#but who CARES its MY story and i get to pick how reality is shaped and effected by weird shit

[tiktaaliker]

i assume null would've just chilled in their cave but what would nil have been doing if the plot never happened and they never met fane and tyto and the gang, and null + nil just lived their natural mortal lifespans out before dying and becoming sar'kai?

oh this is actually a really fun question!

so generally how null and nil's situation works is that when they first start existing they kind of need to build up their mortal bodies before they can get anything else done. like theyre more immaterial than material at first yknow? nil meeting tyto sped up the whole process by a TON- Tyto's whole thing is that they're the sundog of the hunt, so they pretty much managed to gather all the junk nil needed way more efficiently than nil would have been able too alone.

if nil had no outside help from tyto or otherwise, he'd end up spending WAY longer scampering around the wilderness eating whatever woodland creature they could sink their teeth into. while normally nil is "stabilized" way sooner than null, without help null would probably be the one to get stable first. so null would wander outside of the cave around the same time as usual, but nil would probably be only thinking about food for a few years after null leaves the cave.

generally, i think without fane OR tyto's influence, nil would end up MAYBE venturing out a bit, but would likely just. stick around the woods? its kind of hard to say, because ive been thinking of it as the body developing first, and then the personality developing by interacting with the outside world thru fane/tyto. i dont think either of them would have the motivation to ACTUALLY go into settlements or towns outside of maybe stealing shit so i dont think either of them would actually like develop a mortal soul at ALL.

null and nil might even end up meeting, since they don't have much of a reason to wander and nil's original forest and null's cave aren't actually too far apart. maybe they mightve gotten along, because i think null in this scenario would be more destructive and nil would be less, bringing them a LOT closer in terms of ideals. main thing im not sure about is whether they'd be people enough for that to even matter. null subsists off of stone and ground (destruction of matter) and nil lives off of freshly killed meat (destruction of life)

actually you know what honestly? i think if null and nil were left alone and met each other without having been fully tethered to the mortal coil first its entirely possible that them meeting would just... reform Noxa Krav. Not even Sar'Kai theyd just slam back together like magnets and the novice's work would be for nothing. idk maybe that would only happen if they met pre-stabilization?? not sure because technically thats a thing that wouldn't ever be able to happen in canon so its all subjecture

[wifegideonnav]

should i read homestuck. like i feel it would be interesting so i could see what yall are talking about in regards to tlt but is homestuck actually good

"is homestuck good" - the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 8129 pages of heated debate,

no but seriously, it highkey depends on 1. your definition of good and 2. your tolerance for stupid bullshit. as someone who read tlt and then hs, i'd say that being a fan of the chaotic aspect of tlt is a good predictor of being able to hang in with homestuck.

readmore because this. um. got long. the tl;dr is: i like homestuck a lot and i am glad i read it. i can't tell you if you should read it bc idk your tastes, but there is a lot to like and enjoy about it.

the official pitch for homestuck is something like "4 kids play a game and then a bunch of other shit happens." here's my pitch based on what the core of the story is to me:

several groups of characters across time, space, and reality are brought together in order to succeed at creating a new universe after their own are destroyed. this takes the form of a game, which is called sburb (by the humans) and sgrub (by the trolls). the characters must contend with an eternal battle against good and evil in which they are the deciding factor, and level up while following personalized quests. at its heart, homestuck is about relationships of every sort and how they shape us, growing up and the associated grief and loss, coming into ones identity and choosing who to be, predestination and fate, and stories themselves. it gets very meta at times, and the characters are semi to fully aware that they're characters, and attempt to subvert or escape that. it's got hordes of fleshed out, compelling characters, one of which will almost certainly glom onto you for the rest of your life, real emotion, extremely funny jokes, smart and exciting plotting, and some very cool moments. it more or less invented an entire new genre/medium, and plays with medium in a very cool way.

it is also clunky, hard to get into, and way too convoluted. you will never fully understand what's happening. there are tons of characters whose stories you will follow whom you simply do not care about. there are too many characters. it was written by an edgelord in 2009 so there's some unsavory humor and character writing. it's so fucking long. the ending kinda sucks because the fandom was so toxic that hussie simply wanted it over with. the fandom still kinda sucks tbh. so many people have wrong opinions about it. it requires a very specific lens to approach and understand it. i still dont understand what happened with that fucking puppet someone explain it to me.

overall, i'd say that if you think you want to read it, give it a shot. i have a complicated relationship with it but at the end of the day, i genuinely love the story and the characters and i know they will be with me forever. it certainly enhanced my understanding of tlt, and getting to read more of tamsyn's writing was such a bonus (even though her taste in pairings is. not the same as my own). and like honestly. it's just fun. even when you're going "wait what the fuck just happened" you're having fun. it's really goddamn funny too. it WILL change the way you speak and also think about romance forever.

the best way to read it is to have an experienced reader guide you, but if you or other people don't know anyone like that, here are my basic tips:

i think most people know this already, but download the unofficial homestuck collection. just do it. it's like 4 gigs and it's infinitely better than trying to read on the broken website, and it's even ad free. it can also be modded - for instance ik there's a slur replacer mod (lmao) if you don't want to read those

act 1 sucks to read. you're like what the fuck is this, THIS is homestuck?? the beginning is radically different from how it ends up, so just hang in there. for me, it really picked up somewhere in act 3. just focus on the silly fun the characters are having and you'll be good

things you should actually try to follow in the early acts: the concept of a sylladex existing (the various fetch modi are only there for jokes and eventually just kinda stop being a thing), where all the copies of the game are, what each kid's relationship with their guardian is like, the mechanics of the game and the lore behind it, including classpects and quests

things you do not have to waste brain space on: anything about how the totems work, what the various machines are, what the levels are, basically any of the jokes that would be funny to hussie's original intended audience of software engineers and rpg gamers. oh and the intermission with the midnight crew and the felt, just know that those are guys that exist and you'll be good.

and the biggest tip i have is just. go with it. suspend your disbelief. a lot of the worldbuilding doesn't really make sense, but it would be a worse story if it did. when the time shit and ectobiology come into play, literally just go ok got it and keep going, don't think too hard.

so yeah i don't even know if any of this is useful but i hope it helps you decide. and if you or anyone else have follow up questions send em!

[unnursvanablog]

My Dearest / kdrama review.

This is just my opinions on the kdrama My Dearest pretty much spoiler free.

What both stunned and impressed me the most about the kdrama My Dearest, right at the very start, was how focused it was on the ordinary people and how they deal with war. And what the war does to them. It makes it less of a war epic and more of a human tale of self-preservation and hope at a trying time. which I found to be quite a fresh approach to this kind of historical drama, although many will no doubt find it rather slow and dry in its execution and style.

The story is ruthless in its realism and harshness with how it seems to paint the world. The narrative is very willing to comment on several aspects within society that it tells it's tale, the nobility and their uselessness, the lack of care that a certain position within society seems to push into you for the people that live around them, as well as society's attitude towards women in wartimes and just their position in society both outside of that as well. The way it uses these elements to shape itself, the details it shares throughout the story is very tangible, interesting but also poignant. It is incredibly well thought out and effective within the narrative to stir up further emotions both with the characters and the viewers.

These are not the heroes that poems are sung about, but seem to be more everyday heroes of the common folk. Most of their influence is not great within the grand scheme of things, but it is the people who knew them who will always remember them with kindness and love. They are the ones who will tell the stories about them until they disappear from human memory and are forgotten.

At some point, despite their intelligence and strength, as the war and the hardships seem to tighten more and more around them, the characters seem to wear down a bit. But they never lose who they are, their will to fight but how they go about fighting, how they deal with situations changes a little. All that happens very slowly and works very realistically within the story. It's a really well-handled look at character, as well as how normal people deal with such situations.

The characters do feel sharp and manage to be both a fresh take on the traditional characters that we get in a Korean historical dramas, but at the same time they have quite a bit of the characteristics that we are used to seeing; Jang-hyun may come across as smug and aloof, and Gil-chae may come across as snobbish and somewhat self-interested. But there's a lot more to them and their flaws are very presant within the story. Overall there are plenty of multi-layered characters that make My Dearest a rather worthwhile and heart-wrenching watch. Everyone has something to say in their own way and all have some point to emphasize within the story. The story touches your heart from beginning to end if people just allow themselves to enter this cruel, realistic world with these characters as a guiding light.

The plot itself goes through its ups and downs, and it does hit a bit of a lull within the second half where the story tends to repeat itself quite often. Characters almost miss each other a few times over the course of few episodes in order to create tension and longing within the viewers, and since the story is already slow by nature it might make some people really struggle. It makes it seem like the story has lost steam and doesn't really pick up fully until right near the end. But if the characters manage to grab you and make you completely fall for them in the first half of the story, it's perfectly tolerable.

The story never seems to fall into being too epic or too grandiose in its approach to the narrative, as some costume dramas tend to do to make their heroes seem bigger. Much rather My Dearest seems so focused on being realistic and grounded in reality like it has a bit of an obsession with the human spirit and the lengths to which people will go to survive. It run through the very heart of the series. And the love story, which is really successful on its own, reflects that. It's very slow and down to earth and it's quite unusual for a kdrama in lots of ways.

The story takes its time, sometimes excessively so, and repeats itself a bit too often, but even if it takes the story a good while it manages to underline every point that the drama set out to make really well. The story always seemed to know what it wanted to say. And the humanity that this series carries with it and manages to reflect within the narrative does make you cry many times. It's gorgeous, it's heartwarming and filled with hope for brighter days that is always enveloped by a little bit of sadness.

[button-man-herald]

Dev Diary #1; Africville Research

Last week, Ron, Sam and I (Jordan) went to the Africville Museum as part of our week long survey of Halifax for visual inspirations and to get some historical context straight. It was a somewhat dreary day; gray skies and windy bluster, but the replica church in which the museum is held was warm and inviting.

Although Button Man takes place in a fictional city called "Kingsport", it is heavily influenced by and in places, replicating, Halifax. For instance, the Halifax Explosion is called "The Great Explosion" in our game, and it's influence on the socio-economic character of the city is inspired by the reality of that event. However, the geography of the city, the layout of streets, the mayors, the companies etc are a mixture of reality and fiction.

This is all fine and in the spirit of inspired creative license, but if not careful, this flexible use of fiction could lead to very real erasure of significant communities in the area. The story of Halifax is inexorably tied to Africville, Turtle Cove, George's Island, and McNabs Island, among others. We are not the creators, nor is this the correct project, for exploring the seriousness of the violence, discrimination, imprisonment, or betrayal of the people in those places, but we can be better citizens by staying informed of the real stories that shaped our community. We might not be the right people to tell a story that seriously and deeply engages with this material, but we can do some justice to those communities by representing them in our game.

Avoiding plot spoilers, there are a handful of important figures in the plot of Button Man who come from our analogue community to Africville. Their motivations, although held at arms length from our protagonist, can be understood to be in defence and service of their at-risk home. The grimy interplay of politics and big money are prominent in our rendition of the story, whereas in real life the issue was clothed in the language of social justice, despite the "solution" providing anything but.

After a few minutes of looking over the modest displays, chronicling the history of the since-bulldozed community, we were joined by the museum's Executive Director, Juanita Peters. We sat down to a wonderful conversation about personal origins and community, when the reason for our visit, as research for our video game, came up. Juanita lit up and asked us to check out the museum's own educational board game, then asked us if we would consider looking over the game and providing the museum with a quote for converting the board game to digital format.

Just a note about Juanita; she was a joy to speak with. She is clearly a wealth of information and stories, and was more than happy to impart some wisdom from her ~40 year career in film and television with three dudes making a video game. We asked her how she got the position as Executive Director, and despite her somewhat coy suggestion that it was largely circumstance, it was clear that her deep, motivating love for her community, sharing their stories, and immortalizing the lessons of Africville's destruction are why she became the Executive Director.

Given that my background in gaming is specifically from tabletop board games, I am very excited to dive in. I believe strongly in the idea that games are every bit as academic, artistic, and commercial as movies or television, but the opportunity to work on a game that also feels like a genuine contribution to your community is a bit rare. Such a project lacks any of the cynicism that so easily worms its way into just about any gaming endeavor, no matter how removed from the world of lootbox and crypto scams.

Today I opened the education kit and have started analysing the pieces-- but unfortunately they forgot the instructions! Oh well. Tomorrow I'll pick it up and take a look into what this project may take. Its not a given, but I'm certainly excited to get started. (Images were taken a few days after, so the weather was much more cooperative!)

What a beautiful park!

[treysimp]

Would you ever do the staff for the bath headcannon ? I love the third years one btw 🥰

It's time babe! I hope you enjoy!

Taking A Bath With Them - GN!Adult Reader/NRC Staff (Crowley, Crewel, Vargas, Trein, Sam)

Rating: T (Lightly suggestive themes)

Tags: Reader's body not described nor are pronouns used, non-sexual domestic intimacy and fluff, elements of body worship, implied body insecurity from reader, established relationship, how do I make myself fall in love with each character I write for guys please explain to me.

Words: 3k

Silly author's notes: Not that I’ve been seeking it out but it feels like I never see anyone trying to put the moves Vargas (like I’m sure you exist, Vargas-fuckers where you at?) so since all of you are so fucking complicated I’m gonna do it! Fluffy domestic garbage for all!

Want more TWST? Here's my masterlist!

Dire Crowley:

‘Never judge a book by its cover, but tattered books don’t get picked off the shelf,’ is probably a quote Crowley heard in passing one time and then immediately tried to contribute to himself. Being the headmaster of a famous and prestigious school involves a lot of hard work, but you can never forget about appearances. Clothes make the man, and if the said man in those clothes doesn’t pull them off, what is even the point of wearing them? It feels like a lecture every time that you and Crowley bathe together, but you can’t say that you necessarily say that you disagree either. If anything, it was a trademark of NRC to be the flashy talented bad boy counterpart to the pure princes of Royal Sword Academy. Public perception seemed to ebb and flow as far as which one was the superior institution, but you would never tire of Crowley’s antics to show up Ambrose and improve NRC’s reputation. You may wonder, does Crowley remove his mask when bathing? And the answer is yes, but it is replaced with a gel pearl mask to ‘get rid of his horrendous eye-bags’ Crowley would say. You would wonder who would even see said eye bags, but you felt like you weren’t going to get a better explanation even if you asked.

Since Crowley loves to travel so much, one of the best parts of any vacation is being dragged to a beautiful outdoor hot spring when the ever-busy Headmaster is relaxed for once. He asks over and over ‘isn’t it beautiful here,' or, ‘are you happy with this,’ or even ‘this was nice of me right’? It’s the smallest hint of insecurity and worries that he will readily give. Crowley wants you to enjoy your time together, but a small part of his heart gnaws at him that maybe he missed something crucial and you were just too kind to say something. That you weren’t having a good time, that you didn’t truly think that he was kind, talented, and magnanimous and was just staying with him out of pity. 

He hated himself for those thoughts, he truly didn’t believe that you would think of him so, but the stream of questions ran across the back of his closed eyes like an unending scroll of his deepest fears shaped into written reality. Crowley would then hear you tell him how happy you were, gushing about the bath, the clarity of the night sky, and the lovely locale and he could feel his anxiety washing away just like splashes of water on the surrounding tile floors circle down a drain. 

He would pull you to his arms and talk about what he wished for the future, any particularly astounding stories from his past, and he would feel a genuine smile whisper across his lips. Maybe he wasn’t as great as he hoped, maybe he wasn’t as kind or as thoughtful, but you were still here in the soft warmth of his arms in this soothing water… and that was more than enough. Maybe he needed to think a little more in the short term, and all that came to mind was the fluttering heartbeat in his chest as your head leaned on his shoulder and his lips met your soft cheek.

Divus Crewel

Crewel is another one for spa treatments and taking great care of your body. He loves to take you into your bath and spoil you with scrubs, oils, and potions of his own making. He is ready to smooth, perfect and tighten every insecurity you have. More than anything, his favorite pastime is stealing you away for a weekend trip to somewhere beautiful where you both can be pampered. 

As the man is also more than a bit into a gorgeous classic car, imagine the most idealized movie setting, the two of you cruising down the coast in a cherry red convertible with fashionable headwear to keep both of your hair behaved while your oversized sunglasses gleam in the sunlight. The word glamor doesn't cover even half of it, but it's a good start.

Expect these trips to be for both business and pleasure: hunting for vintage clothing pieces and fabrics in beautiful locales, scrounging through markets for rare ingredients, and then wasting the rest of the days away at spas, drinking delectable wine and enjoying only the finest foods. You worry that you are too spoiled by him at times, and if you mention this to him, he will just laugh joyfully. 

‘If I ruin all other men for you forever, I can’t say I would complain,’ he would joke, smoothing mud from the bath you shared over his shoulders sensually. He already had ruined all other men for you, but you were sure he probably knew that anyway. That was part of what was so lovely between the two of you, there was so much left unsaid, but never unheard. 

You got ready in the morning together, passing products back and forth across the double sinks in a routine. You would get your dinners and pass pieces of the best bites back and forth so that you could both enjoy each taste together. Every task felt routine but oh so comfortable. You would try the same products and give your opinions on them, swapping purchases back and forth based on who’s skin might suit it more, whose hair would behave better with each ingredient, and so on. 

Students at NRC would try to distract Crewel during class by asking him when he was going to marry you, and most of the time he would throw back some sort of ‘maybe when you get an A on an essay one of these days,' if he was feeling snappy. It was hard to miss the way his eyes would crinkle any time you were mentioned and how his mood would be notably lifted for the rest of class. This isn’t to say that he was any less harsh on his students, but they did see him smile more, so the criticism would be just a bit softer as a result. You would know these days too, as he would pull you into a bath and massage your neck while he laughed heartily at the shenanigans of his classes. 

That was another thing you so loved about these quiet bathtimes, getting to see all of the faces and responses that he kept hidden just for you. 

You were so lucky.   

Happiness.

Ashton Vargas

Your meatheaded darling did mean well, but… he was just one of those people that thought that you could muscle through everything. Unfortunately, he had built enough muscle that he has been proved right so far. While Ashton was quite self-obsessed and would flinch in fear every time he imagined that he lost even a centimeter of calf muscle, he never would give you any grief about how your body looked in the slightest. He was very encouraging and would do everything he could to get you to (healthily) build up your stamina and strength, but there was never a time that he would get frustrated with a failure you had. If you’re a person who cries when they’re frustrated, he will wipe them away. If you are someone who yells or wants to throw things when they’re frustrated, he will give you a ball and let you go ham against a wall until you’re cooled off enough for a hug. Vargas wasn’t always book smart, but he was intuitive to others’ needs in a way that few people are. 

Ashton is very enthusiastic about bathing, which is good for you because you get a great view while soaping up. Since he’s such a show-off, Vargas will wait on you hand and foot to get a chance to flex a muscle, flip his thick hair over his shoulder or sparkle his perfect white teeth your way. 

He just wants to make sure that you feel just as beautiful as he knows he is. He wouldn’t do this for just anyone, you know? You’re special, even when you might not agree with him. There was no arguing with him, if the peak physical specimen of himself thought you were worthy of bodily worship, how could you deny him? Are you saying that he isn’t gorgeous? His big blue eyes will sparkle in dramatic unshed crocodile tears at the thought. Oh? Did you say he is gorgeous? Well, then you are too. Beautiful people know how to spot beautiful things, and the only way you could argue that he was wrong was by saying that he wasn’t beautiful. 

His logic made you want to hit your head against a wall, but when a man with the body of a goddamn superhero tells you that he thinks you’re hot it’s pretty hard to disagree with him. If you still try to fight it, prepare for over-the-top compliments while he forcefully tries to make you relax and go along with his praise. We are talking scrubbing behind your ears and saying that you have ‘well-formed lobes’ kind of compliments. You like that he’s complimenting you, but you also don’t know how to respond either.  

More than anything, his hugs are to die for. During a bath, after a bath, once you are both snuggled in bed and comfortable? Heavenly, all of it. 

Vargas loves to talk you to sleep, both of your plans for the next day, going over when and where you are taking your next vacation, and giving suggestions for what muscle groups he thinks would most benefit you to build. Hell if you tell him that makes you uncomfortable or you aren’t able to follow through, he will immediately change his plans and make variations to be kinder to your back, your knees, neck, ankles, etc. Never underestimate a man who knows anatomy better than geography. This goes double when you grab a map and realize that one trip that he told you was a 'two-hour drive’ from Night Raven was actually a fifteen-hour one, even with the help of the mirrors. 

Oh well, his confidence was something you loved, no matter how correct he may or may not be.

Mozus Trein:

Trein was almost hilarious with how soft and tender he treated those he cared about versus the strict and stern History teacher exterior that he gave off. 

Something that drew you to him was seeing how tenderly he cared for his daughters. All three of them had all flown the nest at this point, but seeing him smile softly while he penned them letters as he scratches Lucius’ chin and murmured conversation to the cat was something that made your heart melt. 

You had been brushing up on your animal languages to better talk to Lucius too, and you could make out the gist of what he says now. As you suspected, he is not the most polite to others, but he is relatively quick to befriend those that bother to talk to him and offer treats that he likes. Due to these habits, you get along quite well. You try to ask for secrets about Mozus, but Lucius won’t always answer. The only consistency you can make out is that it seems like the cat will only answer you when he thinks it’s funny, but his sense of humor can be a bit difficult to work out.  

Trein is not one for much intimacy, he is more one to enjoy mutually comfortable silences. He has had a lot of time to work out every habit and isn’t overly open to doing things outside of them, but a soak with bath salts or some other kind of medicinal mixture suits him quite well. Trein humors your wants and needs and is more than willing to go along with any ‘couples’ treatments you might be interested in within reason. 

Surprisingly, he is open to doing things like acupuncture, fire cupping, and various types of experimental medicines, but if you ask him to get a facial his eyebrow will be stuck in a skeptical arch for the entirety of the experience. You were able to snap a picture of him making this face while wearing a green clay mask with cucumbers over his eyes. You treasure the photo, but you will never show it to him as you know he will be horrified at how undignified he looks. Part of his charm, you think.

Overall the greatest treat of all is seeing the relaxed smile that creeps onto his features when he is truly relaxing. It felt like something special just for you, sneaking a sleepy peek at him in the evening: relaxing in a silken robe, reading a novel, glasses perched on his strong nose, sipping at chamomile tea, and wearing the softest smile. It made your chest feel so warm that you got to see these small and simple moments. Everyday moments were the most special, you thought. Perhaps this simple comfort is what happiness truly is. 

He will see you staring at him, invite you over for a chat and then wrap his arm around you and bring you to bed. He tucks you in tightly, much like one would do a child. His eyes soften when he does it, you suppose there must be a lot of pleasant memories attached to the action. Once he is satisfied with the bedding, he climbs in next to you, giving you a pleasant peck on the forehead before turning off the light. You hear the pitter-patter of little fluffy feet walking in a circle, a huff, and then a perfectly elegant flop and a warmth near your right foot. You sleep soundly, waking up every so often to feel a hand fixing the blanket that you repeatedly kept throwing off of your shoulder and another kiss on your temple as soon as it was finished. 

Happiness.

Sam

As the youngest and least academically-focused staff member, Sam seemed always eager to prove himself. This was especially funny to you, considering how his ‘friends’ gave him such a leg up in almost every situation that you wondered why he ever felt less-than. 

Sam had worked his salesman voice to near perfection, had an in with almost every vendor of note, came from a famously powerful family, was strikingly handsome, stylish, and had a killer smile… 

Okay, you were wandering off topic here, but how could you help it? 

His magenta eyes would flick to yours in passing and you found yourself not being able to think of everything but him. You wanted to joke that his signature spell was how he took your breath away, but that one was all him. You weren’t even sure if he knew how breathtaking he was, moving through each room like a tap dancer one Maxi Ford away from a full routine. 

The theatricality that he brought to everything he did made you feel similar anticipation to being in a theater, hoping and praying that the handsome lead actor would look down at you specifically during a pivotal scene. For the sake of your heart, you were glad that somehow you had succeeded in catching his gaze the same way he had yours. 

When it came to bathing, he enjoyed it. As the local ‘literally-everything’ supplier, he always had something to surprise you with if you wanted a fun gimmick in the bath, but he had his own perfect set of potions to maintain his stylishly dyed hues. You weren’t entirely sure if his particular swirl of hair colors was natural or magicked into place, and the few times you thought to ask Sam, he would just put one finger in a ‘shush’ motion over his mouth with and wink. It was hard to deny that his cheeky mysteriousness wasn’t appealing though. 

If Sam was having a particularly good time, he might try to entice you in a cute little deal or ‘give you an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse’. 

It was a relatively silly game because the cost for all of these handshake deals was always ‘a kiss’ which you would gladly give him regardless of if he gave you something in return. You liked the goofy smile he would give you after you agreed, so you indulged him regardless. He sometimes would act shy and murmur something about ‘stealing his first kiss’ (he made this joke from your second kiss onwards) but would quickly give up the ghost to cover your face in playful smooches and thread his hands at the nape of your neck so you couldn't move away from his lovesick gaze. 

You’ve seen no true gentleman before in your life if you haven’t seen Sam at a proper ballroom soiree. Letting his relaxed slouch straighten into an elegant straight back and properly dressed to the nines, it seemed like he belonged under a spotlight. Sam was an amazing dancer, singer, card player, gambler, smooth talker, and pianist. He seemed to be accomplished in yet another hobby each time an acquaintance of his would say hello and jokingly admonish him for not showing off some hereto unknown skill of his. He would take the friendly jabs well, say ‘perhaps another time’, and then introduce his ‘charming companion’ (you) to them all in turn. Saying each word as fresh and new as the first time, though the words were practically a script for him at this point. 

The ultimate renaissance man, truly. 

Once you both were exhausted and came back to your home, you would bask in each other’s company. His voice raspy from overuse of the night, he whispered his thanks to you for accompanying him. You interrupt his soon-to-be soliloquy to say, ‘how could I possibly refuse an invitation from the most beautiful man I know?’. His eyes would crinkle with laughter from your response and he would pull you close, exhaling into your hair while the exhaustion of the night hits him like a well-anticipated crescendo. 

Sam idly thought that out of the two of you, the power you held over him was far stronger than any spell he knew. 

It was this time of night that you thought he looked his youngest, chortles losing all of their rehearsed and powerful baritones, words spilling out messily, sentences punctuated with ‘ah’s and ‘um’s. 

Sleepy magenta met your eyes and you would decide to finally drag Sam off to bed, tucking him under your fluffy comforter with care. He fell asleep on a dime, and when he was sleeping you felt like you could see the angelic face he must have had as a child. 

You couldn’t wait to see what you both did together tomorrow. Maybe you’d even tell him that you loved him. 

You weren’t going to be able to stop yourself from blurting it out sooner or later anyway.

So who was your fav? Dying to know. I ran away from the bath theme a bit but it was all from a place of love, I promise. Have I convinced you to simp for someone new? Let me know!

Love you, reader! 💋

Requested tags: @stygianoir (hope you liked it!) @yandere-kou, @daeda21, @buckketboy, @aikochan4859, @kumiko-desu, @prince-zukohere, @fragmentedstarlight, @sarahyumiko2, @sappyisyourpappy, @rebel-faes-writing, @witch-waycult, @dari-kun, @riddle-simp, @naniky, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars

[theneondemonx]

HOUDINI | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: jungkook was your first and only. When he got arrested, you felt like an idiot for always believing his every word and after a few years you decided to date again. But the word somehow got to his ears in jail and he couldn’t let you be anyone else’s but his.

▽ genre: porn with some plot, criminal au, established relationship

▽ pairings: escaped convict!jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 3464

▽ warnings: mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of underage sex, criminal activities, implied murder, possessive behavior, mention of female masturbation, spanking, fingering, female ejaculation, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk

( ➜ Drabble 1: first meeting ) [⏵playlist]

He hit me and it felt like a kiss He hit me and I knew he loved me If he didn't care for me I could have never made him mad But he hit me and I was glad

You were still very young when you learned that love was nothing like the cheesy romances you’d see on the big screen. Well, you didn’t actually have the money to go to the movies, but sometimes you found the way to sneak in and watch whatever was there to watch. You had a fascination for those stories, for those dancing images on the screen. They were made of pure light. Literally. While everyone was caught in the enchantment of the movie, you were the one to look behind your back and follow the light beam up until its source, looking straight at the small window from which the projector created the whole illusion of life before your eyes.

Most people want to escape from reality. They want to feel like their life has meaning, like it is just one plot twist away from being interesting. I didn’t. Maybe I should have, since mine was pretty shit. But I guess this was the whole reason why I was looking for the disenchantment. It’s like watching a magician. I’ve always been the type to be more observant, to look for the trick. Cause if there wasn’t any, then it would have meant that mine was the only pointless existence.

No one in your block had a penny to their names. Everyone dreamed of going away, of starting a new life and do something meaningful. But you knew that most of them would never make it. They were trapped.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

Those weren’t your words. They were Jungkook’s. Well, not his own words, actually. He had read them somewhere. He was the type to read, although he didn’t look like it at all. And you know how people who read are: they are good with words. They can shape reality with just a flick of their tongue. And damn if he got a way with words! That’s why you fell for him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he got the looks of an angel. He also talked like one. He could talk his way in and out of everything and you were pretty sure he could lie his way into heaven if he wanted to. He was an exceptional liar, a pathological one too. But you loved him anyway.

You believed him when he told you that he was going to turn your life upside down. Why wouldn’t you? He had already done it more times than you could count. He had done it since the day you first met in that dark movie theatre. You had always believed him and everything he said. He was the only man you ever loved, the first and the last you had sex with, and eventually the one you married.

He reminded you of your father. They had the same dangerous charm. Their eyes gleamed with the same light: that of a man who was willing to con the whole world and make it his own. Your father didn’t make it, though. He became a drunk mess and ended up in prison for attempted murder.

Only a pathetic fuck goes to jail for attempted murder. Either you go down for murder, or you don’t go down at all. That’s how much of a failure he was.

But you didn’t care about him. He used to beat your mother whenever he felt like it. Jungkook, on the other hand, never did that.

So, when he told you those words – “the less you know, the better” – you didn’t question him. You just believed him. And when he came home with a bag full of money and his hands covered in blood, you still didn’t question him. You just did as he asked and bent over the kitchen table to let him fuck you senseless.

You really didn’t care about what he did. Everyone in your block was somehow entangled with criminal activities. That’s just how it is when you can’t afford an honest life. What if he robbed a bank? What if he killed someone to get that money? So what? You’d love him anyway. You’d love him no matter what.

You still loved him when you heard the sirens wailing through the block and stop outside your shared house. You didn’t care about the fact that he just ripped your marriage into pieces. You always knew he was an Icarus.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you with a cocky smirk, while being pushed inside the police car.

And again, you believed him.

He was the only magician who ever managed to deceive you into thinking that his was actual magic and not just a trick. But when the jury found him guilty of aggravated robbery and murder, you felt like the lights had gone off and the curtain closed on his magic show. It was over. And now you were left standing in a sad empty circus, with just the distant music of the carousel to remind you of the fact that it was all a rouse. A convincing one for sure, but still a rouse.

When you saw him being taken away from the trial, you thought about those words he told you years before.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

And you smiled to yourself. Somehow, even though your whole life had just gone to pieces, you found them ironic. Who would have thought, back then, that he would end up in an actual prison? Not you for sure.

The years had passed and although you never really moved on from Jungkook, you decided it was time for you to build a life for yourself. You were still young and pretty, so it wasn’t hard for you to fool some stupid rich boy from the city. Kim Seokjin was no Jeon Jungkook, but he had money and a steady job – one that could actually pay for rent, food and vices without raising any question from the authorities.

He didn’t know you were broke as fuck, and you did your best to hide it with the means you had and the cunning that your lowlife background had teach you. You would buy fancy dresses and hide the tag when you wore them, so that you could return them the day after. You would also tell Seokjin to come pick you up at work in Gangnam. You never worked there, of course, but he was dumb enough to believe you. It didn’t really matter: you planned on sleeping with him soon enough and let him knock you up. Men always get way too excited when you tell them that they can fuck you without putting on a condom.

What you didn’t plan, however, was to find yourself with a tattooed hand covering your mouth when one night you came back home from a date with Seokjin. At first you tried to scream and free yourself from the strong grip of the mysterious man that somehow got into your house, but you froze as soon as he spoke.

“Shh be quiet, baby. You want to be the one to rat me out?”

You’d recognize that voice among millions. It was Jungkook.

How did he get out? His sentence is not over yet. He still has to serve twenty more years.

You thought that by being quiet and staying still, he would loosen the grip on you, but he didn’t.

“Fancy dress you got here, honey.” He hissed, pressing his lips against your ear and making you shiver from his touch. His hand trailed along the side of your body, caressing the expensive fabric of the white dress.

“Was your new boyfriend, the one who bought it for you?”

Your eyes widened at that question and you again tried to free yourself without success.

“Yeah.. I know. I was surprised too when Yoongi came to visit me and told me you were seeing some fancy city boy with his head up his tuxedo-covered ass.”

You knew that no matter how soft his voice could sound, he was mad. He was always calm when he was really mad.. until he wasn’t calm anymore.

“I told him: no, Yoongi, there’s no way that’s true. My sweet Y/N would never do something like that. She is a faithful wife, not some dirty whore who’s ready to sell her cunt to the first Richie Rich who comes around.”

He chuckled darkly.

“But he brought me the photos. So I guess I was wrong.”

He abruptly turned you around, pushing your back against the wall. It was then, that you saw him. His hair got longer and he somehow got some tattoos on his right arm. His dark eyes were gleaming in the dark with a mischievous light that you had never seen on him – not when he was looking at you, at least.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Did you let him touch you?”

“N-no.” You muttered, with your heartbeat racing fast and your eyes wide open like those of an innocent doe who was just caught by a cold-blooded hunter.

He pressed his body on yours, breathing heavily against your lips without breaking eye contact.

“If you are lying to me.. I’ll know, Y/N.” He hissed. And you knew that those words were a clear warning.

“I expect your cunt to be tighter than it was when I left. If it isn’t..” he chuckled, slightly tilting his head to the side and licking his lips while caressing gently your reddened cheek. “..well, I guess I’ll stretch your holes so wide that there won’t be any doubt about whose little whore you are.”

He didn’t give you any time to breathe, let alone answer. He pressed his lips on yours with such passion that he sucked the air out of your lungs. And you melted.

You still loved him, after all. You still craved for his touch, which you missed every single night that you’ve spent in your empty bed. Every time you touched yourself, you always closed your eyes and think of him: his hands, his lips, his toned body, his cock, his breath, his smell.. everything. No man could turn you on like he did.

You could tell he had changed. He got more violent, more possessive. But for some reason, that didn’t bother you. Somehow, in a fucked up way, you enjoyed it. It was like you just had the proof that he truly loved you. That you were sill his.

You run your fingers through his hair, tightening your grip while kissing him deeply. A muffled sigh escaped from your lips when his tongue entered your mouth, exploring every corner of it like that was the last kiss he was ever gonna give you.

“Touch me.” You murmured, like it was a prayer sent straight to God.

The first one that was actually answered, since Jungkook’s hands quickly slipped under your dress while you kicked off your shoes. He turned you around again, face against the wall, and removed your underwear.

You gasped at his touch on your wet entrance, arching your back so that he could see your pussy in its full glory.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He murmured, starting to run his palm on your pussy.

You moaned, grinding against his hand in search of his touch while he steadied your hips with the strong grip of his free hand.

“Already purring like a kitten, baby?”

Another moan escaped from your lips, this time loudly, when he inserted his middle finger in your throbbing core, feeling it clench around his touch.

“Such a good girl. You didn’t lie to me.” He commented in a hiss, inserting another finger to test your tightness and starting to pump his digits on your most sensitive spot.

“So tight. Will you be able to take my cock, baby?”

“Y-yes. Yes I will.” You answered in between your heavy breaths and moans, chasing the pleasure that his movements gave you.

You suddenly let out a sharp cry when you felt his hand slapping your ass cheek without notice. But the lingering pain had the only effect of heightening the pleasure and getting you even more wet.

Hu chuckled, spanking you one more time.

“Fuck! Jungkook!”

He had always loved it when you said his name during sex, and he still did apparently, since he started pumping his digits harder inside you. The lewd sounds of your pussy soon filled the silence of the night.

When his other hand reached your clit and started drawing quick circles around it, your legs started shivering and your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. If it wasn’t for the wall, you’d probably fall on your knees when the orgasm hit you. You moaned so loud that you almost sounded like a dying animal.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.”

His words only made it worse and you couldn’t help but feel like a fire ball hit you right in the belly. Your walls clenched around his pumping digits and soon your climax reached an unprecedented high, making you ejaculate on his hand while waves of pleasure went through your body like an electric shock.

“Oh my God!” Was is reaction to the mess you just made.

He let out a satisfied laugh, retracting his fingers from your overstimulated core just to smear your arousal on your own lips.

“Open your mouth, baby. I want you to taste yourself – the way I make you feel.”

You obeyed, and even if you were still panting and barely able to function, you took his fingers in you mouth, rotating your tongue around them and sucking every drop of your own arousal before letting them out with a pop.

“Good girl.” He praised you softly, caressing your hair. “Now get on your knees for me.”

Again, you obeyed without hesitation while he unzipped his pants and pumped himself a few times in front of your face.

You looked up at him, licking your lips. You could still taste your slick on them, but you wanted something different. You wanted his taste. And you were so eager to get it, that you didn’t waste any time.

You soon wrapped your mouth around his hard cock, sucking it like it was your last meal. But letting you have it your way was not Jungkook’s plan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tying them up in a ponytail that was only held by his own hand, and started thrusting inside your mouth until tears were gathering at the corner of your eyes.

A deep growl escaped from his lips at the sight of your mouth stuffed with his cock and your messed up make up smeared all over your face.

“My little whore. Always so good for me.” He said through his panting, face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

And probably there wasn’t gonna be one. For all you knew, the police could come at any moment and take him back to his cell – this time, forever. But, if anything, the thrill just added something extra to the whole situation, making it even more exciting.

The rhythm of his deep thrusts against your throat soon made you gag. And that was it. That was what he wanted, what he was looking for.

“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

His cum shot straight down your throat, filling you with his warm liquid. You loved his taste. You always had since the first time he sucked his cock. You were only fifteen back then, and you had no idea how to do it. But he was older than you and he guided your every movement, teaching you what he liked and what he wanted. You thought you’d spit him out, but you always swallowed. You liked it. You liked the taste of his orgasm and you liked to know that you were the one to make him cum like that.

“Take off your dress and bra.”

Your jaw was still feeling numb and your legs weak when he ordered you to undress, but you still obeyed, in a daze.

“Now bend over the couch.”

Again, you didn’t raise any question. You just crawled towards the couch and rested your chest on the pillows, closing your eyes while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart beating strong, muffled by the padded fabric of the couch. The only other sound was that of his steps, getting closer and closer to you until he dropped heavily on his knees, resting his large hands on your ass cheeks and parting them.

He let out a pleased moan and you could feel his gaze devouring the most intimate part of your body. You didn’t even need to look or feel him to know that he was getting hard again. And you felt proud. You arched your back and spread your legs a big wider, offering him the whole show. You loved to know that he wanted you so bad. Just the thought of his desire aroused you more than anything else.

He chuckled, spanking you again and making you gasp at the sharp feel of his palm against your sensitive skin.

“God, you’ve always loved being a slut for me. Am I right?”

You thought the question was rhetoric, so you didn’t respond. But when he gave you another spank and bent over you, pulling your hair to get your ear closer to his lips, you knew he wanted to hear your voice.

“Answer me. Whose little slut are you?”

“Y-yours, Jungkook. I’m your little slut.”

He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hair while caressing your reddened ass cheek and pressing his lips on your ear.

“Good girl.” He praised you, slowly starting to align the tip of his cock with your wet entrance.

You whimpered at the feel, arching your back even more to look for more friction. Seeing you like that, so eager to have him inside of you, was all it took for him to sink deep inside your core, filling you with all his length and stretching your walls.

“Fuck! You got so tight, baby.”

You did. While he was away, you didn’t have sex with anybody and you only started thinking about that when you met Seokjin. Not because you really wanted to, but because you felt like it was a necessary step to get what you wanted. Sure, Jin was handsome, but he was no Jungkook. Your husband, your first love, your first everything – he was the only one who could make you wet just by staring at you. He had that power – the power to make your head spin like you had too many drinks.

Jungkook hold your hips in place and started pounding you hard, making you moan at every thrust until you were just a hot wet mess at his mercy.

“Jungkook..” That was all you could say, breathless, while feeling your walls clench around his cock like they were holding to dear life.

He went balls deep inside of you, fucking you for all the times he didn’t in the past three years. It was intoxicating, and you knew you could never get enough of that feeling – of him.

“Jungkook.. cum inside me, please.” You whimpered, pleading him with a mere whisper when you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and more imprecise. Your orgasm was close too, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull out. You wanted to feel every drop of him.

“Y/N.. fuck!” Was all he said while he sank deep inside your core, filling you up with his cum and pumping it in to get you closer to your climax.

You came with his name on your lips and the lewd sounds of your sex filling your ears like the sweetest music you’d ever heard. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch and you could feel your saliva dripping down the side of your lips, parted by the intense sensation of your orgasm.

He dropped with his chest pressing on your back. You could feel his heavy breath against your skin and his heartbeat trying to get a calmer pace while the high of the climax was slowly fading away.

“We are leaving tonight, baby.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence. “I’m not going back to jail. I’m not gonna let them tear us apart again.”

And again, even after everything that had happened, you believed him.

I guess this is my prison. You are. But I don’t want to escape.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. 

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader 

❧ genre⟶  enemies to friends, friends to lovers, roommates au, fluff, angst, pining, eventual smut, boxer!jungkook. two-part series. 

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ mentions of oral and sex but nothing explicit or descriptive. fight scene that involves drunk man. mentions of bullying (in the past). 

❧ music⟶ safety net, selfish, stuck on you, exile, +more

❧ a/n (please read) ⟶ this story switches a lot from past & present, I color coded borders to make it easier to tell :) dark purple = entering/still in the past, light purple= present, also this is unedited so sorry for any mistakes 😭 ill come back to edit a lot of things soon. 

01 | 02 

“Oh perfect, y/n!” Hobi stops you dead in your tracks before you could completely make your way onto the living room, “You don’t mind grabbing some more firewood from my car while I finish these up,” he says, currently too busy melting the chocolate for the s’mores he was making.

You see tonight was New Year’s Eve, and you and a couple of other close friends had decided to rent out a cabin in celebration of the new year instead of going out to some end of the year party, choosing comfort over a night of wild drinking. In the end it didn’t make much of a difference, because the moment you saw Jimin and Taehyung walk in with a pack of soju and other cheap liquor in their hands, you knew that by the end of the night someone, if not everyone, was going to end up completely wasted.

And of course, you were right. After hours of being outside in the cold, with the boys drinking as if there was no tomorrow, everyone had now made their way back inside, complaining that it was too cold outside and that the cabin came with an indoor fireplace for a reason.

Never one to drink too heavy, you had kept your drinking at a moderate pace, only allowing yourself to reach a relaxed kind of buzz. Namjoon and Yoongi on the other hand were currently debating on whether the US’s landing of the moon was nothing more than a fake ploy to beat Russia and was instead filmed on some movie set. 

Jin and his girlfriend acted as measly facilitators between the two men who had been bickering back and forth for the past hour, their slurred speeches making it difficult to take either one seriously. 

Jimin, for his part, had attempted to keep his drinking at a minimal but with Taehyung acting as his partner in crime, the two were now playing an unbalanced game of ping-pong, both of them looking as if at any moment they were going to knock out on the table. And Jungkook was— well where the hell was Jungkook?

But before you could dwell too much on the thought, Hobi’s voice snaps you back to reality, “pleaseeee, I’ll even add an extra chocolate square to your s’more, just like how always like em,” he flashes you a smile, your roommate of 3, going on 4, years knowing just what to say to convince you, not that you needed much of it. 

Minus Hobi, you were probably the person closest to being sober, and you did not want to imagine the different disastrous scenarios that would happen if he sent anyone who wasn’t yourself out there. You also highly doubted any of them would even be up for it, and so with that you just let out a small groan, mumbling, “Where are your keys?”

Excitedly he points to the kitchen island, where his Hyundai’s keys laid across, “I parked right near the lake,” he says, immediately causing you to look back at him, brows furrowed in confusion, “No one wanted to carry the wood from here to the bonfire earlier, so I just parked near the lake to save our energy,” you roll your eyes, “Come on, it’s just a 2 minute walk at most, and I’m sure there’s still people celebrating across the lake as well so you don’t feel so scared, but if you want I can ask Jungkook to go wi—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine—” you interrupt, grabbing the keys and beginning to make your way out, quickly putting on your coat because God knew how cold it was outside. “He’s probably asleep already, knowing him,” you chuckle, the boy who Hobi had introduced you to in the last year and had been living with you two as well, had habit’s that were all too predictable by now. And though you knew he’d be more than glad to get up from bed and help, for now at least, you wanted him to rest as he, himself, was probably tired from carrying things back and forth all day in the help of preparing everything. “I’ll be quick,” you say.

“Make sure that no wooden splinter cuts you,” he shouts out before the wooden door closes, having been the victim to such cuts all day, “and call me if you find it too heavy!”

Beep. Beep.

Double clicking the lock button, you grunt as you try to simultaneously carry the uneven pieces of firewood and place Hobi’s keys back into your jacket’s pocket.

“Oh my God—” you mumble to yourself, frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the keys. The wood was now slipping from your hands, its gritty texture eager to leave you a cut and as predicted it does. 

Wincing in pain, you uncaringly drop the pieces of wood, worried more about the cut on your hand than what had fallen on the ground below. Luckily the cut wasn’t too bad, nothing a little soap and water couldn’t fix, but the tingly sting in your hand meant that you’d have to wait a while before picking the wooden pieces back up.

Around you, you could hear the sound of different groups of friends and family celebrating with their own events, spotting different bonfires all around the lake. Glancing at the time on your phone, it currently read 11:00, only one more hour until the new year. A part of you was tempted to walk further down the path that led to the lake’s shore. Maybe even secretly wait so that you could watch the fireworks these groups of people most likely had shoot up into the sky at 12. Especially because you knew going back to the cabin, no one would want to come back out with you to watch. Honestly, how bad did they need their wood?

And so by convincing yourself, you begin to walk further towards the lake, careful not to trip on any of the scattered rocks that surround you. By the time you made it down, you were surprised to see just how far you were from other families, most, if not all, of them being directly across the lake. Honestly you wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. 

You didn’t want to seem creepy, but the sight was somewhat comforting, the kids running around in their winter gear while their parents and friends all surrounded their bonfire, sticks and marshmallows in hand.

Not to mention that tonight was a full moon, the milky glow from the moonlight reflecting against the ripples of the lake, and the tiny stars which surrounded the magnet that was the moon only adding to the grand scenery in front of you. Usually you weren’t a sucker for these kinds of things, but wow did it look amazing. The person who’d really enjoy something like this was probably—

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, confused if you were seeing things because there he was, not too far from where you stood, sitting on a giant rock with his feet dangling, careful to not touch the freezing water. His right hand throwing the small pebbles that were near him to the lake. Not too hard, and not too soft. Clearly in his own world. 

A small smile graces your lips, as you watch him continue, the lake not being the only thing the moonlight was hitting. His glimmering doe shaped eyes focused on the view in front of him, and you could only wonder what had him in such deep thought, but instead not wanting to bother, you slowly began to walk back, careful to not to make any loud noises.

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

Mentally, you groan at the sound of the branch breaking, hoping that it wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.

“Y/N?” he says unsurely, his attention snapping towards the sound, squinting while trying to make out your figure from afar. Your tensed shoulders drop in response. Deciding that there wasn’t much you could do, you turn around and walk towards him, feeling a little guilty that you’ve probably interrupted his time alone.

He watches as you make your way towards him, scooting to his left in order to make space for you because unbeknown to you, he was not at all bothered by your presence. In fact, he had just been thinking about you along with a question that had been looming over his head for quite some time. And the fact that you somehow managed to appear in this exact moment, almost as if it was fate, only left him in further awe.

“I thought you were asleep,” you chuckle, gently sitting down on the empty spot next to him, slowly rubbing your slightly cut hands together in an attempt to stay warm.

“I was going to sleep, but,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “and well why waste such a good view by being in bed, am I right?,” he laughs before quickly noticing the fresh scar on your hand, “What happened?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You shrug your shoulders in response, “I came to grab some more firewood from Hobi’s car and well long story short, I dropped them and well I got left with this,” you laugh, not taking your tiny injury too seriously.

Opening up your hand to further show him, he carefully examines the pinkish-red scar which was now slightly swollen, sighing in disappointment, “Mm you should’ve gone to go get it disinfected,” he mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he decides that he wasn’t going to lecture you any further, for in the past year he’s learned that even someone as sweet as you, has their own buttons capable of being pushed. 

Having pushed them many, many times before, tonight he just wanted you to feel relaxed and not have to worry about whether he’d say the wrong thing or not. Tonight… well tonight he just wanted for you to seek comfort in his presence, the same way he’d found comfort in yours along the way.

“It doesn’t hurt too much if I’m being honest,” you give him a small reassuring smile, if anything your hands felt more clammy than they did pain. The warm feeling in your chest only expanding to the point where you swore you could feel it at the bottom of your toes. 

Honestly, it was a feeling you found yourself all too familiar with these days, and though you knew what it was, you were also unsure on how to act on it, fearful of ruining the friendship with Jungkook that had gone through several ups and downs this year. And so for you the easiest thing to do was to just avoid thinking about it and avoid talking about it.

But there was no denying that the rush of emotions you’d feel whenever you managed to crack a laugh out of Jungkook to the point where his nose would scrunch so high up that you were sure that those happy days would last forever, or the ticklish butterflies you’d feel in your stomach on movie nights where he’d randomly begin to twirl your hair with his fingers, and the rapid heartbeat you’d feel hitting against your chest after an argument over something so trivial, until of course after several days of the silent treatment, one of you would get over themselves and stubbornly apologize whether it be through words or actions, were nothing but love.

Because even in the good and bad of your friendship, the arguments and the laughs, the tears and the smiles, somehow along the way you had found yourself falling in love with the boy who was nothing more than a stranger a year ago today.

“50 more minutes,” he says under his breath, bringing you back to reality.

Awkwardly you smile, “Yeah…” you breathe, the cold crisp weather causing vapor to come out of your mouth, a sign that you were freezing despite having such a thick sweater on. Jungkook is quick to take notice, offering his own puffy jacket for you to wear, to which you quickly refuse, “Take it, I have a sweater underneath anyway,” he pressures. You find it doubtful that his black cotton turtleneck was going to be sufficient enough for him in this weather. 

You giggle at his sweet gesture, finding it all too endearing, “I’m telling you I’m good,” you laugh, your shivering fingers telling a different story, “Until the clock strikes twelve at least,” you bargain, pushing the sweater in his hand away back towards him, “then I’ll go back to the warm cabin.” 

He looks at you as if unconvinced, but decides to drop it and take your word for it. And if you somehow managed to weasel into staying any longer past 12, then he’d just have to forcefully carry you back to the cabin.

Soon a comfortable silence fills the air, the two of you appreciating not only the view but each other’s presence. How fitting was it that the person you met on New Year’s day last year was going to be the person you ended it with, and begin a whole ‘nother year with.

“Can you believe it’s been one whole year since we’ve met,” he suddenly breaks the silence, almost as if reading your mind. To that you let out a small breathy chuckle, in disbelief yourself. Time had gone both so slow and fast this year, it was fascinating really, how you could be both so aware and unaware that someone’s very own existence was beginning to take such a special place in your heart.

“It feels like,” you pause momentarily, a small gentle smile appearing on your face as you remembered your first encounter with Jungkook, not knowing that it’d only be the beginning to the originally rocky relationship you had with him, “It feels like it was only yesterday.”

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

“Only one hour left until the new year everybody!” the DJ shouts onto his mic and over the blasting music of the party you were currently at, “Make sure you grab that special somebody before the clock strikes 12!”

“You heard him y/n, go grab a special somebody,” Hobi teases, the two of you currently sitting at the bar acting as mere spectators to the group of partygoers that were currently having the time of their life on the dance floor.  

For both you and Hobi, this type of setting was a little… how could you describe it … out of place for the two of you, but after weeks of begging from both Jimin and Taehyung and a little added pressure from Namjoon and Yoongi, the two of you now found yourselves here drinking the final night of 2018 away.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” you playfully roll your eyes, grabbing the shot glass full of tequila and downing the surprisingly smooth liquor. Hobi follows suit and chugs down his own. A squirmful look on his face following soon after. “Maybe if I drink enough, I’ll find myself dancing just like them,” you laugh, glancing at your group of friends who were currently acting as the life of the party, Jimin busting out what he calls his most “exclusive” moves.

Hobi, unlike him, remains silent which catches your attention. His attention was now on his phone, his face now appearing both red and stressed out. Nosily, you stretch your neck and attempt to peak at what could possibly have your roommate so worried, but Hobi’s quick to catch you. Immediately he pulls his phone towards his chest.

You gasp in dramatic fashion because one, your roommate wasn’t one to keep secrets from you, and two, well you were beginning to feel a little tipsy. “Now what could Jung Hoseok be hiding,” your words come out slightly slurred, a sign that the only thing you should be drinking from this point onward was some water.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he’s quick to respond, back on his phone but this time keeping it out of your reach, his fingers quickly tapping against the glass screen. You could only wonder who it was that had him typing as if his life depended on it.

“Come onnnnn,” you sing, playfully pushing his shoulder, “It can’t be that interesting, considering you don’t do much,” you pout. He looks up from his phone for a moment, but only to shoot you a glare, excusing your teasing with the fact that you were barely holding onto the state of being tipsy and on the brink of being considered drunk.

Hobi’s eyes quickly read the most recent text he’s received, rolling his eyes at whatever it was before sighing in distress, “You really wanna know?” eagerly you nod your head yes, “Well I was hoping he would be here so I could introduce you to him,” he gently shakes his head, clearly disappointed by tonight’s outcome.

“Ooooo who's the special person,” you quirk your brows up and down, but Hobi’s quick to shoot the idea down.

“Oh no, no, it’s not like that,” he laughs, “this person is a..” he pauses, trying to look for the best word to describe his relationship with said person, “Mm I guess we can call him a childhood friend,” he hums, “and well he’s been going through a bit of a tough time right now and well long before me and you ever met, he went out of his way to help me and well I think this time it’s only right that I’m there for him.” you tilt your head, slightly confused as to where this was going, “And sooo,” he sings, “I was hoping that by bringing you here and having you in a fun mood, that I could ask if he could stay at our place for a couple of months…”

You remain silent, Hobi’s words processing through your head one by one, an effect of the alcohol currently running through your system, “Only until he gets used to being in Seoul again, and finds some kind of solid ground here of course,” Hobi throws it in, worried that your silence meant rejection.

“Oh…” you mumble, thinking to yourself for a moment. Hobi’s friend huh? Well you and Hobi were like two peas in a pod, meaning whoever was a friend of his, was a friend of yours, point blank. You trusted that whoever this friend was, and whatever predicament they were in, chose to go to Hobi for the sole reason that Hobi was one of, if not the kindest person you’ve ever met, and was one of the very rare kind of people who made sure that whatever it was a person was going through, that they found a way to overcome it. And well you also assume that Hobi was going to take care of this person’s expenses … right?

You smile once you reach a decision, “Of course they can stay Hobi,” you laugh, a little offended that he thought you’d say no, but glad that he asked anyway.

Immediately Hobi breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he got that out of the way, “But he’s using your bathroom, make sure you tell him that!” you throw in, not wanting the order in which you had your things arranged to be touched with.

Hobi laughs in response, “I’ll make sure to tell Jungkook that,” so that was his name, Jungkook. Not too much of a common name in Korea, interesting, you think.

“So when do I get to meet our new temporary roommate?” you ask in eagerness, curiosity a driving force.

Hobi sighs recalling his text from not too long ago, “Well he was supposed to come here and celebrate tonight, giving you two a chance to meet beforehand, but,” he rereads the message on his phone, hoping the three bubbles would pop up at some point before scoffing and ultimately giving up, locking the screen, “I’m not entirely too sure if he’s going to make it.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you get up from the bar stool and stretch out your arms, yawning in turn, “Mm well I guess I’ll just meet him on move in day,” you joke around, glancing at the time on your phone, “but for now I need to go pee before the countdown, there’s only like 10 minutes left,” you exclaim, surprised by how fast the hour had gone by. Hobi nods in response, getting up himself and making his way to the dance floor, joining your group of friends.

And so you begin to walk towards the ladies’ room, humming yourself a tune over the EDM music that was currently close to rupturing your eardrum. How people liked this kind of music was something you’d never understand, but to each their own right? Luckily you weren’t as drunk as you thought you were, the effects of the tequila only acting as something quick and not long lasting. Now in more of a buzzed state than “drunk”.

“MmmMmmMmm,” you hum, pushing the door of the ladies room and making your way into one of the stalls. But what you saw once you opened the restroom stall was … um …. it was safe to say that you were shocked at the sight in front of you. Shocked to the point where you couldn’t even properly react, not even a shriek coming out of your mouth. 

Instead you just stood there, wide eyed, at the sight of a brown haired woman on her knees, with her hair in a messy ponytail giving um … oral … on what you could only describe as a very very handsome man.

Now if you were to ask if he was really all that into it? Well it seemed a bit unclear considering how the two of you were now having a complete stare down, a shocked expression on your face while he had a stoic one on his, until slowly a small smirk began to appear on his face.

He scoffs before saying, “Enjoying the view?” and with that you finally shriek and quickly close the stall dorm, practically running out the door because not only were you embarrassed by the situation that just happened but still in complete shock.

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, leaning your head against the wall in an attempt to process what just happened. And once you did, you facepalmed yourself in frustration, mad at the reaction you had because God was that embarrassing. 

You had acted as if you’d never seen, hell, as if you’d never done the dirty with someone, but for some reason walking in on someone receiving their um... pleasure… had you feeling like a kid who didn’t know about the birds and the bees. And his little comment only added salt to the wound, he probably thought you were enjoying the view with how long you had stayed there standing like an idiot!

“Start grabbing your partners everyone because the countdown is happening in exactly three minutes everybody! Three minutes till we enter 2019!” Three minutes?! You had to find your friends quick! Pushing off what happened to the back of your mind, you speed walk back to the main sector of the club, looking through the crowd of people in hopes of finding at least one of your friends.

“Where could he b—Ah!” you impulsively squeal once you spot Hobi along with the rest of your friends, quickly making your way towards them, Hobi spotting you as well.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Hobi asks, but just as you’re about to answer, a voice from behind interrupts.

“I caught traffic, and well parking was a bitch,” the voice, all too familiar, sends a feeling of panic through your body because turning to face the owner of said voice, was just as surprising as the scene you walked in on only moments ago.

“Y/N! This is Jungkook, Jungkook this is Y/N, my roommate I was telling you about,” Hobi shouts over the music, and all you can do is stare at the man in front of you wide eyed. Your mouth slightly agape in shock, while Jungkook on the other hand has a teasing grin on his face, as only the two of you knew what had transpired in the ladies’ restroom. He sticks his hand out for you to shake and you notice the small number of tattoos that cover his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we got one minute on the clock! Start saying your goodbyes to 2018, and get ready to say hello to 2019!” The DJ shouts excitedly, lowering the music for the countdown that’s about to begin.

“Earth to Y/N?” Hobi says waving his hand in front of you, having left Jungkook with his hand open for quite some time now.

“Oh,” you say, bringing yourself back to reality and shaking his hand in return, but the moment you do he brings you in for a small friendly hug, “What a small world,” he whispers into your ear, winking at you as he pulls away.

Hobi, unaware of how you two originally met, rolls his eyes, “Hey, hey hey, she’s our roommate not some girl you can go messing around with,” Hobi says, “Now come on you two, there’s only 15 seconds left!” gently he shoves the two of you towards your groups of friends who were now wearing their New Year’s props which included giant sunglasses, feathered boa’s, and more.

“In 10, 9, 8 , 7, 6…” everyone begins to scream the numbers of the countdown, 2018 clearly leaving with a bang, “5,4,3!” you suddenly feel an arm wrap over your shoulder, and like in the movies a part of you expected it to be the man you just met, but thankfully enough it was Jimin who was clearly drunk, excited, and in clear need of catching his balance. But of course that didn’t mean someone didn’t have their eyes on you from afar…

“2, 1! Happy New Year!” The fog machine erupts and the strings of golden confetti begin to fall from the club’s ceiling. Cheers to the New Year.

Clutching your stomachs in laughter, the two of you poke fun at the recollection of that fatal first encounter, “I really walked in on you getting,” you heave in such a way that you’re incapable of completing the sentence, genuine laughter filling the air.

“Hey, you were the one who stood there like you’d never seen a—” playfully you push his shoulder before even he gets the chance to finish his own sentence.

“Like what you see?” you exaggeratingly mimic his voice from that night, lowering your voice by several octaves. He cries out in laughter, tears now forming in the corners of his eyes, feeling cringe at his choice of words from a year ago today. Who did he think he was? “The woman didn’t even bother to look up! Clearly you had her enamored in what she was doing!” you tease, and in response he wraps his arms around you in a playful manner, telling you that he didn’t want to hear any more.

“What even happened when I left?” you ask, curious to know the answer considering you only knew what you did afterwards.

“Well I overheard the DJ yell about the countdown so I had to cut it short, and well we exchanged numbers. I mean it wasn’t at all a drunk hookup or anything, I was sober, she was sober. I think I went out with her once afterward, but,” he shrugs his shoulders, “It was just meant to be a one time thing I guess,” he mumbles, shaking his head in slight shame and embarrassment. See a year ago, hookups like that were the norm for him, but a year ago he was also nothing like the person he was now. Was it for the better? He’d like to think so.

Shaking your head, you mumble, “To think our relationship would only get worse,” you stare at him accusingly, “no thanks to you!” He stays silent, not bothering to deny the accusation.

“Hey you didn’t make it any easier!” he huffs, “Do you need help with that? What’s that? I don’t think that should be placed there,” he mocks your questions from that day many months ago, move in day.  

“I was just trying to be nice! Make things less awkward, you know?” you feel your cheeks get red, now seeing how pushy you had probably been.

He scoffs, “No you just didn’t want your things invaded with mine,” it was now your turn to stay silent.

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

“I don’t think that should go there,” you whisper to Hobi, watching Jungkook place more of his things around your apartment, secretly hoping it was the last batch. 

This had to at least be your 15th complaint today, but what bothered Jungkook more was that not only wouldn’t you tell it to his face, but they’d be said in such a superficial tone. He didn’t care if you were trying to be “nice”, it sounded fake and prissy and he’d prefer it if you could just shut up for one moment. People like you were just so… annoying, and to think he thought you were cute.

“Do you need help?” your voice interrupts his train of thought, your figure now looming over his shoulder, and attempting to look at the content of his cardboard boxes. Harshly, he closes the flaps, momentarily scowling at you before taking a deep breath and putting on his best face.

“No it’s fine, I’m almost done but thank you though,” he says, now his turn to be superficial.

“Oh well just let me know if you need anything,” you smile, as unbeknownst to Jungkook, you really were just this nice of a person. Yeah, things may still be a little awkward on your part because of what happened on New Years Eve, you of course having to pep talk yourself several times in the mirror this morning, but to you it was important you established some kind of friendship with your new roommate. Even if he wasn’t going to be here for long.

“I’m gonna go get us takeout,” Hobi announces, not only tired but hungry from having helped Jungkook carry his stuff upstairs to the apartment floor all day, because out of all days in the year, today the elevator just had to be out of service. “I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and making his way out. Leaving you and Jungkook to yourselves.

An awkward silence fills the living room air, Jungkook currently taking a small break on the long couch, while you sit on the short one, fidgeting with your fingers. Maybe you should make conversation? It wouldn’t hurt right?  

“So Jungkook,” you begin nervously, he looks up from his phone and places his attention on you, a stoic expression on his face, “um..”, you mentally scold yourself for not already having a question prepared before speaking, “where are you from?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he scoffs, “Korea?” he says, as if stating the obvious.

Feeling flustered, you reiterate your question, “No I mean like where did you move from, you know…” your voice lowers at the end.

He sighs before responding, his attention now back on his phone, “I was in the states for a while, but I’m originally from Busan.”

Immediately you light up, seeing this as an opportunity to further the conversation, “Oh I have a friend from there, I don’t know if you met him on New Years, but his name is Jimin!” you excitedly ramble, “He was the one with the dirty blonde hair, black turtleneck, sparkly jac—”

“Yeah I know,” Jungkook rudely interrupts, now getting up from the couch and walking towards his new room, “Let me know when Hobi’s back, yeah? I’m freaking starving,” and with that he enters his room and shuts the door, leaving you slightly taken back.  

“Will do,” you quietly mumble to yourself, a little hurt to say the least by his cold action. Shrugging it off, you excuse it by assuming he was just grumpy. You were sure that he'd be more open to having conversation after settling his things in.

That night after cleaning a couple of your own things, and eating the food Hobi had brought, you remained in bed and on your laptop, Youtube surfing the rest of the night away. That was of course until you heard the sound of your restroom door opening and closing. Right away you get up, already knowing what transpired, but wanting to see the mess that was most likely made with your own two eyes.

Walking into your restroom, you’re immediately hit with the scent of your strawberry shampoo and lavender body wash mixed in with the foggy steam that was created, a result of an extremely hot shower. The sink, a travesty to look at, was spilled with water all over and you did not even want to get started on the “manly” products that were now side to side with yours behind the mirror’s cabinet. Meanwhile, your hair brush was covered in strands of dark brown hair that clearly weren’t yours. But the final straw? Finding the cap of your $100 dollar serum halfly screwed closed with remnants dripping down the bottle.

Shutting the cabinet, you practically stomp out of your restroom and immediately towards Jungkook’s door. Raising your hand to knock, you take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be calm. Maybe Hobi didn’t tell him anything about using your restroom. This was only going to be a one time thing until you cleared it out with him.

Gently, you knock on his door, patiently awaiting his response. You could hear the sound of muffled music playing in the background, meaning it was probably much louder inside the room than out. Raising your hand to knock again, the door swings open just as you’re about to tap against the black wooden door. A shirtless Jungkook with your baby blue towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes?” he smugly says, your cheeks almost an embarrassing shade of crimson. It’s hard to not look at what’s in front of you, but you manage.

“Oh um—” you fluster your words, “um —” you gulp before finding your words again, “I was hoping Hobi had told you about the bathroom situation…but um..I guess he didn’t so um yeah, my bathroom is only for me to us—”

“He did,” he cuts you off,  huffing a small laugh.

“He what?” you asked, unsure of what he was referring to, or at least acting dense about it because you did not want to believe that the shirtless boy in front of you completely disregarded the simple rule he was supposed to follow.

“He told me about the whole bathroom rearrangement, buuuuttt,” he teases, “your restroom has the bigger shower and well add strawberry scented shampoo and lavender body wash into the mix and honestly it was a done deal for me,” he stretches his arms above himself, dramatically yawning, his abdomen stretching out in such a way that the towel on his waist was barely clinging onto its dear life.

“But—But—”

“But what?” he cocks his head to the side, amused by your panicked behavior, “It’s also the closest one to me so,” he shrugs his shoulders, “Well if that’s all you came here for then, goodnight,” he winks at you before turning around and slamming the door once again.

You stand there bewildered by what just happened, your mouth agape in shock. Did that really just happen or? Because if it did then he practically just told you that he didn’t give one single fuck.

Making your way back to your room, you’re unsure on how to feel about everything that just happened because sure you’ve encountered your fair share of rude people before but to live with one was a completely different story. And Jungkook wasn’t only rude, he was the smug kind, the “I know I’m good looking, so I can treat anyone the way I want to because my good looks will let me get away with it,” type of rude. Was it a little specific? Yes. But it’s true. Honestly, it was the type of person you thought only existed in rom-coms but clearly they exist in real life. Jungkook being a prime example of such an attitude.

“Just a couple of months,” you breathe out, throwing yourself onto your bed in exasperation, “until he gets settled down in Seoul,” you repeat Hobi’s words from New Years Eve to yourself, sighing before allowing slumber to sweep over you.  

“So much for a couple of months,” you tease Jungkook, nudging his shoulder a little bit because a year later and he was still your roommate, and ironically it was you and Hobi who practically begged him to stay.

He scrunches his nose, “ I don’t see you complaining.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I’m just kiddinnn,” you sing, “What would I do without your buttermilk pancakes huh?” you grin at him, his eyes rolling playfully in return.

“Is that all you want from me? Pancakes!” he chuckles, “Ah I should’ve known,” he shakes his head. The two of you giggle at each other’s banter, his high pitched laugh truly infectious.

“What do you think y/n and Jungkook from the beginning of 2019 would think of this scene right now?” you ask, knowing the answer.

Jungkook ponders at the question for a moment before letting out a deep breath and answering, “Mm I think they’d have a hard time believing what’s in front of them, at least I would. I think you would be happy to see that your goal in becoming friends with your new roommate worked out just fine. It just took a bit of time was all…”

February 2019.

To say that you were struggling to live with Jungkook would probably be the biggest understatement of the year. From the constant use of your things without permission, to the blatant rude remarks he’d constantly throw at you, to the days where he’d be completely cold to you and the rest of the world, and don’t even let you get started on the constant women he’d bring over. You’d have to invest in some ear plugs soon if it kept going at the rate it was because at this point you knew Jungkook liked it um … rough … so to speak.  

You found yourself asking Hobi, “Has he settled down yet?” wayyyy too often. Sometimes it felt like Jungkook was purposely baiting you to stoop to his level, like as if he was itching to play a game of cat and mouse. And so for you to continuously suck it up and put on a fake smile for him, only made him do more things to bother you. 

He was like a mosquito pestering you at the back of your neck. He wouldn’t stop until he got his fangs, or whatever it was that mosquitos used to bite, into you. For what reason? You truly did not know, for you have been nothing but nice to him since the day he moved in.

You often wondered how Hobi could put up with it, you mean Jungkook wasn’t exactly mean to Hobi, but he did throw remarks and eye rolls here and there. The best way to describe it was that Jungkook was treating you two like punching bags, and a part of you wanted to know why? Not only why, but where? Where is Jungkook from? Why was he in the states? What made him come back? Why can’t he go back to Busan? Does he have family? How does Hobi even know the dude? Why does Jungkook wake up with a stick up his ass every morning? Why was Jungkook angry at the world and when did he decide that he was going to take it out on you two, especially you. Honestly you were unsure if you’d ever get answers to your questions, but it wouldn’t matter in a couple of weeks when he was gone, right?

Luckily though the only times you really did see Jungkook was on weekends, and even then if you weren’t out doing some nightly festivities then he was. Or while you went grocery shopping he was working out or something, Not to mention that weekdays you worked AM shifts at your job while Jungkook, who had been hooked up with a job at one of the coffee shop’s Hobi managed, worked afternoon to night shifts. 

This meant that whenever you were going to work, Jungkook was catching up on his sleep and vice versa. But occasionally when you two did bump paths, let’s say going to your restroom, he definitely used those opportunities to try and get under your skin. Each and every time, failing to do so.

But today something was different. You weren’t sure if it was because as you were driving to work, coffee spilled onto your shirt at a speed bump because someone stole your favorite coffee thermo which had a securable lid. This then caused you to be 30 minutes late which then resulted in you receiving your first ever official warning. Or maybe it was because you had to not only stay an extra 30 minutes, but an extra hour because someone’s late night hook up the night prior kept you up and completely unfocused. You personally had chosen to go to sleep than stay up and listen to some girl screaming about how much deeper she wanted it while trying to type up your monthly report. And then of course who could forget the cherry on top? Coming back home to that same certain someone, and having to deal with the accusations that you stole his banana milk.

“I didn’t steal anything,” you mumble, warming up the japchae Hobi had left for you on the stove. Jungkook gets up and opens the fridge door, dramatically showing you the empty spot where his banana milk was usually at.

“Well someone did, and Hobi says it wasn’t him and well I trust Hobi so,” Jungkook shrugs, looking at you with a deadpan look on his face. Sadly, Hobi probably asleep already, tired from what you assumed was a long day of work and the thing about Hobi was once he went to sleep there was no waking him up. That boy could sleep through the world ending, “I don’t exactly think it’s beneath you to steal my things…” he says, each one of his words dripping with venom.

You?! Stealing his things?! When he’s the one who's been taking your things left and right?? If he had caught you on any other day, you probably would’ve shrugged his accusations off, hell you might’ve even taken the blame and offer to buy him a new pack. But right now, you could feel your blood almost boiling. How dare he!

“I,” your voice rises, completely ready to go off on the boy, until you hear a door slam, Hobi coming out completely groggy and clearly annoyed.

“Will you two just,” his voice is heavy, sighing in frustration, “Y/N just go and eat in your room,” he says, feeling like a parent to two fighting siblings.

“But—” you’re about to fight your case, until Hobi interrupts.

“Y/N…” he looks at you in despair, his tone a clear indicator that he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t annoyed, he was just tired. You grab your food from the stove, having to pass by Jungkook as you leave the kitchen.

“Was little miss saccharine finally going to pop?” he scoffs, the two of you momentarily having a stare down, until quickly you compose yourself, the fake smile he knew all too well back on your face.

“Goodnight Jungkook,” you say, before making your way back into your room, peeved that Hobi scolded you and not Jungkook, that was until you heard the sound of muffled voices through your closed door. 

If you wanted to get a better listen you were going to have to crack open the door without making a single sound, something that would be embarrassing if you managed to fail. Deciding that you were too nosy for your own good, you thankfully succeed in doing so, their voices sounding much clearer to your ears.    

“You know she’s having a bad day, and yet—” you hear the sound of Hobi flapping his arms in despair, “and yet you still make her your target of the day,” he says.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asks, his voice telling you that he was ready to go on the defense.

“Jungkook let’s not act dense,” Hobi says, “What are we in preschool? You have some crush, and think being mean will get you your way with her?” Hobi accuses, which Jungkook immediately denies.

“She wishes,” he mumbles in return, “I treat her like I treat everyone,” he clarifies, almost sounding proud.

“No you treat her worse,” Hobi adds, “if you’re not giving her some backhanded compliment then you’re completely giving her the cold shoulder. I probably only get half of what she does, and even I’m getting fed up with it, so I could only imagine how she feels,” he sighs, “but Y/N is a very very nice person, and since that first day I met her in till even today, I have never seen her get mad at anyone, but you my friend are,” he pauses, trying to think of the best way to describe it, “well you’re pushing buttons that I’ve never seen pushed.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Yeah because her whole act of “I’m miss goody two shoes and can never even hurt a fly” act is such bullshit,” he drops his air quotes, “a grown ass woman acting like telling someone off will add some kind of dent to the image I’m sure has taken her a very long time to build.”

With every word he says, you could feel your stomach drop further and further down. The lump in your throat desperate to be let out. “She probably has you and the rest of the world fooled, but I can see right through it. It’s people like her who will lie to your face, and tell you everything you want to hear because they don’t want to be painted out as some bad guy. And let me tell you people like that are much worse than me because at least I have the balls to tell it like it is to someone’s face rather than protect my own ego, ” he finishes his rant, the veins on his neck faintly popping.

Hobi remains silent for a moment, taking in everything Jungkook said, then pushing his hair back with his hand, an indicator that he was stressed, “Look man, I’m letting you stay here so you can get back on your feet, and because you didn’t want go back to Busan,” he sighs, knowing he’s stepping on broken glass, “I don’t know what happened over there in the states, and I’m not gonna ask about it because I’m sure you’ll talk about it the day you’re ready to,” he pauses, “But what I do know is that you’re right, Y/N does fake her persona from time to time…” you feel your heart drop, while Jungkook’s face goes smug. That is until Hobi continued with what he was saying, “But the same way I’m not gonna ask you about why you came back to Korea a completely cold person, I’m not gonna question why she acts the way it does, especially because it's not hurting anyone.”

“Of course you wo—”

Hobi cuts him off before he can continue, “Let me finish,” he sternly says, his brows knitted, “But as long she keeps letting her feelings build up the way I’m assuming they are, and you keep acting the way you are now then—” he sighs, “There’s going to be a day where the water in the pot is going to boil over and well I don’t wanna be here when it happens,” his presses his lips together, shaking his head at the mere idea, “All I ask for Jungkook is that you try to be a little nicer to her, just for once. I think the two of you would actually be pleasantly surprised at how much in common you have,” Jungkook tries his best to bite his tongue, seeing just how tired his friend looked, “Maybe not even nice to her, just decent. Can you do me that favor?”

Jungkooks lets out a huff of air before silently nodding his head yes, Hobi giving him a small smile in return, “Thanks Jungkook, now I can actually go to sleep instead of hearing you two bicker,” he says before tapping on his shoulder and going back into his room. You, on the other hand, quickly wipe any droplets that fall from your eyes, closing the door before Hobi could notice the crack that was there.

Jungkook sits in the kitchen chair for a while, reflecting on the lecture Hobi just gave him. Hating that the feeling of guilt was beginning to seep in because unlike Hobi, before his little lecture, Jungkook knew that there had been a pair of ears listening in and he knew you could hear every word that came out of his mouth as your little attempt to crack open the door wasn’t as slick as you thought it was ….he just hadn’t cared.

“Just be decent,” Jungkook whispers to himself before turning off the kitchen lights and heading to bed. The two of you lying in your own beds at night, a lot on each other's mind.

“And to think Hobi ended up predicting everything that was going to happen,” Jungkook shakes his head, remembering his friend’s warning to him.

“That’s our Hobi,” you laugh, “always one step ahead, well when he wants to be of course,” you add, a small chuckle coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in response.

“You think he knew what he was doing the whole time?” Jungkook asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Like in terms of allowing everything to play out, you know? Because if he wanted to he could’ve kicked me out from the beginning…” you ponder on his question for a bit, thinking back to Hobi’s role in this whole tale.

“Mm I think he knew but was probably unsure the whole time, you know? Unsure if things would work out the way he set em up to be, I don’t know if he’ll ever tell us but…” you pause, “I think he knew what he was doing from the moment he told you that you could live with us, and I definitely think it was bullshit on his part when he said that he didn’t know what happened to you in the states,” you laugh because you could picture Hobi doing his own research on Google late at night, “So I guess he just knew that there were two people in his life in desperate need of a…” you look for the right word to describe it.

“Reality check?” Jungkook fills in for you, but you shake your head no.

“Mm,” you hum, “No, I dont think thats the way to put it, hmm, how about this…” you pause one last time before continuing, wanting to make sure you said everything correctly, “Hobi had two pieces to a puzzle that needed to connect together in order to complete said puzzle, but after lots of tosses and turns in their box well the two pieces just didn’t fit together anymore. In fact they refused to even try and fit with another, deciding that they were going to live with their new flaps and dents, and ignoring the fact that in order to complete the puzzle they needed to come together,” you let out a small laugh, “and so Hobi took a gamble, and decided to leave the pieces alone for the time being, in hopes that maybe, just maybe with a little bit more tosses and turns they’d realize that by coming together they’d be left with nothing but a beautiful image to show,” a warm smile appears on your face, “Yeah I think I like how that sounds, what do you think?” you turn to face Jungkook who was staring at you with his doe-eyed expression, completely speechless.

“Or was I too wordy?” you laugh, “I reached didn’t I?” you begin to ramble, “Ah I really need to—” suddenly you feel a cold finger pressed against your lips, Jungkook sounding a tiny “shh” soon after.

“I think it was perfect,” Jungkook softly whispers, what could only be described as a loving smile on his face. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling your cold face get warmed up due to the heat that was rising from your cheeks. Reminding you of a memory from only months ago…

March 2019.

“Remind me why I’m going again?” you walk out of the hallway and into the living room, heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Because you are tonight’s designated driver,” Hobi reminds you, “and well we all don’t fit in Seokjin’s mini cooper so there’s that,” he laughs. You sigh in return, looking at your reflection for the 100th time tonight. “Jungkook, you almost ready?” Hobi shouts from the living room, not keen on his friend’s habit of always getting ready at the last minute.

Tonight was one of, if not the only, rare occasions that both you and Jungkook would be at an outing together, and even then Hobi was always with you two, acting as the facilitator. Jungkook and you usually parted your separate ways the moment you’d arrive somewhere, especially at parties. And so today you didn’t really expect anything different. 

It had been about a month since Hobi’s little lecture to Jungkook, and in a way it did have some kind of positive effect on Jungkook. These days he was now much more quiet and reserved, and honestly you preferred the cold shoulder over the constant attitude so you were definitely not complaining.

You were even surprised this morning when you found your bathroom products to be completely replaced by new bottles, including your serum! Of course they had been slightly used, meaning Jungkook wasn’t going to let go of his grip on them just yet, but at least it meant that he had the decency to realize that if he was going to be using them all the time, then it was only right that he occasionally paid for them. 

Even last week when you heard him mumble a small, “that was good, thank you,” after making gyeran-mari’s for breakfast, you had to look at Hobi for confirmation that it really happened. Hell, he had even stopped constantly bringing women over, instead beginning to work out more often as you would now hear his grunts come from doing sit ups than from doing um… yeah. It looked like he even had a knack for boxing because you soon noticed how he’d come back home with hands wrapped in bandages or his gloves stringing along his duffel bag. Honestly, it was a little hot, but you’d rather die before admitting that to anyone.

“Ah I’m done, I’m done,” a voice comes out the hallway, Jungkook balancing on his right foot in a rush to put on his left shoe. Tonight he was dressed a little differently than his usual self, replacing his usual black attire and black combat boots for a more club friendly look of ripped blue jeans, black ankle boots, and a black fitted t-shirt. Of course not straying too far from his personal style. The new tattoo he had gotten recently was also in clear view tonight, his sleeve coming along quite nice in your opinion. He had recently even gotten his hair permed, allowing it to grow out longer than what you were used to seeing. It was crazy what a difference hair could make because it definitely made him look … better, in your eyes at least. 

All this change on his part, honestly made you feel a little dull, but that’d be something to dwell on for another day. For now, you just wanted to get tonight over with. The faster you got there, the quicker you could leave, and the earlier you could be in bed.  

“You took a whole ass hour for this?” Hobi eyes Jungkook up and down. Jungkook is quick to shoot him an offended look, while you on the other hand are struggling to suppress a laugh, “I’m not saying you look bad, in fact you look amazing, but this should not take you an hour!” Jungkook rolls his eyes, combing a hand through his hair.

“Are we going to get going or what?” he says, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

Once you all arrived, you were quick to meet up with the rest of your friends, everyone having pitched in for bottle service. Jungkook, who had become pretty cool with the rest of everyone, sat between Yoongi and Namjoon, all three of them laughing at God knows what. The bottle they had bought almost halfway done. 

You on the other hand, were just watching everyone, the only person besides yourself who wasn’t drunk was Seokjin, and even then he was too busy with his new girlfriend to pay you any attention. Not that you really minded considering she really was a kind person and well who could blame Seokjin for being head over heels. They even shared the same humor, something that was quite rare to find.

You weren’t sure if it was because tonight the club seemed extra packed, or maybe the dress you were wearing was feeling a little too tight or maybe it was the stench of all alcohol getting to you but something definitely fell off. And you did not like it one bit.

“Hey I’m gonna go out back and get some fresh air outside,” you tell Hobi over the music, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement, the boy was clearly very drunk. The moment you stepped out, you definitely did feel better, the crispy fresh air outside almost making you feel as if you were breathing for the first time. That was until you heard the sound of someone arguing.

“I saw you dancing with her! Stop trying to gaslight me into thinking you weren’t!” a woman screams, very much in distress by who you assumed was her boyfriend, “God, I knew I should’ve listened to my mom, you are a pig! And I deserve a man who's going to—

“What did you just say?” he grabs her by the arm, his atrocious grip surely going to cause her a bruise later on.

“Let go of me!” she cries, as he then grabs her by the hair, ready to toss her to the floor and do whatever else he wanted to do with her. You feel your breathing become heavier, watching the scene unfold in front of you, unsure of what to do. You were scared and you didn’t know how to defend yourself, let alone someone else. But you also knew that God forbid you were ever in that situation, you wouldn't want someone turning a blind eye on you, so you did what was only right.

“Hey!” you scream while walking towards the couple, catching the man’s attention, “Let go of her before I—”

“Before you what?” he lets go of her hair, now walking towards you as well. The woman watches you with shaky eyes, having never guessed that her savior would be a woman in black string heels and a face that for the most part was not at all intimidating.

You reach into your purse, hoping to get a feel for either your taser or pocket knife, but of course, of fucking course, on all days of the year it was no where to be found. Nonetheless, you muster up your courage and respond, “Before I call security,” you say, trying your best to sound confident.

He laughs, dramatically looking around to show you that no one around was here to help, “Anyone ever teach you to mind your fucking business, like how a woman should,” you gulp, almost losing balance while taking a step back as he only gets closer, “Huh?! Anyone every fucking teach you that?” he closes in on you, your back soon hitting the wall that was behind you.

“Just leave her alone!” the woman screams in hysteria.

“You stay the fuck out of it! You’re the whole reason she’s in this mess,” he mutters, his words completely slurred and his breath reeking like alcohol. You almost feel like vomiting at the accidental whiff you take because wow was this man just disgusting.

“See maybe if you would’ve just gone about your day, you wouldn’t be here right now,” he makes a ticking sound with his mouth, mocking you, “but” he sighs, “I guess whores just have to stick with each other, huh?” he grabs you by the scalp of your hair, this time not hesitating to throw you to the ground.

“Oh my—” the woman screams, panic flowing through her veins.

“Go!” you yell at her, giving her the chance to escape even if it meant sacrificing your own wellbeing. She hesitates for a moment before running, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement was one of the last things you could hear before the ringing in your ears became all too much. 

You look at your hands for a moment, the stinging feeling almost unbearable as they had taken most of the impact of the fall, along with your knees. A part of you hoped he had left, that he had somehow magically disappeared or that you’d wake up to find that this was nothing more than a nightmare. But it wasn’t until you felt the grip of his hand on your hair again, that you’d come to realize the reality of your situation and that there was absolutely no one to help you.

The man lifts up his free hand, building power for the punch he was preparing to throw, as you could only throw your arms in front yourself in an attempt to minimize the impact of the punch. By now tears were falling from freely your eyes, small whimpers and sniffles coming out of fear. The final words you hear being spat from his mouth were, “you stupid bitch,” and in your head you count to three, waiting for the feeling of his fist against your face. But it never came.

Instead you feel the release of his hand on your scalp, and when you open your eyes you find him on the ground, not completely knocked out but he might as well be with just how out of it he looked. And though you weren’t drunk, you almost felt as if you were because absolutely everything around you was overlapping, hardly able to see anything in clear focus. But what you could make out was that there was a figure, and by the build you assume was a man, now sitting over the drunkard, throwing several punches at him. His goal was either to knock the man out or make sure he suffered every way possible before knocking him out.  

You stand there for a moment in shock as you hear the person’s voice, a voice that was all too familiar, “I dare you to fucking lay a hand on her again, I fucking dare you!” Jungkook yells, throwing another punch at the man, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” slowly your vision becomes clearer as you wipe away the tears that had been blocking your vision, and soon you realize if Jungkook kept going at the rate he was, the man was going to be killed.

Quickly you run towards Jungkook, attempting to grab his right arm before he swings again, “Jungkook stop!” you yell, but instead he pushes your arm away, too caught up in his rage to think straight. The drunk man looked as if he was barely holding on, blood now all over his face. “I said stop!” you yell at the top of your lungs, the veins on your neck popping. Jungkook, panting, looks up at you, momentarily stopping. “Just stop,” you cry, wanting this nightmare to be over.

Jungkook looks at the barely conscious man one more time, pulling him by the collar of his shirt so that he’d get a good look of him, “If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate to—”

“Jungkook,” you stop him from finishing his sentence.

He sighs, “Just be glad she’s here because scum like you deserve to fucking rot,” he says, letting go of the man’s collar and allowing his head to hit the pavement. He gets up from his position and begins to pat his black shirt of any dirt, catching his breath along the way. “You okay?” he asks, intensely staring at you.

But before you could respond, a voice screams, “Hey!” the two of you look up at said voice, only to find a security guard with a flashlight in his hand and his walky talky on the other.

Jungkook quickly grabs you by the hand, causing you to wince at the sudden touch, “Come on,”  he says, pulling you to follow him.

He leads you back to the parking lot, confusion evidently on your face. It wasn’t until you turned back to find several security guards following after you that everything began to click together, panic now flowing through your veins. Hurriedly, you grab Hobi’s keys from your purse and unlock the door, your heart beating out of your chest.

Jungkook quickly hops in the passenger seat, his head throbbing from the amount of drinks he’s had, watching as you struggle to put the key in the ignition, clearly in a state of anxiousness. He yanks the keys from your hands and places them in himself, “Now drive!” he shouts, causing you to step ferociously on the gas pedal. Burning tire as you race off the parking lot.  

“God my head is fucking killing me,” Jungkook complains, his blood stained hands resting on his temple. By now the two of you were heading back home, Jungkook having texted Hobi through your phone that he was going to have to get a ride from Seokjin. For the situation you two were just in had required an immediate escape.

You on the other hand were driving in complete silence, still in a state of shock of what just happened. Jungkook having to constantly remind you that you were driving, several instances of you zoning out at a stop light happening way too often for his liking.

“I am way too drunk for this shit,” he mutters under his breath, the reality of what just happened beginning to kick in. The queasy feeling in his stomach became more and more unbearable with every turn you took. And don’t even get him started on his throat, which was currently as dry as the Sahara Desert. “Is there some kind of water in this car?” he asks, beginning to look through the car console and glove compartment.

“I don’t,” you pause and sigh, “I don’t know.”

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

“Pull over,” he repeats, his patience running out.

Not questioning him a second time, you do exactly that, pulling over at the side of some park near your apartment. Jungkook takes in a deep breath before opening the door and sticking his head out, seconds later the sound of him vomiting making you feel as queasy as he did.

“Oh God,” you mumble to yourself, just wanting to be in bed already. But of course that wasn’t going to happen because soon enough Jungkook was getting out of the car and going to God knows where. “Where are you going?” you shout, as he walks towards the park.

“I need water,” he says, “You coming or what?” you contemplate on whether to follow him or not, before ultimately exiting the car and locking it. With the way he was stumbling his footsteps, it was better safe than sorry to follow him.

“BogoShipda!” Jungkook sings loudly to the trees in the park, all of the alcohol he drank at the club still running through his system. You stare at him in surprise, having never seen him act like this before, as he continues to sing.

“Now where’s a water fountain when you need one,” he mumbles, the darkness of the night sky making it hard for him to scan his surrounding area. You found yourself feeling a little scared in fact. The silhouette of the trees and the sound of the wind softly pushing against the branches only making the atmosphere more scary.

“Ah there it is!” Jungkook slurs his words, sounding like a kid at a carnival. Once he’s in front of the fountain, he pushes against the button, the water sprouting out of the fountainhead. You stare at him in silence as he hadn’t crouched down to drink yet, thus confusing you.

It wasn’t until you felt a tug at your hand and the sting of the water hitting against your scrapes that you felt like punching him. “What are you doing?” you ask, trying your best not to sound too peeved.

He looks at you before rolling his eyes, “What do you think I’m doing? I’m cleaning your hands,” he signals for you to give him your other hand, and without thinking you comply.

“I could’ve done this at home,” you say.

“I know, but the longer we wait the higher chance it'll end up getting infected by dirt so,” he looks at you with a know it all expression, and you mumble a small “I guess,” under your breath, the stinging sensation soon enough replaced by a cool one, your hands no longer feeling as rusty.

It isn’t until he’s finished that he takes a sip of water, exhaling a small “ahh” sound after downing several gulps. “Come on,” he grabs your hand again, leading you to a park bench with a small lamppost right next to it, providing a smooth yellow dim light.

“Why are we—”

“I just want to sit for a moment without the movement of a car, just for a bit,” he exhales a heavy breath, manspreading on the bench and throwing his head back, “just for a bit,” he repeats, his voice soft.

The two of you sit there in silence, “Why are you staring at me?” he asks with his eyes closed, feeling your intense stare.  

“I’m not—I’m not staring,” you stutter, he hums in response. Silence fills the air again, until Jungkook mumbles something that at first is inaudible.

“What?” you ask.

“I said I’m ˢᵒʳʳʸ,” you look at him confused, were you hearing him correctly?

“Wait what?” you ask again, it wasn’t your intention to come off as pushy nor pretentious but you were just seriously surprised as to what you were hearing.

He grumbles before repeating himself, “I said,” he drops his shoulders, “I said I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes to look at you, his usual smug behavior nowhere to be found on his face, he was being completely serious.

“Oh…” you pause for a moment before continuing, “Can I ask for what? I’m not trying to be mean or anything or act dense. I seriously just don’t know why,” you make sure you add those claims at the end, feeling as if you were walking on eggshells.

He looks at you momentarily before placing his view on the trees in front of you, “For not getting there earlier,” he mutters, as if disappointed with himself, “I went out because Hobi had told me to go check up on you, but,” he stays silent for a moment before continuing, clenching his jaw, “at first I sorta shrugged him off when he asked me, it wasn’t until he asked me second time that I actually went outside,” his voice shakes a bit and you notice that his eyes become slightly glossy, “and then a woman came running up to me rambling about someone about to get beaten up, but the last person I thought she was talking about was you,” he exhales loudly before continuing, trying his best to maintain his composure, “but either way I ran towards wherever she was pointing at, and that’s when I saw you on the floor,” his voice cracks, “and I just keep replaying everything in my head, and I just—” he closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I’m just sorry and I felt like you deserved to know that,” he concludes, a tear falling from his face.

And maybe it was because he was drunk, or maybe he just really did feel bad, but to see Jungkook this vulnerable was different to say the least. It was almost humanizing in some aspects.

Jungkook expected you to scream at him, to tell him that it was his fault you were put in that situation. That he could’ve prevented it from happening, that because of him you almost got beat to a bloody pulp.

No, in fact he doesn't expect you to, he wants you to. It’s what he deserves to hear from you. Had it not been for him and his ego, he would’ve gone out there the moment Hobi had asked him to, and you would’ve never had to deal with that drunk excuse of a human being to begin with. Or was the alcohol in his system just seriously getting to him because God did he feel sick.

“Jungkook it’s not your fault,” you begin, but Jungkook who's still looking at the trees, refuses to make eye contact. “Hey look at me,” you demand, tugging his hand in an effort to get him to look at you. When he does so, you continue, “That man was going to attack me whether you came or not because a weak man like that will attack the easiest target,” you state, a small chuckle escaping your lips, “It was no one’s fault but his, you hear me?” you squeeze his hand, “Not yours, not mine, not Hobi’s, not the lady, no one. Absolutely no one.”

More tears begin to fall from his bloodshot eyes, “You don’t get it y/n,” he shakes his head, “You don’t what that man could’ve done to you in that time I wasn’t there, you could’ve been killed for God’s sake,” he attempts to say it firmly, but his voice betrays him by whimpering in the end.

“But he didn’t!” you say, and without thinking you place his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here look! All because of you! Yeah you didn’t get there as early as you wished you could’ve, but you got there nonetheless! And if you hadn’t I probably would be sporting a big old black eye on my face and have one cheek bigger than the other right now. I’d look like one of those chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks!” you laugh at your own joke, and for the first time ever, Jungkook laughs with you. His last first starting off as a small chuckle but the harder you laughed, the harder he did. The beginning to what would be you always hearing his high pitched laugh around the apartment, but let’s not get too far ahead right now.

They say when a human is drunk, they muster up the courage to do something they’d never do sober, but have always thought of doing in the back of their mind. It was often why people would blame a bold text to an ex on being “drunk” despite not taking one sip of their tequila shot, or why some people would excuse cheating on being “drunk” despite knowing it was something they wanted to do for a very long time. They were looking for an excuse to finally do it. And so now sitting here, with his hand caressed across your face, goofy grins plastered on your faces, he felt tempted to just kiss you.

It was weird really, yeah he thought you were cute, in fact there were days he’d found you hot, but anything past physical attraction had never really crossed his mind. To him, you’d always been and currently were his roommate who he found both superficial and performative. 

The one who once attempted to hide her strawberry scented shampoo in her room during work, in hopes that he wouldn’t go out of his way to find it. The one who liked her jjolmyeon more on the sour side than the sweet. The one who occasionally made him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, despite him being asleep after a long night of work of barristering. The one who for some odd reason almost never watched Netflix on the TV, but instead would watch it on her laptop on the couch, thus rendering the TV completely useless.

And so to be here, finally appreciating the person that you were after what could’ve been a near-death experience was a bit of a wake up call. And yeah like you said, maybe he didn’t get here as early as he should’ve been, but he got here nonetheless. He smiles to himself, your words having a double meaning behind them.

But for now he wanted to preserve this feeling, because he knew he was drunk. He was so drunk that the tree behind you was beginning to look like it was moving towards him. And so rather than kiss you, he instead decides to simply tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, deciding that if he felt like this tomorrow morning when he was sober then it’d be something worth looking into.

“I’m telling you, if I ever see that man again—”

“It was like,” you count on your fingers, “9 months ago Jungkook, I doubt you even remember his face,” you cut off, patting his shoulder.

“Mm,” he hums, “you’d be surprised how good I am at remembering faces, so when I tell you I’m still waiting for the day I come across him again, I mean it!” you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you sing,  “Hey at least something good came out of it,” you smile.

Jungkook looks at you with uncertainty, “Which is?”

Your small smile then becomes a toothy grin, “We became friends!” you exclaim excitedly, “temporarily at least,” you laugh.

April 2019.

It had been about two weeks since the incident at the club. Jungkook having completely avoided you since, and no you weren’t paranoid because originally you thought you were. It first started off with you not seeing him at all around the apartment, which you excused with you two having different work schedules like always. But then you’d notice he wouldn’t even drink the coffee you would make for him in the morning, it being left there on the counter for the entire day. 

And in the very rare moments you did manage to get a glimpse of him in the hallway either entering or exiting his room, the boy would completely avoid eye contact with you! But the final confirmation that told you he was avoiding you? He had bought his own shampoo and body wash for himself! Not just any kind, he bought an extra lather version of your own with exfoliating properties. And you didn’t if you could use it or not because, well because he was avoiding you! 

It wasn’t like you two kissed or anything! The most that happened was that you two shared a laugh! So then why was he avoiding you like the freaking plague? After a week of thinking about every possible reason he could be, you had given up. You’d accepted that you were back at square one with him, but it wasn’t like you were ever at square two to begin with. And so that’s why yesterday when Hobi told you he’d be going on a morning/afternoon hike trip on Saturday with Namjoon, you were skeptical on how Jungkook would manage to avoid you.

It was also why this morning in bed, when you heard what sounded like furniture being moved at 7 in the freaking morning, you were unsure about getting up and saying something or remaining in bed. Luckily you didn’t have to think about it for too long because you soon heard the sound footsteps coming closer to your bedroom door. As a result, you quickly threw yourself under the covers and pretended to be asleep.

It definitely had to be Jungkook who had just entered your room, the heavy footsteps acting as a signal to you that it was. Your eyes widen when you hear the sound of your drawer being pulled open, “What the hell did he think he was doing? Should you turn around and scare him? Hmm. No,” you think to yourself because soon enough you felt a hand gently shake your body.

“Y/N,”  he whispers, clearly in belief that you were asleep. You let him shake you around a little more, just to make your little “I’m just waking up” act a little more believable, “Y/N,” he repeats, and this time you begin to make groggy sounds. Actress of the Year Award : Check.

“Mm,” you hum, but you’re quickly jolted awake when you feel your covers get pulled off of you, “What are you—” you look up at Jungkook, who was dressed in complete workout gear. But what really had you concerned, was the workout clothing he had folded in his hands because well they were yours.

He tosses the matching pair of black leggings and sports bra, “Go change,” he sternly says, only causing you to look at him in further confusion.

“B-b-but-” Jungkook knows you’re about to not only complain, but ask many many questions. Because that’s just the type of person you are.

“Hobi told me you like buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, but that since yours always come out burnt and his come out too dull, that the only time you get to eat them is if you go to a breakfast restaurant,” you narrow your eyes at him, confused as to where this was leading to, “Well at the coffee shop I work at, we have a weekly Pancake Tuesday and well let’s just say a certain someone has been rated top pancake maker for 2 months now,” you quirk your brow in interest, continuing to listen, a smirk now on his face, “and let’s also say this certain someone has a stack of warm pancakes sitting there on the kitchen island, untouched and certainly uneaten.”

You quickly smile at what he was insinuating, “BUT you can only eat them if you get up, get ready and change in 5 minutes,” he looks at the clock, “starting now.” And in the blink of an eye you were up and running towards your restroom because certainly if that didn’t get you up and out of bed, he wasn’t sure what would.

Quickly you brush your teeth and fix up your hair a bit, curious to know what Jungkook had planned out. To think you thought he was avoiding you! Well he was … but that doesn’t matter anymore! Placing your shoes on you begin to make your way towards the living room, the thought of eating those buttermilk pancakes almost making your mouth drool. That was until you stepped into the living room, stopping dead in your tracks.

Your eyes glaze over everything, blinking veryyy slowly, in order to make sure you were seeing things correctly. Jungkook had transformed your living room into some kind of um … workout center? For boxing? He had everything from the red punching bag, the reflex bag, the speed ball, jump rope, mini dumbbells, and most importantly boxing mitts for some one-on-one training. Everything was an adequate enough size to fit in all into the living room, but not too big in a way that it couldn’t be stored in the extra closet you had in the hallway.

“Why did you—” Jungkook hands you a pair of shiny black boxing gloves, along with bandages.

“I’m going to teach you the basics of boxing,” he presses his lips together, “whether you like it or not,” he says.

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

“You don’t think what?” he looks at you in a way that tells you he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I’m not really cut out for this kind of stuff,” you try to make an excuse for yourself anyway, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Because you have no experience, which is exactly why I’m going to teach you,” his brows draw together, a stern look on his face as he now makes eye contact with you, “You can’t just always expect someone to pop out of thin air and come to your rescue y/n, what happened two weeks ago was a mix of both good timing and sheer luck,” he sighs while pulling out a taser and pocket knife from his pocket, “and though this is helpful in many situations, you seem to forget to take these with you,” he scolds, “guess where they were the night at the club?” You stay silent, “the kitchen island,” he answers for you.

“Okay I get it, I get it,” you say, “I need to learn how to protect myself without using those,” you point to the items in his hand.

“Exactly, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he playfully pats your head, “so we’ll be doing this every weekend for the next eight weeks, from 7AM till 2PM. We might even throw an occasional weekday night in there if I don’t get out of work too late.”

“7AM?!” you shriek, “Oh no no no, you sir are crazy,” you protest, shaking your head in denial, “No amount of pancakes will have me waking up that early every weekend.”

“Oh come on! The more hours you do, the better you’ll get!” he bargains with you, catching you off guard by throwing his arm around your shoulder, your cheeks going red as a result.

“Jungkook,” you dramatically cry out, ready to stomp your feet on the floor like a little kid, the only thing preventing you was you not wanting the downstairs neighbors to come up and complain.

He tightens his grip on you, “Come onnnnn,” he sings, “I’ll let you use my new body wash with the exfoliating properties,” he teases you, having heard you complain to Hobi one morning about being unsure of whether or not you could use it. You truly were too kind for your own good, cause if the situations were reversed, Jungkook would’ve just gone ahead and used it.

You narrow your eyes at him once again, “More like you’re buying me one of my own!” you demand and he nods in agreement, “Also, where did you even manage to get all this?” you ask, genuinely curious as to how he managed to buy all this.

“Um let’s just say I have a buddy at the boxing gym who didn’t really need these anymore,” you stare at him suspiciously, but decide to shrug it off. You’d ask him more questions some other day, but for now all you wanted was to eat those pancakes!

Hobi opens the door to his shared apartment, exhausted from the hike he just had this morning and honestly ready to just hop into bed and sleep. That was until he saw the transformation of his living room in front of his very own eyes, his skin paling and mouth gaping in shock.

“What the—” he whispers, preparing to scream out your names like a parent walking in their house only to find it destroyed by their teenagers, but before he could the sound of something stops him dead in his tracks. It was the sound of soft snores.

Walking towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from the long couch, a smile immediately appears on his face when he comes to see the view in front of him. You were on one side of the couch while Jungkook was on the other, both of your feet stretched out and touching in the middle, napping away. Hobi personally thought he was dreaming, this being a view he never thought he’d see.

Wanting to preserve the memory, he grabs his phone from his pocket and opens up the camera app, snapping the photo in silence, tempted to edit and post the photo with little clouds above each other's heads and make up some witty caption. But he’d save it for some other day. For now, he was just happy you two were finally getting along.

“Ah I had forgotten how that photo came to be,” Jungkook laughs, looking at the photo on your Iphone screen, “you were tired from working out, while I was tired from having to watch you continuously mess around with the equipment,” he pokes fun at you. Not like it wasn’t true, that day you kept going back to the speed ball, aimlessly hitting it in hopes that at some point you’d magically become fast at hitting it like in the movies.

“Hey, I’m pretty decent at doing everything now,” you flash him a cheesy smile. After several weeks of consistent training and long hours, you were definitely at a point where you could adequately defend yourself from someone ranging from a small petite woman to around a medium sized man. Luckily, you haven't come across a situation that has required you to to do so nor do you ever hope to, but it was comforting to know that if something ever did happen, then you were ready. But, your taser and pocket knife would always be your first go to, no matter what.

“You’re…” Jungkook pauses, “okay,” he breathes, huffing a quiet laugh. Out of impulse you flash him the finger, showing off your freshly manicured fingers. “Aren’t you rude,” he says with a dramatic gasp.

You roll your eyes, “You’re the one who taught me,” you laugh, and Jungkook places his hand on his chest, looking at you with a dramatic offended look on his face.

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

“Yes you! How could I forget,” you look at him accusingly.

“No I taught you how to stop faking a smile, and to start putting a foot down people’s neck,” he shrugs, “not to go sticking out the middle finger,” he jokes, and you only roll your eyes again, grumbling a small  “Mm.”

May 2019.

To your surprise, you had been managing to consistently wake up and work out every weekend with Jungkook, with him even being able to up your usual workout plan at a drastic rate. You’d shed a couple of pounds and to your surprise could even see some muscle beginning to form, but today, well today was your monthly lazy day.

Lazy day was the one day of the month where you and Hobi would push everything off your schedule, from calling off of work, to making sure everything in the apartment was clean, and buying snacks the night before in order to make sure you wouldn’t have to step out of the apartment. It was usually picked the month before by either you or Hobi closing your eyes and randomly pointing somewhere on the calendar, and whatever day your index finger managed to land on would be the day. And well today was that day.

But when Hobi told you yesterday night that a family emergency was going to have to bring lazy day to a temporary halt because he had to drive back to Busan, which in itself was a three hour trip from Seoul, you had already called the day off weeks prior as your job wasn’t as lenient on last minute call offs. The contract you signed stating in small print, “any day off must be requested, sent in, and approved 2 weeks prior to the date said employee is asking for.”

And so this morning when Jungkook entered your room to find you completely knocked out with drool coming out of your mouth, he was surprised to say the least. On weekday mornings, he would almost always wake up to find himself alone in the apartment considering both you and Hobi have day jobs, so hearing snores come out of your room had definitely caught him off guard.

He debated on whether he should be annoying and wake you up and then force you to work out or be a nice roommate and make you breakfast. Let’s just say he didn’t choose the latter. Grabbing one of the stuffed animals that you weren’t hugging, he throws it at your head, a grunt coming out of your mouth after.

“Jungkook,” you mutter, morning voice in full effect, “let me sleep please,” you say, switching to the other side, in hopes that he’d leave.

“No, you need to work out,” he says, beginning to nag.

Turning around again, this time to face him, you look at him with your eyes half-way open, “Today’s lazy day,” you deadpan, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What the hell is, quote on quote, lazy day?” he asks, lifting a brow. Rubbing your eyes along with eye boogers in the corners, you begin to stretch your arms and legs, not caring if he was staring.

Sighing once you were ready to respond, you then answer, “Lazy day is the one day of the month that me and Hobi take a day off of work to well … be lazy,” he stares at you with an innocent look on his face, “butttttt,” a mischievous smile appears on your face, “since Hobi cancelled on me, now you’re going to be lazy partner for the day.” His face twists in bewilderment.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, go call the café, and tell em you’re taking the day off,” you smile, now getting up from bed.

“And why would I do that?” Jungkook asks, the question coming off a little harsher than intended, but you were quick to shrug it off, already accustomed to the occasional attitude.

“Becauseeeeee,” you sing, “When was the last time you’ve taken a day off, I mean look at you right now! You’re already dressed comfortably,” you eye him up and down, he was currently in work out clothing which for him consisted of an oversized grey sweater and joggers, “do you really wanna get all sweaty and then have to shower, change, and go to work… cause I don’t think you do,” you raise your eyebrows up and down in a teasing manner as he avoids eye contact with you.

His eyes look around your room, clearly thinking to himself. A lazy day huh? Hmm you did make a point, he really couldn’t remember the last time he’s just lounged around and done nothing, as he was always doing something whether it be working out, working, going out, etc.

He looks back at you once he’s made his decision, letting out a huff of air, “Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone from his pocket, preparing to dial the coffee shop, a tiny squeal coming from you.

“I thought lazy day meant no going out,” Jungkook complains while pushing the grocery cart around, following you and your need to go up and down each and every aisle at the store.

“It does, but since Hobi and I couldn’t go grocery shopping the night before,” you grab some strawberry lemonade from the freezer and place it in the cart, “someone has to help carry the groceries up the stairs,” you catch him rolling his eyes, “your eyes will get stuck up there if you keep doing that,” you comment, grabbing packaged ramen from the counter beside you.

“Yeah, Yeah—” Jungkook stares at what’s in your hands wide eyed, “No, no, no! What are you doing?” You jump in surprise, dropping the package on the floor.

“Wh-what?” your face flushes in surprise, his outburst completely catching you off guard.

“Shin Ramyun?! What happened to getting Paldo Bibimmyeon?! Do you have no loyalty?” he scrunches his face up, in clear distress at what he just caught you doing. At first you don’t think he’s serious, this being some stupid joke he was making, but once you got a glimpse of the stare he was giving you, you’d soon come to realize that he was not playing around at all.

“It’s be-be-because,” you begin to stutter under his scrutiny, “these are buy three, get two free,” you lopsidedly smile, an awkward laugh feigning from your lips.  He shakes his head, snatching the ramen from your hands and placing it on its original spot before then grabbing his Paldo Bibimmyeon.

“Choosing price over quality, are you crazy?” he mutters under his breath before pushing the cart past you and making his way to the checkout line, leaving you there momentarily flabbergasted.

Once you caught up to him you were ready to tell him something until you heard the sound of someone calling your name, “Y/N?” you turn around, surprised to see Jimin in the line next to you.

“Oh Jimin!” you smile, softly waving at the newly blonde-haired boy, his roots telling you that the hair job was recent. Jimin offers his hand out to Jungkook. Jungkook, at first hesitant, shakes it in return, “You remember Jimin, right? He was with us on New Years, he was supposed to come partying with us last time, but he flaked last minute,” Jungkook slowly nods remembering the boy wrapping his arm around you during the countdown while Jimin on the other hand raises his hands to his defense.

“Even a person like me can get burnt out every here and then,” he laughs, “but next time I’ll be sure to be on the dance floor,” he winks at you, his natural flirty personality making its appearance. Jungkook awkwardly coughs, pushing the cart forward to get your attention back in the moving line.

You feel your hands get a bit clammy, Jimin always being someone you did have a bit of a crush on, never pursuing anything because of your long-term friendship with him. But of course that didn’t mean he didn’t get an occasional blush out of you here and there. “So how have you been since the last time I saw you? It’s been quite a while—”

And just as you’re about to answer, Jungkook interrupts, “Y/N,” he says, nudging you to tell you that it was time to pay.

“Ah I guess I’ll just see you around then,” Jimin chuckles, waving a small goodbye.

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

“Y/N,” Jungkook repeats, unbeknownst to you, the green eyed monster was beginning to make its appearance. Any longer and horns would probably start sprouting out his ears.

Once you two finish paying and bagging everything, you walk towards Jungkook’s new black Hyundai which he had bought only a couple of weeks ago after months of what he calls “busting his ass” off and using most of his savings up for. You hum a tiny tune while helping him place all the bags in the trunk.

“So…” Jungkook awkwardly begins, second guessing whether he should continue asking the question he had in his mind before deciding to just do it anyway, “Is that like your boyfriend or something?”

Immediately you stop humming, staring at Jungkook wide-eyed, “Oh no, no!” you quickly deny, “No, No, no,” you repeat, shaking your head. The redness of your cheeks tell another story.

“Hm,” Jungkook mumbles, “sorta looked like it,” he deadpans before going to put the cart in its designated spot, leaving you there confused as to what that meant. 

After a couple of hours of lounging around in the apartment and binging Narcos: Mexico on the TV rather than your laptop because of Jungkook’s complaints, the two of you were now eating your ramen on the kitchen island, quietly seated on the tall chairs. The sound of Jungkook slurping his noodles filling the room.

“What did you mean by Jimin being my boyfriend or something?” you suddenly ask out of nowhere, the question having been on your mind for a majority of the day.

Jungkook takes a final gulp of his food before responding, “I don’t know,” he nonchalantly shrugs, “you were gawking at him like a schoolgirl seeing her crush in the hallway,” he says, “thought you two had something going on, or at least on your part,” he reiterates.  

“I did not stare at him like some schoolgirl!” you deny, taking offense to his analogy, “He’s j-jus—”

“J-just someone you clearly have a crush on,” he mocks your flusteredness, “I see and here a part of me thought it thought it was two-sided,” he smirks.

“It’s not sided on either way,” you protest, “Jimin is just a friend,” you clarify, putting your foot down.  

“How do you even know the dude?” he asks. He knew you and Hobi met during college, and that Hobi was in some club with Yoongi and Namjoon which explains how you met them. He also knew that Seokjin and Taehyung came into the picture after some college frat party, but Jimin, well he didn’t know too much about Jimin. Just that he clearly felt comfortable enough to have his arm around you during New Years.

“I met him during my first year of performing at Busan Arts College, that was before I transferred to Seoul National where I’d then meet Hobi,” Jungkook’s ears perk up, several questions now running through his head.

“An arts college? In Busan?”

“Yeah, like a school for dance majors, drawing, theatre, music, film, modelling, sports, interior design, animation, and et cetera,” you smile softly while explaining, “I was an art major, painting to be specific, and along the scopes of watercolors and abstractness.”

Jungkook hums, his curiosity still not completely fulfilled, “So why’d you transfer?” he asks the big question.

“Oh..” you know you shouldn’t be, but for some reason you are slightly taken back by his blunt question, “because..” you sigh, “um something happened that well um I just thought it’d be best to transfer, and well my math skills weren’t too rusty for the entrance exam and my credits were exceptional for transferring and so I just took the leap and left. Met Hobi, we became roommates, decided to stay roommates even after graduating and well now I’m an accountant.”

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, surprised that there was more to you than meets the eye. He would’ve never guessed that you were into painting, “I stayed in touch with Jimin, introduced him to my new group of friends and well yeah, that’s that,” you finish explaining, “He was a dance major, just in case you were curious,” you add, “He now works at a contemporary dance company here in Seoul, very deep with connections in the arts industry,” So that’s who Jimin was huh? Cool... but now Jungkook was much more curious about you.

“Do you ever paint?” he asks another question, completely finished with his meal and at this point only staying for the conversation. It was weird, had it been anyone else asking you these questions you wouldn't have dared entertain it any further, probably finding some way to maneuver out of it. But for Jungkook to ask whether it be from a place of nosiness or simple curiosity, hell maybe even boredom, for some reason you just didn’t mind.

“Um not really, not anymore at least, especially these days that work is beginning to pile up but,” you hesitate for a moment before continuing, “I still have some of my old work somewhere under my bed, probably in a storage box knowing me.”

“Can I see them?”

And just as you’re about to answer, your phone’s ringing sound goes off. The person calling? Jimin. You hesitate to answer, glancing at Jungkook who was staring at your phone, presumably reading the name. Once he does, he looks at you in a way that was asking, “Are you going to pick up?”

You click the green button to accept, “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin asks, unsure if it was you.

“Yes?”

“Hey! Um so I was actually meaning to call for quite a while,” Jungkook tries his best not to make it obvious that he’s listening in, “and so when I ran into you and your friend at the market it served as a complete reminder.”

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

“Well I was hoping we could catch up over some dinner, and then I could tell you something very important that I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time,” From Jimin? “I was thinking this Saturday like at 7? I’ll pick you up.”  

“Oh um..” for some reason you look at Jungkook for advice, but he just stares at you with his eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah sure, why not?” you awkwardly laugh.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then! Byeeeee,” he sings before clicking, leaving you on the line. Did that call really just happen? Or were just imagining things?  

“I think—” you gulp, “I think I have a date this Saturday?” you say unsurely, a small dumbfounded smile beginning to appear on your face.

He notices the goofy smile beginning to appear on your face, before letting out a large exasperated breath and feigning his best smile. The forced smile comes out quite awkward, “With Park Jimin?” Park Jimin your college friend. Park Jimin, the successful contemporary dancer. Park Jimin, the one who looked like he came straight out of a magazine cover. That Park Jimin? Jungkook on the other hand could feel his eyebrow impulsively twitch in response, the green eyed monster creeping from behind, ready to make its return.

You nod your head yes, Jungkook now getting up from the chair, a negative energy now around him. “So much for it being a zero sided thing,” he mutters before practically throwing his dish into the sink and stomping out the kitchen, leaving you completely by yourself.

“Weird,” you think to yourself before heading off to bed.

Saturday had surprisingly arrived in the blink of an eye despite the extra hours of working out Jungkook had thrown in the morning. It was almost as if the boy wanted you to be on your date exhausted and halfway knocked out. Out of nowhere, deciding that today was the best day to start working on more leg targeted exercises, as a result your legs now felt like jell-o with every step you took.

“I’m gonna get going you guys,” you announce to the boys in the living room, who were currently on the couch watching an episode of One Piece.

Hobi turns his attention from the screen to look at you, immediately smiling at your outfit, “Ahh look at you,” he compliments, Jungkook on the other hand or silently watches you as you grab your keys from the countertop. “Doesn’t she look pretty Jungkook?” Hobi asks, tapping Jungkook on the shoulder. Jungkook remains silent, which oddly enough resulted in a heavy feeling in your chest. “Now she’s sad!” Hobi scolds, “Tell her she looks pretty,” Hobi pushes Jungkook’s shoulder this time.

“You look…” Jungkook pauses, and for a moment both you and Hobi hold your breath, for Jungkook’s mouth was quite unpredictable sometimes, “You look more than pretty,” he says with a warm look on his face before catching himself and going back to his usual expressionless face and turning his attention back to the screen. Hobi who looks like he’s about to tease the hell out Jungkook once you leave, struggles to hide the big grin on his face. While you, well you could’ve sworn you felt your heart skip a beat.  

“Well get going now! And don’t come back too late!” Hobi teases, loving the persona of acting like a parent a little too much.

Was thinking about your roommate regular for a date? Because that’s what you found yourself doing … a lot. From the moment you had stepped into Jimin’s car your immediate comparison was to Jungkook’s own car. Once he started driving, your mind went to how unlike Jimin who drove with both hands on the steering wheel, Jungkook liked driving with one. More specifically his left. 

And of course being on a date you expect conversation to be flowing all around even when you’re waiting on the food, but for some reason you had become so used to Jungkook always being silent until he was nearly finished with his food, that when Jimin began to make conversation while waiting definitely felt … odd for you to say the least. And don’t even get you started on what he ended up ordering. Well done steak?! Jungkook hated well done steak, preferring medium rare over anything. And so to say your roommate had been constantly on your mind this whole time was a bit of an understatement. 

Currently the two of you were walking on the bridge of a local park, the several number of lampposts and people all around you making it less scary than compared to that night at the park with Jungkook. “So Y/N how’s your year been so far?” Jimin asks, a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s been,” you pause, thinking about the person who came into your life only months ago, “it’s been pretty good.”

“That’s good to hear, that’s good to hear,” he repeats, the two of you now sitting on a bench, “So I know I told you I had some important news,” he begins, “and it’s something I’ve been really wanting to talk to you about for a very long time,” he insinuates, “and so if you could close your eyes for a moment that’d be great,” you do as follows, and close your eyes, Your heart begins to race but it wasn’t the same kind of racing you felt that night at the park with Jungkook. It was more of a “what am I doing here?” kind of nervousness so to speak. Nonetheless you shrug the feeling off.

Jimin, who was originally supposed to be getting an exhibition flyer out of his coat, notices that you have what looks to be a leaf in your hair. Deciding that it was bothering him too much he goes and reaches for it, surprised to be in contact with your lips seconds later. Quickly he pulls away, staring at you wide eyed. Both of your faces now tomato red, as he struggles to form words.

Eyes still widened, he pulls out the folded paper from jacket, once unfolded it reads, “Seoul City’s Annual Public Art Exhibition with a special performance by Seoul’s Contemporary Dance Academy choreographed by Park Jimin.”

“Oh my God—” you manage to breath out, coming to the realization that kissing you was not his attention.

He scratches the back of his neck, “I um, yeah, I’m this year’s choreographer for the city's art exhibition and well I managed to get you a slot so that you could have your very first art piece exhibited,” Jimin feigns an awkward smile, “You know since you’re a painter first before an accountant.” You, still hung up on what was probably the most embarrassing moment of your life, stare at him in complete silence. Everything barely registering in your head.

“Y/N…” he begins the dreadful pity speech by grabbing your hand, “I um,” he lets out an awkward chuckle before continuing, “I like you, I do, but not in that way…”

In the movies, this is where you’re supposed to feel as if your world was crashing down on you, the part where your heart is supposed to sink in complete sadness and you go home a complete crying mess. But rather than feel any of those things, you instead feel …. relief? Yeah, you kissing the boy was embarrassing, but it wasn’t something that was gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. Maybe for a week or two, but not definitely not the rest of your life.

Jimin wonders what’s going through your mind, the apparent smile that suddenly grew on your face telling him that things were going to be just fine, “I sorta um had my eyes on someone else in our friend group…” and with that he gets your attention because you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Taehyung,” you say, and Jimin silently nods, a laugh emitting from both of your lips.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you even agreed to go out with me, that Jungkook dude seemed like was going to lunge at me any second over there at the supermarket,” Jimin says, “I thought you two were a thing at first.”  

You laugh in disbelief, “Me and Jungkook?” you say, scrunching your face.

“Um yeah, it’s not really something shocking,” Jimin laughs, “I mean you two definitely looked like a couple that day, very much doing um couple-like things. Maybe not affectionate wise but I don’t know there were definitely looks and glances being exchanged. But if you say there’s nothing between you two then who am I to argue?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his face.

“Exactly, who are you to argue,” you dramatically snarl, Jimin throwing his head back in laughter.

“So y/n what do you say about participating in the art exhibition? You know you want toooo,” Jimin sings, pouting his lips. You had forgotten about that for a moment, the embarrassment of the kiss completely fazing you out.

“Oh I don’t know,” you nervously say, you hadn’t seriously painted in such a long time, that chapter in your life being a closed book for quite some time now.

“But y/n—” Jimin begs, “This could be the moment you’ve been waiting for, there’s going to be a lot of professional artists there along with buyers.”

“I just—” something was holding you back from saying yes. Was it fear? Maybe. All you knew was that you couldn't dive into something that you had long given up on, “I don’t think I can,” you ultimately say.

Jimin frowns, “You sure? I can’t hold the slot for too long, and well I was so sure you’d say yes..” You sigh before nodding, confirming that you were saying no.

“Ah okay,” Jimin says, completely understanding, “Come on let’s get you home,” to which you nod, a small sad smile on your face.

By the time you got back home, you wondered if the boys’ were asleep already, hoping at least one of them was awake to talk to, more specifically Hobi, for he always knew what to say when you needed comfort. And so when you opened the door to find the TV still on, but no one in the living room, you were confused to say the least.

You walk towards Hobi’s room, crack open the door, and peep your head in only to find him sound asleep. Did that mean Jungkook was up? Maybe someone just forgot to turn off the TV… with your curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to go Jungkook’s room and check if he was there. With your hand on the knob, you begin to twist it, slowly opening the door until a voice scares you from behind, “What are you doing?” he harshly whispers causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God,” you whisper as well, closing his door immediately, “I-I-I thought you were,” you point at his door, unable to complete your sentence.

“I was peeing,” he says, “Did you not see the light on?”

Shaking your head no, you ask, “What are you even doing up this late?”

Jungkook awkwardly stammers, “I um, I just couldn’t sleep,” he says instead of admitting that secretly he was waiting for you to arrive, just to make sure you were safe. Nothing else of course, not like he wanted to know how your date went… “Why are you going into my room without my permission?” he questions.

You scoff, “You always go in mine!” you try your best to keep your voice down, not wanting to wake up a grumpy Hobi, “Why can’t I go in yours?”

“Because you’ve never told me anything against me going into yours,” he argues, “Just because we’re um,” he pauses, struggling to say the word that comes next, “friends… doesn’t mean you get to go snooping around.” What the hell was he hiding in there that you couldn’t go in?

“That’s not fair and you know it,” you complain, ready to cross your arms and complain like a kid, that is until he flicks your forehead with his index finger.

“Ow,” you cry, “What was that for?” you groan, and he shrugs in response.

“I don’t know I just felt like doing it,” he smirks, “your forehead just looks so … flickable.” You narrow your eyes, quickly flicking his in return, garnering an “ow” from him as well.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that,” he says, and quickly but also softly because you didn’t want to stomp too hard on the floor, you run back to the living room, the two of you now chasing each other around, index fingers ready for some more flicking. Maniacal fits of giggles filling the room as you begin to throw pillows at each other, running around the kitchen island like little kids. 

Jungkook, despite being the faster runner, was the one being chased. The closer you got to him, the further you began to reach your arm for his t-shirt, your fingertips always grazing the bottom. But once you finally did, something very unexpected happened. You tripped.

Soon enough, you were hands down on the floor, Jungkook below you, a casualty of your fall. The two of you now facing each other, chests heaving from your game of tag, laughing uncontrollably. Not exactly caring if Hobi, the neighbors, or the rest of the world could hear you.

Gradually, you get off him and instead lay on the kitchen floor right next him, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. A comfortable silence in the air. If someone would’ve told you at the beginning of the year that you and Jungkook would be playing tag in the apartment like little kids, you would’ve told them they were crazy. But yet here you were, heart pounding out of your chest, wanting this moment to remain for as long as it possibly could.

“So…” Jungkook continues to stare at the ceiling, “How’d your date go?”

“It was…” you use the only word that could properly describe it, “embarrassing,” you giggle, recalling what happened. Jungkook looks at you, eager to say the least, to know why.

“Let’s just say I ummm … took some signs completely wrong,” you awkwardly chuckle, “or long story short, I sorta kissed him and well let’s just say he has his eyes on someone else in our friend group.”

Was it wrong for Jungkook to feel happy? Happy that you two didn’t have insane chemistry, become boyfriend and girlfriend, and live happily ever after after like in the fairytales. Of course he wasn’t happy that it was you who went for the kiss, nor that it was who you got rejected, but it was better than you coming in here raving on about Park Jimin, no offense to Jimin.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says, an attempt to comfort you.

“It’s fine really,” you laugh, “what’s weird was that I didn’t really feel as heartbroken or as sad as I thought I’d be,” you shrug, “I’m just glad it didn’t ruin our friendship or anything. If anything I’m sad about what he offered... “

“What did he offer?” Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but you’re quick to shake your head and sigh.

“He offered me a spot at Seoul’s annual art exhibition, I guess since he choreographed a dance, he was able to talk them into giving him a spot and well I said no,” Jungkook frowns, wondering why you didn’t take the offer, “I just couldn’t see myself doing it… I haven’t painted in what feels like forever and to then have it be seen by thousands of people, yeah I can already feel the anxiety from that. One bad comment and I’m going to have to fake a smile the whole time and cry when I get home.”

Jungkook scoffs, “Who cares what others think? Screw them. I know that it’s rich coming from me, but if you think those people who may insult you or throw some sly comment to get under your skin are better than you in any way then let me tell you, they’re not. And who says you have to take their shit? Stop feeling as if you have to always put on some fake smile for people in order to spare their feelings and start looking out for your own,” Jungkook sits up, looking down on you. “So you know what you’re going to do?”

You stare at him in silence, murmuring a tiny “what?”

“You’re going to text Jimin right now and tell him you’re taking that spot,” Jungkook demands, “and if you don’t then I’ll call him myself and do it for you.” Now it’s your turn to sit yourself right up, waiting for a sign in his eyes that told you he was purely kidding. “Well what are you waiting for?” He eyes your pockets, waiting for you to reach for your phone.

“Jungko—”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me that you’re not feeling sad because you know you’re going to regret saying no to the opportunity,” Jungkook’s voice raises without meaning to, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I don’t have to see a single painting of yours to know that you’re talented, and if people can’t see that then honestly it’s their loss.” You feel your heart swell with every word, slowly pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook gets up from his position, offering his hand to help pull you up. Once he pulls you, he walks towards the fridge, and takes two pints of ice cream out the freezer. Your face lights up as you watch him get two spoons from the drawer, “Don’t hold it against me, but I bought these after you left just in case you came back a crying mess,” he avoids eye contact with you while handing you your pint, “But heartbreak or not, someone has to eat these. So come on, send that text so we can watch some One Piece.”

“Imagine you would’ve never convinced me to do the art exhibition,” you laugh, gently nudging Jungkook.

“Mm though it could’ve prevented a lot of things, the good definitely outweighed the bad so…” Jungkook pauses, “I guess it just goes to show you have to go through the downs in order to reap the rewards of the up.”

“Now look who's getting all wordy on me,” you tease.

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me more than I’d like to admit,” he pretends to be annoyed by dramatically sighing but a laugh soon follows.

June 2019.

After texting Jimin that you had changed your mind, you began to work on the painting you had brainstormed for the art exhibition, first sketching it out and now well on your way to starting your quite large painting. 

Honestly, pulling out your old art tools and portfolio from years ago was nostalgic, bringing you a genuine sense of completeness. To have a decent paying job, the best of friends, and now being able to practice the hobby you had once considered turning into a career was everything you could ask for. But what made you feel even warmer inside was just how supportive Jungkook was of the whole thing, always buying and bringing back art materials for you to use, including different colors of paint. Though most of the time they weren’t really what you considered the best quality, it was the thought that counted.

After your boxing lessons with him, you’d usually go straight to your room to begin working on it, for the first time since you stopped painting feeling actual motivation and creativity flowing through you. Life was good. Not good, amazing.

That was until today, when you noticed Jungkook hadn’t woken you up for your usual Saturday workout. “Maybe he overslept?” you think to yourself, probably had a tiresome night at work yesterday. Slowly you make your way outside his door, gently knocking on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Nothing. Not a groan, not a “let me sleep”, absolutely nothing. You knock one more time just to make sure, your shoulders dropping once you realize he wasn’t going to open the door. Remembering what he said about entering his room, you decide that if he was having a bad day, it’d just be best to leave him be for the meanwhile.

Things didn’t really start getting alarming until you and Hobi both noticed that he skipped breakfast. His door remaining absolutely closed the whole morning and day, not a peep of sound coming out.

“Hobi, I’m starting to get worried,” your eyes glimmer with concern, “He hasn’t come out all day.”

“I know I am too, but—” Hobi sighs, “I don’t want to pressure him into—” the sound of a door opening quickly grabs your guys’ attention, the two of you silently watching Jungkook come out of his room. The time on the clock reading 6PM, the sun outside beginning to set. Carefully you watch Jungkook come into the kitchen, grabbing nothing more than a water bottle and a couple of snacks.

There’s a redness to his eyes that you’d never seen before, almost as if he had been sobbing. His under eyes were in the early stages of becoming puffy, and his skin seemed a lot paler than usual. You feel your heart sink when the two of you, for a mere second, make eye contact. Quietly he begins to make his way back to his room, but not before you offer him some food.

“Y/N—” Hobi tries to stop you, but you continue nonetheless.

“I made japchae,” you say, “I even added extra mushrooms like how you always like it,” he stares at you in silence, a cold look to his eyes before ignoring you and returning to his room. The door slamming shut once he does. If your heart was sunk already, then it was definitely stomped and ripped into pieces after that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, feeling Hobi’s stare from the side. Suddenly the volume of the TV is lowered and you already know what's coming, “Y/N…” you hear Hobi say, a sad tone behind his voice.

“Hobi don’t,” you cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to receive his pity, “I just don’t feel like hearing it right now.”

Hobi ignores you, knowing you were just putting up a wall as a defense mechanism, “You know he didn’t mean it,” he says, “he’s probably just having a rough day that’s all.”

“Even if he is, why does he still feel the need to just keep it to himself, why can’t he see that he can trust us, that he can trust me? Sometimes it feels like he knows a lot more about me than I know about him—” you rant, trying to keep your voice down so that Jungkook doesn’t hear you from his room.

Hobi sighs, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket and keys from the counter, “Put on your shoes,” he says, and you look at him confused before doing as he says and following him outside. The two of you then climb up the fire ladder of your apartment and onto the roof, the view of the stars sending shivers down your spine.

“Okay now sit—” he commands, which you do anyway.

“Why are we even out here?” you question, regretting not bringing your own sweater.

“Because I’m going to tell you a story, and well I don’t want Jungkook hearing us,” he says, making himself comfortable in the spot next to you, “You ready?”

Silently you nod your head yes, and so he continues.

“When I was a kid, I was what you could call ...nerdy … so to speak,” he chuckles, “I had those big ol glasses that made you look like you had fish eyes, I liked reading the Harry Potter books, I didn’t like playing sports like the rest of the boys in my elementary school did, and well in general I just wasn’t like a lot of them,” he pauses to look up at the sky, continuing once he was ready, “Now when you’re in elementary, kids won’t directly bully you, but instead they’ll make little teasing remarks because well ...we’re kids. We don’t know the big curse words yet or what we’re capable of physically. And so as a kid I’d let those jokes slide, I’d let their insults become the label put on me, not knowing the true maliciousness behind it.”

You feel your eyes become glossy, knowing where this was leading, “But the older you get, the more you begin to learn and well soon enough the teasing became full on bullying by middle school. The older kids would make these nicknames for me, and constantly call me them before, during, and after school. Occasionally even following me for a couple of blocks when walking home just to remind me that they had power over me,” Hobi’s voice begins to shake a little, “and well I didn’t know how to speak up for myself, let alone defend myself and so it just became a regular occurrence until on a certain day in middle school,” he pauses, taking a big breath. 

“I had been walking home from school that day, and for some reason that day I decided I wanted to take a different route back home, probably because I was hoping the kids who would bully me would decide not to follow me. But boy was I was wrong,” he feigns a laugh, “The route I had taken was right next to the Suyeong River, and well I think it’s important to note that I didn’t know how to swim at the time. I think I personally choose not to remember too much, but one moment I was walking and the next I had my face being pulled in and out of the water, the sounds of laughter being the thing I remember the most from that day,” Hobi closes his eyes, his voice cracking as he continues, “And I just remember thinking how could kids my age be so viscous?” tears begin to silently fall from his eyes, his hands slightly shaking at the recollection of the memory, “I thought this was it, this is the end of the line for me.”

“It wasn’t until I felt the release of my hair and the touch of someone pulling back that the nightmare came to an end,” Hobi wipes his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, “When I finally managed to get some kind of focus on my vision, I’d come to see the boy who was pushing me into the water completely knocked out the floor while the rest of his buddies were running to who knows where,” The scene from the club begins to replay in your head, remembering the person who had gotten there just at the right time.

“And then there was Jungkook, the boy I’d never seen a day in my life , helping me fix myself along with looking for my glasses even after having knocked out that boy with his bare hands. After that me and Jungkook became the best of friends, like actual genuine friends and the bullying had completely stopped. I’d also come to find out that Jungkook was a boxer, and not a casual one, like an “I practice every weekday, weekend, day, and night.” kind of one. He was aiming to go pro, and so he had to put in the time for it. His parents were supportive of it as well, as I think his dad saw the most potential in it.”  

Hobi takes a breather before continuing, finding yourself completely immersed in the story, “And so when our senior year came around and I had gotten accepted into SNU, I asked Jungkook what he was planning on doing now that we were graduating. And well that’s when he told me that had gotten an offer to train and compete in the states, where there’d be a lot more tougher competition and where he could really develop the natural talent he had. So on graduation day we had our teary farewell, and I remember telling him that if he ever needed anything and I truly meant anything, that he’d know where to find me.”

“So when years later I received a call at about 2 in the morning, asking if he could redeem the favor he had once done for me so long ago, I knew I couldn’t say no. I don’t know what happened in the states, and I don’t bother to ask him because I know that the day he’s ready to tell me or you, he will. Whatever did happen over there, changed him though. He came back a colder, more rude person, and honestly I thought he’d be like that forever until he started to get to know you,” Hobi smiles, “That’s when I began to see glimpses of the Jungkook I knew from high school again, the one who liked to mess around all the time, and never took himself too seriously.”

“You see y/n, I’m telling you all of this because I want you to know that Jungkook isn’t like us in the way of opening up when he feels sad or mad. He’s used to being the one doing all the protecting and so when he finds himself in a place where he’s overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness or anger, he gives the cold shoulder or becomes someone who isn’t like him at all, in order to avoid talking about it. I think it’s because he doesn’t want anyone to know the burden he carries. To sum it up y/n, Jungkook is the definition of when it rains, it pours … but when it shines, you’ll completely forget it ever rained to begin with,” Hobi pats you softly on the shoulder, “So the best thing you can do right now is let the storm play itself out, so that then you can be there when the rainbow comes back out.”

If only you had listened.

“Ahh so it was Hobi who told you everything,” Jungkook scrunches his face.

“No duhhhhh,” you sing, “Who else could have?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought you just magically figured it out on your own,” you’re unsure on whether he’s being sarcastic or not so all you is narrow your eyes at him, deciding to stay silent than make yourself look stupid.

“Mm either way Hobi made a BIG mistake telling me,” you laugh, “because he should've known my nosiness was only going to lead to problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Jungkook teases, resulting in a light smack to the shoulder.

July 2019.

It had been about a month since Jungkook’s change in behavior, his cold demeanor reminding you of when he first moved in months ago. The only time he’d ever leave his room was to go to work, use the restroom, or get his food to take to his room. You had been working on your painting whenever you got the chance, a distraction from the constant concern you felt for Jungkook. You know Hobi said to give it time, but how long would it be until Jungkook decided to finally open up? He couldn’t go on like this forever, could he?

You missed the Jungkook you had gotten to know in the last couple of months, the one who showed you that the tough wall he put up around him was nothing more than an act. That behind it, he was a complete sweetheart who liked drinking his banana milk and watching One Piece whenever he had the chance, the one who constantly liked to steal your things from your room and then replace them with an even better version, the one whose laugh sorta reminded you of Elmo but was still absolutely adorable, and lastly the one who you had found constantly by your side and falling further in love with every waking moment.

Not like, but love. You had come to realize it while you were in bed one night, your only thoughts being thunk all relating to Jungkook in some way. Remembering the number of times this month where you’d find yourself outside his bedroom door, inches away from knocking, knowing that all you needed was for him to open up the door at least once and you’d know everything was going to be okay. Sadly, you’d always find yourself chickening out, Hobi’s words always ringing in your head to serve as a reminder. Jungkook needed space. And as much as you wanted to run up to him and give him a tight hug, you knew you had to respect his boundaries.

So then why was it that today, when you found yourself painting and missing a certain color, a tiny voice in your head was telling you that maybe Jungkook had it… Realistically you knew it wasn’t possible, you had kept track of all your colors from the moment you started, but damn was that voice convincing. 

Getting up from the floor, you walk out into the living room, checking around to see if it was there. Hobi, who was currently taking a nap on the couch, seemed completely at peace.

You check his room to see if he has it, but your efforts were to no avail. The only place it had to be was Jungkook’s room. It had to be. At least that’s what you were telling yourself so could finally have an excuse to knock on his door. Making your way to his room, you prepare to knock, your knuckles lightly tapping against the wooden door. But to your surprise the door creaks open, no one presumably in the room…

You could’ve sworn Jungkook was home? You double check the restroom, making sure it wasn’t going to be an incident like last time, but this time he really wasn’t there. The voice of reasoning versus temptation now had you completely torn. You remember the day Jungkook first moved in, and how secretive he got over you seeing whatever it was inside his boxes, and the night after your date and how stern he was about you not entering.

Slowly you push open the door of his room, completely forgetting Hobi’s words and deciding that it was either now or never. You knew you were a pushing boundary that you shouldn’t be, but a part of you also felt like it had to be done. Maybe if you found out what was bothering Jungkook so much, you could help him.

Honestly, you weren't too sure on what you expected when you first entered. Considering how secretive Jungkook was about it, you sorta assumed the room would be all black and have a whole bunch of weird things hanging across the walls, but surprisingly his room looked completely normal. The bed covers were a navy blue color that matched with some of the artwork he had hung across the beige colored apartment walls. The drawers were plain and boring while his desk looked like any other ordinary desk:  stacked with random sketches, pens, One piece manga, and printed webtoons. If this is all he was hiding, then it really no made sense because there was literally nothing to hide….

That was until you saw the closed closet door, and once you opened it, you were blown away. For what was behind those closet doors was an entire memorabilia of awards, belts, photos, and trophies which you assumed were all Jungkook���s, newspapers from the states with headlines that spoke of how amazing Jungkook was. Many of them include the words “rising”, “prodigy”,  and “the next big thing”. Your eyes try to take everything in all in one go, but it was just so much. There were papers that were written about him even when he was a kid, pictures of his with several belts around his waist amazed you. This was insane.

But it wasn’t until you noticed the newspaper headline of the paper hung right in the center of the practical shrine that the smile from your face fell, as it read, “Prodigy Jeon Jungkook, K.O’d in Round 12 against Brandon Star.” You look at the date, and everything begins to start making sense. The date which read December 1, 2018, only a couple of weeks prior to your first meeting with him at New Years, the churning feeling in your stomach only becoming heavier as you read the newspaper next to it. “Rising Star, Jeon Jungkook, disappears. Where is he now?” it reads, and as you skim through the different articles, the whole memorabilia shrine begins to make sense. Jungkook didn’t have this here for the purpose of maintaining old memories, but for the purpose of constantly reminding himself of what he once was and how he ended up failing, torturing himself to say the least. It’d explain his pent up anger when you first met him, the scar was still fresh.

Grabbing one of the trophies from the memorabilia desk, you observe the glass material and admire its fine detail, Jungkook’s name written in cursive underneath the title. Slowly your fingers graze over it, whispering his name to yourself, “Jeon Ju—”

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice harshly interrupts, scaring you and causing you to jump. The slippery trophy in your hands falling to floors, several pieces of glass now shattered onto the floor. Turning to face the owner of the voice, your heart stops when you find Jungkook staring at the floor, an expressionless look on his face.

“I—” your brain completely freezes, only staring at his balled up fist which was becoming more red with every passing second.

“I told you—” he closes his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room,” he finally snaps, his enraged voice echoing across the walls of the room, “So then why, why the fuck are you in here right now!” he moves towards you, his face now becoming red in anger. Not caring whether he was stepping on glass or not.

“I know but—”

He cuts you off, “But fucking what? There’s no reason you should even be in here right now y/n! None!” he screams, his rage only furthering with every word. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you stammer to defend yourself. “How would you feel like if I barged into your room and destroyed something personal of yours, huh?”  

All you can do is stare at him, never seeing him this enraged before, the sight definitely a scary one, “Answer me goddamit!” he yells, his fist still balled up, holding himself back from punching anything. He looks down at the broken glass one more time, his chest now heaving in anger before storming out the room.

Quickly you follow him, chills going down your spine when you see him turn to your room.

“What are you—” you begin, but it’s too late. Everything happens in slow motion, from the fist being thrown to the sound of the canvas you’d been working so long on cracking, several holes and rips appearing soon after. You look at the scene in front of you in silence, shock running through your veins, and the need to vomit stronger than ever before. Jungkook breathes heavily, staring at what he’s just done, not feeling a single ounce of remorse.

The closing feeling in your throat is one that’s too overwhelming, but the anger you were now feeling was even stronger, “What is wrong with you,” you whisper, tears falling down from your eyes, a look of terror overtaking your face, “What is wrong with you!” you scream, lips trembling as your voice breaks at just how loud you were. Jungkook feels his blood run cold, taken back by your sudden outburst.

“I have been nothing but kind to you since the day we’ve met, nothing but!” you yell, hot tears uncontrollably falling from your hysteria.

Jungkook scoffs, yelling right in return, “Do you want some kind of reward for that? Is that it? Is that all this is? Another ego booster for you so you can pat yourself on the back and say you’re a good person!”

“I don’t need anything from anyone! Especially not from someone like you,” you spit, Jungkook’s jaw clenching at your response.

“Ah I knew that nice ol princess act was nothing more than mere bullshit,” he bitterly laughs, “finally had enough of your whole little treat everyone with kindness moral?” he mocks you.

“It’s not a fucking act, I’m just not a miserable person like you!” you grit your teeth, the temptation to throw something at him at an all time high.

“No you just live in this big old fantasy bubble that’s got you believing that kindness solves all the world's problems!”

“Yeah well it’s better than thinking that being a fucking prick to the rest of the world gets you anywhere, I mean look at where you’re at now!” you yell, knowing you were treading on thin ice, but you didn’t care at all anymore. The ice was shattered the moment he destroyed your painting, “I understand that I made a mistake going into your room, but you don’t have to take the rest of your miserable life out on me! You think everyone around you wants to be some kind of punching bag all the time for you?” the veins in your neck begin to pop out, and you almost feel as if your chest was going to physically explode at any moment, “How dare you come in here and treat everyone around you like complete shit all because you’re living a sad tragic life!”

“That’s not true,” he snarls, a scowl on his face.

“Isn’t it?” you scoff, “You’ve done it since the first day you got here, and so let me do the favor of telling you the truth and giving you a goddamn reality check! We’re all sick and tired of it! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you get to make everyone around you as well! And let me tell you, I’ll be damned if I let someone like you make me just as rotten as yourself,” and for a small second you see the hurt across Jungkook’s face, and you think maybe you’ve gone too far. 

Maybe this could’ve all been prevented had you never entered his room. But then you think to yourself that no, this was bound to happen. This was always going to happen whether you liked it or not. The questions had always just been: when was it going to happen and what was going to be the straw that broke the camel’s back? By now both of your chests are heaving, and there’s a silence that fills the room. Time acts as nothing more than an illusion.

“Is that what you really think?” he says, a cold hardened expression on his face again, “That I make you miserable?” You look at the destroyed painting on the floor, a symbol that despite building and making something so beautiful, all it took was one slip of the finger for it all to go down the drain. Without saying anything, you slowly nod to him, the emptiness in your heart acting as a driving force.

“What the—” Hobi walks in the room, dazed and confused, “What the fuck is going on in here?” He asks, but the two of you remain silent, continuing to stare at one another.

That is until Jungkook breaks away from the stare, muttering a small “nothing,” under his breath, walking out of the room and going back to his own, the door loudly slamming shut.

“Y/N…” Hobi begins, but you cut him off before he even gets the chance, a tiresome expression on your face.

“Hobi,” you shake your head, “Just leave me alone!,” you snap at him, but it comes out more as a plea than a demand, voice completely weary. Hobi stares at you for a moment before doing so, gently closing the door when making his way out. Once you hear the sound of the door close, you squat down to the floor, fingers grazing the painting you’d work so hard on, a muffled sob finally escaping from your lips.

a/n: whew! originally this was supposed to be nothing more than a small drabble, but as i kept writing it just ended becoming this monstrous of a fic that i had to split into two lmao. hopefully i didn’t make the switches between present day and the past too confusing for y’all.  part two will probably be up by next friday, once my finals week is over :)) any messages, anons, comments, reblogs, and like are appreciated! see y’all next time! 💞

[mitts2002]

JJK pottery dates

Hii I've already made a separate inumaki fic on this so he won't be included. I was originally meant to do this for one character but I've decided to do multiple cause I can😌 Also I've never done pottery so I'm just winging this!

Itadori Yuuji

Yuuji would assume that he's gonna be a natural at pottery despite being both your first time

But yuuji would definitely not care about the end result of it

As long as he has a good time with (Y/N) that's all that matters

He'll accidentally use too much strength when handling the clay. Instructor tells him he's too heavy handed

(Y/N) on the other hand is doing pretty well. Shes almost done shaping and is ready to add some decorations

This is when Yuuji realises he does care about the end result because his looks like a complete mess

To cheer him up (Y/N) engraves Yuujis name into her pot and gives it to him as a gift.

You also offer to take yuujis piece in return

(Y/N) uses yuujis clay thing as a place for small trinkets and earrings

Yuuji uses (Y/N)s pot to plant a cactus

The couple had decided to go on a cute little pottery date for their first date, so why was Yuuji pouting in the corner?

Well at first (Y/N) and Yuuji were having a great time together. Messing around and quoting stupid memes and movie references was just their thing so when it was actually their turn to make something Yuuji had no idea what he was doing.

(Y/N) despite messing around with him had actually paid attention to the instructor and was doing just fine which made matters even worse for Yuuji. He assumed this would be a piece of cake when in reality it wasn't.

"Yuuji stop sobbing in the corner babe, it doesn't even look that bad!" You clearly lied to him but you knew it was for his own good.

"NO ITS TRASH look at yours (Y/N) so nice and pretty no one would ever want mine! Now I'll never be the world's best pottery maker" Yuuji babbled on just being his overdramatic self.

"Well I'd love love yours! I could put my jewellery in it, I needed a new trinket box anyways" you quickly thought on the spot and sighed in relief when Yuujis head perked up

"Really?" Yuuji sniffled and grabbed onto your waist. "Yeah and ill carve your name into mine! Then give it to you as a gift. Equivalent exchange" you winked at Yuuji knowing its an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Okay deal" Yuuji sat back next to you working on your trinket box while your worked on carving his name into his plant pot.

Choso

Choso was trying to learn more about the 21st century

How did he do this? By binge watching old rom coms on netflix.

In the middle of one of the movies a pottery scene comes up and chosos eyes couldn't shine more bright.

He loved the idea. It was a great way to spend your time with your loved one.

Choso immediately rang (Y/N) and demanded she arrange a date, which she did

You and Choso couldn't find any classes near you but looking at Chosos pout and puppy dog eyes begging to find a way you had no choice.

(Y/N) did the next best thing and decided to buy a beginners home kit. Now you both sat in the living room with newspapers littering the table and large aprons on yourselves.

"Okay so let's read the instructions first" you picked up the small booklet and looked over to Chosos who couldn't contain his excitement.

His buns were a little messier than usual as he rushed them the moment the package arrived but he still looked cute nonetheless. "Let me set it up then I guess we can try make a bowl? That seems to be the easiest option" you suggested while flicking through the pages and setting things up.

"Can we make a plant pot? I wanna give yuuji a plant for his birthday" Choso proposed. "Aww that's actually a great idea yuuji would love it!" You exclaimed in return and motioned him to come closer as you were ready to begin.

Choso had sat you in between his legs and leaned his head on your shoulder. His hairs tickled you and butterflys fluttered in your stomach when Choso began to kiss your cheeks slowly inching down to you neck.

"Oi behave" you ordered trying to sound intimidating but just burst out in laughter instead. "Fine sorry sorry let's focus on the pot" Choso apologised giving one last kiss to your head.

The pot was forming nicely but was a bit wonkey due to the hand size difference between you both.

Neither of you could care though, the intimacy of his hands on yours, music playing in the background and laughter filling the room from your stupid stories and Chosos dad jokes he recently learnt was just what Choso wanted.

The plant pot had turned out to be very cute and Yuuji ended up loving it.

Kamo Noritoshi

Kamo noritoshi was brought up in a strict household

During his childhood he was expected to be talented in many areas

Archery, studying, drawing, poetry, crochet, painting and even pottery were part of the many skills kamo noritoshi had devloped

The moment (Y/N) had learnt that the vase and other ornaments in noritoshis room were hand crafted by him she wanted to learn too

Now Noritoshi is sitting here behind his girlfriend teaching her how to make a vase because she wouldn't stop pestering him

"Noriii STOP being so perfect!" (Y/N) had yelled at her confused boyfriend who was simply decorating his clay piece.

"You wanted to do pottery with me and now your doing it. What's the problem?" Norotoshi sighed and turned to look at your vase. If he could even call it that.

"If you were struggling you could've asked me for help" Noritoshi scolded while your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah well I wanted to do it myself" you whined and crossed your arms in defeat.

"FINE help me please it's way harder than it looks" you admitted as nori made his way over to you.

"Firstly you need to be more gentle, it's wet clay not a damn rock (Y/N)" he corrected you and put his hands upon yours.

"Your hands are cold" you whispered to him feeling his slightly calloused hands touch yours.

"Focus (Y/N)" he responded equally as quiet as you. The room fell into a comfortable silence as your and nori moulded your vase together.

When it was finally finished you kissed noritoshi on the cheek. His cheeks turned slightly red but he kept his composure.

"It's fine (Y/N) just don't break it okay" the black haired male reminded you since you were quite clumsy.

"I promise I won't! But next time you have to do this call me and I'll join"

After this date, pottery became a common occurance for (Y/N) and Noritoshi. (Y/N) kept her promise and still fills her vase with flowers nori buys her to this day.

Okkotsu Yuta

Yuta okkotsu was a nervous wreck

You were given free tickets to a pottery event and asked Yuuta if he would accompany you

Of course he agreed without realising what he was actually getting himself into

The couple were currently at the event extremely close to make a bowl together

Yuuta could feel your hair on his skin and wanted to lean closer to bask in your presence

The moment he finally mustered the courage to lean onto your shoulder a little interruption had scared you both

'Okay Yuuta you got this. My wonderful (Y/N) is focused on the bowl so just slowly lean onto her' Yuuta thought to himself before looking towards his hands that were on yours. 'I GOT THIS' Yuuta had slowly inched closer while you continuously spoke so close to achieving his goal.

"IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!' a young girl with pigtails and pink bobbles yelled at Yuuta. The pair had jumped and practically ruined their bowl but yuuta couldn't care less. His chance was ruined.

"Yuuta she asked you a question" you reminded him and causing the black haired male to turn back to the small girl

"Ah yes this is my girlfriend" He responded with a small blush. "Well she's very pretty!" The cute child exclaimed.

"Thank you sweetie you're very cute too" (Y/N) cooed at the small girl and patted yutas arm telling him to compliment her aswell. Before yuuta could speak the young girl had beat him to it.

"OH YOU MUST BE ON A DATE! Sorry I ruined your bowl" she apologised looking down in guilt for interrupting you both.

"No no it's okay don't worry about it" Yuuta reasured and patted her head giving her a soft smile. (Y/N) blushed at the sight of her loving boyfriend with a child and gave the girl a quick high five before she scurried off to her parents.

"Wasn't she the sweetest little girl yuuta?" You asked and got a small 'hm' in response. "Our bowls a bit messy but I think we can salvage it right? Come closer so we can fix it properly" you grabbed his arms pulling him closer to you. Maybe that little interruption helped him after all.

[thefirsttree]

A personal update + my next game

OK, time to do this. I’ve been meaning to do a big DAVID WEHLE™ update for a while now and explain why I haven’t released a new game yet, but you know how life gets in the way. Especially when life is a quarantine hellscape, you have three beautiful, amazing, exhausting kids to raise, a spouse’s job you support, a viral YouTube channel that turns your brain to mush, a thousand emails waiting in your inbox since your game is free on the Epic Games Store (with an impressive number of redemptions too! … meaning lots of emails and customer support issues), etc., etc. What also contributes to my lack of updates is because… I just don’t really like posting online. Fascinating correlation, I know!

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a venting/ranting blog post (well, maybe a bit), because my life is seriously AMAZING and INSANELY BLESSED and LUCKY. I can’t believe how many dreams keep coming true, so much so that I feel I don’t deserve it and I really pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes… but I did want to at least be honest, because I owe that to myself.

Wow, where do I even begin? Well, how about we start with the reason I’m even a full-time indie game dev now: The First Tree. This small hobby project I worked on at night morphed into this gargantuan beast (or fox) that took over my life the past 5 years. Which is great! I’m living the dream! And yet, I really didn’t expect it to do as well as it did. At its core, my game is a slow-paced, sad walking simulator (ahem, I prefer the term “exploration game,” but you know what I mean) that somehow seemed to launch at the right time to the right audience. It resonated deeply with some of you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. I still get emails almost daily how my game changed their lives in some formative way. I’m beyond honored.

However, with that spotlight came criticism and demands from the ever-present, insatiable internet. I would randomly be surfing the gamedev subreddit trying to decompress, and I would see a comment by some rando saying how much I didn’t deserve my success, and how it was all one huge lucky fluke. And I believed them!

And to add to it, some devs considered me an indie marketing “guru”, which I was uncomfortable with. I worked hard to market my game every week, and after my GDC talk, people assumed marketing was my passion; the reason I got up every morning. Just to clarify… NO, I don’t like marketing, and I hate being the center of attention. I don’t like asking people for money and wishlists. But I did what was necessary because I was passionate about telling stories, and I wanted to give my story a fighting chance to be seen on the crowded pages of Steam.

So now, you’re probably wondering “well then David, why did you make fancy YouTube videos showing off your success? Not very modest if you ask me.” This honestly could be a long blog post all on its own, because my experience of putting myself in the spotlight and becoming a “content creator” is… complicated. It was an unusual step for me, especially since I never even showed my face online (as a game developer) until my GDC talk.

First off, I always wanted to teach and start a YouTube channel. I love video editing, especially since I’ve been doing it longer than making games! It’s a huge passion of mine. And teaching people who didn’t know they could make and finish games was a huge motivator (and it’s been so rewarding already). But the second reason is, I was scared. I was self-employed, and I was riding the success of a “huge lucky fluke” that would probably not happen again. I wanted to make sure I could provide for my amazing family, and give them food and health insurance and security in these tumultuous times. I was turning my lifelong passions and hobbies into a business, and it wasn’t as simple of a mental transition as I thought.

So, I went all in on YouTube and the accompanying online course called Game Dev Unlocked. I spent years editing the scripts and videos, and polishing them to a shine. At first, no one watched my videos, no one was buying… and in the blink of an eye, the YouTube algorithm picked up my main autobiographical video (“How Making Indie Games Changed My Life”), and I started getting 5,000 subscribers a day. Right now, I’m at 150,000 subs, which is still hard for me to believe. I always had a dream of earning 100k subs on YouTube, so I was pretty happy with the whole thing. Sales were OK, but mostly people didn’t want to buy the course. Then the emails came in…

Something you should know about me: I am a textbook “people pleaser,” and if someone asks for my help, I take it very seriously. If someone is mad at me, even if I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all I can think about, and it ruins my day. So, taking an onslaught of people begging for help and multiplying that by an impossible amount of people for my brain to truly comprehend thanks to the internet… and let’s just say it wasn’t a healthy mix.

I received thousands of emails from people who were begging me for some kind of reassurance that everything would be OK. That their dreams would come true too. And I wanted to help every single one of them. I went from a nobody working on a game for fun to becoming a spokesperson for the indie game dream. I couldn’t even get a shake from the Chick-Fil-A drive-thru without someone recognizing me and asking for game dev advice. And it didn’t stop there… I would get emails from suicidal kids asking for help, teenagers from Afghanistan asking me to get them out of their country, and on one occasion I received an email from a hopeful game developer in a war-torn country who had just experienced a bomb blowing up their neighboring village. His friends were dead, and he was hoping he could finish a game before he died too, and he needed my help. How do you say no to something like that? Didn’t I owe it to everyone because I was lucky with my hit game and I needed to “pay it forward”? (Something people constantly reminded me of)

And then to top it off, after you’ve given everything you’ve got to other people in need… you get hate mail in your inbox. You spend the whole day serving your children and strangers on the internet, then when the kids are finally asleep, you hit the bed to relax and take a look at your phone to decompress, and you randomly come across an angry gamer in your Twitter mentions telling you your game they got for free sucks, and that you took away a potentially great game from them and that your apology isn’t good enough.

Long story short, I went to a mental therapist for the first time in my life. I was broken trying to care for two toddlers and a new baby in a pandemic (which is very, very hard), taking care of my course students who gave me their hard-earned money and demanded results, and the countless people begging for help on the internet. I was this introverted, internet-lurker trying to take on the weight of the world. I was so tired and hurt that no one cared about me and my needs… only what I could do for them.

Quitting my day job and making this hobby my full-time job has stirred up… mixed emotions. This statement may disturb some of you, but I was definitely 100% happier when I had a full-time job and I was working on my game at night. I missed working with the amazing team at The VOID, working on Star Wars… back when the success of my game was this abstract thing I could only daydream about. Mostly, I was making my game for me with no outside expectations to pay the bills or satisfy the ever-demanding internet, and that brought me a lot of joy.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! I’m actually very happy now and in the best shape I’ve been since the pandemic started. I’ve had to confront my weaknesses and personality quirks, but I’m a better person for it (and I’m sure these issues would’ve come out eventually). I hired an awesome community manager for Game Dev Unlocked who is helping SO MUCH with the emails, I can’t even tell you the mental burden it alleviates. I even leased a co-working office to help separate work from my home, and that’s been a huge help too. I’ve decided to work with my old friends from The VOID on a cool, new VR experience. It will take me away from my projects a bit, but I’m ecstatic to work with a great team again (and not manage anything, whew).

These are all things I would’ve never guessed I needed, because I thought I knew myself pretty well… turns out I didn’t.

The reality is: running a business is HARD. Running it solo is even harder. You have to remember, I was burnt out on The First Tree well into the Steam release in 2017, but I kept working on it for 4 more years due to my fears of failing again and not earning enough money for my family.

So, I was wrestling with the age-old concept of commercialism and art. There was this dichotomy of doing whatever I wanted and being true to my vision (what most people assume the indie dev dream is like), and doing only what customers wanted to buy. This is something that has killed me with YouTube… in one specific instance, I was super excited to make the exact video I wanted to make. I loved every part of its creation, and I thought it had a message that would inspire everyone. I lovingly edited it over several weeks, posted it, and excitedly waited for the stats… and it was by far my worst performing video.

This is not a new problem. Even the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo was a commission forced upon him by the very violent Pope Julius II. My wife and I regularly talk about the fine balance between artistic integrity and commercialism, a problem she is very familiar with as an artist who constantly needs to balance what she wants to make with what the customer wants to hang up in their home.

For The First Tree, I was lucky. It was pretty much what I wanted to make (I had to compromise a lot of things of course), and it turned out millions of people wanted it too. Recently, I thought the safe business decision would be to do it all over again, so I started work on a spiritual successor to The First Tree (an idea that I may revisit one day since I do love the story idea). But that isn’t happening anytime soon. Trust me when I say I am now currently burnt out on animal exploration games.

So that realization left me with a question: what do I do next?

I’ve decided I need to make a game that I want to make, for me. It will be a bit different and I’m almost certain most fans of The First Tree will not love it… but it’s an idea that gets me super excited. It’s an idea that could help me fall in love with game development again.

A few more details: this game will be story-driven, first-person, and will use the Unreal Engine. That means development is gonna be slow going, because I have to learn a whole new tool. The “smart business” decision would be to make something quickly in Unity which I’m already familiar with… but I want to do this for me, and UE5 looks like a lot of fun. I’m also shooting for an early-ish release date so I avoid burn out and I keep the game short: I want to release it in Fall 2022, but knowing game development, it will probably take longer.

With the help of my therapist, I’ve also concluded that I’ve been too accessible on the internet and that my self-worth isn’t determined by the amount of people I try to help online. Of course, I love helping people and seeing them succeed, but I need to step back and focus on my family and myself. I will delete my social media apps on my phone (I will still post big updates occasionally) and stop responding to most emails, tweets, DMs, etc. It’s not that I’m ungrateful… in fact, if I don’t say thank you or at least acknowledge the incredibly nice people who share a sweet message about my game or want to tell me how I inspire them (still hard for me to believe, lol), I feel a ton of guilt… but I need to let that go. Please know I’m extremely grateful to all the fans who follow my work, so even if I don’t thank you directly, I truly mean it: thank you.

I will still post and stream occasionally on YouTube when I want to (and I still do live Q&A’s for my GDU students). The online course sales will help support my family as I work on a potentially risky game idea (and my new job will help alleviate the risk too). I’m gonna try one more marketing experiment and sell a mini-course soon (and add an Unreal section), and after that I’m done working on it. A gigantic thank you to the people who bought my course and are part of the amazing community, it has helped me and my family tremendously, and it’s inspiring seeing the games you make!

I’m a bit worried about the whole thing since this new game idea could flop, which could definitely affect my family. But a sappy, high-school yearbook quote is coming to mind…  I think it applies here: “A ship in harbor is safe—but that is not what ships are built for.”

Thanks for reading,

David

[sophieoverett]

Disruptions of Ritual and Inciting Incidents

I’ve been lucky enough to be a part of a creative development series lately which has come with a lot of great advice and guidance on storytelling, from the extremely specific to the really broad and sweeping. It’s covered everything from character motivations to specific genre structures to audience expectation to interpersonal conflict, but one of the things that has come up over and over again has been the idea of disruption of ritual as pivotal to the establishment of a story.

It’s been interesting to hear it articulated this way, because when I’ve taught creative writing in the past, and when I’ve thought about my own writing, I’ve always talked about this concept as the world we leave behind. It’s the pre-inciting incident stuff – the introductory grounding stuff – whether that be Harry’s life before Hogwarts, or the Bennet’s home before Mr. Bingley moves in next door.

You establish a world – or a ritual – and then you break it open.

It’s in the schism, in the disruption, where your story finds it’s legs and starts to move.

It’s had me thinking a lot about the relationship between the disruption of ritual and the inciting incident of a story, because in a lot of ways, that disruption of ritual directly sets up the latter. A story like Bridgerton has the disruption of ritual in Phoebe making her debut – a change for the whole family – but the inciting incident is really her collision with Simon Hastings and their mutual decision to fake a courtship. Similarly (but differently), Harry Potter has the disruption of ritual when the owls start descending on the Dursley home in the lead up to Harry’s birthday, but the true inciting incident is when Hagrid tells Harry he’s a wizard. Neither of these inciting incidents could’ve happened without the disruption to the character’s lives that got us there.

When we talk about inciting incidents, we’re ultimately talking about the point of no return for your protagonist. Where they either make a choice, or have a choice thrust upon them, it’s one they can never go back from.

How the disruption of ritual lays the groundwork for the inciting incident though is important. It’s not just creating the first bubbles of conflict to pop, but it’s a key part of establishing who your character is and what world they exist in.

But what does that look like? Generally speaking, I find it’s useful to think of this sort of pre-inciting incident (or disruption of ritual world) in three categories:

Change of Circumstance

Change of Environment

Change of Information

So let’s break that down a little!

Change of Circumstance

I think this one is probably the most common.

I’ve watched a lot of new movies lately and I think change of circumstance is at the heart of all of them – in Nomadland, Fern’s husband has passed away and she’s had to move into a caravan out of financial necessity; in The Father, Anthony’s daughter is moving to Italy and so she tells him he’s being moved into an aged care facility for his dementia; in Those Who Wish Me Dead, Hannah, a firefighter, has been benched after freezing during a fire which lead to the death of two teenage boys.

While all these changes are environmental too (which I’ll come back to in a second), they’re more punctuated by the impact these circumstances have on these characters – Fern is grieving, Anthony is losing his agency and independence, Hannah’s role in a job she loves has been diminished.

These changes to circumstance create the context for which the inciting incidents begin and ground the characters within their own emotional arcs. The inciting incident in Those Who Wish Me Dead is when Hannah finds another teenage boy in the woods who’s being chased by assassins; in The Father, the inciting incident comes when Anthony’s daughter hires a new nurse that reminds him of his other, dead daughter, in Nomadland, Fern connects with a seasonal worker at an Amazon factory who in turn connects her to the nomad lifestyle.

In this sense, the disruption of ritual starts a conversation that the inciting incident can either build off or interrupt or both. The examples above are all pretty big, but these sorts of circumstantial disruptions can be anything. They can be as simple as a promotion at work, a pregnancy, a new neighbour; or hell, you can go the other way, and get even bigger – start a war, go on the run, discover a new planet! What’s important though is that initial change of circumstance creates context for your protagonist and builds towards your inciting incident.

Change of Environment

This one is still pretty common, but I’d say it’s often used most efficiently and effectively in horror and fantasy.

Moving house or exploring new territory, whether that be campsites or cave dives or new planets or planes, is a natural way of putting your characters off-kilter and building environmental tension. This tension is really steeped in the unknown of the space your protagonist is interacting with, and in the promise of conflict within it. Movies like The Descent, Hush, Lord of the Rings and Star Wars are all fundamentally steeped in their opening acts involving drastic shifts to their environments that build conflict, whether that be because an environment becomes something to protect (Hobbiton in Lord of the Rings), or something that the protagonist needs to be protected from (The Descent), or that environment being invaded (Hush) are all factors that are essential to the story overall.

In these stories, these environments aren’t just a stage for the character to move across, they’re deeply interactive and often allegorical to the character’s circumstances.

My Neighbor Totoro is one of my favourite examples of this – Satsuki and Mei’s move to a new home whisks them into a magical world with soot spirits and forest creatures, but these spirits and creatures are an escape from the reality that they moved because their mother is sick in a hospital nearby. The environment they’ve moved to is them clinging to a child’s world as they live ever closer to their trauma.

The most important thing to think about with environmental change is to ask why? Environmental change isn’t about simply presenting a stage for your characters – all stories have that – but that that environment be a motivator in your character’s overall arc. After all, Nomadland might deeply love the American landscape, but Fern’s story is driven by circumstance, not environment, as I mentioned above.

Change of Information

Probably the least used of these three, an information disruption is often reserved for stories about whistleblowers or journalists. Spotlight, Bombshell, All the President’s Men, hell, even The Bourne Identity all rely on a transfer of knowledge as pivotal to creating the conflict that the story builds on.

Change of Information involves a character learning something that they didn’t know before, and the information could seem incidental in the first act (the journalist in Citizen Kane for instance learning that Kane’s final word was ‘rosebud’, or Adrian Toomes realizing there’s alien tech in what he’s been assigned to clean up in Spiderman: Homecoming), or it could be left as a landmine for our protagonists to discover (Spotlight did this by opening with the cops in the 1970s talking about the child molestation charge that our protagonists would start investigating in 2001), or be the overall driver for the film (Min-hyuk telling Ki-woo about the Park family in Parasite).

I think Change of Information set-ups though can also be broadened out to tie pretty closely with Change of Circumstances set-ups to the point that I actually almost considered condensing the two, but I do think they’re different enough to be untangled. Parasite of course straddles all three in its brilliance as the information Min-hyuk gives Ki-woo of the Park family creates both a change in circumstance and environment too, and Midsommar is a movie I’d consider to be all three too – knowledge changing hands is essential to that film overall, and the focus in the first act of Dani finding out that her sister’s commit suicide is pivotal to everything that follows. Her change of circumstances and environment hinges on her grieving her sister, yes, but the weight of the opening act is on the discovery of that more so than it is on Dani’s circumstances changing. Life goes on is, in many ways, pivotal to that first act.

Change of information, to me, is about a character’s awareness of something creating that initial disruption overall, and that new knowledge being the ultimate plot and character driver for the rest of the story. It’s the new knowledge or awareness that creates story mobility, environment and circumstance can just come along with it.

What are you talking about, Sophie?

Right, sorry, haha.

Disruption of ritual is ultimately the shift in the story that allows for the inciting incident to happen. It’s what creates the perfect storm of circumstance, environment and information which fuels your characters, but what you choose to prioritise and emphasise is going to impact the direction of your story and provide your readers or audience with the context that shapes their experience overall.

What drives your characters is what determines their path throughout the story you’re telling, and considering circumstances, environment, and the information they do or don’t possess is an important part of shaping that. You don’t have to pick one, of course – as I mentioned above, a lot of great stories embrace two or all three! – but thinking about each and asking yourself why and working out what’s the priority for your protagonist might just help you articulate the crux of your story and give you an opening act that resonates.

[sumsebien]

by design pt. 3// Prince Friedrich

series masterlist

summary: friedrich and y/n’s arrival in prussia! ft. frederica ;))

word count: 4.7k

warnings: none

a/n: apologies for the long wait darlings. here she is though. and she is a long one. also a side note for those who love symbolism as much as i do 💐 ;) also, my banabaer @milkbaer this one is for u baby. thank you for all of your help!!!

a german lesson: Gänschen means goose🦆 (that’s a duck but we can pretend) and schloss means palace/chateau/mansion

The massive railway station stood proudly as the gateway to Potsdam, located right where the forest met the city. Three archways made of worn bricks welcomed old friends and strangers alike. There was something in the slightly tinted mossy green that offered you an odd sense of home. Like you had been here before.

Friedrich stood next to you near the exit. You had had breakfast together, then got ready separately before meeting each other again here.

“I had a lot of memories with this train station,” Friedrich said as the train finally passed the great archway.

You didn’t realize that you had been holding your breath the entire time, waiting for the wheels to come to full stop. You had been storing information from Lea and Ilse about Friedrich’s mother all morning. Anything that might help you strike up a decent conversation with her from her favorite flowers (gardenias) to her pets (a schnauzer named Fifi). Since then, you had been a little preoccupied by your own imaginations of her as a mother.

From the way Friedrich talked about her, your first guess was that they were extremely like-minded. Aside from that, there was the fact that she was a Queen to consider. She obviously must be extremely elegant and poised. Even her dog sounded posh-Fifi the Schnauzer...

You were still listening to Friedrich though, just not closely. “Really?” you asked, your eyes following the platform numbers as they passed by.

He nodded proudly. “I ran here from the Palace and caught the train to Berlin for a boxing match.”

You laughed, now entirely engaged in imagining little Friedrich fleeing from his guards. “And how old were you?”

“Thirteen. I skipped a dancing lesson.”

“Shame. You could have become a ballerina and outdone my stunts at your Christmas party.”

“Who’s to say that I did not? There are still many shocking things that you don’t know.” His plan to distract you from your own nerves had worked wonderfully well. You two continued to discuss his boxing match up until you were escorted out of the station.

There, you were greeted by a great spectacle of carriages and a horse parade. Everywhere you looked there were men in uniforms. They were on horses, in open top carriages, on the streets, all waiting for you and Friedrich.

Back in London, your family frequently had two to three carriages to accompany you to social functions. It was already considered excessive for the ton. You would have laughed at the idea of this. Or to be honest, wouldn’t have even been able to imagine having an entire parade to accompany you a couple of blocks down the street.

And of course, you could not forget the icing on the cake-the largest carriage you had ever seen. The one you saw in France could not compare and certainly not the one in England. This one was completely enveloped in gold from top to toe-or rather from roof to wheels. On the top of the roof, there were golden cherubs holding up an olive branch and flowers.

It was a harsh reminder that Friedrich, someone who you had grown to identify as your friend over the last several hours, was also the firstborn son of the King, heir apparent to the throne. And you were his wife. Whatever agreement you had made with each other in private was not valid in the public eye. Here, you were a Princess. The Princess.

As Friedrich watched you marvel in the magnificence of the royal parade, he turned to Heinrich with a last minute decision. Well last minute for his father and valet but not for him. Friedrich had wanted to visit his mother for ages.

“I’m heading to my mother’s. We’ll catch up with the staff afterwards and meet you at the Berlin Palace.”

All of this was not on the schedule his father had drawn out and Friedrich was well-aware. He had even cancelled the state train that Friedrich specifically ordered to Potsdam just to make sure he would not take you here first. But Friedrich was not one to lose.

At the same time, however, he knew that his valet was absolutely terrified of his father, as did most people. Soon enough, when his father found out that his son was not on the train to Berlin and was nowhere near the Royal Palace, he would definitely not be happy.

“But your Highness, we really must get going now or we won’t reach Berlin by noon.”

“If he asks, just blame it on me. I’ll be in and out in one hour.”

Heinrich didn’t say anything after that, just nodded. For that, Friedrich was thankful, he did not want to ruin this magical moment for you. It was not going to be this magical for long.

As Heinrich left with your staff, Friedrich turned back to you. “Y/N?”

“I-Is this for us?”

The look on your face made him laugh. Your jaws were grazing the floors, your eyes slowly sweeping across the scene then glanced at him and back to the carriages again.

“I believe it is,” he smiled, offering you his arm.

…

The entire ride back to the Palace was essentially just for you to fathom the welcome wagon.

You could barely string a sentence together, nodding along as Friedrich picked out places that he mentioned in his stories last night, especially enthusiastic about the candy shop he was never allowed to go in.

Potsdam was charming. You could certainly imagine a very fulfilling and peaceful existence here where it wasn't hectic like London but not entirely placid like the countryside.

Just when you thought you could not be more impressed, you arrived at Sanssouci Park.

When Ilse briefly mentioned it, you had expected a park. Like Hyde Park or Regent’s Park or the little garden behind your house that your parents insisted was a park. Whatever you had imagined, however, could not hold a candle to what it was in reality.

“Welcome to Sanssouci Park,” Friedrich said casually, casting a brief look out the windows while your eyes were completely glued to the towering gates opening up for your parade to pass through.

The name was not meant to refer to a park. It was definitely not a park. It was a bloody forest. As you entered the road lined with dense trees, the temperature dropped slightly with the shade, effectively cooling you both from the outside in.

“This is what you call a park? Whatever do you two think of Hyde Park then? A child’s sandbox?”

Before he could answer, your attention was quickly captured by a glimpse of something magnificent as the carriage passed a gap between the tree trunks. You pointed towards the dash of yellow you’d seen. “Is that where your mother lives?”

Friedrich followed your gaze and promptly nodded. “That’s Sanssouci Schloss. Here is the back of it.” Just on cue, the carriage rounded the corner and headed towards the back of the Palace.

Your jaws were officially off now as your eyes feasted on the very picture of splendor.

From personal observations, people usually spent a great deal of time and fortune on making the fronts of their homes as extravagant as possible. It was all in the face, as they said. But not here. Here, even the rear side was grand.

There was a huge water fountain in the middle of the yard, the blue sky printed on the surface. Naturally, your eyes followed straight ahead, past the window behind Friedrich’s head towards the most elaborate set of marble stairs you’d ever seen. On either side were tall walls of hedges and rose bushes that covered the hillside.

“Can we walk up those steps?”

Friedrich turned to look at the steps and then back at you again.

It was not a steep hill. More of a gentle slope but exactly because of that, the steps were long and the landings were wide. Anyone in breeches would find it challenging enough as it was. But you were in a gown, in the sweltering July heat and you were volunteering to walk. “You can. People usually go straight to the entrance though. Are you certain you’d want to walk? It is a long way.”

You nodded, brushing off his concerns. All you cared about was the sight.

Per your request, the carriage stopped right before the grand stairs to Sanssouci Palace. You and Friedrich got out of the carriage.

From where you stood, you had to crane your neck up slightly to be able to see the Palace up the top. The strip of yellow you’d seen from afar turned out to be much more intricate than you’d expected. Beautiful white windows lined the yellow walls, right in the center was an oval shaped room with a cyan dome on top, perfectly aligned with the stairs. Even though it only had one story, its width certainly made up for its height, stretching across the hill.

As you walked ahead, Friedrich decided to stall a little bit. Memories of endless summer days spent on these lawns came flooding back.

He had missed this.

The last time he was here was the summer before he left for England. It was actually here that his aunt Charlotte came to visit with an invitation to Cambridge-the day that changed his life.

And now he was here with you. Someone he had dreaded to marry a mere few days before. Now a dear friend to him.

Straight in front of him, you were marching up the steps with admirable determination, your hands holding onto your skirt, lifting it off the ground. With sun on your skin and wind in your hair, you laughed and told him to hurry up. For that split second, he wished he was not just your friend. Though he discarded that thought as quickly as it came, it stayed stuck in the back of his mind as he matched your pace.

“These are a lot of steps,” you remarked after the first flight of stairs was behind you. There were at least five more ahead. The excessively wide spaces between each step did not help with the general morale either.

“I did warn you,” he chuckled. “It was too exhausting a trip that Marie Antoinette rode a horse up these steps after her stroll in the garden.”

You paused for a moment.

Friedrich thought you were imagining the French queen trotting up the steps with her stallion. But as it turned out, he was wrong.

“Did he invite her over during one of the military clashes between Prussia and France?”

To say that Friedrich did not expect that was an understatement. You had told him you read but he never asked for the specifics on what exactly you were interested in. At that moment, he simply thought you’d be interested in a made-up tale to forget about the stairs. He did not think for a moment you’d be interested in foreign conflicts enough to know the feud between Prussia and France. He knew he certainly wasn’t as a student.

“You can’t fool me. I know,” you said, laughing at the shock on his face.

Pleasantly impressed, he remarked, “Full of surprises I see.”

“You’ll see that in this friendship,” you motioned between yourselves, “you’re not the only one who can shock.”

He gave you a nod, lowering his eyes and watched his steps before he murmured to himself. “Friendship, yes.” He reminded himself of how grateful he was to be your friend. And that maybe pining over you for the rest of his life was better than having you hate him.

If there was one thing for certain, it was that you two would not repeat his parents’ mistakes.

“Darling!”

The voice caused Friedrich’s eyes to snap upwards, slightly alarmed as they weren’t expected on this side of the Palace. Everyone was supposed to be at the front.

The first thing he saw was that you had stopped as well, only standing two steps above him. And then, on the top flight, he saw his mother, waving at him. She wasn’t supposed to greet them outside. At the same time though, he wouldn’t expect her to wait that long for anything anyways.

He waved back with a laugh. She hadn’t changed one bit since the last time he saw her nearly a year ago. A straw sunhat on top of her head, a basket of flower and gardening tools in her hand.

“I-is that-“

Friedrich nodded. “Yes, that’s her. That’s my Mama.”

The nervous jitters came back to you. You knew how much his mother meant to him. She was the true hero of his childhood and you were just excited to meet her. However, you also knew that in no way was this arrangement made by her. And no matter how friendly you were with Friedrich, as his mother, she would not easily trust you.

You quickly masked your nervousness with a gentle smile. It was the safest route after all. Better look like a smiley fool than a grumpy idiot. You thought.

The Queen began to walk down the steps briskly, meeting you halfway up the last flight of stairs. Immediately, she threw her arms around Friedrich, pulling him into a bear hug. “There you are, you Gänschen! You’ve kept your mother waiting long enough!” She said, messing up his hair and only letting go of him once he was shaking with laughter.

When he and your maids said she was very carefree in private, you did not expect her to be this carefree. A lady was not supposed to be out in the sun like this, no less a queen. She was also much more beautiful than you could ever imagine, with her honey blonde curls tumbling down her back in waves and her big blue eyes which were now on you.

“Apologies, Mama,” he stepped back, allowing you to take a step forward. “This is Y/N, my wife. And Y/N, this is my Mama.”

“It is such an honor to meet you, your Majesty,” you said, bending your knees into a curtsy, praying you wouldn’t stumble backwards and ruin the first impression.

You had an overwhelming want for her to like you. And you felt like this first meeting was of paramount importance in deciding that. If it did not go well, she would never see you as anything more than a girl her son was forced to marry. And that was terrifying even in the case where Friedrich remained a good friend.

You were not wrong. Frederica did not expect much from a match made by Louis, a man who clearly did not know his own son or even cared to try. Assuming he did know his son, it would not even be of any matter at all. The only thing he had ever cared about was grooming an heir. This arrangement, no doubt, served that.

But Frederica could not ignore the large smile on her son’s face as he ascended the steps with this young lady.

That? That was not by design.

Frederica shook her head and offered you her hand to help you stand up straight. “I prefer Frederica. At least when we are not in court.”

She gave you a cheeky wink and plucked a gardenia from her basket, tucking it by your ear. “Come on now! I am sure it has been a long trip for the both of you. Let us have some tea before you go.”

...

Frederica led the both of you into the Palace through the doors into the oval room. Inside it was just as spectacular as its exterior. Tall columns held up the painted dome where a chandelier was hung. The three arched windows looking out to the gardens were pushed open by three footmen, allowing sunlight and fresh air to gush into the space, lightening up the entire room.

“Please have a seat, dears,” Frederica said, gesturing to the rounded table in the middle of the room.

You were still too in awe to be able to settle down calmly in your seat but obeyed her anyways. Beside you, Friedrich was glancing around the room, like he was in search of something.

“Is Fifi not here?” he asked as a butler approached the table with a cake stand.

Just on cue, Fifi-his mother’s Schnauzer, shot through the doors. You nearly gasped out of sheer excitement when you saw the ball of salt and pepper fur fly into the room like an arrow. You had always shared a fondness for dogs. Yet you never had one. The only dogs you had were your father’s hunting hounds and he made sure you remained far away from them.

“Speak of the devil...” Friedrich turned to you, “this is Fifi, hated by most but very loved by my mother. Mostly because she smells like fish.”

He kept his eyes on the dog as she strolled around, heading in your direction and getting alarmingly close. “Fifi!” he said, shooing her off. The dog didn’t care, just kept on going forward.

“Oh, it’s quite alright! I love dogs,” you said, fighting the urge to pet Fifi who was quietly sniffing at the hem of your skirt.

Frederica was absolutely surprised when she saw her Schnauzer so quiet. Her dog was not friendly with strangers. By this time there should have been an accident.

The delayed accident happened right after that. Fifi bit down on your dress, tugging at it playfully.

More surprising, however, you didn’t seem scared of the feisty little old thing either. You just laughed.

“Fifi! Leave the poor girl alone!” Frederica said, tapping her shoes against the floor.

Friedrich quickly leaned forward and picked her up. Being lifted off the ground, she released your skirt and focused on wiggling out of Friedrich’s grasps instead. When she eventually succeeded, Fifi headed back to you, circling your feet, her tail wagging.

Friedrich clicked his tongue, about to bend over again to shoo Fifi off. Not that she would care. But the dog plopped down between your chair and his mother’s, out of Friedrich’s reach.

She looked up at you with big eyes, begging for a pet, which you were happy to provide. You reached down and scratched her ears. It was all rather brave, if he must admit.

“I know it is hard to believe but she seems fond of you,” Frederica mused, seeing Fifi transform into a whole other dog under your touch. She was not usually this sweet.

Friedrich scoffed. “The devil almost ripped her skirt off,” he gestured to the hem of your dress, and glared at Fifi.

“It’s fine, honestly. I think it was a compliment if anything,” you said with a smile.

He sighed. “Don’t defend the perpetrator! She has a terrible temperament. And you know it,” he turned to his mother.

“Fifi does. as much as I love her,” Frederica nodded. Fifi’s ears perked up at the mention of her name, blinking at her owner. “But you seem like a very experienced animal whisperer.”

“No, actually. I never had one.”

“Well, that’s a shame. You’re great with Fifi. And if you can handle her, you can handle any dog.”

“Any dog is better than Fifi,” Friedrich said under his breath. Nevertheless, he was glad to see the two of you bond. Even if it was over Fifi the Ferocious.

On the bright side, at least she wasn’t coming back with them to Berlin. It was the only thing Friedrich and his father had ever had in common-a dislike for the Schnauzer.

...

Heinrich was being escorted into the Palace towards the audience room. A place he would much prefer not to go to on his own. He had arrived for over an hour and still you two were nowhere to be found and it was only for so long he could hide the train of carriages. Eventually, one of the butlers alerted the King of his presence and he was immediately requested inside.

Heinrich had suspected that you would arrive slightly late. He just didn’t think it could be this late. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. One misstep and off with his head.

When the doors to the room were swung open, the King was throwing a fit. His deafening yell rang across the room and bounced against the tall walls. It certainly did not help with the nerves.

“WHERE IS MY HORSE?” he demanded, rising up from the throne. From where he stood, he towered over the poor footman. “I am late for hunting!”

“Your Majesty, you cancelled today’s hunt.”

“And why on earth would I do that?”

Heinrich kept quiet, remaining invisible as he approached the throne behind the butler. He was not about to be caught in the middle of a crossfire during one of the King’s fits.

The footman blinked. Heinrich could see the man debating whether or not to answer, lest it was a rhetorical question.

“B-because the Prince is back from England, sir?”

“Oh,” the King said. His voice quieter than before and sat back down again. The crease between his Majesty’s eyebrows disappeared, his expressions softening slightly. Then he turned to the footman with a quizzical look. “And where is the Prince?”

The footman turned around and met Heinrich’s eyes. And then the King followed his gaze. So much for not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

“I-“ Heinrich began, his mind drawing a blank.

If he were to tell the truth, Friedrich and you would no doubt be in trouble. However, if he didn’t tell the truth, he’d be in trouble and so would you two. And if he just said he didn’t know, he’d be on the first ship to an island far far away.

“Well?” The King barked.

“I’ll go get them, your Majesty!”

“Don’t just stand there. Hurry along then! Before I chop all of your heads off.”

Heinrich had never walked so fast out of a room his entire life. His heart was pounding as it began to dawn on him that he had just lied to the King. Well, it was not exactly a lie. He was going to get them. They just weren’t here yet. Unfortunately, none of that mattered. There was no reasoning with such a powerful man. All he could do was hope that he would still be alive to see another day.

Just when all of his luck appeared to have run out, he heard the distinct sound of hooves against cobble and rushed outside.

Friedrich helped you out of the carriage, still engaged in the never-ending tales of Fifi the Ferocious. You were laughing when you caught sight of the magnificent Royal Palace-Berliner Schloss. It was much boxier than Sanssouci Schloss with towering walls that casted a great shadow over the front lawn.

Household staff lined the steps on either side, straightening up as Heinrich dashed past them. Some had their heads turned, the younger ones especially, their curious eyes on you, trying to catch a glimpse of the new Princess. The more seasoned staff near the top stayed perfectly still, resisting the urge to look anywhere other than straight ahead.

“Your Highnesses!” He said, bowing so quickly you were worried his head might snap off. “Your presences are requested. Immediately!”

...

Through the doors you could faintly hear your titles being announced. Your palms were clammy so you hid it behind you, focusing on what you might say in a couple of moments.

Friedrich was not nervous, of course.

He was the one who planned the detour in the first place. And while you had enjoyed the time with Frederica very much, perhaps a little too much, it had delayed your schedule by well over a couple of hours. It meant that you made the King of Prussia, your father-in-law wait.

The only person more nervous than you was probably Heinrich. Every time you caught a glimpse of his face, he seemed more haggard than the last. You were not certain whether he was really sick or just worried.

"My father will say things. Things that are aimed to test you. Do not mind any of it," Friedrich said quietly.

"Something tells me I should take that as a suggestion. One look at Heinrich and I know what I am in for."

Friedrich sneaked a glance at his valet and gave you a small smile. "Heinrich has always been that way. Worries a little too much."

"Maybe that is for good reason-"

The trumpets sounded, prompting you to straighten up, smooth your dress and put on a smile. In the corner of your eyes, you could see Friedrich cracking up. Had it not been for the fact that you were being presented right then, you would have given him a slipper to the chest. He was still smiling up until you had to walk through the doors.

Then, his demeanor shifted completely. You did not dare to make eye contact with the King. All you saw was brief glimpses of a man, wearing a red cloak on the throne. But Friedrich, he was looking straight down the room, challenging his father.

From the stories he had told you, you knew that Friedrich had a rough relationship with his father. Once he got a chance to break away, he vowed he would allow his father to have full control of his life again. And from the suffocating tension in the air, you knew his father would not make it easy.

“The Prince and Princess of Prussia, your Majesty,” a footman announced.

"Your Majesty," you said, giving the King a curtsy.

"Welcome, welcome. I hope the journey was not too rough for you.”

You smiled and nodded. Not a bad start.

However, it was a completely different story when you saw Friedrich’s face. He raised his eyebrows, clearly unconvinced by his father’s concern. "You do, father? Wasn’t it on your orders that the state train never arrived?”

“Now, now, Friedrich. That was none of my doing.” The King turned to you with a small smile. “I must say, you are much prettier than I expected, my lady.”

He had made such an effort to emphasize the last two words that even if you weren’t listening, you still would have caught them. The King was smirking on his throne, his icy eyes sending chills down your back.

“I believe it’s your Highness, father.”

This row was your fault. You could tell.

“No, I don’t think it is. You didn’t get married.”

“We did.”

“That did not count.”

“How? Because you weren’t invited?”

“I see all of your manners have gone out the door since you stepped foot out of this country.”

Friedrich wanted to scoff. It was always going to be about England. If they were going to have this conversation, he was going to do it properly. But not in front of you.

He turned to Heinrich. “Take the Princess to see the chambers.”

You didn’t want to leave. You were responsible for this in one way or another. You should be here to take the blame. But Friedrich shook his head like he knew what you were about to say. “Come with Heinrich. I’ll meet you later.”

“No need for that. Lady Brandt, your chief lady-in-waiting, will take you for a tour. Bernadine?”

You remembered Lea and Ilse mentioning her as well. However, at that time, she didn’t have a name or a face for you to attach her to just yet. You just knew that she was going to be in charge of all of your affairs like Heinrich was doing for Friedrich. Now she had a name and a face.

At the mention of her name, she nodded and stepped forward from the line of staff on your right. She was dressed in a blood red dress, a strand of pearls wrapped around her long neck. She came towards you, giving you an impressive curtsy, tipping her head forward slowly yet keeping her hat perfectly still on her dark raven hair.

When she looked up, you were finally able to see her striking hollow eyes, tall cheekbones and an ever so slightly upturned corner of her lips. She looked awfully familiar. Like a much younger version of your mother actually. And she was just as terrifying.

“Come with me, your Highness.”

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[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[fluffnstuffq]

We all know that the “kin for fun” trend is bad. 

Recently, however, the question of “why is it bad?” has risen in prominence, and thus I’d like to give my two cents on the matter. I initially wanted to give a rehash of the whole “this is a community which has been around for decades, please don’t appropriate its terms because you don’t know what you’re talking about” spiel.. though I know that’s been repeated endlessly to no avail. 

Dozens of times I’ve tried to explain that, though I’ve often been faced with the “words change” or “it’s just a game, it harms no one” argument.

So I’m taking a more personal approach.

I don’t know if my anecdotes will change anyone’s mind, but if anyone in the “kin for fun” community sees this and actually reads through it, I implore you to try to listen to genuine otherkin, do some research, and find other terms that better suit you.

Beware, long rambling anecdote under the cut.

It is hard to believe that, a mere 8 months ago, I was new to the otherkin community. 

I’d been reading about and researching otherkinity in depth for as long as a year prior, though it was as recently as May 2020 upon which I took my own first step into evaluating my own experiences, creating an otherkin oriented side blog, and formally taking the plunge into what I’d initially assumed, from fun “kin assign ask games” or “no doubles drama”, to be a trend.

While I quickly versed myself in the original, serious and introspective parts of the community, I had my fair share of run-ins with those of the “kinnie/kin for fun crowd”. One such experience, over the course of about two-three months, forever left an impression on the way I view the community (and the problems within it) as a whole.

Without naming names, some of the individuals we encountered turned out to be... the practical embodiment of some of the worst facets of this community.

They were the prime example of the misguided “kinnie” mindset. Dead-set on fitting under the ‘kin label, though unwilling to do any research on their own. Faking out of control, dramatic shifts to seem more “valid” to genuine otherkin (more on that later). Willing to go as far as picking traits from other people’s original characters to “customize” their “kinsonas” perfectly. 

However, aside from their merely misguided attempts to fit in (which could’ve been easily fixed if not for the stubborn kinnie mindset), the most scathing of their actions highlighted some major issues of the “kin for fun” side.

In just a few months, we had our identities stomped on and treated like nothing more than a game. 

You see, the “kinnie” mindset is not self contained. It is almost impossible to maintain this mindset and respect the involuntary, deeply personal nature of otherkin history, due both to widespread misinformation/trends, as well as the common plague of stubborn ignorance of definitions.

In most cases we’ve seen, once one steps fully into the mindset that their own kintypes are nothing more than a game or an act, they begin to at the very least subconsciously view others’ experiences the same way. 

This is obviously not the case for all those who take on alterhuman identities by choice (ex: copinglinking). However, in taking on the “kin for fun” label, one immediately disrespects the identities of others by appropriating and bending terms with a history to fit themself. 

And once one establishes that they lack care or concern for the already, dare I say, endangered terms once meant to foster a sense of community and understanding, of shared experiences... that person already predisposes themself to spiraling into greater disrespect and ignorance of the identities of others.

The individuals that we encountered, like many others of this mindset, used their so-called “kins” for the sole purpose of feeling validated, for looking “cool” and as leverage to get their way. Because it was nothing more than roleplay and a brief interest to them, they often treated others’ kintypes as something that could be similarly discarded/”turned off” or reset. As if others’ kintypes were nothing more than characters which didn’t deserve respect.

Exotrauma and otherwise painful memories, while stressful and sometimes nightmare inducing for us, were nothing more than fodder for outlandish “story ideas” and “angst” for them. 

In the cases of these individuals faking shifts, they often acted in ways threatening and even triggering to those around them; though because it was just a show for them, they failed time and time again to recognize the negative impact their violent “shifts” had on others. 

They had no restraint, for both their own actions and the fearful/concerned reactions of others were just harmless roleplay in their eyes. (I do feel like..  even roleplay should have boundaries if the events of a story upset the people participating, and the notion that anything goes, even at the expense of someone else’s comfort.. it just gives very uncomfortable “fiction does not affect reality” vibes. Though, that’s a story for another time).

As our experiences weren’t real to them and never had been, they often conflated us with the “canon characters”, like we and many others they interacted with were nothing more than toys to fixate on, change and push “headcanons” onto, and test the limits of.

And because they didn’t care to learn, because individuals such as these continued to remorselessly fall deeper into the rabbit hole of “I do whatever I want/I don’t care to learn otherwise”, the lack of consideration grew more severe.

Those who “kin for fun” may certainly be experiencing.. something, I will not discount that assertion. Whether copinglinking, a hearttype, or merely a fictionflicker/cameo shift. However, it’d be disingenuous to say that it is harmless for them to continue to warp and pick at terms that do not and will never fit them. For every joke, every dozens-long “coping-kinlist”, every admittance of “haha I was never a serious kin”, they all do the same in spreading misinformation. 

As I see more and more people self-identifying as “copinglink, but using the kin title because it sounds better”, even if calling oneself “a non-serious kinnie”, one wonders... why use those terms if you know they do not fit? Why encroach upon communities of bittersweet memories, of aching homesickness, of involuntary nonhumanity, only with the intention of putting on an act?

Why fight so hard, when directly told and shown how “kin for fun” actively tears apart the already dwindling otherkin community on this platform? Why cling so hard to words that are not yours, why force change upon the definitions of words meant to be a safe haven for those searching for understanding? Why paint “serious otherkin” as dangerous gatekeepers, sufferers of clinical lycanthropy, or those merely suffering from delusions/hallucinations?

Because of those who “kin for fun”, I was initially steered away from investigating my own identity; I’d only seen the jokes, the toxic “kin drama”, the cringe blogs and factkin and “kinning”. Because of “kin for fun”, it took me over a year to come to terms with my own alterhumanity, in all of its facets.

Because of “kinnies”, my fears are proven time and time again that I will come across someone who views my identity as roleplay at best and “childish, a phase, character theft” at worse. Because of “kinnies” and the mindset they’ve fostered, time and time again someone steals my memories, my experiences, my identity, justifying it as creating their own version, like an AU of an AU.

Because of “kinnies”, time and time again I’ve been told to “stop taking things so seriously, it’s just for fun” when complaining about my identity being minimized. I’ve been told that “kinnies”, despite appropriating an already existing community, are the “normal ones”, the “sane ones”, the “good ones” who don’t really believe in all that they boast. 

Some have even told me that it doesn’t matter at all, for all they can see is a trend with no real hold over their identity in the longrun. “It won’t matter in ten years”, they say. 

Perhaps not for them, long after their interest in the “trend” has faded. But for me and countless other genuine otherkin? In ten years I will still be Blixer from Just Shapes and Beats, I will still be an unnamed creature of woods and starlight and faded memories of golden lanterns, I will still be otherkin, and I will still carry the scars of my identity being torn to shreds and thrown into my face like dirt.

I cannot run from my kintypes and never could, even when I was afraid of them. “Kinnies”, in most cases, hardly believe my identity really exists.

What do they believe, then? What are they trying to achieve, scrubbing away the less “aesthetically pleasing”, fluffy bits of this community? What good does it do them to take meaningful, personal words to describe an identity that they can shed at the drop of a hat if it is “problematic” or boring at the end of the day?

One can smile and nod and say that, despite “kinning for fun”, they still respect otherkinity as a whole. And I say, in most cases, that reassurance is hollow. You have already stolen our words, you have already spread misinformation.

This has stumbled into rambling territory, so I leave a few questions, honest, genuine questions.

I ask those who “kin for fun”, what is the allure of words that you have stolen? What is the allure of having the blood of a shattered community on your hands?

As many others have said before, you may find a place in the greater alterhuman community. We have terms for you, as well as many other specific experiences.

Why fight so hard to steal our haven, to push us out of our own spaces, when your own words are waiting for you with open arms?

Words change, yes, but why fight so hard to change them at the expense of others?

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 03

Pairing: Loki x Reader

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

A/N: I didn’t have that much time to write this week, but I finally finished editing it (an hour to late, hope you don’t mind).

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

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: A nightly meeting with the god of mischief and an intense discussion after a mission briefing where you finally come clean.

Chapter warnings: slight angst, spiders, Loki being Loki

Word count: 1871

One might think your muscles would get used to the way they are strained by the training with Loki, but your muscles decided to be sore and stay sore. Great way to be woken up.

The sun was nowhere to be seen yet, the dim light entering the window however was alluding to its already anticipated arrival.

Turning around in your bed again, your back felt like it was stabbed – which has woken you up and was almost, what had happened yesterday. The god of mischief figured it would be a great idea to show you, how to defend against an attacker who uses knifes and, of course, he never even considered using dummy-knives.

“I would never do so much as to wound you fatally, mortal.” he had assured you and oddly enough, you had believed him. You had to. Everything the god of lies told you sounded true, albeit might be caused by his velvety voice. Somehow, he had been picking up on the effects it had on you. Ever the observer.

As you struggled to stand up, you let out a heavy groan. For as much as you wanted to just sleep it off, you deemed sleeping as impossible. Not with muscles this stiff and not with how much you usually moved while asleep.

With every step you took your thighs stiffened. Stretching might seem like a good idea, but you already knew it would hurt like hell and quite frankly, you didn't have the energy to try it. You've heard somewhere, magnesium would help with sore muscles and as for now, you were more than eager to test your hypothesis.

Usually stuff like that is kept in the kitchen, right?

The oversized T-shirt you wore instead of a regular pyjama reached just above your knees, concealing not only your body shape but being unbelievably comfortable too. Who in their right mind would be awake in these ungodly early morning hours anyway? Changing clothes now was no use.

While the magnesium tablet was dissolving in a glass of water, you saw a box of cocoa powder just waiting on the top shelf above the stove. It towered there, tauntingly, staring down at you because it knew you weren't able to grab it.

A hot cocoa mix. That's what you needed  right now.

Determined, you took a step back and looked at the situation in front of you. There was one rather obvious solution to this:

Climbing.

Your legs were protesting, but you didn't care. You needed that cocoa. Maybe that's the tiredness speaking, but you couldn't live another moment without it. Hot chocolate.

You checked twice that the stove was both turned off and cold, so you wouldn't accidentally burn yourself if you happened to step on it and proceeded to swing a leg on the sideboard. Your shoulders were burning, but you didn't stop as you slowly pushed yourself up. You couldn't let the box win.

Once you managed to balance yourself out and fully straightened up, your eyes were barely below the surface, the box was prominently placed on, but that wasn't an issue. You, unlike the box, had hands, which you would put to use now. Reaching out, you snatched the box and inspected it. After reading all the nifty details from the back of the box, you wondered what the artwork on the front would look like, but you weren't able to look at it.

There was a huge spider, clinging to this side of the box.

Frightened you threw the box away from you and stepped backwards, only to lose your footing on the sideboard. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes.

But nothing happened.

Confused you slowly opened your eyes back up. There he was, your deus ex machina. His face being mere inches away from your face, the god had hold you in a close embrace to stop you from falling. This in and of itself made it hard enough to keep your composure, but the following conversation only heightened the stakes.

There it was again. That damned voice.

“Oh my, are you falling for me?”

Together with his smirk, this was a deadly combo which short-circuited your brain.

Your thoughts raced faster than you could control them. I have been ever since I first saw you. You wanted to let him know, how you felt.

But you couldn't.

Instead, you opted for a cheeky grin and for the line “you wish”, although in all reality, you were the one wishing. This was torture, being this close to someone you wanted to be even closer with but not being able to be.

What if he would reject you? What if he wouldn't feel comfortable with you being around him any more? What if...

He carefully set you back down on the floor, almost as if he was afraid to break you if he were to drop you too harshly. You were still gazing into each others eyes, lost in the moment and although the spider should have scared you wide awake, this magical moment felt like a dream.

Being lost in his eyes, you stopped taking in anything else but Loki. You didn't notice how soft raindrops were clashing against the windows, you didn't notice how the sun was rising or how bright it had become.

And you most definitely did not notice, how the scary spider was dissolving into green mist.

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

After Tony had laid out your mission, you didn't quite know how to react. You were being sent on a real mission, together with the god of mischief. Just the two of you, only 48 hours left to prepare and your thoughts were racing.

Meanwhile, Loki looked unfazed by the mission, although he shot you a quick look. He knew you were capable of defending yourself and others, but attacking someone else was something different. Whenever you had tried to surprise him with an attack during your training, he had told you how you weren't ready just yet.

You had to think about possible excuses, not to go on this mission. Tell them the truth? You weren't sure how they would handle it. Would they call you an imposter? Imprison you? Besides, a literal god would be fighting right next to you. Everything would be okay.

“You seem rather nervous, my dear. Is everything alright?” The god of chaos averted your attention back to the conversation.

He spoke with the same nonchalant tone he used if someone different than you was within earshot, but if you weren't mistaken, there was a hint of concern hidden behind it this time. Before you could calm him down, the rich kid chimed in.

“Opposed to you, Reindeer Games, our sweet agent here has been on multiple missions similar to this already. It should be smooth sailing, even if you decide to turn on us and abandon both the mission and your partner.”

Oh no.

You saw over to Loki whose smirk was filled with amusement as he was declaring to Tony how he would never betray anyone in his life. He would soon realise something didn't add up. How could you have been on multiple infiltration missions without being able to fight?

At least you didn't have to make an effort and control your thoughts around him any more. Whenever there had been a small thought you weren't able to contain, he didn't seem to notice it, so why try to keep up a facade if no one would even realise it was there?

You left the room while Tony was still trying to threaten Loki out of betraying anyone. Your feet lead you to the gym where you planned on meeting the god of mischief once got bored of talking with Tony and you anticipated it to take five minutes, tops.

After spending some time beating up a punching bag, you heard someone walk in. You didn't have to turn around to know it was him.

“Explain yourself” the voice demanded harshly. He didn't even try to sugar-coat his words, he was disappointed. Probably hurt.

But you couldn't confront him with the truth, could you? You weren't ready, so you feigned innocence.

“What do you mean?”

It was no use. As you turned around and saw him standing there, visibly sad. He knew, although not everything. He knew you lied to him and that was enough to break both his and your hearts.

Loki didn't deserve this.

“You know exactly what I mean.” he looked like he barely kept himself from crying, but his voice was now steady and... cold? Now your heart felt like it was being shattered. “How have you done multiple missions, some of which were solo, despite being barely able to fight? What is the truth, mortal?”

Gone were the pleasantries you were used to, gone were the words 'darling' and 'my dear'.  Now you were just called 'mortal', one of many, easily exchangeable to him. You never thought words this small could hurt this bad.

“You wouldn't believe me.”

That was all you could mutter now, the only thought consuming your mind. He wouldn't believe me. The god of lies however insisted he would believe you, provided you told him the truth. This was your last chance to come clear and you both knew that.

“I-” you started insecurely, looking left and right in hopes of finding the right words to use somewhere in the room.

“I am not...”

Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears. This was harder than expected.

“I'm not... from here.”

In a poor attempt to hide your tears you looked down at the floor, but you were sure he saw them since one or two drops managed to fall from your eyes onto the floor.

“Neither do I”

This simple response made you chuckle, what in turn calmed your nerves. You looked up again and your eyes met his. Maybe he would understand.

“I mean... I am not from this reality.”

Silence. Loki didn't ask any questions, but you were sure he had plenty. Who wouldn't?

Fidgeting around with the seams of your shirt, you decided to elaborate a little bit more. “It is... kind of a long story which I feel like I couldn't explain properly, but I managed to shift realities so I can be here.” A heavy weight was dropped from your shoulders as you proceeded to tell him about how life was in your reality and, most importantly, how the Avengers are non-existent.

The last part caught Loki's attention and he thought for a few seconds about it. “So, am I just a mere work of fiction, too?”

You hesitated with your answer and he noticed. Of course he did.

“In... in my reality, yes, but in this reality you are very real.” You gave him an encouraging smile and he nodded understandingly.

“I think therefore I am. So, my dear, why did you... shift realities?”

His prying eyes saw right through you, it was almost as if he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you admit it.

“I did it so I could see you, Loki.”

[hey-there-juliet]

Random Drabble Day (2/23)

Summary: First off, let me just say that this is more like a one-shot than a drabble because I'm a wordy bitch and I cannot control myself 😅

That said, I always had a hard time imagining Julie writing some of the Perfect Harmony's lyrics about herself, so I thought why not make this just another song that Luke and Julie wrote together? This is set somewhere between Finally Free and Edge of Great, in that week when Ray was stress-eating. This is supposed to fit back into the show at the end, so it might seem like a cliffhanger, but it's not.

Quick shout out to @jamestkirkish for betaing this for me! I love you and you are amazing! Any remaining mistakes are my own. And to the fabulous Sloan, for helping me out with Luke's handwriting! Enjoy 🧡

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Relationship: Juke 💜

in the great scheme of life and ghosts

No matter how many times Luke insisted that she had been snooping through his things, Julie knew for a fact that she had done no such thing. In reality, she had simply been cleaning the studio when she came across it.

For three ghosts who didn't eat and could barely even touch anything most of the time, the boys sure knew how to make a mess. Every morning Julie would walk into the studio to find the chairs or coffee table rearranged, at least one of the rugs was always askew, and the clothes... the clothes were everywhere, and the worst part was: they reeked. 

And so every morning before leaving for school Julie would shoot them a stern look and tell them to pick up after themselves. Which they did - when she got back home, things were mostly in their rightful place. Still, every weekend Julie would make sure to take a moment away from homework and rehearsal to tidy the place up to perfection, just like her mom liked it. She'd dust off the furniture, water the plants, sweep the floor, and even vacuum the whole place. One Saturday when she was home alone (her dad photographing a wedding, and Carlos at a friend's house), she even went through the trouble of washing all of the guys' old clothes. 

Somehow, and she didn't even want to think about how that worked, the clothes didn't stink when they were actually wearing them, but at any other moment when they made no contact with their skin? Yeah... not good. So she washed them all (three times, using every trick and product she had). She washed them a fourth time for good measure and, by the time she was finished, any traces of twenty-five year old mold was gone, and so was the smell.

So no, she was not snooping - no matter what Luke said - when she came across the crumpled paper ball between the couch and the low cabinet, just behind a big vase her mom had gotten from tía Victoria.

Julie sighed, making a mental note to tell Luke to put his discarded ideas in the bin (again) if he didn't want them anymore, when one scribbled and wrinkled word caught her attention: Perfect Ha-

She bit her lip, staring down at the teasing word. Perfect what? Was it lyrics? Maybe half formed ideas? Doodles? Julie knew Luke liked to doodle in the margins of his notebook whenever he got stuck trying to come up with the next best piece of lyric or melody. She also knew she should probably just leave it alone, put it with his stuff to ask him later if he wanted to keep it, or put it in the garbage. Except the more she glanced down at that damn word, the stronger she felt it pull her towards uncovering whatever else the crumpled paper ball was hiding. 

In the end, the pull was too strong. She'd just take a quick look, make sure it wasn't anything important before she threw it away. And, she reasoned with herself, trying to squish the guilt that was making itself known in the pit of her stomach: Luke had gotten rid of it, so he clearly didn't care much for whatever was in there. 

Not able to resist any longer, Julie carefully unfolded the paper, slowly making her way towards the piano and using its surface as a table to help smooth the page over.

Luke's (horrendous) handwriting covered it with the bare bones of a song, random lines were scribbled in the margins with a couple of doodles for company, and even a little note from their bassist - ‘Reggie was here ;)’.

It took her a minute before the chicken scratches became words, and then Julie's breath left her in a rush, as the guilty feeling in her stomach turned into butterflies and flew away with her imagination. 

It was a song, parts of one, anyway, and - more importantly - it was a love song.

Unprompted, her own words came back to her, "Wow, Luke! I didn't know you were such a romantic." Quickly followed by Alex's short reply, "He's not."

She knew now who Unsaid Emily was really about, but these new words were clearly about a different kind of love. The romantic kind, and Julie couldn't help letting herself believe - just for a moment - that the song might be about her.

Before she could let herself be carried away in a daydream, there was a - now familiar - shift in the air, a sound almost like static, the only thing letting her know of a ghost's appearance. Without a thought, she crumpled the page again and shoved the paper ball in her pocket for later inspection. 

"Hey, Julie!" Reggie's cheerful greeting sounded across the studio from where he had poofed in, and soon - with his "help," bless him - Julie was finished with her weekend clean up. 

As if summoned by the end of her chores, Luke poofed in, ready to rehearse. Alex soon followed; and by the time Julie retired for the night, the song had been almost forgotten where it hid inside her pocket. 

Almost.

***

After getting ready for the night, Julie settled on her bed with the wrinkled page and her dreambox. She read over the words again and again, imagining they were about her.

Step into my world, 

Bittersweet love story about a girl 

Shook me to the core 

Voice like an angel, 

I've never heard before, 

- 

You and me together, it's more than chemistry 

- 

Love me as I am 

I hold your music 

Here inside my hands 

- 

You are my brightest burning star 

- 

We create Perfect Harmony.

And unless Luke had been singing with another girl, there didn't seem to be many options on who it could be about, right?

From the beginning, Julie had felt something connecting her to him; to all of them, in different ways. But Luke had been the one to give her a little piece of his soul right after meeting her when he let her use Bright to earn back her spot in the music program. Seeing his passion reflecting back on her, the way he treated music like she used to, made her miss it more than anything for the first time in almost a year. It made her miss the way it felt to use music to connect with her mom.

After they spent a whole weekend finishing each other's songs and working on new ones, getting to know each other's inner workings - the part of them that bled out feelings into paper to create beautiful melodies, Julie knew she was a goner. Finding out he'd been the one to write the words that shaped her taste in rock certainly didn't help. Like he'd been helping her find her way to music long before they even met.

Her crush on him had been inevitable from the start, and while falling for him was probably one of the worst things she could’ve done, it was too late to stop it. She'd been free falling for a while, and hopefully she'd land in his arms soon enough. Reading over his words again gave Julie a warm fluttering in her stomach that made her think he was more than ready to catch her once she reached the ground. 

Carefully folding the piece of paper, she put it inside her dreambox, then placed the box back on the shelf.

***

The following week went by without any hiccups. Every once in a while, Julie would remember Luke's song and a familiar warmth would fill her up, leaving a soft smile on her lips and glazed eyes staring off at nothing. Just as often, Flynn would have to shake her out of her daydreams.

She didn't think much would come of it until her dad decided to throw the band a party so he could film them and post their video on YouTube. Which was fine. Amazing, even. It was most certainly great! Until Luke came to the school, staring at her with his stupid, beautiful, awed eyes, and with his soft, perfect smile, saying things that made her combust and melt, all at the same time.

"I think you make me a better writer." 

    "I think we make each other better."

Calling Nick 'Luke' was bad enough, but slipping into a complete musical sequence as she danced with him? "Goner" didn't even begin to describe her. 

Like the other times they'd written together, the lyrics flowed through her, finishing the song he'd started with the same ease as one would take a breath.

Julie knew that whatever was going on between her and Luke couldn't happen or, if it did, it couldn't last. In fact, in the great scheme of life and ghosts, she didn't know much, but what she did know was that - be it in life or in death - love was constant. 

He didn't need to have a heartbeat or to be able to touch her for her to love him. He was just as real to her as the next person, and whether it would hurt in the long run or not, it didn't matter. 

She knew Flynn was only looking out for her, but that ship had sailed, and Julie was already so lost in his ocean eyes that avoiding eye contact wasn't going to bring it back. She would entertain her though, even knowing it wouldn't work. Just like the tide, eventually he'd pull her right back in.

She could love him just as he was, for however long they had together, and especially after that.

-

End notes: I hope you guys enjoyed it! And, if you'll notice, at the beginning it kind of gives off the impression that Luke eventually finds out about the song and Julie tells him how she found it. Which may or may not lead you to believe that they're in a relationship. I guess it all depends on interpretation though ;)

Oh, also! Shout out to the chaos squad folks that guessed right! You guys are no fun :( /j lmao

[swordandquill]

Leverage Writing Prompt #31

Title: Future Tides

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: Nate has been keeping a secret from the team, but an inopportune explosion forces him to reveal it.

This is a prompt fill for @leverage-writing-prompts. I actually submitted this prompt back in July, but only got around to finishing it now.

In honor of the beautiful (and also occasionally creepy) mer-May art I still have circulating on my dash: Parker (or Nate) is secretly a merperson. When a job goes wrong, they’re forced to reveal their secret.

@rinahale did a really fun fill for it already with Mer-Parker.

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Author’s notes: The merrow are Irish merfolk who require a magical cap to move between land and sea.

Bone and Sickle podcast by Al Ridenour did a really great episode on the Kraken (Ep 65: The Kraken & Other Marvels of the Northern Sea). In its earliest renditions, the Kraken was a sea serpent. It was only later that it became associated with first giant octopi, then the giant squid.

*************

Nate knew as soon as the explosion knocked Eliot over the railing of the pier that he only had one option. Eliot was strong swimmer, but not stronger than the turbulent currents under the pier, particularly if he was unconscious. Nate hadn’t been able to tell in the split second it had taken to register him going over.

Even as he was yelling for the rest of the team to get off the burning structure, he was shucking off his shoes and jumping over the railings. He hoped they listened. The rickety structure was going to collapse, with or without another explosion. Getting to Eliot before he got bashed into the pylons was going to be enough of a challenge without having to worry about the rest of the team ending up in the water.

By the time Nate hit the water, his fingernails had hardened into claws, and he used them to tear the rest of his clothes off so he could finish the change. There was something euphoric about settling into his other form. He hadn’t changed since before Sam was born, and it was like finally allowing himself to scratch an itch that had been burning its way through his skin.

There wasn’t time to think about that though. Nate blinked his second eyelid closed, and the murky water sharpened into black and white, the fire above reflecting through the water in bright, washed-out streaks. He had to fight the chaotic currents rushing under the pier to stay still long enough to spot Eliot.

He had already been swept under the pier, probably already been driven into the pylons at least once, and was limp in the water. Nate flicked his tail and pushed into the current, using it to reach Eliot before he could be driven into the pylons again, but he wasn’t able to get them clear of the pier before the next surge. The best he could do was curl around Eliot and turn them so his back hit the pylon instead of Eliot. He was going to be bruised, but it was better than Eliot hitting again.

He pushed hard across the current and surfaced a good four meters from the pier. Eliot started coughing as soon as they broke the surface. The shear relief of it left Nate drifting for a moment, Eliot’s head tipped back against his shoulder and the rip tide pulling them out. There was blood fanning across Eliot’s face from a cut at his temple, and he wasn’t quite conscious, but he was breathing, and for now, that was enough.

Nate cut across the rip to escape it, then brought them into shore, doing his best to keep Eliot’s head above water, although there was no doubt he had breathed in more water by the time they reached the shore.

Changing back was not as easy or simple as the change to had been, but Nate had known it wouldn’t be, known he couldn’t deny his body something it had been craving for so long, then expect it to just let go of it so quickly again. It meant he had to drag Eliot up onto the beach with a tail, which was less than ideal and required more arm strength than he was used to using in either form, but he managed it.

He turned Eliot on his side in the sand as he continued to cough up water. Part of him wanted to leave him here for the team to find and make a break for it before they saw. Eliot was unlikely to remember anything, and Nate was sure he could make something up that would appease them. Then nothing would have to change.  

Eliot’s eyes fluttered open, and he shifted fitfully, his whole body shaking with cold and shock.

“Just lie still,” Nate brushed the wet hair from his face with a webbed hand, “you’re alright.”

Eliot blinked up at him, and Nate waited for the reaction, but Eliot just gave an unsurprised “oh” before another coughing fit had him curling back into himself.

Nate let out a sigh and rubbed his back. He couldn’t wait to hear what “distinctive” thing about him had tipped Eliot off to what he was.

Someone yelled his name, and he looked up to see three silhouettes, framed against the light of the burning pier and racing towards them. It was a relief to see them, but Nate couldn’t help the unease as they got closer.

Parker reached them first, too focused on Eliot to pay much attention to Nate. She dropped down in the sand next to them, grabbing Eliot’s shoulder and shaking him in the Parker version of gentleness. Eliot batted at her weakly, but curled closer to her none-the-less. It wasn’t until Nate brushed her hand away when she tried to poke Eliot that she finally looked up at him.

Nate braced himself for fear, or disgust, or any number of negative reactions, but her face lit up like she’d just received a bag of non-sequentially numbered bills.

“You have cool teeth!” she told him brightly.

Nate’s world snapped back into place and all the unease drained out of him.

“Thank you, Parker,” he said drolly, just managing to not run his tongue over the points of his teeth.

“Oh my,” Sophie stopped short as she reached them, and Hardison almost ran into her.

“What is it?” the hacker demanded anxiously, “is Eliot…”

Hardison trailed off, mouth open and eyes wide at the sight of Nate’s tail.

“Nate’s a mermaid,” Parker announced gleefully.

“Do I look like a maid to you?” Nate groused.

“Maybe if you had a feather duster,” Sophie was giving him a look that said they would be having a long, unpleasant conversation later, “and a frilly little French smock.”

“Mermaids are real?” Hardison sputtered.

“Merrow,” Eliot corrected hazily, then curled into another coughing fit.

Nate was never going to hear the end of this from any of them. The fast-approaching sirens were almost a relief.

“Get him out of here,” Nate helped Parker to sit Eliot up, “don’t let him tell you he doesn’t need a hospital. He’s got water in his lungs.”

Hardison ducked down and helped Parker get Eliot to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and the two were quick to get his arms around their shoulders and take his weight.

“What about you?” Sophie gestured towards his tail.

“Changing back takes longer,” Nate made a shooing motion, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You promise?” Parker demanded, refusing to be dragged in the direction Hardison was trying to usher both her and Eliot, “not like the little mermaid; you won’t turn into sea foam for loving humans?”

“No, not like that,” Nate assured her with an eyeroll, “hurry up and get out of here so I can too.”

“But you promise,” Parker refused to budge, “you’ll catch up later. You won’t disappear.”

“I promise,” Nate snapped, “go already.”

Parker grinned and turned back to help Hardison with Eliot.

“Don’t think I won’t send a trawler after you if I have to,” Sophie threatened, then turned to follow the rest of the team in the direction of the waiting van.

Nate didn’t doubt she would, and that they would find him, but he didn’t have any intention of making them do that. For now though, he pushed back into the water and let the waves carry him back out towards the open sea.

**********

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were a mermaid,” Hardison hissed, voice low in a futile attempt to not wake Eliot.

“Merrow,” Eliot mumbled groggily.

Futile because Eliot wasn’t sleeping. Exhausted, still feeling chilly if the truly ridiculous number of blankets piled on him were any indication, and a bit out of it from a not insignificant head injury, but not asleep, at least not at the moment.

“You know, I googled that,” Hardison groused, “just because Nate wears stupid hats all the time doesn’t mean he’s some kind of Irish shape-shifting sea creature.”

Sophie snorted indelicately.

“That’s not…” Eliot started to protest, only to be cut off by Parker, which was probably for the best given how soar his throat sounded.

“You can’t have your hat back,” Parker pulled Nate’s hat down farther on her head; she must have picked it up after he dropped it at the pier, “just in case.”

Eliot moved restlessly in his hospital bed, and Nate, sitting on the edge of it, dropped his hand down to pat the hitter’s wrist. He left his hand there, fingers resting lightly against Eliot’s pulse point.

“You can keep the hat, Parker,” Nate said easily, “it looks good on you.”

Parker beamed at him from the foot of Eliot’s bed.

“It’s a con anyway,” Nate continued dismissively, “someone made it up centuries ago to trick fishermen and it stuck.”

“You really are a merrow,” Hardison deflated, as if the reality of it had finally sunk in.

“Yes, Nate,” Sophie sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair regally, looking for all the world like a queen reigning over her court, “do tell us about being a mythical sea creature.”

Parker leaned forward like a child eager for a bedtime story.

“Well…”

Nate was interrupted by Eliot reaching up with his free hand to try to pull his oxygen cannulas off. Again. Nate caught his hand and lowered it back down to rest on his chest.

“Leave that be for now,” Nate gave his hand a pat.

“I don’t want it,” Eliot shifted, movements agitated and unsure, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do, “we should get out of here. It isn’t safe.”

“I’ve got it all taken care of, man,” Hardison reassured him patiently, “we’re safe.”

“Security’s not…” Eliot started to protest.

“We’re security,” Nate let his hand fall back to Eliot’s wrist and left it there, “we’ll check in with the doctor this afternoon and reassess, alright?”

Eliot grumbled, but settled down again.

There was very little chance of Eliot being released before tomorrow. He was responding well to oxygen, and the CT had looked good, but he had been unconscious underwater, and that wasn’t something any of them wanted to take lightly. He was having trouble focusing and keeping track of what was going on around him, and it wasn’t because of the relatively mild pain meds he had been given.

Better to keep him where he could get the care he needed, at least while they could. Nate wasn’t kidding about reassessing. If the situation changed, and they needed to go to ground, they had other resources they could tap into to make sure Eliot still got taken care of. For now, though, this was best.

“Nate,” Parker was looking at him intently, “Sophie said I should pick something besides money that I want for my birthday.”

Nate turned to face her, resigned to whatever was coming.

“I like gold and gems too,” Parker grinned, “shipwrecks have lots of gold and gems.”

Nate gave a long-suffering sigh, and pointedly ignored Sophie suppressing a snicker.

“It wouldn’t even be like stealing,” Parker pressed, “it’s not like anyone really owns it anymore.”

“There are plenty of countries that would disagree with you on that,” Nate said dryly.

“Only if they know we have it,” Parker shrugged, “so can we go diving for treasure for my birthday?”

“You have to commit to a date for your birthday first, sweetheart,” Sophie pointed out, “also, if we’re diving for treasure, there is the platinum reserves Spain dumped into the ocean in the 16th century. Probably not enough to make the expense of an actual expedition worth it, but if you could just swim to it…”

“No,” Nate said firmly, “absolutely not. We are not treasure hunters.”

“But we could be,” Hardison smiled impishly, “we do need alternative revenues streams after all.”

“Not Spain,” Eliot murmured sleepily, “’s guarded.”

“By what? A kraken?” Hardison scoffed, then paused, “wait, there isn’t a kraken, is there?”

“No,” Nate said firmly at the same time that Eliot said “yes.”

He glared at the hitter, who gave him a tired, shit-eating grin.

“It’s not a cephalopod,” Eliot looked far too pleased with the way Hardison started to sputter.

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, they were never going to get Hardison near the water again.

“You’re making that up,” Hardison balked, “there aren’t sea monsters.”

“How would you know?” Eliot countered, “you don’t even swim.”

Hardison opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but Nate interrupted him.

“What I want to know, is how you knew what I was,” he gave Eliot a curious look.

It would be good for him to know what had tipped Eliot off so he could fix it. The fewer people that could tell what he was, the better. Maggie had known, had seen him change once before they were married, but he hadn’t wanted to split his life between two worlds. He had chosen the land, still chose the land. That remained where the things that mattered to him were.

“You bled all over me when you were shot,” Eliot said, “your blood is different than human blood. It’s distinctive.”

Not something he could do anything about then, although it was interesting to him that Eliot hadn’t bothered to say anything about it sooner. As with all the random and far-reaching knowledge Eliot had, Nate was caught between wanting to know how he knew and feeling it was probably best not to ask.

“That’s just nasty,” Hardison grumbled.

“So we’ll go to South American, and Hardison and I will track down the shipwreck sites,” Parker continued as if she had never been interrupted, “you can search the shipwrecks, and Eliot can help me update my dive certification.”

“Whatever you want, darling,” Eliot yawned.

“Do I get a say in this?” Nate asked.

“Probably not,” Sophie looked thoroughly amused.

“It will be like a family vacation,” Parker grinned, clearly excited by the idea, “you and Sophie keep saying I’m supposed to try normal people things that I haven’t done before.”

Nate knew a lost cause when he heard one. He sat back and listened to Hardison and Parker plan, keeping half an eye on Eliot as he finally drifted off to sleep.  Sophie alternated between encouraging the pair with much too much enthusiasm and giving Nate thoughtful side glances. He was grateful she didn’t push for more information. Not yet anyway.

He had told Maggie before he had proposed to her. It had seemed unfair not to. And Sam… Sam had been so young. Nate was never sure he really believed it was more than a fairy story. Maybe if he had lived longer… gotten to be older… who knew what could have happened, what potential had never been unlocked. It hurt to think about, made him want to reach for a bottle and try to forget all the things his son should have been, should have had.

Eliot reached for the cannulas in his sleep, and Nate caught his hand, bringing it back down to his side and holding onto it.

Nate had a future here. Different from the one he had so badly wanted, shaped by different tides, full of unexplored depths and currents, but still good. He was learning to live with that, slow though the process was. It wasn’t the catastrophe he had always thought it would be, having them find out.

If the trade-off for this new future was the occasional treasure hunt, Nate could live with that.

*********

Parker continued to be non-committal about choosing a birthday, but there was a lovely 16th century gold and ruby pendent necklace tucked under the tree for her at Christmas.