#I need to stop getting so attached to characters

[melancholy-of-nadia]

behind hidden pages (m) | jjk

title: behind hidden pages  pairing: art student!jungkook x writer!reader(f)  rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff, smut ; college / grad / coffee shop au summary: after being ghosted by your boyfriend with him disappearing off to a different country, it's not an understatement to say that it really crushed your heart and eagerness to ever be in a relationship again. well, good thing is that it leads to your first ever bestselling novel and peacefully working at your best friend jimin's cafe! however, someone appears out of nowhere to disturb your simple little life. enter: jungkook, a handsome young man with a hidden side to him who suddenly moves into the studio below you. when your paths collide and your heart is shaken by him, what more lies underneath the surface which will lead to more emotional turmoil?! warnings: no actual warnings for this pilot as it's very tame, but if I continue it, there will be: eventual smut (which you won't have to wait too long for it to happen), a lot of s*xual tension, a lot of smut, caught masturb*ting, dom! jk, jungkook's clingyness 50x, jungkook body worshiping reader heavily, exhibitionism, pwp, potential threesome, cheating (not jungkook or reader), best friend! jimin, ex boyfriend! seokjin, everyone's traits are slightly exaggerated/a bit out of character, a bit of angst note: loosely based on the korean novel and webtoon, trash's circumstance, i read it and thought this would make an interesting (and very messy, drama-filled) BTS AU but changed some aspects. i decided to write one chapter of it to see what you all think as a "pilot", and based on your response, I'll probably continue it. total word count: 5.3k drop date: February 16th, 2025 5pm pst ao3 link –

"A tenant will be moving into the basement today," Jimin says, his voice casual as he starts on an espresso order. The hiss of the steaming wand fills the air.

"The basement?" You glance up from your clipboard, where you've been noting inventory. Your fingers hover over the bags of coffee beans before you start counting them out loud.

"Yeah, so get rid of all your stuff down there," he continues. "It's all trash."

You pause mid-count, narrowing your eyes at him. "You do know there's one box that belongs to Kim Seokjin."

"I know," he says, unfazed, tamping the espresso with practiced ease. "So just clean it up."

"Because he's my ex?"

"Obviously."

"Rude." Jimin smirks, entirely unbothered, before his expression shifts into something borderline angelic. With a practiced smile, he slides a cup across the counter. "Your espresso is ready! And here's a cookie—on the house!" he says, voice suddenly dripping with warmth as he hands it to the customer.

The customer beams, thanking him before heading to their table, completely unaware of the menace lurking beneath that sweet façade. You, however, know better. Jimin has always been like this—blunt, sweet, and on occasion, bordering on heartless, but never without good intentions. You’ve known him since college, back when you were just another over-caffeinated lit student drowning in deadlines, and he was the pre-law major guy who somehow had everything together. He was charming in that effortless way—always quick with a teasing remark, but also the kind of friend who showed up when you needed him, no questions asked.

After graduating, while you floundered between odd jobs and your dream of becoming a writer, Jimin went ahead and made something of himself after working at a law firm. He opened this café, built a life around it, and when you were struggling, he gave you a place to stay. Rent-free, no strings attached—except for the occasional demand that you work the counter when he was understaffed, which, honestly, was often.

And now, apparently, he's renting out the basement. You roll your eyes, which Jimin catches immediately. "Y/N, stop spacing out and take out the trash," he chides, already moving on to his next order.

With an exaggerated sigh, you grab the garbage bags and push through the back door. The moment you step outside, the heat wraps around you like an oppressive blanket. Cicadas drone endlessly, their hum rising and falling in waves, amplifying the stillness of the afternoon.

As you toss the trash into the bin, your gaze drifts toward the basement windows. The glass is smudged with dust, the interior barely visible through the faint reflections of the street. The idea of someone actually living down there feels… strange. 

For the past three years, the basement has been nothing but a forgotten space, cluttered with boxes, old café equipment, and—most importantly—traces of Kim Seokjin.

It’s at this moment that Jimin’s words echo in your mind: Get rid of all your stuff.

He wants you to clean it out, but just the thought of it exhausts you. Maybe he needs the extra rent money, though it’s hard to imagine him struggling financially.

Still, why now? Why suddenly rent out a place that’s been abandoned for so long?

That space has been nothing more than a storage room—a place where things go to be forgotten, including the remnants of your past with Seokjin.

You met Seokjin when he was fresh out of college, preparing for his master’s in literature. He had this quiet confidence, the kind that made people naturally gravitate toward him. Handsome, soft-spoken, kind—someone everyone admired. And somehow, for reasons you still don’t fully understand, he chose you.

Not that you were insecure. You weren’t clingy, and he was always faithful. Your relationship was easy, steady—comfortable in a way that made you believe it would last at least three years of quiet stability.

Until one day, without warning, he left.

Jimin had dismissed it as a submersible breakup—a term he coined for relationships that sink silently, without a fight or a final word. Which felt, exactly like that.

It was during that time, while you were drowning in the wreckage, that Jimin, with all the money he’d stacked up working as a top-notch lawyer, decided to buy this building.

A quiet place in a calm residential neighborhood of Seoul.

This building which ended up becoming your home.

The second floor, where you lived.

The first floor, where the ”Butterfly by Jimin” cafe was born.

And the basement, once a roasting room and a storage space—now, supposedly, someone’s future studio.

Jimin had called it financial therapy.

"A new home, a new job," he’d said. "There's nothing like financial therapy to heal the wounds of a heart broken person."

You scoff, because he wasn’t even the one who was experiencing one of the worse lows of their life.

But a new home?

A new job?

It had actually worked. Maybe that, and the book you wrote in the aftermath—Falling Moon Under the Bridge—becoming a surprise bestseller had been enough to pull you forward.

You’ve come so far, running in the opposite direction of your past. And yet, the weight of it lingers, like dust unsettled in the basement.

With a deep breath, you turn back toward the café, deciding that you’ll clean it out later. Since your shift ended, you head upstairs to get changed before you meet with your publisher later that afternoon for your audiobook’s recording session. 

But just as you step inside, the bell above the door chimes.

A waft of something mild drifts through the air.

Fabric softener?

You glance toward the entrance just as a man walks in, catching only the back of him before looking away.

"I love the fabric softener scent, but it doesn’t mix well with the humid summer heat."

You arrive at the recording studio in the late afternoon, the faint hum of music equipment and muffled voices filtering through the hallway as you find the right room. This is where you’re meeting with your publisher, Kim Taehyung. 

Taehyung, like Jimin, is an upperclassman friend from college. Since you were both in the literature department, you worked on a bunch of projects together as literary apprentices under your old mentor, Professor Jeon. He was brutal, and pushed you both hard during undergrad. But looking back, you know it was worth it. His strict guidance and high standards helped shaped your writing today.

After graduating, Taehyung started working as an intern at a publishing company, and now, well, he's one of the head publishers there. It’s crazy to think about how far he’s come, but honestly, it’s not surprising. He always had this sharp eye for detail and a way with words that made his work stand out.

After locating the room, you step inside and are immediately greeted by Taehyung, his signature easygoing smile lighting up his face as he holds out a familiar yellow carton of banana milk.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice, Y/N," he says, his voice warm and appreciative as he presses the cold carton into your hands. "I really needed your insight on this. You always have such a unique perspective, and I didn’t want to make any big decisions without running it by you first."

You smile, accepting the drink and taking a seat in one of the plush chairs near the recording booth. Slipping the straw through the foil, you take a sip, savoring the familiar cold, sweet taste of the banana milk. "No worries at all," you reply, leaning back comfortably. "I’m actually really glad to be here. I’ve never sat in on an audiobook recording before. When does it start?"

Taehyung glances at his watch, his expression brightening. "Just in a bit! I’m having a friend of mine handle the narration. He’s got this incredible voice, and honestly, he was highly recommended by Professor Jeon. I think he’s going to bring something really special to the project."

As Taehyung speaks, you flip through the script he handed you earlier, scanning the highlighted passages and margin notes. Your best-selling book’s first half is from the point of view of a man named Haneul, who has a near-death experience and begins seeing a specific woman, Seo Yul in his dreams every night. Determined to find her in real life, he embarks on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and illusion.

You’ve always had a vague image of Haneul in your mind—his mannerisms, his voice, the way he carries himself. But could there actually be someone out there to fit his voice. The door to the recording studio opens with a soft click, pulling you from your thoughts. The sound of footsteps shuffles into the room, accompanied by the faint rustle of fabric and the clink of ice in a cup. A cool breeze from the hallway briefly sweeps in before the door closes again.

"Sorry I’m late, hyung," a deep, smooth voice says, tinged with a hint of apology but also a casual ease.

"That’s okay! Did you get here alright? It’s pretty hot out there," Taehyung replies, his tone light and forgiving.

"I drove and picked up an iced Americano on the way, so it wasn’t too bad," the voice responds, and you can hear the smile in his words.

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, you finally look up from the script.

And that’s when you see him.

He’s tall, with an effortlessly handsome presence that immediately draws your attention. His plain gray long sleeve shirt hugs his frame just right, paired with medium-wash jeans that look like they’ve been worn a hundred times but still fit perfectly. A silver lip ring sits on the corner of his mouth, catching the studio lights and glinting subtly as he speaks. His dark hair is slightly tousled, as if he’d run a hand through it on his way in, and there’s a relaxed confidence in the way he carries himself.

But what stands out the most isn’t his appearance—it’s his voice. Deep and smooth, it carries effortlessly in the room, each word deliberate and weighted with a natural lilt that makes everything he says sound intentional, almost melodic. It’s the kind of voice that could make even the most mundane sentence sound captivating.

You consider greeting him, but he’s already caught up in conversation with Taehyung and a few others in the room—people who seem to know him well.

You decide not to bother. It’s a hassle to talk to and befriend new people anyway. You’ve never been one to insert yourself into situations where you might feel out of place, and right now, it’s easier to just stay in your corner.

But then, a shadow approaches, lingering just beside you. You glance up, your pen pausing mid-scribble.

"Hello, Sunbae."

Sunbae?

The word catches you off guard. You blink at him, your mind racing. How old is he? You quickly do the math in your head, trying to figure out if he’s younger or if he’s just being overly polite. Either way, the title feels a little too formal, especially in this setting.

"Oh hi there, I’m L/N F/N, the author of this book," you say, offering a polite smile. Your voice is steady, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in your tone. You’re not used to being called sunbae—it’s been a while since you graduated, and you’ve always preferred a more casual approach to these things.

"Kim Jungkook," he introduces himself, holding out a hand. His grip is firm, warm, and there’s a confidence in the way he meets your gaze. "I heard you graduated from the school I’m attending. I’m an art major there. I’m looking forward to working with you."

You shake his hand, nodding slowly as you process his words. An art major? That explains the effortless style, the subtle edge to his appearance. But more than that, it’s the way he carries himself—like he’s comfortable in his own skin, unbothered by the weight of first impressions.

"Ah, it’s been a while since I graduated," you reply, your tone light. "And we weren’t in the same department, so just call me by my name." You try to brush off the formality, hoping to ease into a more relaxed dynamic. Titles always feel so distant, and you’d rather not have that kind of barrier between you, especially when you’re about to collaborate on something as personal as your book.

But Jungkook shakes his head, his lips quirking slightly into a small, almost teasing smile. "No, I can’t do that, Sunbae—" he says, his voice low but firm, leaving the sentence hanging as the audio engineer calls him over to enter the recording booth. He gives you a polite nod before heading inside, slipping on the headphones.

As Jungkook walks away, you glance down at your hand, flexing your fingers absentmindedly. The warmth of his grip still lingers, a faint echo that feels oddly significant.

Odd. That interaction felt strangely familiar, like a déjà vu you can’t quite place.

You’re certain you’ve never met Jungkook before—his looks alone aren’t easy to forget. The sharp jawline, the lip ring, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand unspoken thoughts—it’s all too distinctive to slip your memory. And yet, there’s something about him, something that tugs at the edges of your mind, like a half-remembered dream you can’t quite piece together.

Your gaze drifts toward his plastic coffee cup resting on the table. The cup sleeve catches your eye, and you lean in slightly to get a better look.

Butterfly by Jimin Café.

Jimin’s café?

Wait—hold on.

Your breath stills for a second as realization dawns. The scent of fabric softener from earlier today, the fleeting brush of someone’s shoulder against yours in the crowded café, the low murmur of a voice apologizing as they passed by. It all comes rushing back.

Your eyes widen.

You lift your head, and across the studio, Jungkook is watching you.

With a smirk.

There’s something unreadable in his expression, something knowing, as if he’s been waiting for this moment, waiting for you to connect the dots that you do not know of. His lips curve slightly, and his eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze for a beat too long.

Shit.

You quickly look away, pretending to be absorbed in the script. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You flip a page, your fingers trembling just slightly, hoping no one notices the way your composure has slipped.

The recording session begins, and Jungkook’s voice fills the space, steady and rich, effortlessly slipping into the role of the narrator.

["From the brief meetings we shared, I found that she was a woman who walked on eggshells, carefully maintaining her image for the public, despite the wounds buried beneath layers of fabric, skin, and deep within her heart. The dead of winter held no meaning for her—it was merely a reminder of those who had already left..."]

You sit there, struck still.

His voice is captivating. Deep, intimate, carrying the weight of every word with precise control. It’s like he’s not just reading the lines…he’s living them, breathing life into Haneul in a way that feels almost too real. The room seems to shrink, the world narrowing down to the sound of his voice and the way it wraps around you, pulling you into your own story all over again.

The staff murmurs amongst themselves, impressed.

"His tone fits the male lead perfectly," someone comments.

"He’s got that quiet intensity," another agrees.

Next to you, Taehyung leans in, grinning. "Isn’t he good?"

You nod slowly, but as Jungkook’s voice continues to flow through the speakers—deep, smooth, and effortlessly intense—you feel a rush of warmth creep up your neck, spreading across your cheeks.

Shit.

You force yourself to look away, fixing your gaze on the script in your lap as if it holds the secrets of the universe. But the heat lingers, stubborn and undeniable, prickling at your skin. You swallow, praying that no one notices—especially not him.

After the recording ends at 7:30 PM, you, Taehyung, and the studio crew spill out into the warm evening air, the city lights casting a golden glow over the streets. The group makes its way to a nearby restaurant, a cozy but lively spot with wooden tables and the comforting aroma of sizzling food. The hum of conversations mixes with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

Plates of food quickly fill the table—crispy fried chicken, steaming bowls of tteokbokki, and an assortment of banchan that everyone eagerly digs into. Pitchers of beer are poured freely, and the mood is light, the kind of easy camaraderie that comes after a long but successful day of work.

Taehyung, always in his element when surrounded by people, is mid-story, waving an onion ring around as he speaks. His cheeks are slightly flushed, and his gestures are more animated than usual, a sure sign that he’s had a drink or two.

“The narration was amazing, right?” he exclaims, dunking the onion ring into a pool of ketchup with enthusiasm. “I mean, Jungkook just nailed it. Didn’t he?”

Mid-sip of your beer, you hum noncommittally, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah… well.”

Taehyung squints at you, his grin turning sly. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

You set your glass down, shrugging a little too casually. “I mean, it was really good,” you admit, your voice a little too even, a little too careful. You’re not sure why you’re downplaying it, but something about admitting how much Jungkook’s performance affected you feels… dangerous.

Taehyung leans back in his chair, clearly not buying it. “I’ve been working with a lot of student interns at the university, and they say he’s ridiculously multitalented. It’s crazy that he’s not just looks,” he continues, his tone teasing. 

You give a small nod, but your thoughts are already straying.

Back to the recording session.

Back to Jungkook’s voice.

It had been deep, smooth, and filled the space in a way that was almost too good. Every syllable had weight, sinking into your bones like warmth on a cold day. Soft yet sultry. Intimate in a way that felt excessive.

Hold on. Do you have some kind of… voice fetish?

Shit.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass. The thought alone makes your face burn. You swore off dating—hell, you swore off men—and now here you are, sitting at a bar, spiraling over some junior you just met. This is bad.

Taehyung must notice the way your expression shifts because he suddenly grins. “So, Bookworm, what have you been up to lately?”

The nickname makes you blink. It’s been ages since he called you that. He’s definitely tipsy.

“Just writing, working at Jimin’s café, and sometimes I travel,” you say, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“You’ve clearly won at life!” Taehyung announces, lifting his glass like he’s toasting you.

“Won?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I just live a simple life, day by day. Lethargic and exhausted by passion.”

The words come out more honest than you intend, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to catch on.

But someone else does.

Jungkook.

You feel it before you see it—his gaze. When your eyes finally flick over, sure enough, he’s looking at you.

Not glancing. Not idly observing.

Looking.

Something about it makes your skin prickle. Not in a bad way. Not in a way you know how to name.

And yet, instead of breaking away, he holds it.

Your breath hitches.

You quickly turn back to Taehyung, willing your cheeks to cool, forcing your expression into something neutral. Jimin once told you that your eyes tend to wander when you’re deep in thought, but this is different. Why does Jungkook keep meeting them?

Is he curious about you? Just polite? Or worse—does he know?

Does he see how you’re reacting to him?

You shake the thought away, burying it under more beer.

It doesn’t matter.

You’ve been through enough to know that people like Jungkook—ones with easy smiles and a natural charm that makes everyone in the room lean in—are dangerous.

Because you’ve met someone like that before.

And it nearly destroyed you.

The alcohol isn’t helping now. It’s loosening your thoughts, making it harder to keep your guard up. You rub your temple, exhaling sharply, just as your phone buzzes in your pocket. You’re relieved for a distraction, until you see the name on the screen.

Jimin.

Of course.

You quickly stand, finger nearing to answer the call. “Hey, Taehyung, I’m gonna take this call.”

Taehyung raises a brow, his grin turning mischievous. “Jimin again? Man, you guys are always together. Are you dating or something?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Honestly, it’s more like family. He’s an annoying older brother.”

Taehyung laughs, nodding. “That checks out.”

You step away from the table, the noise of the restaurant fading slightly as you press your phone to your ear. “Hey, what do you want—”

“Why didn’t you clean the basement yet?!” Jimin’s voice is sharp, cutting through the buzz in your head.

“Oh, fuck.” Your stomach drops. “Completely forgot. I’m at a work dinner.”

“The tenant’s stuff is coming in the morning,” Jimin says, his tone exasperated but laced with concern. “Where are you? I’ll drive and pick you up.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “The Tavern Grill, near the recording studio.”

“I know where that is,” Jimin replies quickly. “Just come outside so I find you more easily when I wait for you on the curb. I’m on my way.”

“Fine, fine. Let me say goodbye first,” you mutter, already heading toward the door. 

As you weave through the tables, you can’t help but glance back at the group. Taehyung is laughing at something someone said, his arm slung over the back of his chair.

When you return, Taehyung gives you an exaggerated pout. “Jimin coming to drag you home now?”

“Something like that.” You roll your eyes, already grabbing your things. “He said he’ll pick me up.”

Taehyung laughs, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Tell him we need to grab a drink sometime. My treat.”

You grin, saying your goodbyes to the others—some casual, some playful.

Then, just as you’re about to leave, you glance over—

And Jungkook is still watching.

His fingers drum idly against his glass. He doesn’t move, doesn’t call out. But his gaze lingers, like there’s something he wants to say but won’t.

Your stomach twists.

You don’t know what it means. And you don’t want to find out.

So you turn away, stepping out into the night.

Whatever it is, it’s not your problem.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Jimin walks ahead of you as you both descend the stairs to the basement. The air gets cooler with each step, but something else lingers—an acrid, stale scent that makes your nose wrinkle.

You frown. “Did you smoke before picking me up?”

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle, barely glancing back. “Wow, you really have a sharp nose, Y/N.” Then, without warning, he reaches over and fluffs your hair, like you’re some small puppy that just sniffed out the right answer.

You groan, swatting his hand away. “You know I hate the smell of cigarettes, Jimin.”

“I know, I know. Just… let it slide for today,” he mutters, tone quieter now. “Had a bad day.”

You don’t push. Not yet, at least.

The basement door groans on its hinges as you step inside. The air is heavier down here, tinged with dust and disuse. Jimin reaches for the light switch and flicks it—

Nothing.

He sighs. “Great. Power’s probably cut off for this room since we barely use it. I’ll go check the breaker.”

You pull out your phone, switching on the flashlight. “I’ll start looking through things in the meantime.”

Jimin eyes you skeptically. “You’re really gonna be able to see anything with just that?”

You give him a pointed look. “That should be the least of your worries. I just don’t want to be cleaning all night.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back.” With that, he heads back upstairs, leaving you alone with the stillness of the basement.

The dim beam of your flashlight sweeps over the space. Piles of forgotten things are stacked haphazardly—old college notebooks, loose papers, manuscripts half-finished and never revisited.

And then—

Your stomach tightens.

That box.

It’s been shoved far away from the rest, as if even in storage, you wanted it out of sight. But it’s still here. A silent, patient thing.

You step closer. Your fingers hesitate over the worn edges of the lid.

Then, with a quiet breath, you open it. Inside, time folds in on itself.

Your fingers graze the first thing on top—a faded movie ticket stub. The edges are soft, curling, worn from being thumbed over too many times in the past. You remember this night. Your night. Seokjin had held your hand through the entire movie, whispering sarcastic commentary in your ear, making you laugh so hard the people in front turned around to glare. You’d buried your face in his shoulder, giggling, and he had just smiled like you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

Your throat tightens.

Beneath it, a polaroid. The two of you at some festival, Seokjin holding up a peace sign while you kissed his cheek. The colors have faded slightly, but you can still see how bright his eyes were, how effortlessly happy you had looked. You weren’t even thinking about the camera—just him.

You swallow hard.

All of these things mean something to you, or at least, they once did. But the longer you stare at them—the trinkets, the letters, the pieces of Seokjin woven into your past—the more you wonder if they ever meant anything to him. If he could leave so easily, so cleanly, then what were these memories even worth?

Can you really throw all of this away?

Your fingers hesitate over the box when you hear footsteps behind you.

Figuring it’s Jimin, you sigh, still lost in thought. “Hey, why didn’t you turn the lights back on? Is there something wrong with the breaker—?”

Before you can finish, you’re shoved, your back colliding against the wall with a thud. A strong grip pins you in place, pressing into your shoulders.

Your pulse surges.

“What the fuck!? Who are you—”

“Why are you rummaging through someone else’s shit, you thief?”

The voice is sharp, accusatory. And absolutely not Jimin’s.

Your breath catches.

And then, the lights flick on.

Your vision adjusts, and when you see who exactly has you caged against the wall, your stomach flips.

Jungkook.

Wait. Jungkook?

His dark eyes widen the second he recognizes you, hands retreating from your shoulders like he’s been burned. “Oh, fuck.” His voice drops into sheer panic. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t know it was you!”

You blink, still trying to process what just happened.

He looks mortified, hands hovering near you like he wants to check for injuries but doesn’t dare touch you again. “Shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Are you okay?”

You exhale, still slightly dazed. “Ah… it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupts, eyes flickering with concern. His fingers ghost over your arms, searching for any sign that he might’ve been too rough. His hold, once bruising, is now careful. Deliberate. “I grabbed you way too hard. Are you sure you’re fine, Sunbae?”

You look at him properly now, still catching your breath. Damn.

His face is stupidly attractive up close, his brows knitted in pure remorse. His scent—clean, like fresh laundry mixed with something slightly musky—hits you all at once, making your stomach do something annoying.

He’s exactly your type.

And that realization makes this moment so much worse.

“You’re Kim Jungkook, right?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Jungkook straightens, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Wait�� you don’t remember me?”

He sounds almost offended, tilting his head slightly.

You furrow your brows. “Sorry, I’m not good at remembering names or people for that matter.”

He blinks, then lets out a scoff—part amused, part incredulous. “Seriously? I recognized you the second the lights came on, but you forgot about me?”

Your lips twitch. Is he really pouting?

Whatever. You’re still processing the fact that you just got manhandled by this guy. He needs to take about five steps back.

You cross your arms, clearing your throat. “What are you even doing here, anyway?”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s expression shifts, his stance relaxing as he rubs the back of his neck. “This is my studio now.”

Your stomach drops.

“…What?” Your mind stutters over his words.

His studio?

Your eyes drift over the scattered boxes, the dust-lined shelves, the scent of old paper and forgotten memories lingering in the air. When Jimin had mentioned a tenant renting the basement, you’d barely paid attention, brushing it off as another small change in your life. But standing here now—with Jungkook, of all people—the reality sinks in with an unsettling twist in your gut.

This is his space now?

Before you can fully process the implications, footsteps echo from the stairwell, followed by Jimin’s familiar voice.

“All right, the power’s back on—” He stops mid-step as he takes in the scene, his gaze flicking between you and Jungkook. His brows furrow slightly, his usual easygoing expression dimming with curiosity.

“Oh, you two have met,” he says, a little slower than usual. “Y/N, this is Jungkook—”

“I’m aware,” you interrupt, still distracted by the realization. “We met earlier today during the recording session.”

Jimin’s brows lift. “Oh?”

“But what are you doing here, sunbae?” Jungkook asks, his tone shifting to something lighter, more casual. “Do you live nearby?”

“I’m cleaning out some of my stuff down here for… well, you, apparently.” You exhale, motioning vaguely to the clutter around you. “I live upstairs.”

Jungkook blinks. “Wait, seriously?”

Jimin, however, is less surprised. He crosses his arms, fixing Jungkook with a sharp look. “But, dear tenant, what are you doing here?” His voice dips into something more pointed. “Didn’t you say you’d be here tomorrow at noon?”

Jungkook barely flinches under the scrutiny. “I had something to check on.”

Jimin eyes him for a moment before sighing and letting go of whatever was on his mind.

“Do you want any help?” Jungkook asks, turning back to you.

Your pulse spikes. Oh, God.

The last thing you need is him digging through your things—especially the one box tucked carefully behind you. The one filled with Seokjin’s remnants.

“No!” you blurt out, too quickly. His brows raise, but you force a casual shrug. “I’m good. I’m just going to throw it all away anyway.”

Jungkook hums, glancing at the mess. But then, his eyes catch on something.

A photograph peeks from the top of one of your boxes, slightly askew. Before you can move to block it, his gaze sharpens, lips curling into something almost unreadable.

“Then I can throw it all away for you,” he says, voice smooth but laced with something just a little too amused. He meets your eyes with a slow tilt of his head. “You don’t need it, after all. This place is mine now.”

Something about the way he says it—the lazy drawl, the faint glint in his gaze—rubs you the wrong way.

Your stomach tightens.

Just hours ago, he’d been nothing but polite, apologetic even. But now? There’s something else beneath the surface. A hint of something sharper, something laced with an unspoken edge.

Is this actually his true nature?

This doesn't sit right—yet, at the same time, you can’t shake the curiosity gnawing at the back of your mind. You know better than to let your guard down, but part of you is pulled in, drawn to the enigma that is Kim Jungkook.

And so, without knowing how or why, you find yourself standing at the beginning of something unexpected.

This is how your story with Jungkook begins.

– TBC?

a/n: if you decided to check out this story, thank you so much! feel free to give me your thoughts, questions, theories (yes, kim jungkook is intentional in this story and you'll know why if i continue this series hehe). jungkook is also the same age as reader but still in college (because he started college a bit late due to enlistment). also happy belated valentine's day. i meant to upload on valentine's day, but i got caught up in trying to make this more detailed.

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[margonite-seer]

Hello, it's yappin' o'clock for me so I need to yell a little about one of the moments we as Hansry addicts sleep on a lot.

You know the war council meeting just before the romance scene? The one where they make up the suicide plan to get reinforcements and sabotage the Praguers' camp and where Henry and Samuel agree to go together?

What really gets me in this scene is Hans.

At first, he is willing to have the entire room draw straws on who will go. Which is very in character for him, because it is quirky, a bit childish, and reckless without any sense of logical thinking of choice with it but actually very objective and pushing for equality at the same time. He does not exclude himself from this list of people who would draw straws, but he does not put himself to the front either.

That all changes completely when Henry says he will go (whether alone or with Sam). The moment Hans hears this, he leaps at the opportunity to go with him.

No hesitation whatsoever.

He just does immediately because Henry is going.

I know Žižka commends Hans' bravery but, with all respect to Hans, I actually think it has less to do with his general bravery and more with this blind unquestionable loyalty and attachment that boils down to a very simple "wherever Henry goes, I go" and this intensifies if it's something serious and dangerous (as opposed to, let's say, a trivial event such as Henry doing chores for someone).

Hans just cannot comprehend the thought of staying behind when Henry is willingly putting himself in danger, double so now that this is late in the game and by now Hans is neck deep in love with Henry and fully knows it himself. He omits all planning, he talks before he thinks here. Before he declares he is going too, he doesn't stop for a second to even start pondering what Žižka replies with and what we all (and Hans should too) knows is true: that it would be unwise for Hans to go due to his political importance.

And then, finally, Hans realizes that he is not going to be joining Henry. That Henry will go without him on this mission that everyone in the room claims to be dangerous at best, clearly suicidal at worst. And he is so upset by this that he swears in Czech that angry frustrated "Fine.... Kurva." First of all, swearing like this under his breath is so unusual for Hans, as he usually lets the whole world know when he is pissed off. And this was the first and only time (correct me if I am wrong, I did not watch that much of English dub) that he swears in Czech in the English dub, bringing even more primal emotions to the situation. (Breaks the immersion a bit after the developers tried so hard to anglicize him by changing his name and all but whatever, that is for another post.)

He does not even sulk like an angry spoiled child, he is scared and desperate. He deflates, protectively terrified of the fact that yet again he won't be there for Henry. And this is even more obvious shortly after during THE romance scene. The entire story about Lancelot and Galehaut was, as we know, obviously a way to tell Henry he loves him but also to tell him how absolutely terrified he is for him. We all heard the way his voice shook when he was not even able to finish his thought about what would happen if anything happened to Henry.

However, what chilled me a lot watching this scene was what happened right after. And right before Henry puts his hand on Hans'.

"I'll be back."

At that, Hans shakes his head.

In a way that he looks like he wants to shake that sentence out of his head, to forget that Henry even said it in the first place. Because it sounds too much like a goodbye. And Hans knows this is a suicide mission, so Henry saying he will be back is just empty words that will make Hans hurt even more if Henry does not come back, right?

Hearing Henry say this as such a rare occurrence just further proves to Hans that this truly is a suicide mission where Henry is in a very high danger of dying/getting captured and never returning. And that just sends him spiralling even further into the despair that he might lose Henry and he cannot do anything about it because he must stay behind for the greater good.

And then, only then, Henry puts his hand on Hans'. When he sees how upset he is. "I promise you." That alone could have sent Hans even deeper into panic, because hearing promises sounds too much like a goodbye yet again, but Henry grounds him and brings him back to earth by putting his hand on his reassuringly.

And the rest is history, as Hans completely folds under the weight of his feelings.

Anyway this was a yap and a half, but I just love this love story so much. It has soooo many little gradual things that I will cherish this so beautifully done slow burn romance forever.

[mellifera38]

I think you kinda hit the nail on the head here. I think it's a big part of why a lot of people left the campaign feeling less attached to Bells Hells compared to the Mighty Nein.

You got a little of this flavor in the beginning as Bells Hells got to know one another and kind of tackled some of their background baggage, but as the campaign left the honeymoon period and headed into The Main Plot, you got less and less inter-character moments. Huge stretches between them that left you going 'so how are they feeling??? When are they going to get some downtime to process all this?' We kept being left waiting, sometimes for like three episodes. We as the viewers were used to having that after C2, its like the treat at the end of the stressful fight. All we got instead was Stress Stress Stress for like 70 straight episodes.

Once all hell had broken loose on the apogee solstice, the whole thing felt like a big rush to the finish line, and Character Time was mostly over. It's dnd and you can play it however you want, but I think not getting that time contributed to them not really knowing where they all stood at the end or what they should do, which then caused us frustration as viewers.

To expand just a bit, to me, it felt like we had a specific group of heroes who were very suddenly thrown into some other group's religious story narrative and forced to make a decision that very few of them had personal stakes in other than 'I hate Ludinus'. Their backstories were not religion focused other than FCG. They didn't really have the chance to form new beliefs until after they already had the weight of the world on their shoulders and every interaction with the gods made them feel they were just being used for survival. If a god had reached out previously to help them unbidden in a time of need (other than The Cleric), they would have had a completely different motivation to pick a side bc it would feel like the gods genuinely cared for their children. Even a storyline to pit them against the gods instead of just feeling like they were invisible to them could have been beneficial to their larger character arcs in relation to The Plot.

It was an interesting experiment to put these very neutral unbiased people in charge of that kind of situation, don't get me wrong, but then the vast majority of Character Moments we did get were the constant confused/angry circles of 'why do we care about Them?' and 'but what happens if we do nothing' and it got repetitive and tiresome and people got pissed off at different characters and none of them really even changed. They still didn't really understand one another. In the end, even after learning about the eidolons and the Dawnfather being a dick and talks with the Matron and the Arch Heart, the only thing that STILL tethered them personally to the story was 'Let's stop Ludinus because we hate him for getting Laudna/Oryms husband killed and at least we know he's bad and we'll figure it out this god shit when we get there.'

Not the most compelling but hey, it got them to that finish line.

I think at least some of these unsatisfying pitfalls could have been avoided if they'd had more chances for character/relationship exploration beyond like the first third of episodes and maybe with some more religious theme overtones. It was also kind of a shame that all that build up of the new setting at the start was completely left by the wayside. They Needed a Longer Honeymoon. The apocalypse just rolled around way too early.

I love the C3 characters a lot, but its not the same kind of way I love the M9, and I think its mainly because this campaign was a vehicle for the world's next historical era. There's nothing wrong with that, necessarily, but it is polarizing, and a huge shift from C2. With the M9 we had 140 episodes exploring these characters and who they really were as people and where they came from and how they helped each other heal. You can't get that in just 40 episodes leading into an apocalypse speedrun. They are just two completely different kinds of campaigns. It really is a matter of taste but I'm also quite certain that if Matt could go back and do it from scratch knowing what he now knows, he might have approached this very differently. I do think even the players were left floundering and trying to understand what the narrative wanted from them. This kind of Big Picture History Story needed characters at least a little bit built to theme, I think. This is why Brennan's EXU mini-series are so successful.

Sorry if I took your post a little off topic I just suddenly had a lot of thoughts and I haven't talked about any of this yet lol.

Whatever C4 ends up being and whenever it is, I really hope we see a return of the consistent "I go over to *insert character*" that was lacking this campaign. It's something so simple but so foundational to why I love CR. It used to be so consistent and made even the most mundane things like setting up camp, night guard duty and travel something to look forward to.

I can't tell you how many of these moments with characters just simply talking to each other about anything and everything became some of my favorite moments in all of CR. I remember so many episodes where I looked forward to these breaks more than even combat or some story elements because it immersed me so much in every aspect of the campaign.

To me this is when CR is at its best, it is the foundation that separates it from other AP's and is what pulls you in and hooks you so you're equally as invested to the story or action or honestly anything just like the characters and the cast.

[finla2]

finally watched alien stage. um.. let's just say I need to stop getting so emotionally attached to fictional characters in a literally DEATH GAME. So yeah. 😀

[mothlady-garden]

Something that really bugs me about the old translation

DH translation of Ch.33 of Trimax

New OH translation of this chapter

Different translations can shift the soul of a scene, in the old DH translation it reads: “If I save one life… will it be as though I was born alone?” In the new OH version, it’s “If I could save a single life… If I could do just a little… would that… be good enough?” One is existential, questioning if a single act of good could justify his painful existence. As if he's trying to compensate his and his brothers effected harm. He needs therapy so bad

The different variants symbolise the different iterations lol. Ow shit, now I wanna draw that scene for Trigun help

The new version is more personal, filled with doubt about whether his efforts will ever be enough. my favourite

But both are Vash.

Despite everything Knives has done to him, Vash still loves him. Many would see that as weakness, but it’s actually his greatest strength. Most protagonists fight out of revenge, ambitions, survival, or duty. Vash moved forward in the last 150 years on this god forsaken planet because he cares. And that makes him fascinating. Nothing Knives does will make him stop caring. No amount of cruelty can erase his choice to keep attaching his heart onto us short lived/fragile humans.

Reminds be of this one DW line: "Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Hate is always foolish, and love is always wise.”

End game Spoiler below just in case:

(I wonder, in the end of the manga if he was happy to age and get old like your regular Joe Schmo, since Independent Plants are most likely built to last for roughly 500 years minimum -if they aren’t draining themselves like crazy; so he would die at a very young age. I really hope that he was happy)

In general, the old translation doesn’t bother me too much and I can overlook small things or chuckle at them. But this part is so important for his character that it really bothers me, and I’m sad it stayed unchanged

[idl3dreamer]

I found a half-decent place to pause the episode, and I'm leaving it there so I can get SOME sleep before work

the not knowing is killing me, being so close to the end is killing me, Val wanting to be a ballerina is killing me, Faulkner falling apart and fully believing Carpenter is dead is killing me, this show is just. killing me.

[legalandnotease]

The biggest problem with Bucky defenders like you is that you refuse to acknowledge anyone else’s suffering. Never denied Bucky grieving nor being a victim of horrific proportions, but he was far from the only one grieving.

"I don't deny Bucky was grieving" but then 10 seconds later you be like "he doesn't have the right to grieve and has zero right to any of his feelings".

There's a word for what you're doin there. Its called *gaslighting*. Its what my abuser used to do to me- yes, you're talking to a real life abuse survivor in the flesh.

That's the problem with a lot of Sam fans. They cannot identify with any other character or their experiences.

I mean this here a prime example of what I am saying:

You really need to get off of Bucky’s fictional dick and stop believing that he’s the grand winner in the trauma olympics

You believe Sam is the grand winner do you not? People like you are convinced Sam and Isaiah have some kind of monopoly on suffering, and because of this they are incapable of identifying with the trauma of others and understanding how other people's suffering impacts them. (Legit they are getting as bad as Tony fans..)

Thus anybody who has feelings or emotions that do not align with what Sam wants is condemned. This is absolutely classic gaslighting, and its also incredibly narcissistic: recognize Sam's struggles by all means but nobody is required to supress or alter their emotions to cater to him.

Nobody is required to turn off their trauma to make him feel better: not that they can.

How Bucky managed to not grapple or try to understand Sam’s mental strife ... means he’s an obtuse little fuck when it comes to emotionally attaching himself to an inanimate object in lieu of feeling abandoned.

Yeah.... um its called the grieving process. Grief impacts different people in different ways.

You're basically saying here that because Bucky doesn't grieve the same way as Sam it means his grief is not legitimate. Gaslighting again.

Sam and Bucky have different experiences, ergo their experience of grieving is different. Although Bucky feels to a degree for others involved in the fight against Thanos he didn't really know any of them aside from the Wakanadans. So its harder for him to grieve for somebody like Natasha because he didn't know her. People generally don't grieve for strangers - that's not selfish its just how we are.

The only person he really knew was Steve Rogers: Steve is the man who literally saved Bucky's life when everyone (including Sam) was telling Steve to kill him.

That's why the shield means so much to Bucky. Its the object that was used to save his life by his brother. It doesn't mean the same thing to him as it does to Sam because they both associate it with different things.

Both their experiences are valid: but of course you want to say that Bucky's are not.

But him feeling betrayed and hurt gives him no leeway to be a bastard to Sam as he was

Ah yes, here we come to it. Bucky has no right to his feelings and he has no right to his trauma responses. Gotcha. He should turn off his PTSD to cater to Sam, did I say that already? Only problem is it doesn't work that way.

You see here's the thing: the vast majority of Sam fans who write things like this do not have PTSD or trauma: but the vast majority of Bucky fans do.

This is why Sam fans don't get it: they are looking at things from an outsider perspective. They see a traumatized person acting a certain way and they think they're choosing to do that because they're just being a dick.

What they don't understand is that trauma messes you up. It makes just living from one day to the next a sruggle. Traumatized people do not have room for others because they are struggling to just survive themselves. Not because they are selfish but because they have been harmed in horrific ways and it keeps impacting them long after the event.

Also, certain conditions predispose people to act and respond in certain ways, so when they people say say incredibly misinformed things like this:

Being a victim doesn’t give him a forever pass to be an asshole to those that didn’t cause his pain.

...All they they reveal is that they cannot comprehend trauma. That they have absolutely zero understanding of hiw trauma impacts human beings. That they are incredibly ignorant and certainly in no position to lecture anybody else on trauma healing or say they understand.

See here's the thing about PTSD, the condition that Bucky has. You don't have to be around the person who hurt you to react in a certain way.

In fact, anything that reminds you of your trauma and pain can cause a certain response. These things are called triggers. And when I say it cane be anything I mean *anything*. Objects, sounds, even certain words can remind a person with PTSD of the experience which caused their condition, and this by turn can cause unpleasant responses.

Lashing out, freezing, panic attacks, etc. Bucky doesn't like notebooks because the Soviets used a notebook with the Russian words to activate his programming: that's why Raynor's notebook annoys him so much. Its probably one of his triggers.

This means that Bucky is not being mean to Sam because he's malicious: he's a traumatized person who has been triggered by something or somebody.

Most likely, the talk of the shield reminded him of how Steve had to save him when he didn't feel like he was worth saving- and then he had somebody telling him HYDRA were "his people" so he was feeling like shit all over again.

Of course the vast majority of Sam fans don't see that: all they see is somebody being mean to their fave, and that is an unforgivable sin.

And Anthony Mackie stayed talking shit in the interviews whenever asked what was involved in the films, but you’re 100% ready to believe the character that Sam was only reached out to ‘taunt’ Bucky? Are you fucking serious?

Actually, yes.

Sam taunting Bucky with those text messages is entirely consistent with the behavior he displays throughtout the show- making jokes about his disability, mocking his trauma and the symptoms of his brain damage etc.

Like you pointed out, he was a counselor and knew the importance of contact but he’s only reaching out to fuck with him, not to check in, not to try to connect over similar experiences of losing time and friends? Shows how much you know the character.

Do you remember what I said about certain Sam fans being incapable of identifying with anybody else?

The same goes for Sam himself. Believe it or not, Sam is an able-bodied person who has never experienced things liks captivity, mind control, torture and sexual assault. He hasn't been forced to kill people against his will.

As such, Sam cannot identify with disabled people or abuse survivors. That's why he does things like mocking Bucky's appearance or making fun of his bionic arc and his propensity for staring. Which is due to brain damage btw.

You call that banter- but its very much more like the way able-bodied people act towards the disabled in real life. The kind of casual cruelty or insensitivity able-bodied people display when they ask intrusive or hurtful questions about disability or make off-color remarks about certain condtions.

Sam isn't necessarily trying to be insulting or offensive (although sometimes it appears he is) he probably thinks calling Bucky a "freak" or a "cyborg" and asking him if he killed anybody lately is just a harmless joke, but he is nevertheless being incredibly insensitive.

And like you said "intentions don't mean shit in regard to hurt feelings". Yeah the same applies to Sam. It doesn't matter if his remarks weren't meant to offend Bucky- they clearly did and he had a right to be offended.

You don’t get to dictate how what Bucky said affected Sam and you don’t get to pretend that some of the shit he said didn’t reek of self centeredness.

Guess what? You don't get to dictate how what Sam says effected Bucky either. Just because you think Sam was seeking to bond over mutual experiences it does not make it so.

Its entirely possible that Sam said things in those texts Bucky ignored that were incredibly offensive, insensitive or triggering and that's why he ignored them.

Its like if you sent me a text saying " how is (naming my abuser) today and did you freak out?"

You might think that's a harmless joke, but guess what? You don't know how that is going to impact me.

Being a counsellor doesn't mean Sam cannot also be an insensitive dick. As I said before- Sam is not an abuse survivor so he cannot identify with Bucky's experiences as an abuse survivor.

Which means he also doesn't understand how his negative attitudes and behaviours are likely to impact people who are. That also makes him more likely to engage in things like victim-blaming, and casual ableism.

That’s the way to heal, but Sam giving the advice was such a big problem fer y’all stans and I’ll never understand why.

Um, no.

You don't get to tell traumatized people how they heal. When you don't know anything about PTSD or trauma its very likely you also don't know anything about the long, slow process of healing, so I won't bother going into the complexities of it.

What I will do though is tell you why Sam's "advice is such a big problem".

Sam was doing what is known as victim-blaming. Victim blaming is a phenomena where victims are told that what happened to them is their fault, and that they caused or wanted it in some way.

Sam telling Bucky he had to "make amends" whilst he lectured him on the importance of "being of service, being present in his life and surrounding community" was akin to telling a person who was r*ped that they have to go and apologize to their attacker, and then they have to go find other people who were attacked by the same person and apologize to them as well.

Instead of like, bringing the rapist to justice and telling them to make amends.

Everything about what Sam says is implicity and explicitly telling Bucky that he was 100% responsible for what HYDRA did to him. He was to blame, it was his fault and he has to make right. Victim-blaming.

The fact that this came at the end of a series in which *every single character* as well as the narrative itself said that Bucky was serving HYDRA willingly and wanted to do all the things he did as the Winter Soldier makes it even worse.

Its like if they retconned Nastasha's story and decided to say she joined the Red Room voluntarily and then make her Dreykov's lover or something.

Oh and in addition to that several major characters outright say that Bucky is an evil monster and a pyschopathic killer and can never be anything other than that. Sam never once challenges or questions this version of events. He goes along with it, in fact.

So yeah, that's why Sam's advice is such a big deal- because it and the series itself are constantly shoving this idea down our throats that Bucky was never a victim. That he chose to do everything he did as Winter Soldier, and he is to blame for all that happened to him: which is why according to Sam and everybody else he has to "make amends" help others.

He's not a victim, therefore he doesn't deserve care or compassion. Therefore he doesn't need self-care. He just needs to stop kidding himself and admit it was all his fault. Oh and he then needs to do something which could explicity put his life in danger by confronting the families of victims. Cos' last time he did that it ended so well (Tony Stark almost killed him...)

All the while, remaining HYDRA operatives are walking free, allowed to do as they please.

As for the rest of your post: Bucky had zero intention of allowing Zemo to remain free forever, he fully intended to hand him over to Wakanda when he didn't need him anymore. He literally explained that. He was using the guy as a means to an end and the Wakandans were welcome to him when he was finished.

But if you want to talk about betrayal- how do you think Lemar Hoskins family would have felt seeing Sam treat the little terrorist bitch who murdered their son as some kind of fallen hero on live TV? The same little terrorist bitch who had burned innocent people to death and said she would do it again: the same little terrorist bitch who got her serum off a *Nazi*.

Whilst we're at it this is the most antisemetic piece of trash I have ever had the misfortune to read.

And lastly, while this is a fictional show, real world imitates art and vice versa. Sam not feeling he could follow in Steve’s footsteps, the literal blue eyed, blond poster boy of America, was saturated with racist ideologies.

That show had the fucking audacity to say that Steve became Captain America because he adhered to some kind of Aryan stereotype.

I was going to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they did not watch The First Avenger but no- actually I am not going to do that because the showrunners probably did watch it and chose to ignore it anyway.

They still had the FUCKING audacity to say that the Jewish Doctor who chose Steve for the serum chose him because he looked Aryan? Yes, Dr Esrkine was Jewish.

At a time when Jews in Europe were literally being murdered by the Nazis because they were not considered to fit the Aryan model of racial perfection closely enough

As opposed to the actual truth: Dr Erskine chose a disabled puny son of Irish immigrants for the serum, who was the total opposite of the perfect race stereotype.

If you want to pretend that racist connotations didn’t exist in either the show or the movie, go play dumbass somewhere else.

Racist connotations exist in ths show: its fucking racist against Jews just for a start. Not only did they try to retcon the heavily Jewish coded Bucky to be a fucking Nazi they then tried to say Dr Erskine chose Steve for being a good little Aryan.

Its also utterly and disgustingly bigoted against every other minority group in existence.

...and then to top it all in the movie this continues with Sam saying Bucky chose to get the serum in the same way Steve did. As opposed again to the real truth: he had it put into him against his will when he was being experimented on by Nazis in a Prisoner of War camp. (Just like actual Jews and actual Eastern Europeans were experimented on by actual Nazis in actual real-life prison camps)

I am going to put this in big bold letters.

Sam being subject to racism does not give him a free pass on victim-blaming or being a bigot to disabled people, people with PTSD, Jews, women or anybody else.

Nor does Malcolm Spellman or Kori Skogland or whoever wrote that shit get a free pass on the trash they produced on that basis.

After watching the only scene in BNW that mattered to me, I wanna emphasize how important it is that bucky says one of the most emotionally mature things that a character has said in the MCU in a long while.

He asks sam “Why?”

He doesn’t correct Sam. Tell him he’s wrong. He doesn’t make the moment about himself.

It shows that Bucky fucking grew after TFATWS. a show where he is so self-obsessed (because of his trauma which isn’t inherently his fault) that he rarely considers Sam’s emotions.

Bucky Barnes has one of the best arcs in the MCU, and I think him even saying “I love you” is another sign that he is frankly pretty damn emotionally intelligent and either the writers or Sebastian Stan decided that it was important to include.

[biblicalhorror]

Aroace Riz real but also Fabian is SO clearly in love with him and Riz has no idea

[longmaxsilvarg]

just think that it's maybe like really kinda a tiny bit cruel that chloe and joyce don't get to be together no matter what ending

[mbirnsings-71]

something something having a new hyperfixation and now having several new WIPs about it AND just starting to draw certain characters from it just yesterday uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah-

[somewhereincairparavel]

im so emotionally attached to jason grace it's not even funny atp. i literally think about him all day, I'm not exaggerating pls someone tell me they feel this way too 😮‍💨

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[lightbulb-warning]

so has anyone figured out WHY there is the Need To Share our Artworks™ or is it just the vibes and our Soul apparently

[gaypastabake]

sad Edge head-cannony rambles

hey um uhhhh [Spoilers for the entirety of Sparks of Hope] and also TW: mentions of trauma ok thanks

Ok so im not really sure how to format this post, I just really wanted to talk about an important head-cannon of mine for Edge and I had so many ideas relating to it but no motivation to do any of them, like I started a short comic but don't want to finish it, so im just going to go on a weird ramble because that's all I know how to do.

Ive had a head-cannon for a while that Edge doesn't respond well to any sort of physical contact, like if somebody were to put a hand on her shoulder in a friendly manner she would interpret it as an attack and would punch them. Given that when she was created by Cursa she never had any kind of support group or friends she could really trust, its likely she's never been hugged before either, and even if she has been hugged during her spark-hunting days those people are long dead to her.

Edge has difficulties showing any kind of emotion given the circumstances of her creation, she was made to hunt sparks and nothing else. She was discouraged from feeling strong emotions as it could be a distraction from her task, and likely isn't used to showing her feelings. Not only that but the only people she had ever trusted turned their backs on her because she cared about the sparks, and was likely mocked and ridiculed for that sentiment.

In my personal head-cannon that's why Edge is so reserved and isolated from the rest of the Mario + Rabbids crew, because shes scared of putting herself in a situation where she appears emotionally vulnerable because of the incident with the spark hunters. In every cut-scene when everyone is on the WM-ARC she's always as far away from everyone else as possible, because she doesn't like getting close to people due to her own insecurities. She appears angry or indifferent all the time because she either doesn't know how to process or actively refuses to acknowledge her own thoughts and feelings, and is resorting to acting headstrong and annoyed

Something I wanted to write about in the Mario Rabbids fic I was planning is the possibility of Edge coming to terms with her emotional ineptitude and fears of getting close to people both emotionally and physically. I feel like in an instance where if she were in a relationship (platonic or romantic) with someone it would take her a while to get used to affection, she would get irrationally uncomfortable and stressed with physical contact and would likely try to ask for boundaries until she feels more comfortable putting herself in a vulnerable position. There's a scene ive planned in the fic where Edge finally feels comfortable and asks to cuddle, leading to her finally breaking down because she's never been used to real and genuine affection from another being.

guhhhhhhh there are allot of thoughts I have about her and if I think of any more head-cannons I will certainly talk about them without revealing too much of the plot for my fic.

I included the drawing because I felt this post would feel empty without it, especially since I tend to word vomit when talking about things I like. sorry if some of my thoughts are not coherent im not good at wording things.

[mars-ipan]

pjsk is sooo fun but it eats my phone alive also

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.