with this game now (by the way, @fantasia-kitt YOU ARE SO TALENTED! I just couldn't stop exploring all the possibilities and getting to know each of the characters!).

P.S.: I loved Hyugo's design and everything about the mystery surrounding him fascinated me, so I took the liberty of giving our boy a little love. Yes, I am a sucker of non-dateable characters, how did you know?

[wasyago]

Hi yago! I read your tags! And I just wanted to take a moment to say: it is good that you're drawing things you both like and don't like! I know it's a bit discouraging, especially when you want to make weirder or more cartoony things, but part of building your art style is finding out what you dislike, just as much as finding out what you do like.

I love seeing your experiments. I love seeing how other artists think, and grapple with shapes and expressions and points of view. I realized recently I don't sketch very often? I don't draw a lot just for the sake of playing around. I normally draw as a means to a larger piece, and watching your sketches always makes me want to try to sketch more often myself.

Goodness, this turned into a ramble. Whoops.

In short: I'm sorry you're struggling with your art style! But I love seeing your thoughts, and I think your thoughts are stepping stones to something greater. I hope you continue having fun experimenting, and playing around with your art.

Stay awesome Yago 💜

AUGH THANK YOU 🥺

and i very much agree with everything you said. it's not a bad thing if you like some drawings less than the other, every one of them still helps to move you forward in way. even though it sucks when a drawing is not as cool as you hoped it would be x) we learn from our mistakes and stuff! not that a bad drawing is a mistake, but you know what i mean. every experience is a learning opportunity! sometimes it just takes a bit of time to realize that you're moving in a different direction. and it takes time to change course as well.

i dont think it's bad that im drawing things more "realistically" or at least with more uhm, normal proportions idk. generally it's a norm for artists to have many different styles they can switch between, and both realistic and cartoony styles are part of me and my skill pool. i just sometimes forget that i can do more than one thing and get hang up on stuff, and it feels like im trapped in one style even though I really am not.

about the sketches actually! yknow i noticed some time ago that i developed a habit of coloring every sketch i do? and it's not a bad thing, but it's certainly odd, and it used to upset me if i couldn't color something, it felt unfinished and not good enough. and I've been slowly trying to break out of this habit and sketch more and try to... loosen up? i guess? maybe to lower my standards or expectations for myself, something like that. it's very hard still but i can say im definitely enjoying drawing a lot more right now!

and im really happy that my sketches make you want to sketch too, i definitely know the feeling of seeing a drawing and just wanting to draw something yourself, so its very flattering :3

we should hang out in magma or something like that some time, just to sketch together! ive seen a lot of artists organizing those but they're always in the middle of the night for me hdhjdhs

thanks for the message Silver, you're super cool >:D

[quetzalpapalotl]

Some days ago a friend who is getting into exRID tols me that they got the impression that Aileron's narrative role is mostly to be Arcee's love interest. I consider this an utter failure on my part and I am so sorry to best girl Aileron if I ever gave anyone else that impression. I am ashamed of myself.

Aileron is not a main character the way Optimus and Arcee are, but she is given a quite a lot of protagonism and being an OC, Barber crafter her to perfectly suits the narrative's needs. Her main role is to offer us the perspective of a good-natured, naive colonist who is completely foreign to Cybertronian conflict and to any race that aren't Transformers. Given how much of exRID/OP is about converging different POVs, the story would just not be the same without her.

Aileron loses her best friend (thank you Barber for inventing fridging men for women) and has to grapple with a religious crisis and reality being completely different from her expectatives, on top of managing levels of anger she's never felt before. She even has to deal with being in charge one time and nothing goes right. All of this in completely unrealted to Arcee the same way that Arcee decided to be a better person on her own and is out there trying to figure how to do that.

So aircee is very different from something like cygate back in Mtmte, a more traditional romantic narrative where their arcs and plotlines gravitate each other. This is in part because exRID/OP is more political and there is so much going on all the time. That isn't to say that Barber doesn't care about character work or that aircee get together for no reason (trust me, the narrative economy in this is such that everything has to have a point), but that he has to rely on key scenes to get the point across and show what they would see in each other.

Aileron and Aircee's arcs are independent of each other but they do converge, the scenes they have with each other are very meaningful and at the end, just like how Aileron serves to show Arcee that she has a future and a place to belong after all, throught saving Arcee Aileron gets to protect what matters to her and she gets to put her foot down in regards to the behavior she's going to tolerate from these people. It serves to enhance how Aileron changes but still manages to stay true to herself despite adversity.

Anyway, read exRID/OP, pleaseeeeee.

[lewispullmanitws]

Lewis Pullman On 'Thunderbolts*,’ Quitting Instagram, & Relationship Privacy

“When was your last panic attack?” Lewis Pullman asks me. We’ve been talking about how we’re both too anxious to enjoy psychedelics — “I don’t like feeling out of control in my brain,” he says — which is not really the conversation you’d expect to be having with a newly minted Marvel star on the eve of his blockbuster hitting theaters. But during the course of a nearly two-hour, three-rounds-of-Sancerre lunch at The Odeon, Pullman — now starring in Thunderbolts* alongside Florence Pugh and Sebastian Stan — is gladly game, maybe even a little relieved, to go off script following a breakneck press tour.

“All the actors in Thunderbolts* are so darn good at [the publicity] part of things. Everybody’s biology is different… but I need time to refuel the tank,” he says, wedging a wintergreen Zyn into his upper lip. “My mom was saying, ‘You got to remember: You’re in a flesh suit. You’re still a human. You still need to rest.’” He’s hoping a boozy meal will lead to a snoozy afternoon: “I might just do one more glass, because I want to take a nap.”

Pullman doesn’t read as self-conscious. He’s generous with eye contact, easy to banter with, and immune to checking his phone. But the 32-year-old has always considered himself highly sensitive. The youngest of three siblings, Pullman says he put a lot of pressure on himself to “stay out of the way” as a kid. By 14, his mother sensed there might be something deeper happening beneath the surface. She put him into therapy, and he was diagnosed with social anxiety and OCD. “I’m such a reactive person. Even being in this loud space, I feel like I'm taking in a lot of data,” Pullman says. “I think all my senses, the valve is a little too open at all times.”

This has made figuring out what to do with his life occasionally tricky. Pullman studied social work in college and volunteered at AHOPE Day Center, a homeless service center, in Asheville, North Carolina. But he just couldn’t close the valve. “One of my main mentors, Asia, told me, ‘When you drive home find a marker on the road, like a telephone pole. Once you pass that you’re not allowed to think about work anymore,’” he says. “Creating boundaries, holding your own space, and monitoring your emotional energy is actually what is required and that was really hard for me to grapple with. There’s a lot that can bleed over.”

Was a life in the arts — disappearing into roles, summoning emotions the second a director yells “Action!” — a better match for those open-valve gifts? Yes and no. In Thunderbolts*, Pullman plays Bob Reynolds (and his superpowered personas, The Sentry and The Void) — one of the New Avengers with a history of addiction and mental health struggles. Pullman talks about the impact of the role with the intensity of someone who just played, well, The Joker.

“He has a pretty barbed past, very traumatic, with just a rough family situation, so you meet him when he’s like that and constantly having these flashbulbs of grief, of just strangulation of his past,” Pullman says. “I’m still kind of shedding it.”

He doesn’t mind going deep, though. “I just went through a phase where I stopped doing therapy because I was like, ‘Well, what if I fully fix myself and then I have nothing to draw from?’ It was so douchey,” he says. “To think that by ignoring something, you’re going to be able to [tap into it]? If anything, by looking at it closer, you’re able to understand it more and control it better.”

Pullman grew up in a family of creatives: His father is actor Bill Pullman; his mother, Tamara Hurwitz, is a modern dancer; and his siblings are both in the arts. They lived in Los Angeles but spent summers on the family’s ranch in Montana herding cattle. Today, Pullman’s low-key combo of button-down shirt and jeans gives more Yellowstone than 90210. Drumming was his gateway into performing — he’s played in the band Atta Boy since high school — and he starred in a few short films during college. But acting professionally always intimidated him, so much so that Pullman would sometimes take his glasses off during auditions. (You don’t have to worry if the casting director looks happy if you simply can’t see them.) “There’s a lot of stimuli that has nothing to do with what’s happening, so it was a way of softening the edges where I was more in control,” he says.

Early roles in projects like Battle of the Sexes, Bad Times at the El Royale, and Catch-22 assured him he was on the right path. By the time 2022’s Top Gun: Maverick came around, he was hooked. In the long-awaited sequel, Tom Cruise reprised his role as alpha pilot Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, who returns to his old training school to both teach and make betas out of a new crop of hot-shot pilots played by Miles Teller, Glen Powell, and Jay Ellis. Pullman’s bespectacled character, however, is already plenty submissive: He gets partnered with the only female pilot and keeps his shirt on during the film’s beachside biceps bonanza. Pullman jokes that between Maverick and Thunderbolts*, he’s carved out a niche playing the “shirt-on characters” in blockbusters otherwise populated by sun’s-out-guns-out types. “I relate to that cripplingly self-conscious, keeping-the-shirt-on-at-the-pool-party kid,” he says.

He did, however, bulk for Thunderbolts* just in case.“I was ready for a scene where this whole SWAT team was supposed to shoot this shirt off of [my character’s] body. I got fitter than I’d ever been in my life and we didn’t even shoot it!” he says, laughing.

Top Gun was formative in other ways. Between takes, Pullman was happy to sit on the sidelines and soak in the wisdom of those higher up on the call sheet. “Tom was putting himself in our shoes every day and consciously giving us the experience of working with a veteran like him. But then there was also another tier of experience where I got to learn from Jay Ellis and Glen Powell,” he says. (When I blurt out that Jay Ellis is also extremely hot, Pullman meets my gaze: “Absolutely, smoldering hot.”)

For Pullman, Powell’s path from entry-level script reader to actor-screenwriter was particularly inspiring. “From Glen, I learned about the long game and planting seeds for ideas that might not happen in two or three years,” he says. “But if you keep your nose to the grindstone, they will happen, and they’ll be that much more fully fleshed out because you’ve been existing with them for that long.”

Pullman’s career has already been extremely fruitful. He earned an Emmy nomination for his work in 2023’s Lessons in Chemistry opposite Brie Larson, and he’ll star in the next project from the husband-and-wife team behind last year’s Oscar-winning The Brutalist. Yet he’s still adjusting to the pressures that come with superhero fame. Like, Reddit-threads-about-whether-he’s-dating-Kaia-Gerber pressures. How does he deal with that?

“That’s a fair question. I think one of the great benefits of growing up with my dad is he always really prioritized and valued his privacy,” Pullman says. “You know the casualties of the landscape that you’re signing up for, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be proactive in creating an armor for the things that you love most.”

Staying off the internet helps. Pullman has an iPhone mini, but the only form of social media he uses is Letterboxd. (“I got rid of [my Instagram] for stupid actor reasons,” he says, cringing at himself. “I was like, ‘I don’t think my character would have Instagram.’”) Everything else is just stimuli to tune out.

After lunch, I walk Pullman back to his hotel, and he immediately appears lighter while taking in the relative calm of Tribeca in the late afternoon. With the sun shining down on us and that well-earned nap on the horizon, he seems properly recharged. “I really want to bring my best self,” he says of taking his career to Avengers-level heights. “I just have to get used to: Sometimes wherever I am is what they’re going to get — and that’s as good as I can do.”

[bloggingboutburgers]

cw: discussions of bullying and aphobia

Hearing aroace peoples' existential crises over their friends discussing crushes, as someone who was socially isolated and severly bullied for their whole childhood and most of their adolescence so had NO friendgroup until adulthood and NO community or inclusion in literally anything (and when it came to sex and romance the other kids explicitly considered my potential involvement in either to be impossible / laughible because of how "weird" they found me (my autistic traits before I even realised I'm autistic)), felt like starving while listening to someone else complain about the food they're actively eating.

Food intolerances and dislike of different foods (as metaphor for being aro/ace) ARE important and difficult to grapple with when you're expected to eat specific foods in specific proportions at different times - but man did it sting until I realised why I felt that way and gave myself a talking to since my trauma doesn't justify belittling the very real struggles of aroace people.

I guess since the choice between 'stay alone or conform' was never really a choice because I was rejected no matter how cis straight or allo I was it taught me to go "fuck it" and accept myself regardless of what other people do or say (which ironically has lead to me becoming dramatically popular all of a sudden at uni, which has been weird to get used to since I have literally no experience with any of this - platonic or otherwise - which did lead to some advantage being taken of me but f*ck it we ball ^^'). And I guess it's just been difficult understanding why anyone would care so much about whether they're "normal" or not? You really have nothing to gain from that, safety is not guaranteed in conformity so best to live aroace and damn all aphobes to hell if they have a problem with that.

It's a mindset I'll never understand and that's only ok now insofar as that lack of understanding no longer results in misplaced anger at people who, for a time, I had once considered spoilt, ungrateful and out of touch. Basically, I'm full of sh*t and to every aroace person reading this you deserve good friends that actually respect you for who you are and do not even TRY to get you to change your mind about sex or romance. Have a lovely day x

Sincerely,

An aggressive emotional support anon

I'm genuinely sorry for all the hardships you went through. I don't mean to equate at all, truthfully from reading you and considering I WAS asked some of those questions as a kid regardless (the "who's your crush" bullshit and whatnot), it definitely sounds like I had it less hard than you did, but... I was bullied in elementary school and middle school, also not necessarily because I was aroace (I don't know why it happened really, I don't know if anyone ever knows, I boil it down to... me being me and there being something fundamentally wrong with me ig), and I definitely also get some of those feelings of "oh boo hoo you call that struggle" boiling in me when people discuss their own past struggles sometimes, so... Yeah, every one person's experience is unique, but I can at the very least very much sympathize.

I think a way it manifests in me is that I now have that compulsive, debilitating fear of being "othered" in any way, shape, or form, so I guess being aroace doesn't help my case. But at the same time... Well, like you brilliantly put it, when you're in a situation like that, no matter what you do, you won't be accepted anyway, and having that knowledge back then is probably also what lead me to figure myself out as aroace so early in life. Because I was treated as this much of an outsider, I ironically had that much room in my own head to form my own identity, far apart from others and the need to conform. Yeah, that identity may include a "piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be supported of part of a group" side that's been forced in, buried deep down and can't be erased, but... It also includes asexual and aromantic, and it's been cemented so hard from so early with such self-affirmation that later down the line, it saved me from a lot of stuff. I never had to force myself into a romantic or sexual relationship because I was undoubtably aroace – and people saw me as an outsider and an eyesore anyway. I spent years of being scared to go to school or out in the street every day, but later down the line, somehow, I feel it saved me from doing so many things I wouldn't have wanted to do.

...Bleh, sorry, didn't mean to turn this into me-me-me crap when you had the courage and sincerity of not only showing your experience, but finding the strength to show more love, understanding and support than a lot of people probably cared to give you for so long, despite all the pain you felt for so long. I guess I just wanna say... This take is definitely inspiring, so thank you on behalf of myself and others I'm sure, but also... I hope that, for yourself, you're also managing to own what you lived through in a way that allowed you to affirm yourself more strongly (it sounds like you are, I hope it IS the case), and most importantly, I hope you're in a much better place in your life now and you'll never have to return to that level of loneliness again.

[literary-lesbo]

Whumpril: Day 6

I missed yesterday and I'm very displeased with myself. My lack of preparation has me writing these a day in advance (or 20 minutes ago for this one) and I regret not just writing these before April :,) this is def not my best

Prompt/Day: Distrust Summary: Emily grapples with the fact that the act she took to save her teams life has left her out of place and untrustworthy. Word Count: 800

AO3

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“The Unsub could have been formally institutionalized. The small organizational details in the overall disorganized crime could point to someone who hasn’t let go of those habits.” Emily suggested, pointing out the sharp contrast of the brutally murdered victims with their meticulously clean environment. Things had been reorganized in ways that would only make sense in the structured environment of a facility or a very strict upbringing.

Morgan gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement and Hotch nodded, but the rest ignored her. Reid had barely looked at her since her return, refusing to meet her eyes. He had been forced to work with her once or twice on small parts of a case but he kept their interactions strictly business focused. They no longer had any friendly conversations, they talked only when Hotch instructed them too. 

It was similar to the others. Morgan was coming back around to her presence, he seemed willing to be more than coworkers. He had dropped by her desk on a few occasions to share something he found funny or tease her for something she hadn’t even noticed. She missed the teasing, it felt more normal. 

Rossi’s change had been far more subtle. He still spoke to her, still worked with her, still showed that he cared for her outside of the job but every word he said was carefully chosen. She no longer felt he could talk freely to her, as if her former job as a spy meanted that she was filing away everything he said for future backstabbing. 

Emily understood, of course she did, their jobs were rooted in skepticism. She couldn’t blame them for not trusting her after she had lied about her entire life before the BAU. It wasn't something she had expected to come back from without any repercussions, but she had hoped that they would be more willing to hear her out.

It wasn't as if she lied just to do so, she needed to keep them and herself safe. It was the only way. Or, the only way she could think of. Had she “lived” Doyle would have never stopped coming after them. She would lose her team, her friends, her family. There was a part of her that wouldn’t care if they hated her, at least that meant they were alive. It didn’t make it less lonely though. 

Thankfully, Penelope just seemed happy to have her back. When Emily tried to bring it up, tried to apologize or just give a weak explanation for why she did what she did Penelope brushed it off with a huff and a smile. She had assured Emily that all she cared about was her being alive, all that mattered was that she was back now and there to stay. It was nice to feel wanted on a team that otherwise seemed to wish she would go back to Paris. 

JJ felt similar to Penelope. The two had already done a lot of talking about Emily’s transition back to the BAU, but it was different for so many reasons. JJ felt responsible for the team’s reaction to Emily returning, she had done everything she could to make the return easier and try to convince them that there was nothing else she could do. She felt like it was her fault for Emily’s disappearance, she thought that if she had done a better job or come up with a better plan they could’ve kept the brunette in DC and avoided this whole mess. 

Emily held no blame for her, how could she? JJ was her anchor in this mess, she had done everything to both set Emily up for a safe and happy life in Paris and had been there since she got back. More than one night had been spent on JJ’s couch, drinking wine and complaining about Reid's outright rudeness or Rossi’s weird closed off behavior. 

Deep down she knew that the venting sessions would do nothing, but it helped to solidify her and JJ’s relationship even more. The team (excluding Hotch and Garcia) were just as mad at JJ, if not more. It was harder for them to reconcile the idea that their quiet, friendly Media Liaison could do something so big behind their backs. She and Spencer had gotten into their fair share of shouting matches, neither admitting fault or backing down. 

The team was fractured. It would take a long time and a lot of rebuilding for them to trust each other again, something that no one was entirely sure would ever happen. For now though, they would all have to “suck it up”. Serial killers weren’t worried about their interpersonal relationships, they just needed to keep it together long enough to put them behind bars. 

@whumpril