theelmoarchive · 1 year ago
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have you ever drawn skully? :33
I have!!! :D
I have this post of mine from a little while ago, but I also have this guy on the whiteboard in my kitchen lmao
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I wanna draw them more tho cause theyre so <3<3<3
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cherpupz · 2 years ago
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im a bloody rena enjoyer <3 [ temp. ]
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zoennes · 1 year ago
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Parties at Senne’s: May 3rd, 2019 x October 2nd, 2020. 2.02/2.03 𒀭 4.05
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usedtobemygirl · 5 months ago
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the fact im seeing paramore and taylor swift in less than two weeks 😀
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elegyofthemoon · 2 months ago
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at some point im gonna have to go back and replay the entire shattered samsara arc bc i spaced out so much of my gameplay that it didnt hit right at the end BUT REGARDLESS it was sooo good and i love fu hua and it was so fun to finally meet senti too
and i had some things to ramble about which ill probably do later bc trying to connect pieces blahblah and also im on time restraint presently, but im still thinking specifically about kiana saying 'trading sacrifices for so-called victories. its unacceptable.' and how that parallels something that himeko says i think ch8 or maybe somewhere in the schicksal hq open world (pls save me from that i hate it in here; ill also get this quote later bc i dont have it on me now and i have a billion honkai screenshots in my files)
or like. how fu hua always felt alone from the start of her life till now. shes made friends along the way but she always still felt there was a disconnect so it was easy for her to make that sacrifice in the end and lock her and senti away but kiana wouldnt let her be alone and kiana also makes this clear when she confronts senti about not being the real 'fu hua' and how she loves the real fu hua.
its just 😭 the relationships in this game,,,, i love it sm
also fu huaaaaa,,, sentiii,,, i love them both im so glad i wandered back here for a split second 😭😭
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soups-blood · 1 year ago
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She is so sane normal and totally not crazy (lie)
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kavehater · 4 months ago
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how to kys without krilling yourself ;-;
#How to stop being anxious and having your heart stop every second without krilling yourself#What I have been doing : crying actual real tears cause I think about kaveh LMFAO#me -> why am i so unloveable ☹️ (sad) … *thinks about kaveh* …. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 (crying my eyes out LMAO)#help I am so insane not a joke I think someone needs to shoot me in the head wowowowowow 😻 pls where is dahlia . . . Her being gone is#Giving me more anxiety#anyways imagine nothing making you cry but then some anime twink who’s been missing for over a year just makes you cry multiple times LOOLL#I think I should be embarrassed … I AM embarrassed 😭😭😭#dora daily#Iiiiiiiiiiiii giiiivveeeeee uppppppp 😻😻😻#I could go on a rant about why and what has happened but honestly I just think it’d fall on deaf ears 🧍‍♀️ so I don’t think it’s worth#Wasting my already very very VERY limited breath on.#The way a dude who tries to use me (discord boy) would’ve told me to go in great detail and listened attentively and I can’t even have my#Actual friends like me enough to want to listen 😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 no wonder I feel unloveable maybe it’s better to be#Fake loved and used atp than feeling like this. Idek atp I am just so drained completely that even talking is absolutely impossible so I#Wouldn’t even talk to him if I wanted to ;-; so now what ? I remain mute for the rest of my life ? Man I’m sick of this sick of having to#Sleep and that being the only way I don’t rip out my eyeballs or cut off my leg from how insanely weird I feel#Dniewosmsmskaj helpppp 😜#First half of the tags was in just me trying to be funny but the rest is srs 💃 eeee I hate my brain#Sooo anxious helpppp ☺️🔫 anyways marks apparently came out I am not going to ask for a heart attack on top of my already unstable heart so#I won’t check. But I also have sm to do that I couldn’t get done like that fucking timetable it’s been pending since forever I need help 😻#The days are flying and getting merged together I can’t keep count anymore
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taegularities · 1 month ago
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colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)
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Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍
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SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs
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It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.
But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.
They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—
“Angel? Breathe.”
Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.
Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”
“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”
“Yes… I know.”
“Let’s go?”
You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.
Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.
Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.
Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.
In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”
“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”
She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.
Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”
The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.
Yes.
Has he been keeping up with stuff?
“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?
“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”
“Oh, I’m…”
Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”
“What’s that mean?” you ask.
“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”
Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”
Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.
You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.
The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.
In some sense, it’s worse.
Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.
There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.
You follow.
You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.
He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”
You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.
And in the end, it’s still his dad.
“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”
You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”
His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.
You’re incorrect.
It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.
Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.
Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”
“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.
The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.
There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.
You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.
Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.
But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”
But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”
She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”
The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.
This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.
You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.
Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.
The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”
“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”
“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”
“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”
“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”
“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”
“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”
“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”
His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”
Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”
Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.
Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.
“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”
It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 
Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.
You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.
The city called and it kept them.
You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.
“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”
His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”
“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”
“Ah. Is it that pretty?”
“It’s pretty amazing.”
She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”
“I’m trying to, really.”
Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.
You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.
And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”
But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”
You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.
She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.
You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.
And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—
“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.
His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”
Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”
It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.
His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”
To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“Okay.”
Tense. Quiet. Gulping.
But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.
His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”
As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”
“I was.”
“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”
He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”
You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”
“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”
Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”
“Damn, Kook.”
He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”
“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”
“Good.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah. It’s okay.”
“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.
“Good. I think we cou—”
Pause. 
Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.
You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.
Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”
“Helloooo!”
And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”
“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”
She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.
They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.
The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”
You giggle. Goodness.
“Gosh, sure!”
And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?
Weird.
“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”
Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.
Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”
Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”
Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”
Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.
Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.
Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”
Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”
Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.
She’s not going to…
No.
Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”
Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.
So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.
You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.
You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.
One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”
“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”
“That’s crazy.”
She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.
This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.
“What is?” you ask.
“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”
Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.
The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.
Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.
You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.
“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”
“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”
Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.
You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”
Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”
“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”
Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.
“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Some people I knew…”
You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”
She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”
“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”
“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”
“You say it so… weirdly.”
Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”
You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”
“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”
You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.
Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”
“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”
“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”
It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.
Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.
You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.
Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.
Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.
She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”
Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”
His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.
“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?
You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.
So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.
God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?
“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.
You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”
“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”
It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.
She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.
His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.
Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.
The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.
The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 
You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.
Yearning.
But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.
Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.
The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.
Reminiscent of a youth.
Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.
The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.
“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.
“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”
He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”
He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…
“Victoria’s Secret?”
“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—
You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”
“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”
“Never threw it away, though.”
“Never thought of it.”
He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.
“You okay?” you ask.
“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”
You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.
You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.
Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.
“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.
“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”
You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.
But then again…
When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.
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“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”
“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”
You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 
The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”
“Baby!” he exclaims back.
His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.
“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”
“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”
“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”
Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.
“Gureum?” you repeat.
“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”
But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”
“Okay. Okay…”
The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”
Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”
“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”
You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.
The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”
He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.
Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”
You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.
But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.
“This is so pretty,” you say.
“Right?”
“Was this the surprise?”
“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”
He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”
The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.
A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”
“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”
“You could take him to the city.”
“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”
Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?
“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”
“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”
“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”
The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.
“He’s old?” you wonder.
“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”
One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.
He just is… He just is.
“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.
The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.
Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.
And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.
Jungkook…
He took you strawberry picking.
You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”
He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.
“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”
Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”
“Oh— Really? How so?”
You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.
“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”
Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”
“Yeah.”
“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”
“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”
“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”
“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”
“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”
You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.
“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”
His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”
You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”
It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.
And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.
“Try it, too,” he then instructs.
He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”
And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”
“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”
“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”
You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.
But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 
He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”
Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.
The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.
So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.
As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”
“That too.”
Oh.
“What else?”
“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”
You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.
Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”
“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”
Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.
Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.
Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”
“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”
Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.
And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.
The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.
Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”
The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”
“Right?”
“They don’t taste like this in the city!”
“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”
“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”
“You picked good ones!”
“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”
“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”
“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”
Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.
He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?
“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”
You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.
What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.
The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.
His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.
“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”
A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”
“Oh… yeah?”
“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”
Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.
His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.
Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.
But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.
So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”
Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.
On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.
And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.
Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.
You understand.
Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.
The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.
Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.
Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.
“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”
You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”
“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”
The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.
“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”
You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.
You can wait. Things can wait.
You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.
In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.
But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.
The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.
Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.
You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.
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Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.
You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.
Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.
Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.
You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.
As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.
You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”
“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”
“I really wanted to help, though.”
It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.
“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”
The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.
How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.
Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”
But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”
“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”
As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”
“Offended indeed. You learned this?”
“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”
Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”
“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”
Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”
Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”
“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”
“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”
Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”
“Nonsense.”
Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.
As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”
But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.
You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.
It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.
No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”
“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.
“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”
“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.
“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”
“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.
“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”
Fuck.
“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”
“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”
“What are you talking ab—”
“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”
It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.
But it’s hard to listen.
Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.
And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.
Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.
“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”
“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”
“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”
As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.
But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.
“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”
But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.
“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…
“Oh, fuck off.”
“Watch your mo—”
“Or wha—”
His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.
It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.
You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.
It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.
You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.
The fire in his eyes is blue.
And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”
This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”
Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”
Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”
So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.
God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.
But…
Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?
Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?
He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 
You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.
Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.
You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.
When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 
His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”
“Kook…”
“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”
“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”
“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”
His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…
“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”
“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”
“I know. It’s okay.”
It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.
And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.
He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?
Why can’t he love me?
And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.
It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.
But he keeps believing—
“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”
“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”
“Your mother doesn’t either…”
“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”
“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”
Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.
“Not for a second,” you say.
Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”
“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”
“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.
You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.
Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.
You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.
And it does fifteen minutes later.
The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.
You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.
Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”
Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.
“It’s okay.”
She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.
But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”
“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”
“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”
You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.
“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”
No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.
Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.
His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 
His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?
Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.
You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.
Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”
And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.
“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”
“Yeah… yeah.”
And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.
But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.
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To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.
When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.
Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.
Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.
His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.
Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 
Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”
“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”
“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”
Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”
Hmm…
“What did he go down for?” you ask.
“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”
After a fight.
Like the breakdown last night. You understand.
You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.
You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”
“Sure!”
The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.
Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.
You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.
The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.
You’re thankful.
“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.
You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”
She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”
You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”
Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.
So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…
“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”
“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”
You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”
But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”
“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”
You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.
And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”
Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.
She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”
She’s so wrong. Both she and him.
Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.
You remember…
I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.
You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”
“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”
You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.
And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.
“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.
You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—
“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”
Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”
“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”
Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”
Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”
Shit…
“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”
“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”
You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.
The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.
One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”
“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”
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You walk down the steps to the basement.
The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.
He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.
But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”
“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”
He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”
“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”
“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”
The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.
It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.
They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.
He does this often. Zone off like this.
Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.
“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.
“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”
A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.
“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”
“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”
“Yeah…”
He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.
It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.
But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.
Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.
You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.
And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.
He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.
You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.
You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”
“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”
“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”
You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”
“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”
He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”
To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”
“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”
“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”
“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”
“Shut up.”
You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”
“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”
“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”
“Isn’t it?”
You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”
“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”
You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”
“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”
You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.
Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.
Make up, probably.
Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.
So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.
And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.
Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?
But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.
If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.
And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.
The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?
You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.
And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.
He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.
Does he feel the same about you? Probably.
Because he curses, “What the fuck.”
Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”
“What are you even?”
You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”
“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”
Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.
The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.
And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.
Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”
“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”
You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”
“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”
Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”
You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 
So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”
He chuckles. “They can try.”
“They? Well, shit.”
“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”
“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”
“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”
It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.
You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”
“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”
Damn it. Both of them deceived you.
“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”
“And I got it for you.”
Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.
Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.
You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…
“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”
“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”
A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?
They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.
You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”
“It’ll suit you.”
“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”
“Ah… I can try.”
“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”
And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.
“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”
“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”
“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”
You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.
“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.
And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”
Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.
You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.
And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.
I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?
A tease here, a flirt there.
You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.
Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.
The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.
Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.
“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.
She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”
Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?
Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”
“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”
Ah.
Ah…
The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.
Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.
Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?
Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.
Ahhh…
So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.
How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…
Come on. Unrealistic.
Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.
To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.
Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.
“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”
Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”
What? When?
“When?” you echo.
“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”
Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.
For the very first time.
Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?
Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.
Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?
Fuck, what if it happens again?
“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.
“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”
“But now I might keep thinking about it.”
“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”
“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”
“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”
She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”
She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 
Well. Okay.
You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.
He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”
“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”
“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”
You smile.
Okay…
It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.
Okay.
You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.
You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.
His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.
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The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.
They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.
But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.
You take a deep breath.
All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.
It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.
At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.
Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.
The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.
You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.
Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.
You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.
He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”
You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 
And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.
“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”
“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”
The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”
Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.
Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.
And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”
“Yep. And you came over from the city?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”
“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”
You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”
Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”
“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”
“Lucky. You look pretty together.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.
Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.
It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.
And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.
Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”
Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.
“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.
You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.
And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.
Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”
Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”
“Right.”
They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.
“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”
“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.
“Why?”
Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”
So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”
Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”
“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”
“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”
“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”
“Me neither,” Ria confirms.
Of course he didn’t like it.
He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.
Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.
People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.
You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”
“Okay.”
His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”
Ah…
“Hm?”
“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”
Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.
“Oh— Kook—”
“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”
“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”
He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.
Well… at least now.
“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”
You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.
Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”
The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.
And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.
Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?
And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?
You’ve been thinking it all dead.
Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.
In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.
But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.
You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.
Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.
Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.
You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.
It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.
The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.
Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.
He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.
She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.
But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.
He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.
“Can I tell you something mainstream?”
You hum, “Hm?”
He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”
“Would you… want to marry me one day?”
“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”
I’ll spend my life with you.
Not a question. Not a need.
But a confession. A goal. A plan. 
You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.
It’s a song.
Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”
“You probably do.”
“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”
Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.
“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”
“You did? Then she must’ve…”
You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.
You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.
Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.
You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.
When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.
You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.
The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.
No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.
And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—
“This… this is it.”
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THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼
1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3
1K notes · View notes
Text
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Aakhon Mein Teri ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Summary: Lando Norris and his very desi girlfriend <3
: ̗̀➛ ln4 x desi!reader ₊˚⊹♡
: ̗̀➛ fluff + humour ₊˚⊹♡
masterlist ☾☼
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
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yourusername
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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 321,970 others
yourusername: manifesting that our story doesn't end like om shanti om
view all 85,261 comments
landonorris this movie was traumatising
yourusername no it wasn't!
user1 it really is
landonorris next time im picking a movie for movie night
yourusername no 😚
user2 dunno who i love more srk or lando
yourusername the only reason im with lando is cause srk is too old for me
landonorris wtf babe????
maxfewtrell you need to stop showing him movies that'll keep him up at night
carlossainz he's a child
danielricciardo too young to watch horror movies
landonorris THANK YOU
user3 i love how they came for lando's rescue 😂😂😂
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yourusername
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liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 715,026 others
yourusername gora pakora with his little spicy pakora
view all 291,008 comments
landonorris youre so beautiful
yourusername no you
landonorris i am
yourusername 😒
landonorris wtf is a gora pakora
user1 NO ONE TELL HIM
user2 youre a gora pakora lando
oscarpiastri yall are cute
yourusername lily and i are cuter tho
alexalbon youve already stolen my lily, why do you need another one
yourusername alexalbon im collecting all your girlfriends and then we're gonna ditch yall and live happily ever after
charlesleclerc alexandrasaintmleux stay away
alexandrasaintmleux no 😚
user3 PARENTS
user4 LANDO IN A KURTA LANDO IN A KURTA THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL
user5 im dead he looks so beautiful
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yourusername
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liked by mclaren, landonorris and 853,017 others
yourusername poor guy's gonna lose all his money now that he's marrying me
view all 604,321 comments
landonorris can't wait to marry you
mclaren congratulations to the happy couple!
user6 shes such a gold digger
user1 no you dumbass. indian weddings have like, 13 different ceremonies to it
user2 my parents are getting married
user4 can't believe he's willingly giving away all of his money to her
carlossainz congratulation kids
danielricciardo they grow up so fast
maxverstappen1 i just read somewhere that there are 13 ceremonies???
yourusername yes there's going to be a meeting about it. i expect you to be there
maxverstappen1 im scared
yourusername you should be
oscarpiastri cant believe youre getting married!
user5 i love how y/n's gonna have a meeting to explain the wedding process to all of them
user1 indian weddings are no joke 😭😭😭
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 981,003 others
yourusername my radha was on the dance floor 🕺❤️
view all 704,692 comments
landonorris im so happy i married you i love you sm
yourusername i love you sm too
user1 WE NEED MORE DETAILS
carlossainz how did your wedding end up being more tiring than a triple header???
yourusername its the beauty of indian weddings
oscarpiastri i honestly feel like im still drunk
landonorris as you should be
mclaren NO AS YOU SHOULDNT BE
georgerussell beautiful beautiful wedding guys
yourusername carmen looked so pretty i wouldve married her instead
carmenmmundt YES
georgerussell NO
landonorris NO
danielricciardo all those dance practices paid off
yourusername you bet im gonna use the sangeet videos on your birthdays
charlesleclerc please dont we beg you
yourusername MWAHAHA
alexalbon landonorris your wife is being mean to us
yourusername he won't say anything he loves me
landonorris i do
maxfewtrell whipped
user2 I NEED TO SEE THIS VIDEO
user4 im so happy for them im gonna cry
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this is my first smau! i'm still learning to do these, so I'm sorry if this was bad! the dupatta getting caught on lando's watch idea was a request by @justadesirebel and I'm so sorry it took me so much time to make this! but, anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this! also, the title "aakhon mein teri" translated means "in your eyes" and I chose that because the scene in the movie when the actress' dupatta gets caught in the actor's watch, that's the song playing in the background! i've also got a link for my taglist that you can find here!
601 notes · View notes
janovavalen · 10 months ago
Text
✧in her comments || walker scobell x fem!reader
—small warning: the faces that are shows as ‘y/n’ are just for the aesthetic…—
in her comments p.2
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yourinstagram
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liked by dior.n.goodjohn, leahsavajeffries, yourmom others
yourinstagram finally in vancouver guys OMGG?🧍🏽‍♀️
view all comments
dior.n.goodjohn good now hurry up and get here im bored
→ yourinstagram omg hello? can i get a hi?
user22 OMG WAIT IS Y/N FILMING IN PERCY JACKSON!?🤨🤨🤨
→ user37 WAIT MAYBE??
user11 guys don’t be quick to assume she could just be seeing her friends who r filming percy jackson…
_xochitl.gomez NOOO COME BACK I MISS YOU ALREADY😭😭😭
→ yourinstagram I MISS YOU TOO BABY I WAS LITERALLY GONNA CRY ON THE PLANE
→ user77 xochitl and y/n are so adorable 😭
jennaortega miss you already, have fun!
→ user44 dude jenna and y/n being friends is insane when did that even happen
yourinstagram
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liked by jennaortega, dior.n.goodjohn, yourmom, and others
yourinstagram at the hotel!
view all comments
user222 y/n listening to sade is honestly a vibe, she’s literally wife material
→ yourinstagram yall flatter me sm🤭
user11 the messy get ready aesthetic is so real😭
→ yourinstagram i really be making messes like they get on the floor too
dior.n.goodjohn girl ik ur not making a mess in that hotel room already…
→ yourinstagram …i’m getting ready.
yourmom make sure you clean that up, AND BE SAFE!
→ yourinstagram i will‼️
user0 y/n’s mom caring for her over insta comments is adorable omg I WISH MY MOM DID THIS
user33 literally jealous☹️
dior.n.goodjohn
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liked by yourinstagram, iamcharliebushnell, leahavajeffries and others
view all comments
iamcharliebushnell those are my shoes?🦼
→ dior.n.goodjohn you can share
→ yourinstagram sharing is caring🤲🏽
→ iamcharliebushnell OHH so when i asked for your food you threw paper at me..riiiight😒
user77 DID Y/N, CHARLIE AND DIOR JUST COMMENT ALL TOGETHER??
user2 nah guys i think y/n is filming in percy jackson…idc what yall say this is official
user66 nah bc ik something was going on when y/n posted she was flying to vancouver 😗🤲🏽
used82 THIS is insane and i’m so here for it all
leahavajeffries so beautifullll
→ dior.n.goodjohn AWH TYY<3
user01 throwing paper is so real when it comes to food‼️
yourinstagram
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liked by walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn, leahavajeffries and others
yourinstagram these yellow pants are probably my fav by far, thanks walker for letting me hold your dog<3
view all comments
walker.scobell your welcome😭
user81 IF Y/N IS HOLDING WALKERS DOG AND WALKER JUST LIKED THE POST THEY DEFINITELY MET!!!
user11 i can practically smell the shipping edits through my phone right now
user68 guysss let two opposite genders be just friends they don’t have to be dating 😭
jennaortega is thought you said you’ll never come in a three mile radius of a chihuahua
→ yourinstagram just spill all my secrets it’s okay
dior.n.goodjohn my beautiful girll 💛
→ yourinstagram KISSES KISSES KISSES!
user19 their friendship is something i live for
iamcharliebushnell you wanted my sandwich so bad you took a pic
→ yourinstagram i meannnn…you can make one for me if you want i don’t mind at all🤲🏽🤭
walker.scobell
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liked by iamcharliebushnell, leahavajeffries, aryansimhadri, yourinstagram and others
walker.scobell y/n recommended i wear blue striped shirts to embody percy what do you guys think?
view all comments
yourinstagram if you guys disagree with the blue shirts BURN IN HELL—IM JOKING OMG IM JOKING
→ walker.scobell Y/N YOU CANT SAY THAT ON HERE YOUR GONNA GET US IN TROUBLE
→ yourinstagram IM SORRY IM SORRY OMGGG😭😭😭
user22 y/n forgetting she’s like thirty million famous on insta and on nonstop movies is so comforting
user110 literally living for the walker and y/n duo hello?
user60 love them sm, LOVE THE BLUE SHIRT WLAKER KEEP IT ON KEEP IT ON
leahavajeffries guys walker listens to y/n regardless
→ walker.scobell leah it’s okay…you don’t have to act like annabeth anymore we’re off set
→ leahavajeffries this is me on a daily 😭!?
→aryansimhardi it’s true
→ yourinstagram literally rolling in the deep
→ argansimhardi STOP
user45 THEY KNOW GUYS THEY KNOW
user71 THATS INSANE Y/N OMGGGG😭😭
user51 GTFO OF HEREEEE AHAHAHAH
leahavajeffries
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liked by yourinstagram, walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansamhardi and others
leahavajeffries y/n let me try her ice cream it was mid
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yourinstagram that’ll be the last time you take anything from me…food wise
→ leahavajeffries IM SORRY BUT WHAT? U ADDED TWO SEPARATE THINGS ON TOP OF ONE ANOTHER LIKE NO
→ yourinstagram last time.
walker.scobell i thought it was good?
→ yourinstagram thank you walker<3
→ iamcharliebushnell simp bro..
user17 THEY’RE SO CUTE?
user210 walker backing up that y/n’s ice cream combination to say it’s good was so cute to me idk why😭?!
dior.n.goodjohn see? i’m not the only one saying you guys are cute?!
→ walker.scobell i mean🤷🏼
→ user710 DIOR ALREADY SHIPS, ITS OFFICIAL AND WALKER NOT DENYING IS OMGGGGGGG
user619 WALKER DIDN’T DENY IT GUYS I REPORT HE DIDN’T DENY IT
user373 EVERY ONE STAY CALM
jennaortega y/n you’ve got some explaining to do🤨
→ yourinstagram WHAT?😭😭😭
yourinstagram
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liked by walker.scobell, jennaortega, leahavajeffries, iamcharliebushnell , yourmom and others
yourinstagram walker wanted to be posted soo @ walker.scobell are you happy now? also thanks for dinner<3
view all comments
walker.scobell so happy 🤭
→ yourinstagram bro😭😭
dior.n.goodjohn THATS WHY YOU DITCHED ME AT THE HOTEL? u went to dinner with walker instead of me☹️!?
→ yourinstagram IM SORRY I THOUGHT YOU KNEW? — conrad fisher
→ dior.n.goodjohn not the time to be REFERENCING TSITP
iamcharliebushnell the ship is almost sailing guys 🏂
leahavajeffries they’re literally always taking pics of each other
mckennagraceful WHATTTTT
aryansimhadri guys literally help they are with me rn and they’re laughing so loud at a cat vid.
_xochitl.gomez Y/N AND WALKER WHAT? BRO BRO BRO BRO
user623 WHAT DID WE SAYYYY WHAT DID WE SAYYYYYY WERE RIGHT WE WERE RIGHTTT
user80 walker reminds me of a clingy pet the way he’s slapping y/n’s face like that😭
user100 HELP Y/N SHES BEING SLAPPED BY WALKER😭😭😭
user103 THEYRE SO CUTE I KNEW IT
user71 MAKING EDITS RN
dior.n.goodjohn
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liked by walker.scobell, yourinstagram, leahavajeffries, iamcharliebushnell and others
dior.n.goodjohn i cannot express how much i love taking 05’s of everyone
view all comments
yourinstagram i’m glad u didn’t post the one of me sleeping bro.
→ dior.n.goodjohn never do u dirt like that<3
iamcharliebushnell she never can take mine bc i slap her phone she knows better — luke c.
→ dior.n.goodjohn CORNY AHHHHH
→ yourinstagram charlie that wasn’t it im sorry to have to inform you that your plate has been stolen.
walker.scobell bro send the one of y/n 🤲🏻
user148 WALKER WANTING Y/N’S PICS AWH
User189 yall get handed a snack and turn it into a meal😭
user1047 lowkey living for walker and y/n and the percy jackson family<3
_xochitl.gomez they’re all too cute im ngl
→yourinstagram YOUR CUTER
yourinstagram
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liked by walker.scobell, leahavajeffries, yourmom, iamcharliebushnell and others
yourinstagram literally filming and i fell in dirt. walker gave me his jacket tho to it’s okay
view all comments
dior.n.goodjohn she fell so hard that her shoe half broke guys…
→ yourinstagram ALRIGHT ALRIGHT CALM DOWN
walker.scobell it’s okay y/n we can get more shoes tmr
→yourinstagram u better wake up too
user391 them going to the mall where i live while im at school is killing me
user616 they’re too cute, (shipname) for life
iamcharliebushnell I WANA GO?
→ aryansimhadri ME TOO!?!?
→ leahavajeffries SAME HERE
→ walker.scobell 🧍🏼…
user637 them tagging along when walker wanted to be alone with y/n is hilarious
yourinstagram
liked by walker.scobell, aryansimhadri, leahavajeffries and others
yourinstagram they took my phone SHOUT OUT TO ARYAN’S DAD BRUH😭
view all comments
leahavajeffries i wish i was there omg 😭
→ yourinstagram I WISH YOU WERE HERE TOO!
aryansimhadri my dad scared me so bad
walker.scobell who are these handsome men in your phone!?
user637 they’re too cute ALL OF THEM
user111 aryan turning around so fast is literally me
user7191 jealous ashhhh
2K notes · View notes
noxtivagus · 2 years ago
Text
IT'S ALREADY WEDNESDAY !?! DAMN 🥺 thursday basically now bcs it's just turned midnight here omg.
#🌙.rambles#despite the lack of time i'm not too overwhelmed! oh my god thinking abt it n i really love my friends so much :')#but there's that only one irl i have that has honestly been. hmmm. bcs i don't expect anything at all from others genuinely but it hurts if#you're the only one giving :') but i've been taking my mind off that. she's genuinely the only friend rn i have that drains me.#i still do love & care for her though! she's still my friend. other friendships i have whether irl or online is good enough ! but hmm#maybe i feel a bit anxious in general like i have to do more. sm more. i'm not sure. i'm sorry. i dont want to think too much rn#here's the thing i've had a lot more mood swings lately ( likely due to pms ) & i'm worried of how it may have unknowingly affected things#bcs like in my discord status i write sometimes there n it may not be really clear? often even if it sounds v negative i don't actually#mean it to that extent. it's often a bit dramatized bcs it looks cool. sorry. unless it's something like. oh yh when those two irls#excluded apollo n i on the day before our bday;; unintentional tho & i do realize that's just the kind of people they are.#everytime i spend time w them we just do whatever they want & we have a lot of differences. it hurt bcs it was our bday soon though &#with them i know from experience that they wouldn't reciprocate the similar kindness or gifts i would give or have given?#my fault for expecting something. expectations lead to disappointment. that said if i have problems with people....#i'm trying harder to bring it up. i know why they're like that ^ but maybe i'm afraid of unintentionally hurting them. yeah. but hmm#i apologized for smth i said then that day but i remember they just said 'hope you feel better soon' which kind of hurts thinking on it bcs#their actions that day made me cry a lot. it didn't seem like they care that hurt. & i realize those two though. they don't . yeah.#idk how to say but they've never been there for me when i need it. genuinely never. i can't see them being my best friends in the future.#they've never been there to ask me how i'm doing. to offer if they could help me. i've done that for them. i don't expect reciprocation but#it hurts when you feel the effort isn't returned. it's been like that for a long time. i've expressed several times wishing to have#heart-to-heart talks but they've never gone through bcs they don't work towards it too. that said though. i'm human. i have my own life#my own emotions and struggles. it gets so draining when it feels so one-sided. & then i feel more sorry that maybe my mental health#in general ends up bringing down my other friendships? sometimes with people if i don't really interact it's either i'm busy or#tired. just shy or anxious in general. or i feel unappreciated. recently it's been a mix of all that so it's been hard to do more than i ca#thank you tho for everything all of you have done. i wish i cld do more for you. arghh i'll go on as i can w my limit but recently#there's maybe this distance i'm too tired to cross rn? i'm a bit tired rn but i think i'll be ok again soon! i'm motivated when it comes to#my interests. passions. just forgetting stuff relating to ^ i'm not TOO stressed bcs i look forward to these games n books n ideas n all c:#i'm a bit tired rn but i'll distract myself! this too shall pass. i was doing better earlier. soon i'll feel better again as well 🤍#i'll be productive when i feel like it! i can rest. i can take it slow. at my own pace. it's hard n i feel bad for that but i need to.#it's enough to realize i'm tired & let myself rest. just live rn. i don't have to be so harsh on myself. i can rest. but. i'm sorry....#so much to do. so much yet unsaid and undone. in all aspects of my life. i'm not sure what to do first. it hurts. i'm tired. i'm sorry
0 notes
formulaa-1 · 11 months ago
Text
instagram au 🪭 M.V
influencer!reader x max verstappen
in which max and y/n soft launch their relationship <3
authors note- btw reader is spanish in this :) hope your all okay sorry for posting late haha merry Christmas 💗
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maxverstappen1
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y/nusername’s story
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caption: st tropez you have my ❤️
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maxverstappen1’s story
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caption: 📍st tropez
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formulagossip
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formulagossip: max and y/n are both in st tropez…after a tweet went viral of max kissing a girl in a club…fans have speculated its influencer y/n y/l/n as they posted these stories at the same time in what appears to be the same place…
Liked by f1girlzz, mv1fann,rbrfannn_ and 239,083 others
view all 492 comments
f1girlzz: YESSSS I KNEW IT !!!! who knew max had rizz tho ??
hammertimee: fr tho💀💀
gridgirl101: WHAT!!!!!!!!??????
user28: rue….when was this???
y/nstann: our 👸🏻 y/n finally getting a guy who will treat her right 😌
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y/nusername
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y/nusername: little getaway before Christmas 🫶🏼
Liked by sophiekumpen, user29 ,formulagossip and 185,203 others
view all 263 comments
user29: max’s mum liking😏😏
yourbff: pretty pretty pretty girl😍😍
y/nusername: all you beautiful💗💗
fan1: damnnn max is punching 😻
user1: Stargirl fr😍😍
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maxverstappen1
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maxverstappen1: family❤️
Liked by y/nusername ,redbullracing, formulabizz, and 458,122 others
view all 362 comments
redbullracing: 💙💙💙
fan28: THEY ARE SOFT LAUNCHING I REPEAT THEY ARE SOFT LAUNCHING
user3: the girl in the last slide….🫣
y/ngirl_: our 👸🏻 in the last slide 🤭🤭
lestappengirl: Charles is crying rn
f_oneboyz: HAHAHA HE DEFFO IS
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y/nusername and maxverstappen1
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y/nusername and maxverstappen1: kind of gave up on the soft launch haha
Liked by landonorris, sophiekumpen, user7 and 678,262 others
view all 1,383 comments
sophiekumpen: my angels 💗💙
y/nusername: love you soph!💗
user102: SHUT THE FUCK UP RN NO WAY.
yourbff: hurt her and istg 🤬
y/nusername: HAHA CHILL
user10: help😭😭😭
landonorris: he has rizz 😱😱
y/nusername: surprisingly 🫣
mvsuperfann: she’s already flirting with the other drivers 🤣🤣
supermaxmax: someone’s jealous xo
fan02: she’s so pretty😍🫶🏼
y/nusername: thankyou sm lovely ❤️
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a/n: hope you liked it I honestly didn’t know what to do I didn’t have much motivation so it’s kinda random and sloppy also the dates not the tweets don’t match up haha but ignore that🫣 happy Christmas everyone I hope you all have the best time ever ,as always stay healthy <3 I’m only a dm away if your ever struggling and need someone to talk to ❤️❤️
1K notes · View notes
f1rodrigo · 8 months ago
Text
the mclaren boy mystery | part two
l. norris / o. piastri
summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna
a/n: sorry this took a little longer than i expected! it was so fun to make though. i didn't want to say who she's actually with because i feel like it's fun for the readers to have to figure that out too! so please share any guesses you have lol i'm interested to see what people think the outcome will be. hope you enjoy and thank you sm for reading<3
part one | part three
sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble
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liked by yourbrother, maxverstappen1, and 101,225 others
yourusername happy birthday to my favorite brother, i love you and am so grateful to know i have someone in my life who looks after me like you do<3 here's my fav pics of us of course they're all racing related lol, our first love
view all 982 comments
yourbrother "my favorite brother"... As far as I know I am your only brother 😐
⤷ yourusername 🥱🥱🥱🥱 technicalities
yourbrother Thank you least favorite sister, miss those days. Have to get back out on the karting track, been too long since I've beaten you
⤷ yourusername been too long since you've been beaten, you mean?
⤷ yourbrother Yeah, yeah we'll let the track times speak for themselves
⤷ user1 ok but we have to admit the brother sister banter is kind of adorable
⤷ user2 no bc she seems so sweet 😭
user3 nah because what is max verstappen doing in this girls likes now????
⤷ user4 and the plot thickens 😯
user5 she saw everyone calling her a fake f1 fan and said take a look at this
user6 yn hater club how you guys feeling right about now
⤷ user7 🤡🤡🤡🤡
user8 honestly kind of hope she's dating one of them
⤷ user9 yall switch up so fast please 😭😭
user10 seriously..... you HAD to only post f1 related photos lmfao so totally pandering to the landoscar fans
user11 f1 school of wags next graduate
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liked by mclaren, yourusername, and 1,891,218 others
landonorris DOUBLE PODIUM!!!!!!!! couldn't have asked for a better race, congrats @/oscarpiastri and a huge thanks as always to @/mclaren 🧡
view all 5,871 comments
user1 I SAY THATS MY BABY AND IM SO PROUD 😭
user2 mclaren double podium... oh i used to pray for times like these
user3 oscar piastri you are insane omfg
user4 MY POOKIES LOOK AT THEM !!!!!!!!! 🫂
user5 save me landoscar SAVE ME
yourusername jumping up and down screaming and crying losing my mind
⤷ landonorris you should probably get that checked out....
⤷ user6 THATS IT, ITS YN AND LANDO IM CALLING IT
⤷ user7 nah nah nah this is so giving gf of the bestie banter
⤷ user8 agreed hopping on the oscaryn train 💪🏻
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yourusername added to their story
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oscarpiastri added to their story
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liked by kellypiquet, oscarpiastri, and 789,012 others
yourusername qatar gp smiles <3 practice timeeee
📸 @/kellypiquet
view all 1,281 comments
kellypiquet so beautiful
⤷ yourusername all you
landonorris eye spy a mclaren car down there?
⤷ yourusername ? i just see a tractor
⤷ landonorris not funny. 😐
⤷ yourusername i certainly laughed
⤷ oscarpiastri same actually
⤷ user1 i dont know how much longer i can take this
⤷ user2 GUYSSSS i am telling you its so oscaryn
⤷ user3 WHAT literally look at the Proof its so landoyn 🥱
⤷ user4 i am giggling we're literally in a shipwar
user5 she's so pretty i'm sorry guys i love her 😵‍💫
⤷ user6 well yes!
user7 patiently waiting for one of the mcl boys to main feed post her then we know for sure ‼️
⤷ user8 at this rate it still won't clear anything up
lilymhe miss u beautiful
⤷ yourusername omg i miss u more ms lily
⤷ user9 she has The wag stamp of approval WE MOVE!
user10 theres four e's at the end of 'time'....... landos number is 4 i've got it guys 😃😃
⤷ user11 seek medical attention STAT
⤷ user12 bro thinks this is a taylor swift album release
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liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 789,012 others
yourusername oscar piastri sprint race winner AND mclaren double podium, better start calling me the good luck charm
view all 1,281 comments
user1 nah bc you're onto something.....
user2 she can't be serious 😐
⤷ user3 well no shit it's just an instagram caption
user4 i cannot be the only one who finds the caption extremely weird
⤷ user5 nah i'm with you i've never liked her 🙄
⤷ user6 its just so odd like forcing yourself into the mclaren narrative completely taking away from the boys achievements writing it off as your own doing...
⤷ user7 omfg yall are so dramatic just say you're jealous they're not dating you lmfao
⤷ user8 no fr because it is not that serious it's clearly a joke like she loves them cmon now
mclaren BRB getting your paddock passes for the duration of the season
⤷ yourusername i'm giggling, i love you guys 😙
⤷ user9 see mclaren is fine with it so yall should be too
⤷ user10 now i'm going to need all the haters to sit DOWN and shut the fuck UP
oscarpiastri wait can you send me that picture
⤷ yourusername i literally did already but okay
⤷ oscarpiastri ok could do with less attitude
⤷ yourusername you have not seen real attitude piastri
⤷ oscarpiastri 😧
⤷ user11 i think this just converted me to team oscar
⤷ user12 nah this is literally landoyn confirmation
landonorris 🍀
⤷ user13 i am picking up what he's putting down
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part one | part three
sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble
taglist:
@landoscar-f1 , @urfavnoirette , @imsiriuslyreal
908 notes · View notes
ohsc · 1 month ago
Note
Imagine Sam with his daughter and she's dressing him up and doing his hair. You know those fairy wings you can wear, her forcing him to wear those and she's wearing a princess dress.
tysm for the request!! i’m a bit rusty so i feel like this kinda sucks and it ended up being much longer than intended lol but i’m loving this verse sm so much more to come :) | juno verse, single dad sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.5k, kid fic, fluff, not proof red, requests open only for juno fics
“Don’t laugh.” Were the first words out of his mouth when he opened the door and saw her stood there.
He had been trying to clean up the apartment when he knew that she was coming over after work — also in an attempt to starve off the giddiness, which hadn’t worked out either — when his daughter had attached herself to his leg and refused to let go until he played with her. Juno, he was convinced, had all of the stubbornness of a Winchester, and he’d rather just give in easily then peel her off of his leg and have a crying toddler and a messy apartment.
Y/N had been visiting more and more over the recent weeks, she had started to work herself into the little routine that he and Juno had been building, and it made him so soft. There hadn’t been somebody that he’d looked forward to seeing like that in a long time.
Her lips were curving upwards as she looked at him, lips pressed together in a clear attempt to not laugh at him. “…you look pretty.”
Juno’s recent game of choice had been dress up, which was honestly just a kinder way of saying she liked to hold him hostage and dress him up until she got bored. His hair was pulled into three pigtails, there were god knows how many butterfly clips up there, and he was pretty sure there were at least two stickers on his face somewhere.
“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let her into the apartment. He really tried not to stare as she stepped past, but she really was just so pretty. It would help if he didn’t have Dean in his ear whenever he called telling him that he clearly had a thing for waitresses. “My stylist got bored waiting for you, here.” Sam gently took her jacket from her and hung it up next to his own and Juno’s red coat on the hooks by the door.
“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not, you look great.” She giggled, a hand reached up with the intention of touching his hair, but the shout of her name from down the hall took both of their attention.
She crouched down just in time to open her arms to the toddler barrelling down the hall towards her, almost slipping on the material of her princess dress in the process which made Sam wince.
“Hey, sweetheart.” She caught Juno in her arms with a tight squeeze, somehow not knocked to the floor. Sam was so immeasurably soft whenever he got to watch her with his daughter, how much she was adored by Juno and how much she adored her back. It was the most important thing to him, that his daughter liked her. And she really did — more than him, he thought sometimes.
“Oh I missed you so much,” she squeezed his toddler once more before pulling back to look at her, smiling as she touched the puffy skirt of her dress. “Oh don’t you look so pretty, Junie? I love your dress.”
“It’s sleeping beauty’s dress,” Juno informed her, smile full of pink chubby cheeks as she soaked up the praise. “Daddy got it for me for my last birthday, when I was three.” She held up three fingers to show her, somehow covered in glitter that Sam could only dread to think was in his hair.
“Well it’s very pretty,” she beamed, gently smoothing over a few wrinkles in the dress. “Are you dressing up daddy to match?”
“No,” she shook her head, tone firm as if it was obvious. “He’s a fairy,” as if she suddenly just remembered what they’d been doing she frowned and let go of Y/N, clumsily stepping around her to grab at Sam’s hand and tugged with far too much strength for her little body. “Daddy, not done.”
Sam sighed, eyes down on her as she tugged on his arm as if she could pull him down the hallway herself. She had turned her big puppy eyes on, the ones he could never really say no to. “I know, Bug, why don’t you let me make Y/N a coffee and then—”
“No,” she whined, tugging harder. “Now.”
The clouds were forming for a tantrum, it had been that way all afternoon, it’s why he’d settled for letting her play dress up in the first place. She always got cranky after pre-school on Mondays. “Baby—”
“It’s okay,” a hand touched his arm and he turned to look at her. “I know where everything is, I can make one. I did interrupt play time.”
“Thanks,” he breathed, ever grateful for how amazing she was with Juno. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed that she had kids of her own. “Really, I’ll make it up—”
“Daddy.” Juno was whining louder, tugging his arm again, and he just let out a breath as he leaned down to scoop her up onto his arms, settling her on his hip.
“Why are you acting up, hm?” Not really annoyed, he knew she couldn’t really help it, he reached his free hand up to tickle at her side until she giggled. Satisfied that he’d successfully worked around a tantrum he led Y/N down the hall with his daughter on his hip, though she already knew the place like the back of her hand. If he wasn’t so nervous he would’ve invited her to stay the night already.
He watched her disappear into the kitchen to make herself a drink before he took Juno back into the living room, and returned to his spot on the floor where he’d been held captive for the past twenty minutes. The floor was littered with hair clips and tiaras and plastic shoes which he’d clean up when she went to bed, but he didn’t really mind the mess if it meant she was happy.
“Daddy,” she was pulling at his hair again, stood on his thighs, only not falling off onto the carpet because of his hands on her sides. He watched her reach for another hair clip, a glittery yellow butterfly, and tried not to wince as he felt it’s teeth scrape against his scalp as she shoved it into place. “Can Y/N play too?”
Juno had been attached to her ever since they’d become friends. It was sweet, endearing really. Aside from himself and Dean, the only other adults she really got to see were her teachers at pre-school. Juno really adored her, clung to her every moment she could. She’d come with Sam to pick Juno up from school once and she’d practically screamed across the playground when she saw her.
“If she wants to, Junie,” he hummed, holding her steady as she leaned to the floor to grab something else. “She had a long day at work, she might be tired.”
“I still play after school.” Her nose scrunched up in a way that made him smile.
“Waitressing is a little different to school, baby. It’s not very fun.”
Juno hummed like she was thinking about it as she scrambled off of his lap to reach into her toy box. “Then she should get a new job,” she settled on, tugging out her pink fairy wings from the crate. “A fun one.”
Sam nodded a little, smiling softly as he murmured, “I agree.”
Little hands pulled at his arm, and he leaned forwards like she’d moved him herself. The elastic loops of the fairy wings were a little small for his shoulders, but he didn’t complain about the tightness of the band as he helped her get them on him, worth it to hear her giggle when it was all done.
“Those look great,” he looked up and watched as Y/N walked into the room, two mugs in her hands, one of which she placed down on the coffee table for him. “You did a really great job, Junie, now he really looks like a fairy.”
The way she was smiling at him was making his face heat up. Jesus, he needed to get a grip.
“Can you play?” Juno clambered off of Sam’s lap again to head over to her, grabbing some butterfly clips from the floor on her way. “Pretty please?”
“Baby, I’m sure she’s probably really tired—”
“It’s okay,” she waved him off with a fond little smile, before she looked back to Juno. “I’ll play if you make a deal with me, sweet girl.”
Juno nodded furiously like it was the most important thing in the world.
“If you promise me that you’ll eat your vegetables with dinner you can dress me up however you like, hm?”
Juno beamed and nodded, her little pinky clunkily hooking around the one that Y/N held up.
Sam met her eyes over Juno’s head, mouthing a thank you that earned him a smile in return. God, he was smitten.
216 notes · View notes
love-belle · 1 year ago
Text
laundry and taxes !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're in their own little safe haven with their dumbass grown babies.
or
for when you can finally relate to the love songs. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // sebastian vettel x fem!reader
warnings - language
author's note - IM BACK!!!! HELLO!!!! i miss u all sm ://// hope u like this <3 i have a lando au and a charles one that i hope i can post by tonight or tomorrow fs so !!! thank u sm for reading i love you <3
≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱
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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, sebastianvettel and 796,326 others
yourusername you're in the kitchen humming ❤️‍🩹
tagged sebastianvettel
7,826 comments
username PARENTS
username honestly my fav couple everrrrr
username Y/N'S FEEDING US SEBASTIAN CONTENT SLAY
username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username mama y papa
landonorris missing you both
-> yourusername can't wait to see you next week <3 !!
username i love them sm ur honour
username the first photo ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
username god me when.
username no bc they're literally so in love like i could cry just thinking abt them and their relationship from the beginning to here and how they navigated through it all even when they were BOTH fighting for the title and look at them now 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
-> username they're literally soulmates LOOK AT THEM
charles_leclerc maman wants me to tell you that she'll be facetiming you in the evening so that you both can crochet together 🫡
-> yourusername omg can't wait i miss pascale sm
-> charles_leclerc we'll crochet a small octopus!!!!!! i missed you sunshine!!!!!! - pascale
-> yourusername OH MY GOD OKAY ADHSJSJJS
-> username i LIVE for these interactions
username why r u doing this to me.
username omw to have a nice nap on the highway ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️
username HE'S SO AHHHSHSHSBDBXBSJ
lewishamilton i'm dropping off roscoe tomorrow :)
-> yourusername we're not even in london???
-> lewishamilton oh i know. i'm in switzerland :)
-> yourusername oH
-> username LOVE drivers just randomly dropping by their home without any warning 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
username fuck romeo and juliet i want what these bitches have
username y/n im so happy for u and ur b-🤮 boy-🤮 boyf-🤮 boyfriend 🤮🤮🤮 i swear
username they're MY parents
sebastianvettel another taylor swift song?
-> yourusername shush you love her music
sebastianvettel i don't hum
-> yourusername yes you do
-> sebastianvettel no i don't
-> yourusername you were humming baby shark do do this morning
-> username BABY SHARK PLEASE WHAT
-> username LMFAOOOOO
username sigh :/// i want this so bad :///
username im so normal abt them i SWEAr sO nOrmAL
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 896,314 others
sebastianvettel my sunshine ❤️
tagged yourusername
8,926 comments
username SUNSHINE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
username the fact that every SINGLE post on his acc is just y/n like
-> username love a man who's DEDICATED
-> username it's a y/n fan page
-> username i don't even blame him tbh she's so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username never will be getting over seb calling y/n his sunshine 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
username gf
username seb honestly needs to wife her up like im not even kidding
-> username im saying like
username MOTHER IS MOTHERING Y'ALL
username parents ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
lewishamilton 💜💜💜
*liked by sebastianvettel*
username no bc they own my heart like ACTUALLY
username love sebastian being a proper simp for y/n like
-> username we love to see it
-> username y/n was never a wag it was seb all along
-> username i KNOW he loves being called y/n's bf
username GIRLFRIEND ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username sebastian can u fight.
carlossainz55 charles says he misses you both
-> charles_leclerc NO I DIDN'T SAY THAT
-> sebastianvettel oh so you don't miss us?
-> charles_leclerc no!!!!!!!! i mean yeah!!!!!!! i do!!!!!!!!!
-> yourusername missing my boys everyday ❤️‍🩹
-> username "my boys" I CRIED
username im so in love with this woman my gawd
yourusername my love ❤️
*liked by sebastianvettel*
yourusername but did you have to use that last photo
-> sebastianvettel my favourite photo actually
-> yourusername i love you :/
-> sebastianvettel i love you more :)
username im gonna throw up (i love them to death)
username sebastian and y/n adopt me challenge 🔥🔥🔥
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, sebastianvettel and 1,826,418 others
yourusername cannot wait to do laundry and taxes with you for the rest of my life. i love you ❤️
tagged sebastianvettel
11,278 comments
username I DIED
username crying screaming throwing up sliding down the wall bashing my head pulling out my hair gagging rolling down the stairs laying on the highway microwaving a spoon taking a toaster bath
username OH MY GOD????????
username they're so ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘
username THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER????? THE WAY THEY'RE SO IN LOVE WITH EACHOTHER??????
landonorris mama y papa
-> yourusername son?
-> sebastianvettel no thank you
-> landonorris WOW.
username im crying they're so precious to me
username they're my babies (they're older than me)
username y/n if u like drivers just say the word
-> username i could drive a taxi js sayin
username i want what they have 💔💔💔💔💔
lewishamilton sending you both all the love 💐!!
-> yourusername we miss you lewis 🫶🏼 come and see us!! we're in the living room
-> lewishamilton on my way
-> username THEY'RE ALL TOGETHER OMG
-> username lewis' second home is with y/n and seb and no i don't take criticism
username i miss them on the grid so BAD but this is so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username AHSHHSHHDBDJXDJSKD
username the way u can tell that they're so in love????? like it's so GENUINE im in awe
-> username y/n always being like "my boyfriend" "sebastian, my bf" "my seb" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
-> username and seb being like "sunshine" "my sunshine" "liebe" "schatz" like i could cry ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
username honestly my fav couple everrr
sebastianvettel cannot wait to go over the grocery list while sitting down at the dining table with you for the rest of my life
-> yourusername truly excited for our life
sebastianvettel i love you
-> yourusername i love you
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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liked by lewishamilton, yourusername, charles_leclerc and 1,926,811 others
sebastianvettel my everything ❤️ thank you for making me the happiest person alive by just being mine.
tagged yourusername
comments are disabled for this post
3K notes · View notes
papil0nglegs · 2 months ago
Note
Can I request tf2 mercs with a reader who honestly looks really sweet and nice, but they're actually really blunt and rude like every time they open their mouth it's just "YOU #### ILL ### YOUR ### UNTIL YOU ######!!!"
Sweet n’ Sour 🎀
Mercs x “nice”! Reader
(pt.2)
A/n: MWAH I LOVE THIS IDEA SM. Rn I’m planning to make a fic of my own after this then I’ll be doing more requests afterwards so please be sure to suggests something I may do!!
Warnings: Harsh insults, Suggestive, Patronizing
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Scout
Somebody warn him before he does some stupid shit like asking you out
At first he saw you as some ditzy babe he can pull unlike how classy Ms Pauling was, so he didn’t go to spy for you
I mean he still would’ve gotten his ass handed to him if he went to spy
“Sup princess, was wondering if you’d let me pop a soda with you and maybe you’d let me pop something else” lip bite
“..can you pop that giant disgusting pimple on your forehead instead??”
he ran to his room and began to cry, spy had some questions
“…what did you do? What did you say to him?”
“Omfg, what are you his dad? Jesus it hasn’t even been a week here and I’m already so fuckin tired of these guys god it’s like middle school all over again”
You just rambled on how annoyed you were
Oh yeah, he did pop that pimple eventually
Scout (like the child he is) went to spy because he genuinely wanted to know what he did wrong, like seriously wanted to know
“And then she friggin’ told me I had a gross pimple on my face and none of it wasn’t my fault!! I mean-seriously do chics just decide to be bitchy whenever they want?”
“Scout. You went up to a woman, a real woman, patronized her, and what? You thought she was going to suddenly want to be your ‘babe’ as you call it?”
“…okay I see how she could’ve took it the wrong way, BUT”
Spy smacked the shit out of him lol
He was so scared of you even if you did fight alongside him, he was scared you were gonna chew him up again the way you did before.
At the same time it did get him pretty hard to see you out there, something about you yelling at enemies swearing to kill them and their families just got him going
“CANT SNEAK AWAY FROM THIS AK MOTHERFUCKER”
“Uhh, I need to go take a dump or sumthin’ like dat”
He always thought about asking you out but the way you responded to his attempt at hooking up with you was enough to make hide his feelings
But you definitely weren’t one to hide yours, you quickly recognized that his dumbassery turned your laced panties into a slip n’ slide. So of course you went up to him asking to go out
“Hey Jeremy, I saw you out there bashing that heavy’s head in like it was nothing. You looked cute”
“Oh, y-yeah I mean pfft it’s what I do I mean it’s nothing special unless you think it’s sumthin’ special which I totally agree with you if you think it’s cool-“
“Shh- how about when we go back to the base I help you with some new techniques and you show me some of yours?”
Scout didn’t know if that was a metaphor for sex or if he was going to get his ass destroyed by you, but either way the answer was gonna be yes
Medic
When you first joined the team he never really expressed that he thought you wouldn’t be a good edition to the team
It only ever showed while on a mission, he’d almost never Uber you because he thought of you as weak
The first time he really interacted with you was in the battlefield he kept on using his syringe gun instead of healing the the team
You got so frustrated with him and just had to say something
“MEDIC PUT THE FUCKING GUN AWAY AND UBER HEAVY YOU FOUR-EYE BITCH” you screamed, slapping his gun way and shaking his collar
He blushed at the sight of you snapping at him, so unexpected yet so.. hot
“Oh, ja.. of course ♡”
The love in this man’s eyes compared to the hate in yours was astonishing, of course he immediately went to go do what you told him, all for you and only you
As soon as the match finished he couldn’t stop thinking about how much fury you had, he was definitely going to pocket you in the next match
It was so exciting to see you, so beautiful, yet so aggressive on the field
He’s always calming you whenever you get angry, basically this photo
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We all know Medic likes to be a bit messy himself with his bonesaw, you hate it when he gets messy around you
“Ugh!! Medic! You got blood on my skirt, do we need to get your ass another pair of glasses??”
“Now now, I itz nothing to worry about my love. I know my vway around a blood stain!”
“Okay,, but if this thing is still on here by then you’re buying me another.”
He enjoys watching you get ready in your pretty outfits and makeup. Medic is well maintenance but it doesn’t compare to how long it takes for you to get ready
You defending him is his fav thing ever, he never shows it a lot but he loves it when you cuss out mercs who think they aren’t getting enough healing
“SCOUT YOU PEICE OF SHIT STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM MEDIC IF YOU WANT HEALING!!”
“Aww, y/n ☺️”
No but you guys are so cute, esp when he Ubering you
He’s always cheering you on as you tear the enemy team apart
“You’re doing well my perle!!”
“Thanks my love! WHO WANTS THEIR BALLS CRUSHED”
Soldier
As soon soldier saw you he was kinda annoyed in a way? He didn’t want to kick you out or anything but he did want you to prove yourself to him, he wasn’t just gonna let a wuss fight alongside him
He once tried to push you to your limit by making you do some exercise but nothing could’ve prepared him for how you were gonna respond
“DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME 40 CUPCAKE”
“Uh-uh I KNOW ur not talking to me bitch”
“DID I STUTTER?”
“DID I STUTTER?? DONT YOU HAVE LIKE AN EAGLE TO WALK OR SOMETHING? GO SHOVE A ROCKET UP YOUR ASS”
You continued to give him the death stare, but soldier just stood there
You guys made out hard, right there and then. He just couldn’t resist, we all know how he feels about strong ladies
After that the All-American Soldier we once knew turned into a loverboy, he lives and breathes to love you
But since soldier has the lowest IQ out of all of the mercs he tends to get you on your nerves a lot
“Soldier, sweetie!! Why are we dying so much what’s the biggie? 😚”
“APOLOGIES CUPCAKE, BUT IT APPEARS I HAVE KILLED ANOTHER SOLDIER. AND IN THE GREAT NAME OF LADY LIBERTY, I MUST BURY IT IN HER HONOR.”
“SOLDIER GET YOUR ASS ON THE POINT RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”
“..copy that”
He always straightens his back every time he’s in your presence, he always wants to show how tough he is and that he respects you
The team gets so overstimulated whenever you two are on the same mission, especially Spy. It always ends with him getting a headache
He’ll try to get you cute gifts, but sometimes what Soldier considers ‘cute’ can be um
“Yehhehehe, SWEETHEART, I HAVE A SUPRIIISE”
“Is it another ear necklace? Soldier I told you to stop giving me those they’re gross..”
“NEGATIVE!”
“sigh Finally, what is it?”
“A BOW MADE OUT OF MY TISSUE. DOCTOR HELPED ME MAKE IT.”
“..okay this is actually cute as fuck”
For the most part soldier means no harm, he just wants to love you. Even if it means giving you jewelry made out of the flesh of his enemies <33
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