#This has minimal editing so if you see any mistakes please point them out to me

[thecatundertheladder]

So I know I did a poll on which au I should write for next and I was going to stick to it and write some more for my ToE au, but inspiration strikes at inconvenient times so here’s how Garmadon got his destruction powers in my Garmadon Son of the Overlord au.

When Garmadon was still a baby (I’m thinking around a decade after the dividing of Ninjago), the FSM decided to give him some powers that didn't originate from the Overlord, but from FSM themself. So, one day, they held balls of creation and destruction energy in front of Garmadon to see which he would choose. And baby Garmadon crawled over to the destruction energy and started trying to play with it. So FSM embedded a small portion of his own destruction within Garmadon.

Had FSM been slightly more sensible, they probably would have seen the child destined to kill them choosing destruction over creation as a very concerning thing, and quite possibly wouldn’t have given Garmadon the power to destroy realms, but they weren’t, so FSM didn’t find this concerning. If anything they were delighted - their oni instincts were thrilled at the thought of teaching them how to use the essence of destruction.

The original elemental masters that were still around when this happened (which was most of them) were not happy with FSM for giving Garmadon the essence of destruction. While some of them had eventually warmed up to the idea that FSM was going to raise Garmadon and had even started liking him, the were all of the opinion that the child that was destined to kill FSM actively choosing destruction was a bad sign (“destruction does not equate to evil” FSM would tell them. “Maybe not, but it is still tool with which to kill you by”, the elemental masters would answer).

It was even worse that FSM had willingly given the essence to him. Needless to say, the original EMs thought that the FSM had lost their mind. Unfortunately, the opinions of mortals (even if they were mortals that FSM was close friends with) were not enough to sway a dragoni god’s parental instincts, and so the essence of destruction stayed with Garmardon.

Being a spirit-god, Garmadon's powers grew with him, and by the time he reached adult-hood, his abilities rivaled FSM's at the same age. But at this point he didn’t just have the abilities he inherited from the overlord and the essence of destruction, he also had of control over all the other elements (albeit not as strong as his control over destruction and darkness -the essence he had inherited from his birth parent). The FSM loved Garmadon to the point where he had accidentally given him all the same powers that they have.

[etherealising]

chapter one | a berzatto family christmas

masterlist | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!michael berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: you reunite with carmy years later at the berzatto family christmas party.

warnings: language (cursing), blasphemy, angst (maybe?), spoilers kinda (if you haven't seen season 2 don't read), the berzatto family, not dialogue heavy, very subtle hints to mikey being suicidal, probably ooc!characters, idk what else but if you find something let me know please! not beta’d and minimal editing so sorry for any mistakes. i also wrote this overstimulated on caffeine so if it doesn’t make sense or it’s repetitive then we know why : )

semantics: no use of Y/N: reader goes by the nickname Baby it has a backstory and its literally so simple, if this bothers you idk what to tell you, sorry : (

wc: 4.7k

You were standing on the sidewalk, nerves filling your body as you hyped yourself up to take the few steps left to the porch and ring the doorbell. You shouldn’t have been so nervous, you knew that but your mind was spinning with the myriad of scenarios both good and bad; that could play out once you stepped foot past the threshold. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much that you were nervous to enter the house itself, it was the fact that you’d be face to face with your childhood best friend for the first time in you didn’t even know how long. Maybe childhood best friend was a stretch you had only been introduced into each other's lives due to circumstance, and because of that forced proximity, you both took comfort in having someone stable around.

The two of you weren’t friends because you had chosen each other, or because you had met in kindergarten and shared toys in the sandbox because the other kids were stingy. No, you met because as a single mom, your mother needed all the shifts she could get even if that meant working the graveyard shift at the hospital, and only seeing you a handful of hours throughout the day because most times she was too dead on her feet to be conscious for more than a few hours. And when she could no longer pay the babysitter her next best option was the eccentric woman across the street who had children close in age with you.

Enter Donna Berzatto, a woman who came to feel like a second mom to you. It's not that she replaced your mom, no one could ever replace her, but she was the only real mother figure you knew for a time in your life. Who took you in as her own when your mother needed a new babysitter, and not just you but integrated your mom into the family as well, when she was spared the time off from nursing. Donna Berzatto who never sent you home empty-handed, and always made enough food for you and your mom to last throughout the week, just so your mother wouldn’t have to worry about fitting grocery shopping into her already hectic schedule. Donna Berzatto who, even when you were old enough to no longer need a babysitter, would send Carmy across the street to fetch you for family dinner, or even just invite you over because she thought you needed company.

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed like you were more friends with his mom than you ever were with Carmen Berzatto. But then that would be a lie wouldn’t it?

You and Carmen Berzatto were friends due to circumstance, maybe even best friends. You weren’t just friends at his house, but you were school friends, you were everywhere friends. He really was your only true friend, of course, you had school friends, but that’s just what they were. You saw them Monday through Friday for a mandatory education, never an hour before school started or a minute after the final bell. Which didn’t necessarily bother you, but sometimes you longed for a weekend invitation to hang out, not that it ever came. And it wasn’t like you were shunned or unpopular in school, you were just average, you didn’t see a point in making friends with people you weren’t actually interested in befriending.

That’s what made Carmy so different, yes maybe you were only introduced due to circumstances but that didn’t stop the two of you from latching onto each other for dear life. Your mom always wondered how you two even established the friendship you did, with both of you being shy and never feeling the need to go out of your way to make friends. Include the fact that you had been neighbors practically your whole lives and never once taken an interest in each other aside from shy waves and curious childlike staring when either of you would be outside.

Your relationship with Carmen progressed as any childlike relationship would, you befriended each other, had your incessant petty arguments and fights, nothing ever serious enough to actually cause damage just childish antics. And it continued to progress through middle school and high school, the two of you were each other’s person, you just understood each other, the two of you let the other understand you, and wanted to be understood by each other.

You could also recall what you explain as a minute change in your friendship. As Senior year approached and you and Carmy continued to grow into yourselves, you developed a slight crush on the boy you had grown up with. It obviously wasn’t as small as you thought it was if you were standing in front of his childhood home giving yourself a pep talk just to ring the damn doorbell though was it?

The unsolicited card and wrapped present weighed heavy in your tote bag, as your breath was made visible by the chilly Chicago weather.

It was Christmas and for all intents and purposes you had been planning on mailing the present to Carmen’s New York address, but after visiting The Beef on your way back into town Mikey and Richie had let it slip that indeed the infamous Berzatto sibling would be gracing everyone with his presence this holiday season.

It was moments like these you wished you had picked up on the Berzatto family’s horrible smoking habit, thankfully your mom had taught you just how vital having functioning lungs was.

Your head shot up as the sound of loud rambunctious voices drew your attention to the front door opening and closing revealing a face you were all too familiar with and actually relieved to see. The oldest Berzatto brother stood on the porch, hands on his hips as he gave you a goofy smile. You could feel your lips stretching into a smile of your own, the infectious aura that Michael Berzatto exuded doing wonders to calm your racing mind.

“I know you didn’t come all this way just to stand outside staring at my family home like a fucking weirdo Baby.” Mikey’s smile grew in size as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes at the childhood nickname you wish hadn’t stuck as Mikey opened his arms to wrap you in one of his signature hugs. The two of you stood on the porch embracing each other for what felt like hours, you needed this hug as much as he needed it, you knew it and Mikey did too. That was the thing about you and Mikey although not blood-related it was as if your souls knew each other in a past life. Of the Berzatto siblings, Mikey was the last sibling you developed a relationship with. Growing up he was always just Carmy’s older brother but as you grew up surrounded by him, he became your surrogate older brother as well. And when Carmy dashed off to pursue his culinary dreams in New York, you and Mikey grew even closer.

You stepped back from the embrace, your eyes finding Mikey’s as he looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “You not standing out here cause of a certain Chef in that house are ya?” Mikey asked, smirking down at you.

You chuckled “The only reason I come around anymore is for Mama Donna.” You joked doing a poor job to convince Mikey.

He nodded, tossing his head back with a laugh, “You were always a shit liar Baby. Carmy’s an idiot, don't let him ruin your Christmas.”

You let out a sigh head resting against Mikey’s chest as you tried to let his words soothe you even more, “He’s not ruining it, you just know things have been kind of stilted between us, and I don’t know this whole situation just feels awkward.”

You raised your head to look at Mikey again, “It’s awkward right? Am I making things awkward? I don’t wanna ruin Christmas Mikey, I know how your mom is and I know how Carmy is, I don’t wanna ambush him.”

The worry in your voice was evident as Mikey stood there listening to your ranting. His hand reached out as he used his thumb to massage away the frown between your eyebrows. “Calm down Baby, you know Ma is expecting you, and she wouldn’t take it well if you missed Christmas. She looks forward to seeing you every year, you give her a piece of Carmy when he can’t be fucking asked to come home and visit.” His hand moved down to cup the side of your neck rubbing soothing circles where his thumb rested, “Do it for Ma okay? Let Carmy be fucking wonder boy Carmy a’ight.”

You laughed nodding your head as best as you could with Mikey’s hand holding it, he smiled giving you one last hug before dropping his hand to grab your wrist and tug you into the house. You stopped him by placing a hand on his arm that was connected to yours.

“Hold on Mikey, I got you something.” You moved to start rummaging through your tote bag stalling because you were too nervous for his reaction to the present.

“Awe you didn’t have to get me nothing.” You turned back to him with the present in your hands as he held his own hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental things and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else.

You laughed holding the rectangular wrapped present out to him, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded feeling your face heat up as you dropped your head so he couldn’t see how unsure you were about the gift.

He smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfing it from end to end. He smiled looking at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shove his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands but holding it in front of your chest so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, it’s not like I trademarked it for myself or anything. I just know how much this means to you and I, I know shit has been tough lately and I’m sorry if you feel like I stepped on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” You hadn’t meant to go on a rant, but you could feel the apprehension leaving you as you became passionate in every word you spoke.

“You deserve to be fucking happy Mikey, and I, I want you to know I fucking believe in you and I’m always in your corner. If it's-” You were cut off by Mikey clearing his throat, causing your eyes to snap back up to his, all the emotions he didn’t know how to translate into words swirling in his brown eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“Mikey-,” Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, this hug conveying something completely different from the earlier one you shared. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. Mikey wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey his moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while he was being emotional. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face in both of his hands, eyes finding yours, a whispered “thank you, baby,” leaving his lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug.

His head rested atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. You lied, you thought the last hug was different, but no it was this hug that was different, while the second hug you shared in the span of 20 minutes was a hug of love and gratitude. This hug felt heavier, like there were things Mikey wanted to tell you but couldn’t, things he only felt he could convey through a hug, things you weren’t sure if you wanted to question or not.

It had been almost 20 minutes since Michael had escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping Donna out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever had grabbed Mikey’s attention.

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it.

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy had offered to him, marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen double checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the frown grace the younger man’s face, his eyebrows pinching together in agitation, annoyed that his brother was on a phone call rather than inside. Though that’s what Carmy told himself subconsciously he knew he was just annoyed at the fact that Mikey was even talking to you at all. Carmy didn’t think he was possessive but as you and Mikey grew closer through the years, he couldn’t help but feel miffed about the ever growing friendship between the two of you. You and your friendship with Carmy was the first thing in his life that he felt like was actually his and his alone.

It’s funny really for Carmy to think he has any sort of claim over you, or like the two of you were even really friends anymore. When he left Chicago to pursue his culinary dreams, he left you behind to, essentially ghosting the one real friend he did have. It’s not like he meant to, you two just went your separate ways after graduation, and he wasn’t even sure if there even was an “Us�� when it came to the two of you anymore. If that was the case the only person he had to blame was himself, it was no fault of yours that your friendship had hit a plateau, Carmy hadn’t responded to a text of yours in years, and the fact that you still texted him to this day caused a slight pain in his chest as he stood in the middle of his mother’s kitchen, frown still etched into his features.

“He’s outside on the phone with Baby?” Carmy questioned the ache in his chest doing nothing to alleviate his irritation. It was Richie’s turn to frown reciprocating the same confused look Camry wore.

“What - No dickhead, he’s talking to Baby, like she’s right in fucking front of him and shit.” Richie swatted the side of Carmy’s head like a child. “Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those to idiots just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jackoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who had finally joined his side nodding his head to the window.

“Get a load of these fucking losers hugging on the porch like they’re in some fucking Hallmark movie or some shit.” Richie laughed pointing at you and Mikey through the window. Carmy leaned closer to get a peak at what Richie was going on about.

Carmy hated to admit it, but Richie was right, the too of you looked like the happy couple who just saved a small town’s Christmas or whatever the fuck Hallmark movies were about. Mikey had finally separated himself from you long enough for Carmy to take in your features. He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity had touched you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school.

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things. Like the haircut you were sporting that Carmy felt shaped your face well, not that he knew shit about stuff like that, but he could appreciate art when he saw it. The outfit you picked out doing wonders to compliment your tall form and accentuate your legs. Carmy could look at you all day, scratch that he wanted to look at you all day.

He was torn from his reverie as Richie narrated the scene happening in front of them, “Aw look at these fuckers lookin all in love an shit.” He joked watching as Mikey slung his arm around you and led you towards the door, what looked to be a frame held in his other hand. The two of you walked side by side, your arm wrapped around his torso, hugging him into your side, Mikey’s head leaning slightly down to whisper something in your ear a small smile gracing your face as Mikey pressed his lips onto your temple lingering there for what Carmen swore was forever.

The tightness in his chest intensified tenfold as the realization of just how close you and Mikey had become sank into him. He didn’t know how to feel, his brain not even allowing any emotions to process, saving himself from any conclusions he might come to from a split second interaction.

Carmy left, he chose his path, he knew this, and he had no regrets he would pursue his dream every time the opportunity was presented. He just wished that, maybe if he held onto you as tightly as you still held onto him, it would’ve been him greeting you on the sidewalk on Christmas Day, being the sole object of your attention holding you close to his longing body. He knew overall the decisions he made regarding you were wrong, while he ignored your daily text and calls enough times for you to just resort to monthly check ins asking him about his endeavors and congratulations as you heard about his achievements in the culinary industry, he knew deep down that Mikey answered every text and call you sent his way, made it his mission to connect with you anytime you were back in Chicago.

Carmy couldn’t admit it to himself but deep down he knew his family saw spending time with you as a way to stay connected to him. You were the closest thing any of them still had to Carmy, and even though he had essentially cut you off from his life, his family loved you too much to allow Carmy’s shortcomings to affect their relationship with you.

He was broken from the recesses of his mind as Richie threw the door open stepping over the threshold raising his hands in the air to welcome you and Mikey into the house. The glass of Sprite still clutched in his left hand, a broad smile spread across his face as you left Mikey’s hold to greet Richie eyes not having spotted Carmy who was hidden behind Richie’s small frame.

Carmy’s first up close look at you in years were your hands wrapped around Richie’s torso as he pulled you into a hug, rocking the two of you back and forth, Richie let you go quickly turning his body back into the house “A’ight fuckers you can all stop pretending you care so much about Carmy and his little rat in the chef hat bullshit. We got the real deal here now, Baby's gracing us with her journalist presence.”

Carmy’s brows furrowed at Richie’s dig only slightly offended about being compared to a fictional character named after pasta, too caught up in allowing the sound of your laugh to grace his ears for the first time in what felt like forever. Mikey had finally caught up to you standing behind you with a hand placed on your shoulder, Carmy watched as his brother’s hand glided up and down your arm before giving your bicep a slight squeeze and nodding his head in Carmy’s direction.

If Carmy was being honest it was becoming increasingly difficult to quiet his mind that was eagerly trying to piece everything together. From yours and Mikey's prolonged moment on the porch, to the kiss he placed on your temple, add in Richie’s jokes and the almost constant physical contact between you and Mikey and Carmy was sure he figured shit out.

You looked to where Mikey motioned his head finally noticing Carmy’s figure standing there while Richie ran off towards the stairs after his impromptu introduction. Looking at Carmy was like being in a Time Machine, nothing had drastically changed, he looked more exhausted than what you remembered. But overall he was the same Carmy you parted ways with all those years ago.

A small smile graced your lips as you took him in, he was still your Carmy appearance wise, and right now for you that was all that mattered. You lifted your hand in a small wave gaining his attention, your smile growing wider as your eyes locked with his.

The clearing of a throat broke you from your thoughts, Mikey’s hand giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walked you two into the house before shutting the door behind him. As he finished he stood in front of you so that Carmy was partially covered from view by each brother in your line of vision though your focus was taken up by the eldest. He gave you a reassuring smile before gently knocking his fist against your chin and presumably turning to leave you and Carmy alone.

As Mikey walked past Carmy he gave him his signature grin and a wink before patting his shoulder as left to check on Donna in the kitchen and mingle with the other guests.

Carmy’s face was still set in the same frown it had been in when he first asked Richie where Mikey ran off to. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves before taking a step to close the gap between you, your hand reached out to gently squeeze Carmy’s arm though stopping in midair as you watched him subtly flinch. Your smile faltered, your hand finding its rightful place at your side. You looked up to see the apology in Carmy’s eyes, you did your best to brush the moment off, maybe you came on too strong, maybe it wasn’t fair that you were still pushing for a friendship when Carmy had given you all the reasons to stop trying, maybe the Carmy in front of you was a different Carmy to the one you used to know. Maybe the life where it was you and Carmy had finally taken its last breath and you were just too clingy and desperate to realize.

You cleared your throat trying to alleviate the lump forming from the thoughts that were racing through your brain. The small placating smile on your face there to stop you from having a full breakdown in the Berzatto’s foyer. “Its good to see you Carmen, I hope New York is treating you well.” You lips wrapped around the generic greeting forcing yourself not to say anything you might regret.

Carmy nodded his head rapidly accepting your lackluster words, his lips parting and closing all in the same breath. The man obviously had nothing to say to you, and maybe you just had to accept that. You stayed a moment longer cursing yourself for doing so as the air between you two filled with palpable tension.

“Baby, is that you? My goodness you look fucking gorgeous.” Half of Donna’s body had popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet you. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, a ladle held in her right hand while the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else your brain couldn’t even begin to discern.

You laughed half in amusement and half in relief, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there as Carmy burned holes in your body. You waved at Donna quickly, beginning to head towards her to join her in the kitchen. It wasn’t your first choice as an escape from Carmen but you’d rather try and help Donna finish preparing Christmas dinner than be around Carmy for another minute.

Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girls bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. You handed him your tote as soon as his arm shot out and began hastily shimmying out of your jacket. You gave him a soft smile before laying the jacket on his awaiting arm.

You began to leave the foyer as Donna motioned for you to follow her, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to walk into. A sudden thought occurred causing you to gently grip Carmy’s bicep as you were walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” You smiled tilting your head slightly in questioning.

Carmen Berzatto graced you with a small smile, nodding back in agreement as you sent him one final nod and turned to enter the kitchen. The first positive emotion he granted you since you walked back into his life 30 minutes ago.

next chapter ↣

a/n: this is my first fic that i’m publishing and i genuinely have no clue what the fuck any of this is, : ) but nonetheless hope you all enjoy! or don’t i’m just a stranger on the internet. constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated though. please like, comment, reblog if this behemoth tickles your fancy!

also i write for fun/hobby and i'm such an inconsistent bitch so don't get your hopes too high, but this will potentially be a series idk yet though lol.

[unhappytimeleaper]

Hii can I request yandere Mika hcs please?

requested by anonymous

Word Count; 4,200

Okay, so requests for just general headcanons are hard for me because usually there is just so much I could go off of. I tried my best to whittle down this to where it wasn’t overwhelming but still enough to capture the main points of what I wanted. I ended up cutting out some ideas because I couldn’t keep writing; I wanted to edit and finish this. I’m sorry. 

Also p.s. I’m a very small account with less than 150 followers. I only get notes occasionally, and I say this because I still regularly have minors interact, and I will instantly be able to see that and block you. I’m 100% aware the bigger accounts grow, the harder it can be for one person to check, but none of you are being sneaky, and I don’t care about likes/reblogs enough to let it slide. Go away. I don’t like you if you are actively a minor trying to save my work. If you can read all 4,000 words of this, you can read where it says don’t interact if under Seventeen. Even while getting ready to post this I had an ageless blog like my last post like no.  

Kagehira Mika; Unedited. Gender Neutral Reader.

CW; this is a clusterfuck. Yandere everything. Stalking, jealousy, unsolicited photography, stealing, manipulation, violence [against Mika, not reader], isolation, potential kidnapping, power imbalances, paranoia, other characters enabling yandere’s actions, and dismissal of feelings. Some moments can be read with lewd intentions, though never explicitly stated. Seriously it just has it all.

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

For a general setup, Mika is. Well, a contradiction in many ways. The best way to put it is just as how others describe him, cat-like. It’s never to say Mika thinks he’s above you, consistently battling himself with the idea of being human over something like a doll, but for someone so ‘below’ you metaphorically, he pulls the strings. In the case of you, his extent of creepy actions, his stalking tendencies, and overall jealousy trap you in the strings of the marionette this time. For someone so below you as he claims, why does he have the power? Why does he not listen to you if he claims you have control over him? Cat-like— pets who rely on humans to bend to their needs and take care of them but still are more of a type to “run a household” rather than wait for the owner to come to them. 

A good example is, say, isolation; you explain to him keeping you alone with little interaction outside of him (and maybe minimal time with Shu or Ritsu) isn’t good; it isn’t healthy. Just a little time together in public, you don’t even need to go alone, just need to stretch and feel the bare sun on your skin even for a few moments; he loves you, right? He cares for you, so this would be better for both of you. He’s so weak-willed and eager to please you for a moment you think he’d easily comply, but it doesn’t work. It sends him more into a panicked frenzy, clinging and cuddling, making all sorts of claims that move too fast to rebuttal. It’s dizzying, and in the end, he remains the one truly in power despite his remarks about being only for your needs. 

Of course, the main this is despite his contradictions in power, overall, he does genuinely often seek to please you. Make no mistake that despite being the one with the upper hand in terms of your future, you still can easily live a life of semi-normalcy if you play your cards right. And even if things get to the extreme, like fully isolated, Mika will bend fate to bring you nearly anything you would ask for. And if he can’t get it, he’ll try anything he can to make it. 

Now to argue, the reasoning behind Mika’s tendencies is pretty apparent. The rooted abandonment issues are a crucial factor, it drives most of his fears and creates logic as to why he feels the need to lock onto people so intensely. He’s a rooted stalker, a mix between being extremely open with it and completely hidden, taking photos constantly without your knowledge, willing to collect all sorts of trash or items he can get his hands on, break-in, and more. There basically isn’t a stone unturned where Mika hasn’t been. Even more part of this comes in despite a fear of talking to strangers; he will threaten them for being ‘too friendly’ and say you two are together even if you aren’t, almost always driving people away from you. This can be found in Mika’s delusional nature of having conversations which he thinks are you giving advice or others telling him, much like how he fantasizes about conversations with Shu when looking for answers to projects. Some of this is attributed to Mika being well aware his emotions are almost always in control. 

Regarding you and others interacting, Mika primarily runs on autopilot. He might not even recall what he says to them; it’s a mix of emotion and adrenaline running the show. The final reason for his tendencies is trying to break out of being a doll. He does have feelings, wants, and desires that he should work to fulfill rather than always being just a doll told everything. It’s a lot of weight and pressure, and one of the things that comes with that is the human desire for love. For attention and validation on a deeper scale, something that the human side eventually craves from you. No longer does he just want to be a doll that falls into the corner waiting to be molded; he knows that as a human, these are things that come with it— even if profoundly misplaced. And as away the human side doesn’t take away from his more meek, submissive attitude that came with a doll mentality, at least not entirely, but it is what makes him realize more the nature of his desires. 

And as mentioned, Mika is… well, gross. Not in a literal sense, okay, maybe slightly literally in the thoughts and extreme hoarding of items he might be willing to take, but it’s more than that. Mika pushes the acceptable bounties; he has little and runs purely on emotions and whims— they control him. His actions are horrendously creepy at times, and his delusions push him to do things that just come off as disturbing. The tragic downside is ES isn’t an ordinary place with ordinary people. The majority of those around him come off more as enablers or too busy to care in the hustle of idol life. Examples being are Shu, Ritsu, and Arashi, all being helpless enablers to Mika and doing little to genuinely help you if it means Mika’s happiness. Cosmic Productions doesn’t care; as long as Valkyrie brings in revenue, then you’re just collateral damage and other companies at ES have little awareness of the reality going in the department. Not to mention I don’t think Crazy:B or Eden has the best members to speak on the subject, with 2wink being the most reasonable you could go to, but often they have enough going on it’s hard to seek solace in them.

And the last main general note is that while things would never be easy and life would always have some level of undertones of there being something wrong seeping from under the surface, Mika is one where you could get away with not being kidnapped and isolated. This doesn’t remove any general problems or underlying creepiness, it might even make it worse, but the idea of available yet moderated freedom might be better than nothing. Nearly all of your attention still needs to go to Mika, and if you would be to play the role of a partner to him, having the chance to still semi-function outside of being locked in some rooms might be a better alternative. This does stems from the fact Mika is willing to bend for you, as long as you comply with parts of his affection even for show. It also doesn’t dilute any aspects like stalking or stealing. But unless there is only full-out rejection of everything, would Mika likely turn to Shu or Ritsu for advice which would supply kidnapping as an alternative route (those little shits). It’s not easy for Mika to transport you to the dorm or Shu’s apartment to keep you locked up, and as mentioned, once isolated, getting Mika to let up and let you leave is nearly nonexistent even if you begin to return his advances (both for show or genuine). Overall, this is to say kidnapping is never a guaranteed ending with Mika, unlike with many others but not ever out of the question either. It can come very suddenly and always a looming presence if you aren’t willing to give into Mika’s fantasies. 

Okay, so that is the central portion. Now some more miscellaneous items. 

For one, Mika genuinely doesn’t mind if you use violence against him. Not saying he wants it necessarily; it’s not some masochistic desire to be hit, kicked, and generally beaten by you. But it doesn’t serve as a functional way to get him to stop or go away. He is essentially any attention is still attention. You’re mistaken if you think that while he is crying, clawing at your legs and hips for attention, a quick slap or kick to get him to let go will work. It might somehow many him latch on harder, claiming that it’s okay, you can do it again, it helps you calm down, just let him stay. Keep giving him the attention, the validation. And even worse this behavior is something Mika is willing to do in public if pushed or called out enough. Any terms of thinking you’re abandoning or leaving him creates an overdrive in him, quickly transforming into someone willing to beg to keep you around. In public, it’s made worse because not only does he look like the one being hurt by you— he’s an idol. Well-known one too, and if something terrible happens to him, it will only come back and hurt you. Either through die-hard fans or the company scolding you. Violence not only spurs Mika more but damages your livelihood in the bigger picture, making it null any tactic to help with the burden of Mika’s tendencies. 

However, this extends to one important thing. Your actions don’t really hurt Mika? Even on a physical level. It’s well noted Mika has an extremely high pain tolerance and that it would take a lot for him to acknowledge something hurting him in a way that would temporarily take him out. He doesn’t mind being physically hurt not only because it has some power dynamics and he’s doing anything to please you, but even in the case there is that contraction of him still having the upper hand. He gives you the permission to hit or kick him, likely because he has an awareness of being able to take it without it limiting his hold on you and still giving that outlet to you. Even if these are subconscious choices, it’s unsettling how much control he still has between his physicality benefits, idol career, and connections. Mika truly is a powerhouse in this way, and violence to him practically cannot solve anything as a means of escape, even if he offers it as stress relief or punishment to himself. 

Another big thing for Mika is forgetting the past and focusing on the future. There was before you, and then there is now. Anything before does not matter, and in a sense, he sort of expects this from you as well. Ex-partners, ex-crushes, ex-situation-ships; none of those matter now that he is here, and you better feel the same of these things being ‘dead.’ Photos or any other sentimental item need to be wiped away, and your mind shouldn’t need to wander back to them because you have something more now and forever. This idea of focusing on the future/now also relates to how many delusions and ideas for how things will work out between you in the long term. Marriage, starting a family, domestic life as a whole— Mika spends much of his time picturing and creating pieces that inspire him of this future as well as daydreaming of what life could become no longer attached to his past. 

Some more quick round-head canons; Mika will fill up notebooks and writing your name and his name. Pretty much any cross-over you can think of. Just your name with hearts, your name and his name with hearts, your first name and his last name, his first name and your last name, a teased ship name given from Arashi— the list can go on. It’s scribbled messily, and other times written with such extreme care. It’s only loose papers and trash, on his sketch designs and doodled with his finger on tables. Not only does he do it as a practice of his handwriting and the love of seeing your name written with that, but the combinations he can make feel like a validation of the closeness he has. Much like any early crush, it’s some comfort level of daydreaming— regardless of the actual proximity you have with one another. Also yes, he will lose loose pages and if you don’t know what he’s doing it’s very creepy the first few times. Or hundred. The amount of times he writes your names together is beyond comfort; very heavily boarding on obsessive. 

Mika is also not great at conversations, with mostly everyone but the awkwardness is pushed even more with you. There is too much pressure, and his feelings run in such high control that it often comes out as a mix of self-deprecating, worshipping you, and trying to act like a normal mess. It’s almost always awkward even if you try to ease him and are kind, and it does kinda become worse the longer it goes on because this is when his stalking, photography, and niche personal things become apparent in conversations. If you didn’t think he was stalking you beforehand or at least didn’t catch him, you’d be given many hints the more he talks to you. This extends from the fact he does everything possible to get materials and content he knows interests you. Even if you think it’s something knows one would know you like, Mika does somehow and will in passing bring it up in the weirdest form of trying to have a casual conversation. Books, CDs, and TV shows and stuff are all a part of his hoarding connection about you simply because you like it.  Even if it never would be something he’d look up on his own, he’d do anything to connect and relate even more to you. There never is any proof you can’t call him out other than having suspicions which, once again, little to anyone would take seriously, but you can’t help but feel Mika knows more than he is truly letting on. 

Will do any and everything for you if he can; carrying items, buying you things, cleaning stuff— of course, be careful asking him for this because he might take advantage of you letting him get this close to such personal tasks— but there never is anything he doesn’t offer to do. Idol work might get in the way, though, he can’t neglect his job, but any other time he is on your heels, waiting to do anything he can for you. And sure, at first, it’s nice. It lifts some burdens or comes off as Mika being Mika offering to give more than needed to anyone. But buying you things often comes off with a strange energy radiating off of them, even if there is seemingly nothing wrong. Him cleaning or doing simple domestic tasks, such as laundry, ends up with some things being missing or damaged. You notice so many other weird things in your apartment if he offers to clean. And carrying items,  while seemly harmless, still just makes your stomach churn. He fully just shows up out of nowhere on the most random shopping tasks offering his help and pushing closer and closer to you. What once was Mika feeling like his strange but overall kind, sweet nature stepping up to help an overworked staff member turns exhausting, skin-crawling offer. Even if he usually looks all sweet and innocent offering. Damn, the fact he does have some cuteness charm regardless of his actions. 

Arashi coming in clutch again being an enabler to Mika!! Upon teaching Mika about selfies and the momentum of photos… Mika gets a little too on board with this. He takes photos whenever he can, both blurry and crisp, highly focused or landscape of you, anywhere and everywhere. There are so many pictures he has and collects, often finding it hard to delete any one of them because there is something special attached to each one. Selfies and other photos he can get with you, either to your knowledge or without it are probably the most important to his collections. The second ones are those that either are from dates or situations that Mika dates. He is willing to print them off and keep them all over, even having dedicated spaces and boxes of printed photos or simply made posters. There would probably be some specific photo he becomes horrendously attached to as well, much like having one of Shu he constantly uses to talk to or seek advice from. 

The reason to account for the photos is because, as I’ve touched on, Mika is a filthy hoarder. He will legitimately take whatever he can get his hands on if he thinks it has some value to you. While I think depending on the item, particular trash isn’t seen as valuable or limited value others have much more. For example, plastic utensils aren’t valued at much; you used it once and then got rid of them, which has very little value to you. But say a silverware from your kitchen, chopsticks/spoon/whatever you use daily, has that value level and is worth wanting to keep for his own use. If you wear makeup, an empty lipstick/chapstick tube will be more sentimental or valued than a used tissue. This can also be found in the fact he’s mainly sharing spaces. While he still is a hoarder and does his best to keep his collection out of the main sight or in a place that isn’t easily accessed, there is always a chance someone could come to clean out those spaces. Something like a tissue is more likely to get loaded and thrown away, while Mika could better justify a chapstick holder as being able to be kept. This doesn’t change the fact that he is able and willing to collect a lot of gross things, such as well willing to have a container of bath water of yours if he could easily get it or an old notebook you might forget about. Even if it’s just work notes, he’d take it. And Mika might sometimes try to get rid of parts of his collection until he can secure a long-term and connected relationship with you, such as living together; it’s hard for him to part with anything of yours. These items are fucking everywhere too. His dorm, Shu’s apartment, the sewing station, and his area at CosPro. You might even see things you thought you lost just lying around and be able to “steal” them back with how prolific his hoarding is scattered. 

Clothing is the one thing; sadly, you will probably never get back, or at least if you could not in its original form. Mika loves, even obsessively, uses scraps and parts of your clothing in his. Even in the costumes for Valkyrie if he can, so there is a piece of you on stage with him. His use for upcycling extends back to his past, needing to take clothes and items from the trash to even have things of his own to wear, but now it feels much more special. This is rewriting all of the stigma and pain he carried of having nothing more than trash clothes— discarded by people just as he was. Sure, this clothes was stolen and didn’t have your permission to use, but it has the comfort woven into its threads. It smells like you and has the texture from how you cared for it when you washed it. It has the stains and memories of you, the feeling of someone being so loved by you it’s clearly ready to be thrown out finally, so it’s perfect if he repurposes it. He never takes too much, and if you have a clear favorite item Mika knows not to take it; maybe steal it from the wash pile and use it as a pillow cover for a bit, but always have it returned as well. At that time he’d fantasy the domestic life of being together, where he could openly wear his upcycled material of your clothes patched together [and you can wear them too!]. Or where he can take your clothes and wear them without shame or worry of getting them back on time, and the comments you’d make seeing him in your stuff. All of the fantasies turn him bright red, and even the next day, when you greet him, he looks a little more flushed than usual around you.

However yes, many things go missing, but they are often just as much replaced. Simple things are replaced with Mika spending his own money and then finding ways to either customize or make it so the item is uniquely tied to the two of you. Certain things also have trackers in them, but most are just decorative in some way. You remember how you lost your favorite pair of chopsticks when you brought your own lunch that one day. Weirdly enough the next day a new pair ended up in your bag but one bejeweled on the handle to match a particular sewer’s aesthetic while the other matched yours. Or hair clips that you once got as decorative jokes for a photo you and your friends had been planning; you figured you just misplaced them but these new ones you found are nothing like the previous ones aesthetic… If you look too long in a shop at clothing or accessories Mika might not always be able to buy them due to expenses buts he’s well quick to make them, even with the added benefit of it being tailored now specifically to how you prefer. They always end up at your desk so neatly packaged, many coworkers assume it’s perhaps brands trying to get cozy with you for future deals with idol groups but these aren’t the same as what you saw in the window. No, these are too perfect for you to be just any run-of-the-mill store item. The even more unsettling part is how this person managed to get your measurements so spot on if not for measuring you in your sleep. 

There is also one specific way Mika would get caught for the more,, creepy actions. You’d know he could be a bit of a stalker. He has his moments where it’s oblivious he’s following you or others but those always come off more like a kicked puppy trying to follow someone home rather than malicious. Like he wants to interact, but internal conflict holds him back so much he forgets where he is until he is slightly too far behind and stumbles to keep up. If he really wants to stalk, Mika can keep himself hidden. There are other times all his other more ‘bizarre’ actions are qualified as Mika being Mika, like being fatigued after bouts of practice and finding his way to your desk out of habit in hopes to see you rather than going and getting medical attention/rest, or coming to hover around your desk for inspiration like a cat. If you aren’t there, usually you see cheap candies on your desk as a reminder he was there and is probably off looking for you or went back to the workstation much more disappointed than before. For the most part conversation with Mika, you might not lead to believe anything is deeply wrong with his infatuation levels. He’s always spoken weirdly with his doll-like commentary and the idea of letting others “control” him such as Shu and you. Or that his comments tend to come from a lack of understanding rather than outright trying to harm, so you do your best to guide him in topics. You’ve always known his emotional state can be complex, and his childhood likely made it hard to process feelings, resulting him them dominating his sense of self and backfiring into making them more unsettling than maybe he intended [of course while Mika’s perception of the events being vastly different]. All of these would change when you awake in the middle of the night hearing stumbling in your apartment. The first few times you hear a thump or grunt, you believe it’s just your sleepy brain making up stuff. It’s unsettling, and you always can feel your heart rate spike, but you don’t have anything to assume there is something wrong. But it often continues and you’re getting worried. Everything comes rushing into a close of an era when you manage to shake yourself awake one night, hearing a whine from the floor by your bed only to see a mass of dark hair and clothes. None other than Mika, watching you in your sleep— or well trying. 

See while Mika would love to use the nighttime to stalk around your apartment and get things done… his case of night blindness makes it much harder. Walking into walls or furniture, tripping over a bag that wasn’t always there, or simply leaning in too close that he bonked his head into your trying to look at your face before diving under your bed as to tousle around. It never really hurts, but he does let out a startled noise, or the falling is enough to cause a loud sound. But now, you’ve caught him in the act. And many questions are bound to follow in the morning, ones neither of you can escape from. Finding out Mika’s habits won’t change the outcome for him too much; what will is how you choose to follow but it doesn’t matter. He’ll find a way to be around in your life more no matter how you respond. 

[pradaksj]

Safety Net || part one. (m.)

all rights reserved © pradaksj

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

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

❧ pairing⟶ jungkook/reader 

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

❧ word count ⟶ 24,000+

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

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

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

01 | 02 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beep. Beep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One Step. Two Steps. Three Steps. Crrreaaak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

December 31, 2018.

New Years Eve.

11:00 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” you hum.

January 2019.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

February 2019.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you wo—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

March 2019.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then pull over here,” he deadpans.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are we—”

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

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

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

“What?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April 2019.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook I don’t thin—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” he feigns his surprise.

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

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

May 2019.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh yeah I guess I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An arts college? In Busan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I see them?”

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

“Oh what for?” you ask politely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungko—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

June 2019.

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

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

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

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

Knock. Knock. Knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only you had listened.

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

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

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

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

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

July 2019.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[solomonish]

How To Keep Your Demon Entertained At A Walmart

Congratulations! You've earned yourself a few demon date days up in the human world! But what's this? You have errands to run? Well, we all know these demons can't function without you for more than five minutes....but an entity that's thousands of years old gets a little bored and restless in the hyper-market wasteland of a Walmart...

Nowdateables: coming soon!

Lucifer

if you don't want him getting passive-aggressive about how you should've done this before he got here (yeesh Lucifer some of us have jobs or responsibilities that we can't shove onto our siblings for a day to see our precious mc) then you better be ready to make conversation

definitely not the type to allow you to even think about sending him off so you can get stuff done. he's not even that bothersome, so he'll get offended if you even think about it, but also wouldn't you rather keep him around to reach the top shelves?

basically if you don’t want to keep Lucifer entertained, you have to be the one he needs to keep entertained

do that thing where you roll around on the cart like a skateboard and he’ll be trying to put a stop to it immediately

put random things in your cart that he knows you don’t need and let him take it out and put it back where it belongs

stare him in the eyes as you put that party size brownie mix in your cart then speed walk away. he will come up from an aisle in front of you and silently pluck the box out and take it back. he will come back to see seven boxes of corn dogs and momentarily considers breaking up with you

does not need a treat as a bribe, but will definitely forgive your antics if you bought something from the bakery to snack on as you go home (especially if you did it without him noticing, considering the eagle eye he’s had to have on your cart the whole time)

just don’t have the nerve to complain about the crumbs in your car after that

Mammon

I would say to ask him to scan the area looking for dropped coins on the floor but he'd probably knock down shelves trying to look beneath them so....maybe don't?

also please keep an eye on him or he WILL be shoplifting. human jail is (probably?) a step up from demon jail but like. let's aim for no jail, ok mammon?

instead, give him a pre-portioned off list and tell him it's like a scavenger hunt. he'll scamper off to explore the walmart and his duty to keeping you happy has like a 70% chance of preventing him from stealing anything too important

make sure the stuff you put on the list is kind of hard to find but not too hard. you wanna keep him occupied without risking him freaking out because he can't find this super specific spice you want

either that or only make a really vague list like. tell him you need bread and he'll stand in the bread aisle trying to remember if you like white bread or whole wheat bread until you come to retrieve him

bring money for a treat. if it's near st patrick's day go in the seasonal aisle and hope they have chocolate gold coins

he's not too hard to deal with, but figuring out what's sneaky enough to put on the list is a chore of its own so going by yourself is less work anyway

Leviathan

taking him to walmart was your final fatal mistake

seriously? he has to go in? you could have just left him in the car!!

you take him intending to have him pick out some normie snacks (since you don't have any limited edition whatever-the-fucks in your house right now) but he looks so uncomfortable you make a detour towards the games

just leave him to play on the trial device and go pick out a few things for him to choose from when you circle back to him

arguable the least stressful trip for you until you have to wade through the pool of kids surrounding him and watching him play when it's time to pay and leave

you won't have to buy him anything but you will have to wait for him to finish the level he's on before he lets you drag him away. and he'll probably complain a little bit in the car about how terrible it was to go in in the first place, which a treat would help minimize.

so i guess just pick your battles with this one?

Satan

satan is a refined individual with startling amounts of self control. he does not need pointed in the direction of the books. he can entertain himself on a grocery run.

point him in the direction of the books anyway

their selection is always small (because it’s a walmart not a bookstore) and half of it is children’s anyway so he’ll probably wander off real quick

satan doesn’t need to be entertained, no, he’s past that. he needs to be kept on a leash

you have no way of knowing where he’ll end up. sometimes he’ll be somewhere that makes sense like in the stationary but sometimes you’ll find him staring at the paint samples like it’s a masterpiece in a museum or over by the fishing hooks reading up about local fish populations and how to get a fishing license and you’re just like “???? i’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes???? don’t give me facts about salmon???”

will ask you why you need to buy tires in the same place you get your food. isn’t that suspicious? what do they specialize in?

answer him only with the word “bargains” and he’ll stop asking once he understands or gets annoyed

you don’t need to buy him a treat unless he finds a book he wants. then come on mc, you dragged him out here and you’re NOT gonna let him get this one thing??

Asmodeus

he's fine with making an errand run with you actually!

he's up on the human world for you baby, just make sure to hold his hand so he feels appreciated

asmo is far too entertained with the concept of a walmart for his own good. don't go with him if you want it to be a quick trip because he'll want to go around the whole store

thinks at first that it's kind of nifty that humans just dump all the things they need in one store but is quickly turned off from the novelty when he realizes how short the distance is between the clothes and the nearest package of raw chicken

even if the selection is small, he will want to spend time in the makeup department. probably goes on rants about how he can’t imagine this quality of product is good for your skin

will still buy nail polish though if you let him

overall? not terrible to have around, but make sure you don’t have anywhere to be in the next hour when you take him

Beelzebub

pack a gallon bag of cheerios like he's a toddler and get ready to fucking book it in and out of there

you know how you should never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry? what were you thinking bringing Beel around??

another brother who’s good for reaching tall shelves if you need it

Beel also has this talent where he can just list off the ingredients you need if you happen to forget your list

if you want, you can distract him momentarily by just throwing out random dishes and he’ll get the ingredients right every time (even though they’re human dishes!!) but you’ll end up giving him like five different cravings by the time you leave

only take him if you want to speedrun grocery shopping, because he will start eating food you haven’t paid for if you take too long

bring extra money for that too, just in case he gets caught :(

Belphegor

bringing belphie to walmart isn't a matter of keeping him entertained moreso than keeping him awake

which you will inevitably fail to do

so even if you only need like three things, get him a cart and let him fall into the basket

he’ll try to stay awake (and he’ll give very self-satisfied grins to the people who stare at him ((and especially the ones who say “wow i wanna do that”))) but he can only fight off his sin for so long

stop by the blankets so he can stuff a few soft things in (bc he’s gotta be uncomfortable cramped in the little basket) and he’ll make himself a tiny nest

the good news is you can put anything on top of him and he won’t complain. just don’t drop any gallons of milk on him or anything that’ll wake him up

go to a self check-out so the employees don’t yell at you

after you put your groceries in your car, just dump his ass on the pavement. he’ll forgive you if you bought him the blankets.

[lovethisletters]

Poly MC! hc for the: Demon Brothers!

This is my first time writing anything about poly relationships! So I'm a bit nervous! I took the time to do a bit of research about the subject...however I still have a lot to learn; if you find anything that might be offensive please let me know! Just know I didn't do it with any ill intentions and I'll make sure to correct my mistakes!

Also I didn't knew if you refered to a poly MC who is in a relationship with all of the brothers or how each individual brother would react to MC coming out as poly to them and later starting a poly relationship and how they behave in said relationship...so I did the latter bc I found it to be a bit more easy to write and the first option would have been way too long and I was worried it might come off as boring because of it :c (but maybe I'll try to edit it and then upload it...some day...idk)

so...here it is!

Keys: MC = your main character name

Summary: MC comes out as poly to the Demon Brothers and how they behave in a poly relationship!

Additional notes: MC is gender neutral!

TW: small mentions or implications of jealous/possessive behavior (they're very minimal, but still...just in case)

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Lucifer

Lucifer is probably the one you're the most nervous to talk to.

But when you finally find the courage to do so it goes...to put it mildly, a bit... weird.

He stares blankly at you like you just said to him that water is a liquid or something, he's not very...responsive.

His reaction might come off as rude, considering you spend all this time trying to figure out the "best" way to come out and talk about the possibility of starting a poly relationship.

But the reason why he's not talking much is because he's trying to avoid saying anything he might regret later, you see... he's trying to process his own feelings towards the matter.

Lucifer is someone who has lived for a long, looooooong time, so it's more likely than not that he's already experienced being in a poly relationship.

thing is...such relationship was more experimentation rather than something serious.

And now he has you...someone for who he'll be willing to die for...

He won't say it but deep down he feels like his pride has been bruised.

He just doesn't want to "share" you, you're his and his alone!

But when he looks up at you, and see just how nervous you are, waiting patiently for any kind of reaction from him.

He realizes he's thinking of you as an object and not a person and mentally kicks himself in the face for it.

Lucifer reaches for your hand and offers you a small smile.

After a long conversation where you two express your own desires and worries, you two agree and decide to give it a try.

At first... I'm not gonna lie...it would be quite... difficult...

The man is possessive and struggles to see you giving any kind of affection to any of his brothers.

However I think he genuinely wants this to work, he wants to see you happy and knows that just because you also love his brothers doesn't mean you love him any less.

So he'll sit down and talk to you whenever he feels jealous, he knows communication is key and it honestly makes him feel a bit better.

With time Lucifer comes to accept it; He loves you and he loves his brothers and it makes him happy that they all can share such bond with you.

Mammon

I think he's the one who'll have a harder time adapting to a poly relationship.

I'll even go as far to say Lucifer's jealousy pales in comparison to Mammon's and I think this is due to his low self-esteem.

He won't accept it but he's jealous af when he sees you "getting cozy" with any of his brothers.

He'll even interrupt the moment by placing himself in the middle of whoever you were getting close to or think about some lame excuse to take you away.

This makes things more difficult and tense for everyone, so if Mammon continues his shenanigans expect a LOT more arguing from the brothers...(yes...more than normal...)

You'll have to sit him down and talk to him about his insecurities.

The first times he won't be very open with you, I think he might even get a bit angry if you even imply he's jealous and act all offended and walk out of the room.

Surprisingly the one who makes him understand how toxic he's being and how much this affects you is Asmo!

He'll have a serious talk with him, and just the fact of seeing his often bubbly and cheerful young bro being all serious is enough for Mammon to realize that what he's been doing and how he's been acting hurts you and his brothers.

He'll apologize...the Mammon way...

But ultimately he now makes an effort to respect whenever you're close to one of his brothers.

Just like Lucifer. Mammon will come to accept you love him and his brothers all the same.

He'll sometimes even suggest places you all can go together for a date.

Please, be patient with the avatar of greed with time he will come to accept that love exist in more than one way or form.

Leviathan

Surprisingly, unlike his older brothers, your favorite shut-in-otaku has an easier time adapting to a poly relationship.

Easier, however does not mean problems are inexistent...

He has a low self-esteem and sometimes might get the feeling that you're ""picking favorites""

However he won't tell you anything about it, and he'll just try to pretend like nothing is wrong.

Fortunately for you, Levi is quite easy to read so you immediately notice whenever he's feeling sad.

But all you have to do is have a little gaming session with him, and as the two of you "game" the night away he'll eventually open up to you about whatever is bothering him.

All it takes is a little reassurance and saying "I love you" to the avatar of envy from time to time and he'll be all good with you showing affection to the rest of his brothers.

Satan

Uhhhh...this is a tricky one...

You see...Satan is probably the second brother you came out to and perhaps you didn't even realized that you did because it just happened so natural.

The two of you were talking and it just slipped out of your mouth and he was like "hahaha, right?" And continued the conversation as normal.

He genuinely doesn't care, (don't get me wrong I don't mean that in a bad way) but all he knows is that he loves you and he wants you to be happy, and if expanding the love that the two of you have to his brothers makes you happy, then so be it!

However... remember I said this was tricky?

Satan has no issue with you being affectionate with his brothers...all of them except for Lucifer...

When he sees you getting close to Lucifer he won't say anything, he won't make a scene or a passive-agressive remark, he'll just excuse himself and exit the room. (Neither he will confront you about it later when the two of you are alone)He won't say anything at all; he'll just stay silent and pretend like nothing is wrong.

However you'll be able to notice Satan's true feelings whenever Lucifer has a small present or gesture with you.

Oh? Lucifer gifted you a $300,000 coat? Well, Satan will give you another coat but this one is $600,000.

Lucifer treated you to dinner at ristorante six? Well, darling... guess what? Satan will reserve the entire building just for you!

At some point he will notice how bad this makes you feel, since he's turning a relationship into a competition and that's no good...

He'll eventually take a step back and realize how childish he's being, how his behavior hurts your feelings and might have even made you feel guilty or responsible for his beef with his older brother.

Before you even decide to talk to him about it, he already knows what you're trying to say, so he'll be the one to sit you down and apologize for his wrongdoings.

You're someone who he values dearly and all that he wants is for you to be happy, so he'll be willing to make the effort to get along or at least be a little more tolerant of Lucifer.

There might be times where they still fight and stop talking to each other for long periods of time, but the two of them will take the time to let you know that this has nothing to do with you and that there's no reason for you tu feel guilty.

Because if there's something in wich both, the avatar of pride and wrath agree in... Is in how much they love you.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus (definitely) was the first one to know about you being polyamorous.

He probably knew before you even said anything, let's be honest here...

He's probably the one who you're more comfortable talking about it.

The brothers accept you, yes...but Asmo understands you!

He knows that the world can be quite cruel to people who love differently to what our society stablish as "normal".

Whenever he expressed his liking for more than one person he was shamed or labeled as someone promiscuous who'll never be deserving of "true" love.

It happened in the celestial realm, in the human realm, and even sometimes here in the devildom.

Angels where expected to only focus in the lord and nothing else, some humans are close minded and shame whoever is different from them, and demon's often confuse love with obsession and get easily tangled up in possessive behavior, often viewing their partners as objects rather than individuals with their own goals and desires. (his brothers are the perfect example of that)

So he just knows how difficult it might have been for you to find acceptance.

So he gives it to you; acceptance, reassurance, however many times you need to.

He'll be the one to encourage you to talk with his brothers, he'll be there to support you if you ever feel nervous, and he'll be the one to call his brothers out on their bs whenever they start to show any signs of toxic behavior.

He knows in all relationships communication and trust in your partners is key to a successful relationship, so he reminds this to everyone and even goes as far as to make plans where everyone feels included.

Overall the avatar of lust is the voice of reason in this relationship, because he knows better than anyone else that love is something that can't and should never be limited by what others believe or expect "true love" should look like.

Beelzebub

You weren't sure how Beel would react once you told him.

But still you were pleasantly surprised by Beel's reaction!

He was so accepting from the beginning and even thanked you for trusting him enough to share this with him.

He's happy that you want him to form part of this relationship.

He knows his brothers love you as much as he does and that you love them back, so he sees this as the perfect option for everyone.

He even thinks this relationship has brought everyone closer together.

Over all the avatar of gluttony is more than happy to be with you and share your affection with people he holds equally as dearly.

Belphegor

Belphie, much like Lucifer struggles to understand why would you want such a thing?

Is his love not enough for you?

It takes little more time for him to understand you, and learn that love doesn't just limits to one person.

He can be a bit insensitive some times, so he might accidentally say something hurtful to you about it.

And that's when Asmo has to intervene...

He'll have a talk with his younger brother and make him realize that there's more than one form of love and how his words might have hurt you.

He'll apologize...(much like Mammon) in his own way...

After thinking about it for a while, he realizes he's happy whenever you show affection to Beel, and wonders if it would be the same with the rest of his brothers.

Slowly but surely, Belphie it's more open to this new relationship.

There'll be times where he might try to monopolize your love, but he'll stop once you, Beel or Asmo call him out on it.

His favorite thing of this new relationship is whenever you spend time with him and Beel.

Please be patient with the avatar of sloth.

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If you find any grammatical errors let me know! I'm trying to improve my english and that would help me so so much!

I will forever thank you if you go check out my other profile: @aileysmirnov  where I post things about my OC: edits, one-shots, imagines, art, etc. If you like Greek mythology and the bat family maybe you would get to be as fond of her as much as I am!

Anyway, thank you for reading!

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE ❜

✨ REQUEST: hermanikiiiiiii i wanted to request you the prompt number 1 with coco cruz!!thank you, love you muchisisimoooooo💕💕

✨ PROMPTS: “Wait, you love me? Like Garfield loves Lasagna?”

✨ MADE BY: Juls.

Gif credit: to my lovely @supervalcsi.

WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ JOHNNY ‘COCO’ CRUZ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

When you heard that Coco had been shot, your heart suddenly stopped. It was four days ago in some kind of dog's fight, as Chuckie told you at the scrapyard. Bishop needed someone to take care of him while they were investigating what happened, so you offered yourself without doubting it.

Much to your regret, you are only two good friends, even if you feel more things that you can't explain, about which you haven't talked with anyone. And thanks to your work in the hospital, you managed a room only for him, so he could rest as much as he wanted, as much as he needed. But your back hurts like hell after being sleeping on the sofa, close to the bed, just to make sure that you were able to attend to all his necessities for minimal they were.

These days there, you have learned a lot about him, about his curiosities, about his fears; spending his time awake talking with you to keep his mind entertained, to not think about the pain in his lower abdomen. Your mates took the bullet in a jiffy, but, normally, the sorrow remains for a couple of weeks. Luckily, he only complained when the hour of the next turn of medicines was close.

You have tried to not think about your feelings the time you were in the hospital, but it was impossible. All you wanted to do was to lie by his side on the bed, embrace him between your arms and kiss him, having to conform yourself with holding his hand and resting your cheek on the mattress. Your eyes have never left his eyes, not even when he was sleeping, on alert in case of an unforeseen because of pain, or an infection, or God who knows. You were really paranoid.

“You ready?”

Coco glared at you, slightly tilting his head. You had asked the same question five times in the last two minutes. Offering him a hand to secure himself, the mexican put down from the hospital bed, ready to leave and go home. Angel and Gilly had cleaned his house, even if you insisted to Bishop that you could do it. But he asked you back to stay with him till the next morning, so he wouldn't stay the night alone until they came back from the other side of the border.

Two knocks in the opened door brought you back to reality from your own thoughts, in the meantime that you helped Coco to wear his leather kutte. Directing your tired eyes to the entrance of the room, you found three Vicki's girls, happily waving their hands. Raising an eyebrow confused and your lips pressed, they came in without asking.

“Papi, we've missed you”. The latin and playful tone of voice from Mariela, as she swung her hips to your friend, gave you shivers.

In just one sight, your presence was pushed to the background. These girls hadn't even called to ask about his state of health and, now, they were there as if they did all the work you did —delighted, of course. Trying to keep calm, you put Coco's clothes into his bag, zipping it when everything is ready.

“No te preocupes, we take care of him now”. Carolina sentenced with contempt and superiority, grabbing his stuff ready to abandon the hospital.

“Yeah, mami. Go home and rest”. His words hurt. More than a bullet.

Preferring their company besides yours let you know that he hadn't taken in count what you did. And yes, you did it because you wanted, but you also thought that maybe could mean a step ahead. But it wasn't. Not saying a word, doing anything but a simple nod with your chin, you grabbed your bag to step out from there. Ashamed. Feeling stupid.

Two weeks have passed and Coco has come back to the clubhouse. This time you have been doing extra shifts to compensate for your lost days taking care of him, almost walking like a zombie from home to work, and from work to home. So, when Bishop invites you to a party in his honor, you decline it. You are too tired physically to assist and tired mentally for foolishness. What is the point of going to a party to see Coco having fun with those bitches? You have had enough after two weeks without receiving a single text to thank you or to know how you are. He hasn't even cared about the fact that you haven't shown up in the club for two weeks. That's the little he thinks in your friendship.

Zapping from one channel to another, you try to find something to watch. A movie, a tv show, whatever that helps to distract your mind, while you enjoy thai noodles with beef. Finally finding an action movie, you cover yourself with a cozy blanket, grabbing the cardboard box to start your dinner. The ringtone of your phone interrupts your calm, with Coco's name on the screen. At first, you don't want to answer, but he continues insisting for more than three long minutes. Hanging up and calling again. With a furious growl installed in your throat, you leave over the table your dinner to grab your phone.

“The fuck means you aren' comen'?”

He doesn't even let you say hi or how are you.

“It means that I'm tired and I have to work at five”.

“I don' think one damn beer reverses your sleeping schedule, Yo' Grace”.

“Fuck you, Jonathan. I've been working double shifts to cover the hours I was taking care of you in th—”.

“Nobody asked you to do it”.

Eyes widened and your heart racing. You can't believe he just said that.

“Yeah, nobody did. But your hermanos preferred to be on the other side of the border. Your putas preferred to be partying and sucking dicks in Vicki's. And your mamá sent me pal' carajo when I called to tell her what happened. I did it because I was your friend. Because I cared about you. Because seeing you there with… all those tubes was killing me. That shit continues giving me nightmares every fucking night. But you shit on that. You kicked me as soon as your putas came to the hospital”. You don't know when you have started to cry, more than because of the rage than because of the sadness. “I'm sorry if I'm too tired to drink a fucking beer, but my job is more important than a person who doesn't give a shit about me, who hasn't called or text me in two weeks, who only wants my company when no one else is around. Have fun in your damn party and fuck all those whores to thank them for picking you up from the hospital, but didn't care about how you were after being shot”.

Hanging up, you toss the phone somewhere on the table, wrapping your body with the blanket and lying down on the sofa. Trying to contain the tears, the only thing you earn is to cry bitterness. You can't understand why he only has noticed your absence at the party. What has changed? Probably it was his egocentrism working, wanting to be surrounded by a lot of people, not caring if they're his friends or not. But you're done being his lapdog.

About to fall asleep, the angry hits in the main door make you suddenly wake up agitated.

“Open up!”

The rage is consuming you again after hearing the strong mexican accent, taking three long strides towards it to receive him with your reddened crystal eyes.

“What the fuck 'you want now? Haven't you had enough beating myself up?”

“You're fuckin' dramatic”. He spits in your face, stopping with a foot the slam to his about to close the door again. “I didn't talk to you because you were working, bu' you didn't talk to me either”.

“Yeah, because you were served with your bitches. Go fuck yourself, Jonathan”.

“Don' call me like that again”. Coco grunts taking a step into your house. “You had to work, they came to cover your back”.

“Oh, please, don't make me laugh. They just wanted to have the credits of taking care of you, so you will expend more money with them. That's the only thing they care about you. Wake up from your world of fantasy, Coco. If you weren't part of the MC, you wouldn't be a shit for them; just another fucking soldier with a broken home”. You can't help but push his chest with both hands, driven by anger.

At first, he doesn't say anything. He looks thoughtful, being aware of the truth in your words. And it hurts that you have to be the one to open his eyes. The problem is that you weren't thinking while talking, pulling your gaze away from him and pressing your trembling lips, one against the other.

“I'm sorry”. You babble, cleaning your tears with the back of your left hand. “I didn't mea—”.

“But you said so”. Coco interrupts you with a husky tone of voice, bristling every inch of skin of your anatomy. “That's wha' I am without my kutte. An ex-soldier, a criminal, an outlaw. I spend my money on them because they take care of me, one way or another”.

“I did it too”.

“So, what? What you want? Money? Tell me an amount”.

Squinting at him, you can't help but chuckle with a painful and bitter laugh.

“I did it because I love you, not because I want your money”. You confess, knowing there's no going back. “I don't care about your money, nor your job, nor about your kutte. I love you because you make me happy. After all, for me, there's nothing better than a hug of yours, because you… you are simply amazing. You're intelligent, funny, loyal. And I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes, Coco”.

He, not saying anything, is killing you slowly. Barely breathing, you cross your arms over your chest to hide the fact that your lungs aren't receiving any air.

“I thought that after being shot, you realized you only live once. And that… after being those… boring days with me, you realized that you preferred the company of these other girls. The funny part of being alive. So I just pulled myself away”. Taking a small pause, you bow down your head, cleaning your tears again. “These weeks have been torture. I've written you a lot of texts that I haven't sent… and I've been a lot of times about to call you. But 'you know that… feeling when you think... the other person is not gonna answer you, because maybe is too busy for you? That shit has been destroying me”.

Hoping that Coco finally is going to speak, he remains silent. Looking at you openmouthed, processing all the information you have just give him.

“Can you, ple—please, say something?” You beg almost shaking.

“Wait, you… love me? Like… Garfield loves lasagna?”

Raising your eyes, pouting at him, you know that he's trying to make you laugh after understanding all the pain you have been through. Lonely. Without talking about it with anyone.

“I'm sorry, mami… I just… fuck”.

Cupping your cheeks onto his hands, Coco slams his lips on yours, tasting the salty tears you have shed because of him. The sloppy kisses bring some more air to your lungs, calming your racing pulse and making you feel less unhappy. As your fingers get intertwined in his shirt, crinkling under your grip, he urges you to walk backward so he can close the main door with a kick.

“God knows I'm so fuckin' sorry… Please, forgive me”. Coco's whispers brush your lips, keeping his eyes closed just like yours. “I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?”.

Nodding in silence, you place your arms around his middle back, hiding your face into his chest. His strong scent brings you back to life, while his arms wrap you tightly to comfort all the pain he has provoked you without knowing it.

“I just want you, ma'. No one else. Just you”.

[cryingcow]

Katsuya & Watase - Osaka Talent Disaster [RGGO]

Last January’s 2-part scratch card mini-event featured Katsuya and Watase. Originally I saved the event because I loved Watase and his meme-y pose here (plus a lot of people in the FB group rave about him), but after the experience that is seeing Katsuya’s unnecessarily bare ass on the tv screen last week, I have to say that Katsuya has won me over XD

Warning for slight Y5 spoilers (mostly Akiyama’s chapter)!

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PROLOGUE

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|Before news of the 7th Omi Alliance Chairman’s grave illness reached the ears of every yakuza organization all over Japan . . . when the Tojo Clan and Omi Alliance exchanged equal cups and peace in the eastern part of the yakuza society in Japan was still maintained----|

Osaka Talent Employee: “Chairman, the information you want to urgently hear . . .”

Katsuya: “I told you to call me ‘President’ while working here, didn’t I?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “I apologize, President . . .”

Katsuya: “Good . . . what is this urgent information?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Yes, well actually, last night someone stole a large number of scratch card tickets prepared for the event the day after tomorrow.”

Katsuya: “Scratch card tickets? The ones we were planning to distribute on the event the day after tomorrow?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Yes, it is said that all 1000 scratch card tickets we prepared has been stolen.”

Katsuya: “Where and when on earth did they steal such things . . . ?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “It is currently under investigation. What should we do, President?”

Katsuya: “There is no choice but to take measures against such an occurrence . . . Rescheduling the event to minimize damage . . . The inclusion of scratch cards on KALEN’s 1st anniversary album has already been advertised on commercials . . . Be prepared to notify the record company and other related parties that the scratch cards are no longer sealed. Tell the Promotion Department about preparing a contact point for this matter. It is also necessary to prepare an apology announcement to be posted on the official website . . . For the customers who have made multiple reservations for scratch cards, get ready to process refunds right away . . . If necessary, we’ll film an apology comment from me. Contact the studio and the staff . . . If despite all the investigations today the scratch cards don’t show up, be prepared to do everything I said tomorrow.”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Then, will we still distribute scratch cards the day after tomorrow?”

Katsuya: “At this point, preparing new scratch cards is out of the question. There is no choice but to prepare to face cancellation . . .”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Understood. The various preparation will be made . . .”

Katsuya: “Oh, and contact Kanai . . . I want him to search for the criminal thoroughly and settle things to make sure this never happens again . . . Leave a mark on the criminal to show where we draw the line on these kinds of incidents . . .”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Y-Yes! Understood!!”

----

Watase: “What did you say?! They’ve really made a move?!”

Watase Family Executive: “Ye-Yeah . . . the members who saw them also confirmed the crest. It’s definitely the ones from Sakai Family who are wandering around Sotenbori.”

Watase: “Sakai Family, the veteran yakuza organization in Kobe that has been refusing to fall under our umbrella for a long time . . . What the hell are they doing in Sotenbori?”

Watase Family Executive: “According to the footsoldiers I ordered to follow the footsteps of the Sakai Family, it seems they are screaming about Osaka Talent . . .”

Watase: “Osaka Talent? Why are they bothering Ka-chan’s front business . . . ?”

Watase Family Executive: “I don’t know . . . but there seems to be no doubt about it.”

Watase: “What is Sakai Family, who has been silent for a decade, planning . . . I have no idea at all, but I’ll have to inform Ka-chan about this. I’m going to go talk with Ka-chan over this. Keep tracking their movements. Yeah?”

Watase Family Executive: “Yes! Understood!!”

----

Osaka Talent Employee: “President, Watase-sama said he has an important matter to discuss with you. Should I let him through?”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki? Alright, let him in.”

Watase: “Oh, Ka-chan. Sorry to barge in all of a sudden . . . is now a good time?”

Katsuya: “Yeah, of course I don’t mind . . . Did something happen for Aniki to come here directly?”

Watase: “No, it’s just that a very rare guest has arrived in Sotenbori. But I can’t read the guest’s thoughts . . . So I’m thinking of listening to Ka-chan’s opinion . . .”

Katsuya: “A rare guest?”

Watase: “It seems that the people of Sakai Family have been spotted in Sotenbori . . .”

Katsuya: “Sakai Family? The hostile Kobe-based veteran organization?”

Watase: “Right. Sakai Family has been quiet for a long time. They’re searching for Ka-chan’s Osaka Talent for some reason.”

Katsuya: “. . . Is that true?”

Watase: “Yeah, no doubt. My underlings confirmed that they are yelling around about Osaka Talent.”

Katsuya: “Sakai Family is after us . . . Then is it Sakai Family who stole that . . . ?”

Watase: “What, Ka-chan. Did they steal anything?”

Katsuya: “Actually, a lot of scratch card tickets we were planning to use at an event got stolen last night . . . We were just looking for the criminal . . . but now I wonder if they were looking for us.”

Watase: “Well, sure, Sakai Family is suspicious in terms of timing. But why scratch cards?”

Katsuya: “I can’t think of any reason why Sakai Family would steal it. Those scratch cards are my idol’s, for exchanging with prizes at the event . . . It’s not something that a veteran yakuza organization would need . . .”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Excuse me for coming in!! An urgent report for the President . . .”

Katsuya: “I’m in the middle of talking with an important guest----"

Watase: “It’s fine, Ka-chan. He said it was an important report.”

Katsuya: “Apologies, Watase-no-aniki . . . I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Katsuya: “What is the urgent report?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “I received a report that included information on the thief . . . Just before the scratch cards were stolen, there were sightings of Kobe’s yakuza organization Sakai Family near the scene . . .”

Katsuya: “. . . Sakai Family? There’s no mistake?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Yes . . . Mikawa, the young head of the Sakai Family, was the one witnessed. I’m sure he’s a very well-known person . . .”

Watase: “Haw . . . in that case, there’s no doubt the scratch card thief is Mikawa of the Sakai Family or his subordinates?”

Katsuya: “There isn’t enough evidence to conclude that . . . but we can’t say they have nothing to do with it. We’ll need to hear more from that person named Mikawa . . .”

Katsuya: “Contact Kanai. Tell him to look for the Sakai Family that has slipped into Sotenbori.”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Y-Yes! Understood.”

Katsuya: “If the offender is an officer, I will move too. Call your aides and tell them to bring in the car.”

Osaka Talent Employee: “U-Understood! Right away!!”

{The employee runs out.}

Katsuya: “This is quite the incident, Aniki. I’ll deal with this immediately----”

Watase: “Ka-chan, I’ll collaborate this time too!”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki? But . . . there is no reason for Aniki to deal with problems with my front business----"

Watase: “We don’t know what their aim is. This incident might be trouble . . . Yeah, Ka-chan! It ain’t hard!! For the time being, why don’t we look for Mikawa of Sakai Family and catch him?!”

Katsuya: “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation, Watase-no-aniki.”

.

-END-

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EPILOGUE

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Mikawa: “Why is the Osaka Enterprises President and Watase Family Chairman showing up together and chasing me?! This is ridiculous?!”

Watase: “You think the Sakai Family can just have their way in Sotenbori without the Omi Alliance noticing? Making off with another family’s possession on our own turf, that’s the height of stupidity . . .”

Katsuya: “Besides, the scratch cards you stole are my property. I can’t let you go after you did that.”

Mikawa: “O-Osaka Talent is Osaka Enterprises’ front company?!”

Watase: “You knew that, and you stole from Osaka Talent?”

Mikawa: “I didn’t know!! If I knew, I wouldn’t do something like this!! Who-Who would think that the yakuza would advance into the entertainment industry?!”

Katsuya: “. . . So what was your purpose in stealing the scratch cards?”

Mikawa: “Th-That’s . . .”

Watase: “You don’t have a problem with confessing . . . right?”

{Watase grabs Mikawa’s arm and twists it behind his back.}

Mikawa: “I-I understand!! I’ll talk, so please forgive me!!”

{Watase lets go and steps back.}

Watase: “Yeah keep that in mind. Now from the beginning.”

Mikawa: “My boss got hooked on this idol KALEN . . . He really wanted an autographed body pillow, which is the special limited-edition prize for the 1st anniversary event . . .”

Watase: “No way, you stole all the scratch cards because you wanted to win the lottery?!”

Mikawa: “Yes! It can’t be helped!! There’s only one of the limited-edition prize. The only way to get the winning ticket is to steal all the scratch card tickets and search for it!!”

Watase: “Hahaha! Ka-chan and this idol are very popular!”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki, don’t hit me on my back . . .”

Katsuya: “However, to steal the scratch cards for that . . . Didn’t it occur to you that the idol would be in trouble?”

Mikawa: “As underlings, our job is to get what our boss wants and give it to him. I don’t know what happens to the idols.”

Katsuya: “If Boss Sakai is really a fan of our KALEN, I’m sure he would be sad to hear what you did.”

Mikawa: “What did you say?! I did this for Boss----”

Katsuya: “If all the scratch cards do not return in their original form, we have no choice but to cancel the 1st anniversary event. If that happens, wouldn’t Boss Sakai be upset?”

Mikawa: “Th-That is . . .”

Katsuya: “This incident that you caused for the sake of your boss invites such consequences . . . Thank you for supporting KALEN. However, due compensation for this shall properly follow.  . . . Please inform Boss Sakai.”

Mikawa: “You-You’ll let me go?!”

Katsuya: “Yeah, but you must convey these words to Boss Sakai.”

Mikawa: “Th-Thank you . . . I’ll definitely tell my boss. Well then, please excuse me . . .”

{Mikawa runs off.}

Watase: “Was it okay to let him escape, Ka-chan?”

Katsuya: “I just got in touch with my subordinates . . . It seems all the stolen scratch cards can be recovered. I was considering cancelling the event the day after tomorrow, but it seems it can be held safely. There’s no problem . . . I didn’t miss anything. You heard what I said to him, didn’t you? ‘Due compensation for this shall properly follow’ . . .”

Watase: “. . . Ka-chan’s nasty expression, I feel like this is the first time I’ve seen that in a while. For underestimating the Omi Alliance, I figured the Watase Family can properly rake the Sakai Family over the coals. Seeing Ka-chan’s face, I changed my mind. Can I leave the disposal of Sakai Family to Ka-chan?”

Katsuya: “Yes, I intended to do that from the beginning.”

Watase: “Isn’t this unusual for Ka-chan, who hates fighting, to do?”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki, I am also a yakuza. Lately, I’ve been devoted to doing honest work, but I can’t just allow myself to be underestimated and keep silent, can I?”

Watase: “Then I’ll leave this to Osaka Enterprises! Go wild with all your might, Ka-chan!!”

Katsuya: “Please leave it to me. I’ll clean it up in one night . . .”

----

|That night, Katsuya attacked the Sakai Family office with the full force of Osaka Enterprises. After the attack by Osaka Enterprises, Sakai Family was demolished overnight.|

.

-END-

 Masterlist

[theunderdogwrites]

In Defense of Marilyn Manson

Just kidding.

This is another one of those ‘if you live under a rock, you might not know what is going on’ pieces. But because this story appears to be unfolding daily, I’d think you’ve heard a murmur here or there even if you haven’t really paid too much attention to it because for many, I think this may fall into the “that guy has been a messed-up weirdo for years so I’m not surprised” category.

Please note that in NO WAY I am making fun of this situation, but I learned a long time ago that I require a certain amount of humor to be able to digest much of what this world presents to me.

As always, let me give you the Coles Notes version with the hopes you will go and do your own reading as well.

On February 1 actress Evan Rachel Wood posted this on her Instagram:

"The name of my abuser is Brian Warner, also known to the world as Marilyn Manson. He started grooming me when I was a teenager and horrifically abused me for years. I was brainwashed and manipulated into submission. I am done living in fear of retaliation, slander or blackmail. I am here to expose this dangerous man and call out the many industries that have enabled him, before he ruins any more lives. I stand with the many victims who will no longer be silent."

Quick history lesson – They started dating in 2007 when she was 18 and he was 34 and were engaged for a brief time in 2010.

This was Manson’s response to what she wrote:

"Obviously, my art and my life have long been magnets for controversy, but these recent claims about me are horrible distortions of reality. My intimate relationships have always been entirely consensual with like-minded partners. Regardless of how - and why - others are now choosing to misrepresent the past, that is the truth."

Since the original statement on February 1 a number of women have come forward with stories of their own ranging from physical and emotional abuse to human trafficking. And everyday something new is revealed. Evan Rachel Woods is feverishly posting on her Insta-Story and is slowly burying Manson in an ocean of consequences. She isn’t “fired up” or “a woman scorned”, she is a victim rising above the shame she has felt and the fear of what others will say about her to tell her story and encourage others to do the same. She is the voice that started the ball rolling. The ball that is about to crush Marilyn Manson.

Whenever I write stuff that is currently being heavily featured in the media, I always dive into articles so I can get as much information as possible. But more importantly, I plunge my sensitive little soul into the murky depths known as “the comments section”. I do this because unlike those polished, finished pieces the comments section will give you a better idea of what your fellow human beings think and feel about the topic at hand. And it is never polished or even polite. And often not for the faint at heart. In case you didn’t already know – people can be quite terrible.

The comments section is the modern-day gladiator pit. Only most (not all) of the participants are not ripped, athletic warriors but rather drooling basement dwellers with one hand down their pants (not gender specific by the way) and the other hand maltreating the letters on their keyboard.

Side note: Look, I am not the grammar police as I often just push past all the warnings from the Gestapo editing program in Microsoft Word. BUT I know the value of proper spelling, well placed punctuation and valid attempts to appear smarter than a domesticated turkey by making sure sentences are well-thought out and complete. Raising your argument doesn’t mean USING ALL CAPS AND ABUSING THESE THINGS -> !!!

I just deleted three paragraphs going over the recent “reckoning” that has taken place in the past few years with regards to sexual and physical abuse accusations against (mostly) men in positions of some kind of power. I eliminated all that writing because I started to tumble off topic. I’m not writing about all the dicks now getting their comeuppance, but rather the reactions to it being Marilyn Manson’s turn in the chamber.

Victim shaming is sadly a real thing.

The easiest way I can explain this to you – if a person gets pickpocketed and then blamed because they should’ve known better than to carry their wallet in their back pocket.

Evan Rachel Woods and others have come out to accuse Manson of some pretty appalling acts of abuse and what I’ve found to be the biggest reaction is, “How did they not know he was a bad guy? His music is so graphic and they thought it was all an act? Why did they stay so long?”. As innocent as those questions might seem, and I say that because our brains don’t always serve us or others well, it is a form of discrediting those women. Let’s be honest here… it’s hard to look at Marilyn Manson and his art form and not say, “What the fuck, this guy has bad idea written all over him!”. I feel that is a perfectly reasonable response, but that is where it should end. I think it is fair to pause and attempt to understand the choices of others, but it’s heartless to minimize their experience by placing blame on them for a situation we couldn’t possibly understand if it has never happened to us.

And like I’ve quoted before: People only understand from their level of perception. But that doesn’t stop them from laying on the judgement and damaging already fragile individuals with their inability to show compassion for a fellow human being. Reading through comment sections isn’t just maddening, it’s disappointing and sad but also a real look into how awful many people feel about themselves… to the point where they seem to derive some pleasure or satisfaction from condemning a rape victim for wearing a short skirt and getting drunk.

So… we have to touch on this to be balanced: innocent until proven guilty. Only these days it’s an automatic trial by media with the public acting as judge, jury and executioner. This is where “cancel culture” steps in and within days can destroy an entire career / life. I am not a fan of cancel culture. It does not give people a chance to learn from their mistakes or make amends as it immediately harms their very existence. Often times even before any proof has surfaced. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous this is… the fact that just an accusation could ruin your life.

Let me make this clear: if someone comes forward and claims they’ve been sexually assaulted/abused, they need to be taken seriously and not dismissed based upon the circumstances, their gender identity, the color of their skin, their economic position or profession or the person they’re accusing. In turn, the individual being accused should be given time to address the claims before the public begins demolishing their life.

A reoccurring comment in almost all these cases where someone comes forward and alleges abuse YEARS after it happened, is – “Why did they wait so long to come forward?”.

Is this a fair question? Sure. And I feel it is asked because our brain needs to find a way to understand the information we are being given. Because while we’d all like to think that if in the same situation we’d be unfuckable with and anyone who dared to bring damage to our doorstep would immediately suffer the consequences, we actually cannot predict our reaction. There are too many unknown variables to be able to confidently say we’d instantly speak up and seek retribution.

The fear of not being believed. The fear of being blamed. The fear of rejection. The fear of retaliation from the person being accused. The fear of being forever defined by your experience. The fear.

It does not matter the why, what matters is the chance they’ve taken by speaking up at all. Those who come forward should be embraced, not ridiculed. Not abandoned. Not criticized.

“Don’t ask why victims wait so long to speak up. Ask what systems were in place to keep them quiet”. Anonymous

I own a few Marilyn Manson CD’s. And I’ve even attended one of his concerts. Would I say I am a fan? Probably a number of years ago I was but truthfully, I’ve not paid attention to any of his music in recent years because I feel it devolved while my taste evolved. That’s not a slam against him or anyone who fancies his work, it’s more a statement on how I’ve matured and now seek out music that feels authentic to me.

The one concert I attended was opened by Courtney Love. I know, what a duo to pay money to see. Near the end of Manson’s set he made a disparaging remark about Love and trashed her music. At the time he was wearing some pretty hefty platform shoes so it made it all the more hilarious when from out of nowhere she charged like a rhino and tackled him to the stage; throwing punches at his head all the way down. When he finally was able to get up, he announced the show was over. There would be no encore and then him and his bandmates trashed the stage in a temper tantrum worthy of a toddler Napoleon. Still makes me laugh to this day.

Shoutout to Evan Rachel Wood and her most recent movie ‘Kajillionaire’. Watched it on demand about a month ago and it’s a brilliant comedy that will also pull at your heart. I highly recommend you give it a chance.

Check out the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiMPCevu8Wk

[rpbetter]

Traditional Writing Advice & RP

I see a lot of people reblogging writing advice posts, and while it pleases me to see people trying to appreciate RP as writing, those pieces of advice don’t always translate from traditional writing to RP writing.

Following the advice for writing a traditional book manuscript you want to have published, you are going to run into some issues if you follow every point of it faithfully in an RP setting.

For one thing, this isn’t just your story, you’re telling it with another writer. In RP, our reading audience and our writing partners are the same. We have to create well-written, engaging stories that are also meant to be picked up by someone else and furthered. For another, even among the most writing proficient RPers, this is a more relaxed style of writing for a reason; we’re writing neither a paper to be graded nor a work to be published, we’re expressing creativity with other people. It can fall flat quickly, to your writing partners and to yourself, if you are writing in an extremely formal manner in RP.

Writing is one of the creative pursuits that has lent itself heavily to what I’m going to politely call snobbery, and that is part of the problem here. The RPC is rather filled with muns who are self-concious, devalue themselves and their work, and can be desperate for the approval of being A Real Writer. If you love writing and you do write, you’re a writer. No, that definitely doesn’t make you a good writer, but following rules not meant for you isn’t going to make you one either.

There is a wrong way to write, actually, there are hundreds of wrong ways to write that make me want to rip my own face off on the regular. The thing is, there is no one-size-fits-all correct way to write any more than there is such a standard in visual art. There are principles that one should know and follow, but your style might be neoclassical or modern or impressionist. Saying that, in my personal opinion, things falling under the heading of modern-style art is horrid, thus inherently wrong and not art, I’d be imposing my personal aesthetics instead of encouraging people to follow appropriate principles, run with their passion and skill, and make art that moves people who are not me. That’s important, in general, but it’s even more important when we’re talking about creative art as a hobby-as a legitimate passion project one isn’t obliged to devote themselves to.

That’s the way we need to be looking at writing as well. Not as an academic and absolute Right Way, but as an art form that has principles, and indeed, literal form. By insisting otherwise, we’ve damaged writing as a hobby and a profession, and it really shows in the RPC where you have a rather stark division of muns who, on the one side, are so ate up with bizarre concepts their professor threw out about never using “said,” forcing the ideology of their personal academic experience on others, and using traditional writing advice as Word of God to shame others and elevate themselves. On the other side, you have a ton of muns who just won’t even bother anymore, and why should they? They’re genuinely not up to par, but working on it means both a process of shaming and killing their own creative experience.

In saying all this, I want to be really clear here: I am in no way saying that shitty writing, an inability to follow basic grammatical principles, being unwilling to use the damn spellcheck that is standard everywhere, and having no concept of things like storytelling, characterization, and word flow is excusable or ideal. 

It isn’t. It’s a terribly destructive force in the RPC, and I’m not in the camp of excusing disinterest in learning, improving, and perfecting one’s hobby because it is an unpaid hobby. In my opinion, it’s part of the blight of the current RPC. However, the snobbery and inability to recognize that there is nuance to learning and writing situations has done nothing but worsen this issue.

So, that being said, some items that are 100% good to use traditionally and in RP include:

Grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

We’re not all native English speakers, and grammar is difficult anyway. It can also turn a story bland with expedience when too properly adhered to. Know the basic principles, but also, be asking yourself about both popular works of fiction and your own favorite works. Chances are, they do not strictly adhere to the rules. Experienced, naturally gifted, and learned writers all manipulate those rules to work for their stories, characters, world-building, and so on. It becomes a personalized writing style, and it’s alright if it takes you some practice to find yours.

Just remember, grammar exists for a reason. Removing or mutating too much will leave you with a difficult to read and understand mess that isn’t a style, just a fucking mess.

If you struggle with grammar, the best way to help yourself is to practice. Additionally, seeing what errors you are making can be quite helpful; Grammarly offers a free add on for both Google Chrome and FireFox that will show you spelling and grammar mistakes. It also explains the mistake, while offering you a suggested fix. This way, you can see the mistakes you’re making in action. {Presumably, there are other such resources, but since I have no experience with them, I’m not the one to recommend them.}

As I said above, spellcheckers are standard now, in fucking 2021. This has been standard on devices and browsers for so long that I highly doubt most people on tumblr even remember a time when you had to use additional software to have them.

You make a mistake or misspell, and if it isn’t corrected for you, it’s underlined very obviously for you to tap/click/float over to correct. If the word is so terribly misspelled that no suggestion comes up {not all spellcheckers are created equality; some do not recognize slang or relaxed spellings, archaic word use, myriad, particularly specialized jargon-legal, medical, technical-and so on}, we also live in a time period where we can highlight the word, right-click that bitch, and select from the menu the option to search for the word. If the word was so weirdly misspelled that your checker couldn’t figure it out, it is incredibly rare that Google doesn’t throw out the correct spelling when you search it. If the spelling was correct, but the word-use is slang, jargon, or archaic, Google is also going to tell you that-you’ve confirmed it is correct, and can now decide if you want to use it or pick a possible synonym for it instead.

There is no fucking excuse for egregiously misspelled words anymore. None. I mean...listen, I spell quite terribly myself, but no one reading my RP replies is ever going to know that fact. Having difficulty with spelling is not, and has not been for a very long time now, an impediment to writing.

Furthermore, we all miss a typo here and there, especially if we write lengthy novella. Those aren’t always going to be caught by spellcheck, and we might edit the reply five times without seeing it. That happens, it’s alright when it’s minimal! Anything other than that, though, it’s just a combination of rushing and laziness. You really couldn’t be assed to take your time with that reply, read it over at least once before posting, and/or to click the underlined word.

There. Is. No. Excuse.

Again, not all spellcheckers are the same. If you feel like yours is lacking, try an extension for your browser. Since I said it above, I obviously have Grammarly on my mine. My replies effectively go through three different checkers, actually. I write all drafts outside of my browser where it is initially checked by Pages, then, when I paste it into tumblr, it’s being checked natively and by Grammarly. It wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to be positive I was never losing a draft or cooking my ancient laptop with Google Docs. However, it’s been nice as hell to get the perspective of multiple checkers, and as such, I definitely recommend it. It isn’t like I’m putting any extra effort into this, and I’m not paying for Grammarly, either.

When you refuse to behoove yourselves of the spellchecker natively available to you, at least, you’re seriously telling your writing partners that they were not important enough for you to click a fucking word. It’s inexcusable.

Punctuation being nonexistent isn’t a writing style or aesthetic, neither is a refusal to capitalize anything. If never using a comma is part of your Aesthetic™, please, rethink your fucking life and the hobby you’ve chosen.

Punctuation is a part of grammar, and I understand that there can be complexities present that might be confusing. That is one of the reasons why you should bother to know the basics as regards when and how to use punctuation. It’s also another way in which telling people that they should adhere to advice meant for traditional and academic writing can be a shit idea. Especially in an RPC known to misunderstand shit and go overboard.

When you tell the RPC that writers use too many commas, the RPC stops using them all around. Especially, when you also attach this to the idea of evil “wordiness.” That’s something that the RPC is desperate to avoid anyway, as the majority of people here are allergic to reading and writing; anything you advise that lessens the word count for them is going to be grabbed and erroneously applied. Someone implies that wordiness and commas equals run-on sentences, and the RPC gets not only believes it, it gets this message, “if I take out the commas, it isn’t a run-on sentence.”

You have all fundamentally misunderstood what a god damned run-on sentence is. It’s not a long sentence, it isn’t a proliferation of commas. A run-on sentence is when two, or more, sentences that should be individual are conjoined without proper punctuation {a fucking comma, for example} or a coordinating conjunction.

Run-ons can be surprisingly short, in fact. As in the example I lifted from here, “I love to write papers I would write one every day if I had the time.“

That should be written with a comma, separated into two sentences, or broken with a comma and the conjunction “and.” It’s also what I see incessantly on my dash from this bizarre idea that we shouldn’t be using commas. That a run-on sentence is a very long one separated only by commas. That is literally not what a run-on sentence is.

You absolutely can use too many commas {if you want to read some examples of how to use commas, go here}, but I rarely see anyone doing so to such an extreme. The extreme being that a sentence becomes a nonsensical string of conjoined thoughts, ideas, and descriptions that could have been written better broken up into fully formed sentences. I sometimes see muns who go a little nuts with commas by putting them in wildly incorrect places in this way.

What I see constantly is either muns berating themselves for perfectly normal, readable sentence structure or muns reactively using no punctuation at all.

It is all legitimate run-on sentences or those made so short and blunt that they become nonsensical, change the tone of the writing, or have no flow together.

Which brings me to...

Sentence flow is a thing, and you should be doing it.

Unfortunately, this good writing advice tends to throw people. We’re not talking about the flow that needs to be present in academic sentence structure, or exactly the flow that is present in poetry. Though it may require practice to understand and apply well, it’s an incredibly simple concept.

You want to balance out shorter, blunter sentences with those that are longer and more flowing. It gives the text a pleasant, natural rhythm. However, it isn’t just about length, a thing that the RPC is weirdly fixated on. Rather, it’s about word use within those sentences as well.

It’s always important to write with a tone that works with your scene and, overall, with your muse. For example, in a tense, aggressive scene, or with a muse who is generally this way, it gets the message across to use short sentences and clipped words. We can feel the tension, annoyance, and threat.

Furthermore, the way your muse thinks about and uses words is relevant. A well-educated muse from the 1800′s isn’t going to have the same approach to words that a modern-day high school student does. You should be making that clear in the way they speak, but also, in the way you express their thoughts and actions. If you are only writing your muse’s personality and emotional tone when your muse is speaking, you’re not giving me the tone all the way through. It can feel like a marked delineation in flow.

However, you should be considering the overall flow of your writing as well. Did you just lay down back-to-back eloquently verbose sentences? If so, you may want to either follow them up or space them with a shorter sentence comprised of simpler words.

This is legitimately good writing advice for any manner of writing.

So is...

Show, don’t tell.

Which is another piece of advice that throws people when they try to make it more complex than necessary. That, and it grates up against the RPC’s need for short, quick writing. The idea that anything a mun gives you that your muse cannot react to verbally or with action is filler to be avoided. That idea comes from some principle advice that translates badly to RP; essentially, don’t wax poetic for three pages when it has nothing to do with the plot, characters, scene-setting elements, action, and so on. Don’t be Tolkien describing every tree and rock in excruciating detail on the way to destroy the One Ring, basically.

That isn’t fully appropriate advice in RP, where we’re having to write tiny chapters to each other to add onto. While it still has some merit, the RPC definitely has taken it to mean that you shouldn’t show anything. My muse’s private thoughts, emotions expressed and unexpressed, stirred-up memories, things they planned to say/do, but that were naturally interrupted by the flow of the thread all become Unnecessary. With...no mind to what they are showing and creating.

This particularly erodes writing muses as legitimate feeling people. As in the last example of what my muse intended to say or do that was interrupted. That’s a normal, human experience. It would be difficult and not enjoyable to read every instance of a muse’s broken thoughts and impulses or intentions, but giving one every so many replies in a natural feeling way keeps my muse presenting as a real person having a real person’s experience. Simple things like this go a long way toward your muse being “believable,” and by ignoring them or refusing to do them, you’re not making your muse very realistic. So much of the human experience is private, unknowable to outside parties.

Look...if you only knew me based upon a sterilized version of what I was saying to you or doing purely within the context of single interaction at a time, you wouldn’t know me at all. You’d have no idea what sort of nuance there is in my words, how I am expressing or withholding an opinion or emotion. I may not have any opinions, emotions, or other experiences that you are not contributing to. That’s very unrealistic, I’m not actually a person anymore. I haven’t any personality, I didn’t exist before you interacted with me.

That is the way it is with muses too. By stripping them of their internal experiences, we’re stripping them of more realistic feeling characterization. {It becomes, or adds to, a disastrous domino-effect of projected, cardboard stand-in style muses that are in no way a joy to interact with.} This is bad writing, makes for bad reading and interacting.

No one seems to understand show, don’t tell. Let me put it in a simple example: don’t tell me your muse is a good person, show me. Don’t tell me your muse is upset right now, show me.

Your muse has character traits you feel makes them A Good Person. They are compassionate, selfless, and genuinely interested in others. Don’t just leave that in the muse’s bio, or relegate it to statement-style lines like, “she cared deeply about others.” Show me these traits in action and thought. You don’t require anything dramatic to it, either. A muse like this should be a good listener, proceed with their love language in a way reflects personal involvement and a desire to comfort, be willing to sacrifice time and personal interests {don’t keep it to dramatic and literal self-sacrifice to show “selfless”}, legitimately doesn’t think of themselves first and foremost and may need reminding to care for themselves, and will be troubled by unfairness and cruelty in the world.

Your muse has been in a disagreement with a loved one, they’re not just “upset,” they are sad, angry, disappointed, and maybe even confused or surprised. While those are more descriptive and defining of the type of complex “upset” going on here, don’t leave it at these words. Don’t tell me that she said, angrily. Show me that she is having thoughts based on these emotions, actual emotional turmoil at her expectations of a loved one being devastated. Paint me a picture of the sadness in her features, the anger in her walk, how her words come out unpolished and jumbled in her surprise and turmoil.

This is what it means to show me, not tell me.

It also extends to scenes and recollections.

If your muse is happy sitting in her garden, don’t just tell me this. Show me why she is happy there, and define the sort of happiness in her thoughts, body language, voice, and expressions. Describe the aspects of the garden in tones of the happiness they bring, draw comparisons between this and her outward expression of joy with similar word use. It ties together both seamlessly in a way that we can relate to and feel, even if we hate the outdoors.

If this muse had a traumatic incident in her past, this is going to inconveniently come up, even if only in her mind. Don’t play coy about it and drop shit on your partners like, “she was thinking of things and stuff that was bad again.” No. Even if you are alluding or otherwise keeping the actual event secretive, you need to be describing how the muse is feeling, how she is experiencing the world around her through an overlay of upsetting reminders. Show me how she is having a visceral reaction to triggering stimuli while having to keep working or talking.

Additionally, even when your muse isn’t experiencing the scene you have set directly, you should show me instead of telling me about it.

Since my actual least favorite PSA on how it’s better to just tell people because no one wants to read “all that” deals with rain, we’re going to as well. Because it doesn’t have to be excessively descriptive to fucking show me it’s raining or has rained instead of just stating the fact.

Not, “it was raining.” Not, “it was wet outside.”

“In between her words, the distant, wall-dampened splash of cars driving through puddles.”

“He passed by windows beaded with moisture on his way to the kitchen.”

Wow, that was so complex, really a lot to read to get the idea that it is, or has been, raining outside without me directly telling you this!

There isn’t anything wrong with being more descriptive than this {nor is there anything wrong with using the word “rain,” so long as you’re backing it up with a description}, some of us do like to read and write about things like oil-slicked puddles in the street if our muse is seeing them or it is otherwise relevant. It’s just that you don’t have to do this, or have to do it at all times, to show instead of tell. This is yet another serious misunderstanding.

It isn’t that the description is often really that excessive, it’s more often that it is irrelevant to the extreme of sticking out weirdly. In the puddle thing, if my muse isn’t seeing it and/or I am not using that description to further experience, their mindset, personality, or tying it to an analogy later in the reply, it feels weird.

Some superfluous shit isn’t bad either, and superfluous can be purely subjective. It is, again, when it is to such an extreme as to leave your writing partner feeling oddly about a point in the text that seemed to ring with importance, but then held none. That isn’t an act of showing or telling, and neither is it your partner trying to show off as a gifted writer. For whatever reason, they just saw or felt that moment with such passionate clarity they had to include it immediately instead of waiting until a better moment for it. That’s literally it, there’s no need to project your insecurity in weird ass ways.

There are definitely other pieces of traditional-based writing advice that are great and either do transfer to RP perfectly or can with small amendments, but these are the most basic, commonly seen, and important combinations. They are also easy to better understand and apply!

When reading writing advice posts, please, ask yourself how they fit into RP. If they do at all. Many times, when it comes to the absolute basics of writing coherently and enjoyably, or developing characters, they’re great. It’s when they get into topics of some nuance that they don’t cross over so well and are outright damaging.

These pieces of advice are often being misunderstood or misapplied already, then are being passed around to a community notorious for its lacking application of critical thinking. Severe misunderstanding will happen, and terrible writing “rules” within the RPC develop from them.

Do be interested in writing, don’t separate traditional writing and RP writing into categories like “real writing and RP,” be invested in learning and improving. Just ask yourself how it applies to cooperative storytelling that is often thematic in nature, and proceed with caution and the mindset that writing is an art.

If you have the principles down and both yourself and others are enjoying your writing, you’re not doing it in an inherently wrong way because it wouldn’t be published. You’re not writing RP to have it published, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s just a difference to keep in mind when reading PSA’s about the Rules of Writing Whatever. 

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted. Anniversary]

Jewel is one year old! In order to celebrate what is probably my greatest achievement in fic I’ve decided to re-release all the chapters. Not much has changed in terms of story but I’ve gone through and edited/fixed any typos and weird sentences that have popped up now and then. Me and my blog have both grown so much since writing this that I’m sure there’s many of you who have yet to have read or seen this before. So here you have it…my lil baby. 

- - - 

Chapter One

A cloud of heavy smoke rises from the four vapers, covering the clear sky above and littering it with stuffy grey puffs. People scramble about up and down the dock, trying to keep family members together as they rush to get through the gates. Others stand there gawking at the ship. For those not boarding it’s simply a day out; The greatest ship ever built, they call it and those who live nearby wasn’t about to miss out on such a historic day as this.

Mulder stares at it, surprised at just how wonderstruck he is with it. He never put much stock in the rumours when it was being built believing that she was just going to turn out as all those before her had. That the rumours were just that.

But he was wrong. Never in his life had he seen a ship as large as the one that towers over him.

He turns to Phoebe, reaching out for her hand as she climbs out of the cab.

“What do you think, dear?” Mulder asks as he helps his fiancé down. “Are you impressed?”

To no one’s surprise, Phoebe only scoffs at the ship, its presence not changing her mood in the slightest.

“It’s not as grand as the Mauretania.”

Bill Mulder chuckles behind them, handing their luggage to his man-servant, Krycek as the boy passes them onto a baggage handler.

“It’s much bigger than the Mauretania,” he says, ready to quote every fact he had memorised from the London Herald about the ship. “And much more luxurious,” he adds.

Phoebe only huffs, clearly becoming uninterested in their current conversation.

“Careful Fox,” his father warns him. “Hard one to please, that one.” Mulder only manages an uncomfortable laugh already well aware at the difficulties that come attached to Phoebe Green.

With time running out, they begin to make their way towards the ship, weaving their way through the crowds, Phoebe turning her nose up at every person not dressed to the nines, going as far as to dramatically balk and cover her nose as a lower-class foreigner runs across their path.

“Filthy immigrant,” Phoebe scorns at the innocent man. Mulder tries not to let his disgust show at Phoebe’s words, they’re excused after all and Mulder rolls his eyes at the clear disrespect his people show towards those less fortunate.

“He’s just trying to get to the ship, Phoebe.”

“Yes, well, maybe he should hurry to a bath instead.”

Mulder ignores her words, instead guiding her through the swarming crowds.

“Honestly Bill,” Mulder’s mother pipes up. “We couldn’t have gotten here earlier rather than scurrying around the docks like rats?”

“I was all packed and ready to go,” Bill says and indicates to the pair in front of him. “It was those two who weren’t.”

Mulder sighs. If anything, it was Phoebe who they had been waiting for.

“We did try to hurry, Mother. Phoebe couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Phoebe scoffs once more. “It’s not my fault that you told me to change.”

“I just thought you would get too warm wearing black all day.”

“I’m in mourning Fox,” Phoebe cries. “The weather doesn’t change that.”

Mulder resists sighing again. Phoebe had been mourning for weeks now. The loss of their baby had brought on this spontaneous trip. Phoebe, done with London and “wanting to get away from all the bad memories” all but demanded that they leave for America as soon as possible. A chance for a new start, she told him afterwards. They could get married here and start again. Next thing Mulder knew, he was packing his bag and going back to a country he hadn’t seen since childhood.

He felt trapped somehow, and it had nothing to do with the swarms of crowds. This was inside him. A cage or a hole he’d put himself in. One he wasn’t going to get out of any time soon.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She’s been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours now. The stuffy bar overcrowded with sight-seers only now they’ve done the sight-seeing and want to do some drink-beering.

She was told ten minutes. Ten minutes and they’d be looking for a ferry to take them back to Ireland. Dana was done with the place. Southampton was the same as everywhere else in England they’d been- the same people, the same scorning looks they’d get no matter where they go, the same rejections. It’s only a number of times a person can hear ‘no’ before they never want to hear the word again.

Her brother, however, had other ideas. They only came into the bar to ask if there were any ferries available to take them home and somehow Charlie had managed to be roped into a game of poker by a bunch of Norwegians who barely spoke any English between them.

The game had currently been going on for a lot longer than the ‘few minutes’ she was promised.

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She’d order a drink if Charlie wasn’t currently gambling away their last penny.

“You lonely, luv?” Dana turns towards the speaker. His cockney accent thickened by the slurring of his words. “Ye want sum comp’ny?”

He stumbles towards her, catching himself on the rickety table and smiles at his clumsiness. Dana attempts to shuffle further back into the bench, failing.

“I’m fine,” she says turning away and hoping the man would take the hint.

But he presses on.

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye. I’m sure.” She gets up before the man can say anything else, and heads over to Charlie’s table.

The boy is in full concentration mode. Lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning his cards and the card laying down on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Countless of times Dana has watched him play, never learning from the mistakes he’s made in previous games. This gambling addiction he’s seemed to have developed has cost them a lot in the finance department, a cost that Dana is not too happy about.

She taps him on the shoulder.

“Charlie, I want to go.”

“Hold on a second…”

His tongue replacing his lip, Charlie gives one nervous glance around at his fellow players.

“Charlie, we need to go.” She tries not to sound like she’s whining, he’s her younger brother for God’s sake, a child, she shouldn’t have to whine.

Charlie ignores her, a smile breaking out across his face.

“I’m sorry, lads.” He places his cards on the table, his smile turning cocky as he reaches over to take his earnings. Dana doesn’t miss the two pieces of paper lying on top of the money.

A large hand grasps Charlie’s. His grin falls as he stares in fear at the man.

“He cheat!” The man yells. With his hand still firmly wrapped around Charlie’s arm, he yanks him forward across the table, his other hand a fist that falls down and smashes straight into his face.

“Charlie!” Dana screams as his body falls slump against the oak. The man backs off as the bar grows quiet, ignoring the winnings that fall onto the floor.

With all concern for her brother, Dana rushes to his side, her hand falling on the boy’s face, wiping away the blood that drips down from his wound. You feckin’ idiot…she thinks.

Charlie’s eyes open slowly, despite the pain with smile it back.

“I won, Dana,” he tells her. “We’re going to America.”

Dana frowns, bewildered for the moment at what Charlie could possibly be talking about until her eyes fall to the two pieces of paper that lay on the ground. Realisation sets in and she reaches down to pick them up, turning them over to read.

The words White Star Line stare back at her. She looks from the paper in her hand to the ship outside and back to Charlie.

“You’re…you’re not serious?” she asks, full astonishment.

“Yep. Fecker put his ticket down as payment,” Charlie all but shouts.

Dana stares back at the ticket. She was really about to go to America and board the Titanic to get there.

“You’re gonna wanna be quick,” a fella beside them tells them. He points to his clock on the wall. “Boat leaves in ten minutes.”

At that, Charlie hauls himself off the table as the two siblings begin pushing what money remains on the table into their only bag, not caring for the coins that had fallen onto the floor.

“Hurry up!” Charlie urges her as Dana ties up the bag. “Come on, come on.” He takes the bag throwing it over his shoulder and grabs his sister’s hand, all but dragging her out of the bar.

They weave their way through the people, Charlie up front and Dana falling slightly behind. She fists her skirt in her palms, pulling it up so as not to trip over it, keeping her eye on Charlie ahead of her and praying she doesn’t lose him.

They almost collide with everything; people, a cart selling vegetables, a horse and carriage until finally they make it, out of breath and clutching at their tickets.

“Right, give me your tickets,” the crewman orders, his fingers making a grabby motion. They hand them over and the man all but snatches it out of their hands. His nose turns up when he reads the names.

“Leif and Ingrid Brevik?” he asks, sceptically.

Dana looks nervously at Charlie, worried that they had just ran all this way, got excited for a new future, just to be turned away at the doors once more.

“Aye, we’re Americans.” Charlie tells him doing nothing to mask his thick Irish accent.

The crewman gives once last glance at the ticket and them. Sighing and probably done dealing with steerage who’s English is minimal he accepts the tickets.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Relieved, the pair rush in just as the crewman shuts the door.

They make their way down the crowded corridor. People stand looking at the various signs that point in directions of rooms, bathrooms, and general communal areas. They argue, an overload of different words muddled together to make one distorted language.

Dana isn’t paying attention, however. Her eyes switch from the number written down on the ticket to the numbers written on the doors either side of them. Charlie had gotten distracted, eyeing up every pretty lass that they walked past and Dana had ripped the paper out of his hands. If he wasn’t going to find their room, she will.

She finds it eventually. 23, near the end of the corridor. Charlie eyes up Room 24.

“Reckon a lass lives in there?” he asks.

Dana focuses on unlocking the door, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“I hope it’s a fat old man with a foot infection.” She looks up only to see the look of disgust appear across her brother’s face.

The door opens to their room. A single bunkbed, a desk and chair with a lamp set upon it, and a chest of drawers are the only furniture that occupy the room.

Charlie shares her sentiments exactly.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry.” He throws the bag onto the chair and proceeds to climb to the top bunk.

She stops him before he can claim it.

“Piss off, I get top bunk.” She grips the back of his shirt, yanking him off the ladder.

“Careful!” Charlie cries. “I’m already injured.”

“So move out the way before I injured you even more.”

He does as he’s told, not without pulling a face beforehand, and throws himself on the bottom bunk.

Dana lies down, thankful to be in a bed that actually feels like a bed and not a brick.

“Hey, Dee?” Charlie calls after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Are you worried?”

Dana thinks for a second, curious as to what Charlie thinks she should be worried about.

“About what?” she asks.

Silence passes and she waits for an answer.

“Nothing,” the boys says. “It’s nothing. We got nothing to be worried about.”

Frowning and profoundly confused, Dana decides to leave it.

Another bout of silence passes and perhaps Charlie’s fallen asleep, at least she thinks that until she hears his voice again.

“Hey, Dee?”

“What?”

“Do you still have that first-aid kit in the bag? My face is throbbing.”

[bestbranddesign]

10 Guidelines for Good Web Design: How to Learn Web Designing

Know about Web Design Guides

Summary: A website's success or failure is determined by its usability and usefulness, not its graphic design. User-centric architecture has become a common method for efficient and profit-oriented web design because the viewer to the website is the only one who clicks the mouse and therefore decides everything. Overall, if consumers can't access a feature, it's as if it doesn't exist at all.

We won't go into interface execution specifics (like where the search box should go) because it has already been covered in a variety of articles; instead, we'll concentrate on the key concepts, heuristics, and approaches for successful web design — approaches that, when applied correctly, will lead to more nuanced design decisions and make the process of perceiving provided knowledge easier. we have mentioned about HTML, coding, new website, website WordPress menu, website portfolio, desktop, and more.

Please keep in mind that you may be involved in the following usability-related posts that we've previously published:

• Excellent Web Design Principles: Craftsmanship

• 30 Usability Issues to Be Aware Of

• 9 Common Usability Mistakes In Web Design

Principles Of Good Responsive Website Design And Effective Web Design Guidelines

To better apply the concepts, we must first comprehend how people communicate with websites, how they think, and what the fundamental characteristics of their actions are.

What are the thoughts of the user?

Essentially, consumers' web activities are close to those of shoppers in a shop. Visitors take a brief glance at each new page, scroll through some of the text, and then click on the first link that piques their attention or looks slightly like what they're looking for. In reality, they don't even look at a significant portion of the website.

Necessary of web or web design or ux design

The majority of users look for something fascinating (or useful) and clickable, and when they see any promising candidates, they click. If the current page does not meet the user's standards, the user hits the Back button and the search ends. • Users respect consistency and trustworthiness. Users are able to sacrifice content for advertisers and the site's architecture if a website presents them with high-quality content. This explains why poorly built websites with high-quality content attract a large amount of traffic over time. The architecture that supports the content is less important than the content itself. • Users search rather than read. When users examine a web page, they look for fixed points or anchors that will lead them through the material.

• Internet consumers are frustrated and seek quick satisfaction. Easy principle: If a website fails to satisfy customers' needs, the author has struggled to do his job correctly, and the business has lost revenue. Users are more likely to abandon a website to look for alternatives if the cognitive load is heavy and the navigation is difficult. [DWU / JN]

• Users do not make the right decisions. Users aren't searching for the fastest way to get the details they need. They still don't search webpages in a sequential way, going from one part of the site to the next. Users, on the other hand, are happy to settle for the first rational choice. There's a fair chance they'll click a connection that seems to lead to the target as soon as they find it. Optimizing is difficult and time-consuming. Satisficing is a more effective way of doing it. • Users are guided by their instincts. In most instances, consumers muddle along rather than reading the detail given by the designer. The primary cause for this, according to Steve Krug, is that consumers are unconcerned. “Once we discover something that fits, we don't stray from it. We don't care if we understand how things work as long as we can bring them to use. If you want your viewers to believe you're building billboards, then make amazing billboards.”

• Consumers like to be in control. Users want to be able to monitor their browser and believe that data will be viewed consistently on the web. They don't want new windows to show up randomly, because they want to be able to return to the place they were on before using the "Back" icon, so it's best not to open connections in new browser windows.

1. Website or Web design details: Don't Ask Users to Consider

The web page should be obvious and self-explanatory, according to Krug's first rule of usability. When you're building a website, the goal is to eliminate the question marks — the choices that people would make deliberately, weighing pros and cons and contemplating alternatives. The number of question marks increases as the navigation and site design become less understandable, making it more difficult for users to grasp how the system operates and how to navigate from point A to point B. Users will navigate their way to their destination with the aid of a simple layout, mild visual cues, and clearly identifiable connections.

Consider the following situation. “Beyond networks, beyond brands, beyond distribution,” says Beyondis.co.uk. What does this imply? These three statements will be the first items users see on the page after it is loaded, so users prefer to explore websites in the "F"-pattern.

Although the interface is straightforward and intuitive, the user must look for the answer to learn what the page is for. This is what an extra question mark feels like. The designer's responsibility is to keep the amount of question marks as minimal as possible. The graphic description is on the right side of the page. Simply replacing all blocks would improve usability.

ExpressionEngine follows the same structure as Beyondis, but without the extra question marks. Furthermore, the phrase takes on new meaning as users are given the option to check out the service and trial the free edition.

Reduced cognitive load makes it easier for tourists to understand the system's concept. If you've done so, you'll be able to explain why the system is beneficial and how people will learn from it. People would not use the web blog if it is difficult to access.

2. Don't Exhaust Your Consumers' Time

When you're working on a project and you're trying to give your visitors a program or a tool, try to keep your customer expectations as low as possible. The fewer steps people must take in order to test a program, the more likely a random tourist would do so. First-time users tend to gamble with the app rather than filling out lengthy online applications for an account they might never use again. Allow people to browse the web and learn about the offerings without being forced to share personal information. Asking users to submit an email address in order to test a feature is unfair.

According to Ryan Singer, a developer on the 37Signals team, users would be more likely to give an email address if they were asked after seeing the feature in action and understanding what they would get in exchange.

Stikkit is an excellent example of a user-friendly service that needs virtually no interaction from the visitor and is unobtrusive and relaxing. And that's how you want your visitors to feel as they visit your web blog.

Mite, it seems, demands more. The registration, on the other hand, can be completed in under 30 seconds, thanks to the form's horizontal orientation, which removes the need for the user to scroll the tab. Drop any obstacles as far as possible; don't need subscriptions or registrations first. The mere act of registering a user is enough to stifle user navigation and reduce incoming traffic.

3. Ensure the users' attention is focused.

Since web pages contain both static and interactive content, certain features of the user experience are more noticeable than others. Obviously, pictures attract more interest than words, just as bolded sentences attract more attention than plain text.

Online users can easily perceive edges, shapes, and gestures because the human eye is an extremely non-linear system. This is why video-based ads are particularly irritating and distracting, but they do an outstanding job at catching consumers' interest from a marketing standpoint.

Humanized makes excellent use of the concentration concept. The only thing that consumers can see clearly is the word "free," which is enticing and desirable while remaining calm and purely informational. Users are given ample information on how to learn more about the "easy" commodity through subtle hints. By using visual elements to draw users' attention to particular parts of the web, you can help the guests get from point A to point B without having to worry about how to do it. The less concerns tourists have, the greater their sense of direction and the more confidence they can build in the business portrayed by the web. In other words, the less thinking that would occur behind the scenes, the greater the user interface, which is the primary goal of usability.

4. Aim for Feature Exposition

Modern web designers are often chastised for directing users by visually pleasing 1-2-3-done-steps, large buttons with visual effects, and so on. However, from a concept perspective, these components aren't inherently a bad thing. These guides, on the other hand, are highly useful because they direct users through the site's content in a very simple and user-friendly manner.

Dibusoft blends an appealing aesthetic with a well-organized web. The site's key navigation tools are available at first sight, and there are nine of them. However, the color scheme can be too light. A basic concept of good user interface design is to make it transparent to the user what features are accessible. It makes no difference if this is done. What counts is that guests are happy with how they communicate with the framework and that the material is well-understood.

5. Make Effective Writing a Part Of Your Strategy

Since the Web differs from print, it's important to tailor the writing style to the tastes and browsing habits of your audience. Promotional copy can not be read. Large blocks of text without pictures, as well as keywords in bold or italics, would be skipped. Excessive phrasing would be overlooked.

Let's talk about business. Stop titles that are funny or creative, marketing-driven, company-specific, or technical names that are obscure. For eg, if you're explaining a web and want people to build an account, "sign up" is superior to "start now!" and "explore our services."

Eleven2 doesn't waste much time getting to the stage. There are no sweet phrases or exaggerated stories. Instead, there is a price, which is just what tourists are looking for. Use short and concise phrases (get to the point as quickly as possible), scannable layout (categorize the content, use several heading levels, use visual elements and bulleted lists to break up the flow of uniform text blocks), and plain and objective language (a promotion doesn't have to sound like an advertisement; give your users some r

6. Attempt Simplicity

The KIS theory (keep it simple) should be the primary objective of site design. Users seldom use a site for the sake of the design; in reality, in most cases, they are searching for details regardless of the design. Rather than trying to be complicated, aim for consistency.

From the visitors' perspective, the best web design is pure text, with no ads or other page blocks that precisely complement the question or content they were looking for. One of the reasons that a user-friendly print edition of web pages is important for a positive user experience is because of this.

Finch delivers site material in a straightforward and concise manner, giving users a variety of choices without overwhelming them with needless information.

7. You Shouldn't Be Scared Of White Space

In reality, it's difficult to overestimate the value of white space. It not only helps guests minimize their cognitive burden, but it also allows them to understand the information shown on the computer. When a new user appears at a design layout, the first thing he or she does is search the web and break the subject field into conveniently digestible chunks.

Reading, scanning, analyzing, and working with complex systems is more difficult. If you have the option of using a visible line or other whitespace to separate two template parts, the whitespace approach is typically preferred. Complexity is reduced by hierarchical constructs (Simon's Law): the more you can give people a sense of visual hierarchy, the simpler your content would be to understand.

White space is beneficial. White space is a significant design feature on Cameron.io. The end result is a scannable layout that gives the material the prominence it deserves.

8. Use "Visible Language" to Communicate Easily

Aaron Marcus notes three basic concepts inherent in the use of so-called "seen text" — the information people see on a computer — in his articles on efficient visual communication.

• Organize: provide the consumer a logical and coherent philosophical framework. Organizational principles such as consistency, screen structure, partnerships, and navigability are essential. All elements shall follow the same conventions and laws.

• Save money by having as few prompts and graphic elements as possible. Simplicity, consistency, distinctiveness, and concentration are the four major points to remember. Only the most essential components for contact are used in simplicity. Clarity: All elements should be built in such a way that their purpose is obvious. Distinctiveness: The necessary elements' critical properties should be distinguishable. The most significant elements can be readily identifiable.

• Communicate: tailor the presentation to the user's skills. In order to interact efficiently, the user interface must combine legibility, readability, typography, symbolism, different viewpoints, and colour or texture. Using a maximum of three typefaces with a maximum of three point sizes per line of text, with a maximum of 18 words or 50-80 characters per line.

9. The Conventions Are Our Allies

A dull web is not the product of conventional site element architecture. Conventions, in particular, are extremely beneficial because they minimize the learning curve and the need to find out how things function. For example, if all websites displayed RSS feeds differently, it will be a usability nightmare. That's similar to how we arrange data (folders) or shop in our everyday lives (placement of products). You can gain users' respect, loyalty, and durability by using conventions, and you can also prove your reputation. Understand what users want from a site's navigation, text layout, and search placement, among other aspects.

A common example from usability sessions is to translate the web into Japanese (assuming the site visitors don't speak the language, e.g. with Babelfish) and give the usability testers the challenge of finding something in the translated page. Users would be able to accomplish a non-specific goal if conventions are followed correctly, even if they don't comprehend a word of it.

According to Steve Krug, it's best to invent only when you're certain you have a better idea, and to depend on conventions when you don't.

Tags: web design, ux web design, web design gallery, web hosting, responsive web, ux design, web logo, adaptive web, images for web, research web design, web research, choose best web design, website design or web design, website design portfolio, web WordPress, work for web design, responsive HTML, web design experience, work for web design, know coding for web design, ux ui

10. Test Early and Often

This so-called TETO-principle should be extended to any web design project because usability testing will also expose serious problems and issues with a layout.

Testing should not be done too late, too low, or for the wrong reasons. In the latter example, it's important to note that most design choices are local, which means you can't tell if one layout is better than another without evaluating it from a very particular viewpoint (considering requirements, stakeholders, budget etc.).

There are a few things to keep in mind:

• According to Steve Krug, testing one user is better than testing zero, and testing one user early in the project is better than testing 50 users at the end. According to Boehm's first theorem, mistakes arise more often during specifications and design tasks, and the longer they go uncorrected, the more costly they get.

• Testing is a continual operation. That is, you plan something, test it, repair it, and test it once more. There may be concerns that were not identified during the first round when users were essentially blocked by other issues.

• Usability evaluations consistently yield valuable results.

• A developer is unsuitable to test his or her code, according to Weinberg's rules. This is also so for artists. After a few weeks of working on a platform, you can no longer look at it with new eyes. You know how it's made, but you know precisely how it works — you have the experience that impartial reviewers and site users don't.

Visit Our Official Website

Additional Resources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Web_design

https://wordpress.org/showcase/tag/web-design/

https://www.wikihow.com/Learn-Web-Design

Location: https://goo.gl/maps/FnRzFUVMwwopXahE8

[justjeonday]

Solace | kim namjoon

Solace; comfort or consolation in a time of great distress or sadness.

- pairing: kim namjoon x reader

- genre: angst, fluff

- word count: 4,400

- warnings: reader fears what the future holds, very brief mentions of anxiety, includes descriptions of feelings/behaviour that might be associated with mild depression (the reader is only stuck in a rut in this fic and it’s nowhere near as critical as depression, but I still wanna be safe and warn about this in case it might be triggering for someone!)

- rating: PG

- notes: I’m excited to finally post on here again! I’ve had this idea for a while, but I haven’t had the time to work on it until now. I think I like how it turned out??  I’m not sure yet lol. I’ve been working on a few fics over the past few weeks, but I keep getting stuck and this is the only thing I’ve managed to finish since I last posted. Since I have a little more free time, due to the quarantine, I’ll hopefully be able to post some more soon! But for now, I hope you’ll enjoy reading this - thank you for all your support! <33 (this is still not completely edited btw so I apologize for any mistakes you might find)

- inspired by: this vlive.

- song: Solace by mell-ø & Ambulo

You stare blankly at the screen in front of you, eyes heavy and mind dull as the seconds count down for the next episode to start playing. This is all you’ve done since waking up, binge-watching some random kdrama you found online. It’s not great, and you’re not focused - but you figure it’s enough to keep you occupied for at least a few more hours. Enough to push most of your gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

You feel exhausted, the past four days mostly consisting of work and very few hours of sleep - plus added pressure and stress of having to keep up with studying during it all. Your arms ache from serving and cleaning up tables until late after midnight. After finishing up and closing the place, you’d go straight home to sleep - not having the energy to care for yourself. Then you’d wake up at noon, and have some breakfast before yet again making your way to work. Many people this time of year, during spring break, take vacations with their families so your boss needed you to put in more effort than usual to keep it all running smoothly. You’re grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money, but at this point it feels like you’re doing too much and your body isn’t willing to keep up anymore.

You feel overwhelmed - lost. Are your efforts even worth it when they’re not going towards something you want in the future? Thoughts like these have been weighing you down ever since you woke up, and you had decided it’d be best for you to call in sick and just be sad today. You had moved from the bed to your sofa, and here you’ve been laying ever since then. All the blinds in your apartment are down, no hint of sunlight peeking through - no trace of hope seeping in, no light capable of bringing color to your sombre day. 

You sigh as another episode starts playing, mind brought to the small recap that’s starts playing across the display. You try your best to pay attention to it in hopes of you actually starting to like it so that watching it won’t be so boring. You pull your covers up to your chin, basking in the scent of your boyfriend’s cologne stuck to his shirt you’re snuggled up in. It brings you comfort, soothes you and calms you - it makes you feel secure where you are.

You breathe it in, the longing feeling to hold your boyfriend intensifying as you do.

A sudden chime makes you jump slightly, eyes landing on the door as you sit up  - heart beating quickly in response to the unforeseen ringing disturbing the calm atmosphere in your apartment. You dread leaving the comfort you’re sofa is bringing you, but you feel impolite leaving whoever it is waiting. So you get up and mope over to the door, your body feeling heavier than usual, as if a force is pulling you to the ground.

With lethargy still clinging to you, you don’t bother looking through the peephole before unlocking and pulling the door open - wanting to get it over with and get back to hiding under your covers. Your eyes squint slightly at the sudden light leaking in from the hallway, but you instantly recognize the tall figure stood in front of you.

“Joon?” You gasp quietly, heart skipping a beat in surprise. 

His lips stretch into a smile, arms reaching out and inviting you into his embrace. Immediately you walk towards him, wrapping your own arms around his neck as his end up around your waist to pull you against him. You smile, face laying in the crook of his neck.

“Hi, baby,” He mumbles, a smile evident in his voice as he presses kisses against the exposed skin on your shoulder that’s peeking out through the collar of Namjoon’s oversized shirt you’re clad in.

“I missed you so much,” You say against his skin, voice strained from not uttering a word all day. You enjoy the presence of your boyfriend for a few more seconds before pulling away to look at him, “I thought you’d be gone until next week?” You utter, confused.

“Plans got cancelled,” He whispers, leaning forward to plant a kiss onto your nose - causing you to scrunch it as he does.

You smile in content as you look at him, eyes scanning over his face before unavoidably landing on the pink of his lips. You reach up and press your own lips against the corner of his mouth, before you change target and kiss him - your eyes fluttering close as you cherish the feeling of them against yours again. He kisses you back and you taste the rose lip balm coating his lips, the one he always has with him in his pocket. It makes you smile into the kiss and pull away, suddenly turning shy as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. You hide by his neck again, lips brushing over the mole just under his jaw.

You feel his chest vibrate against yours lightly as he chuckles at you, arms squeezing tighter around your waist. Your fingers start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s been growing it out for a few months now and the mullet is now very apparent - even more so than when he left. He dyed his hair a beautiful lilac shade not too long ago, and you love the way it looks on him. Nothing beats his natural dark brown hair, but somehow he manages to make every hair color look just as good and at this point you just can’t decide which one’s your favorite. He’s making it very difficult for you.

You walk backwards, making Namjoon follow you as you’re still secure in his arms. Once back in the darkness of your apartment you kick the door shut. You give your boyfriend a peck on the cheek before you pull away from him, letting him get comfortable and take off his shoes as you return to your sofa.

Namjoon, now that he’s able to focus on his surroundings, takes instant notice to the darkness that suffocates your apartment - and the messy sofa. If anyone knows you well, it’s him. After knowing each other for almost two years, he can read you like an open book without problem. One of the many things he’s come to learn is how much you hate wasting the light of day, and especially so during this time of year. You love spring, it’s your favorite time of the year and you always long for it whenever it isn’t current. He also knows that, if you’re not up and getting ready by 9 AM, you’ll most likely beat yourself up for it. However, on rare occasions, you’ll let yourself lay under the covers for another hour or so - but that's only if he’s there, laying next to you

Cuddling is something you simply can’t say no to.

Automatically, taking all these things into consideration, Namjoon starts to worry.

He kicks his sneakers off as his gaze follows you, watching as you fall down on the couch of which looks like it has been occupied all day. Your figure disappears under the cover, and he makes his way over to you. “Is everything alright?” He asks, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

You register his question but you don’t answer it, instead you reach your arms out and gesture for him to join you on the couch. His features soften and he manages to squeeze down next to you, despite the small space left to be occupied. Your leg comes out from under the covers to lay over his hip, holding him close to prevent him from falling to the floor.

You let your eyes shamelessly admire his face even though he’s aware, your fingers once again coming up to brush through his hair - strands of lavender running softly in between them as you do.

He lets his own gaze roam across your features, searching for any sign of anxiety or sorrow. “Hey,” he says, bringing your attention back to his previously asked question.

“Everything’s fine now that you’re here, don’t worry Joon,” you mumble, your focus still on his hair.

Namjoon doesn’t fall for your excuse. Grabbing your wrist softly, he removes your hand out of his hair and lays it over his chest, making you look at him. “Please talk to me.”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to sugarcoat what’s really going on. “Work’s just been really tough, it’s not that serious.”

You always feel bad complaining about work, or sharing the weight of your problems with Namjoon. You know how tough his job is compared to yours, and his schedule is never really empty. You know he loves what he does more than everything, but you’ve seen how hard it can get as well. So compared to your job, you realize the hours you put in are minimal next to the amount of time he dedicates to his job. Complaining just doesn’t feel right.

“You really underestimate me,” He sighs, eyebrows raised at you. “I can tell it’s not just work, it’s almost five in the afternoon and you’re still laying on the couch with my shirt on - you only do that when you’re feeling really low.”

You give up, accepting the fact he can see right through you no matter how hard you resist to let it show. “My head just feels kind of crowded,” you start. “I feel like there’s so many thoughts in my head, and I can’t organize or figure any of them out. I feel lost, I have no idea what the future holds and that’s fine - but I don’t even have a vision of what I want it to hold. I’m just not sure I’m walking down the right path.”

With Namjoon being back next to you, you certainly feel better - but still, it doesn’t remove any of your worries. You wait for a response, but a few seconds go by and there's still just silence. You look up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze, his eyes showing empathy as he looks back at you.

Without a word, he slips out of your embrace before he gets up and walks over to your windows. Before you know it, he pulls one of your blinds up. The sun shines straight in your face, making you quickly seek cover under the pillow next to you. As you hide, you hear Namjoon proceed to pull every blind up, the room becoming even brighter as he does. After he’s done you hear his footsteps close in on you, and suddenly he rids you of your shield - leaving you exposed to the blinding rays of light that are now touching every possible surface in your living room. Your hands come up to cover your eyes, groaning. 

He gathers all your blankets and pillows you’ve taken from your bedroom before disappearing to put them back where they belong. Even with the low state you're in, you feel appreciation and adoration causing tickles in your belly. He always does this, always makes it his priority to bring you up when you're down. You find it endearing, how dedicated he gets - and lucky to say the least.

“What are you doing?” You ask out into the open, Namjoon still fixing your bed in the other room.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” says your boyfriend, walking into the room again.

You furrow your eyebrows, eyes finally adjusting to the light as you stretch - limbs splayed across the couch. “And where may that be, Mr. I’m On A Mission?” 

He snickers at the name, reaching his hand out for you to take. “You’ll find out once we get there.” He pulls you up from the sofa, making you stand before him. “Go put something warm on, the sun’s really nice but it’s still quite chilly,” he says.

Your heart flutters at his sweet gestures. Having been with Namjoon for such a long time, you’d expect the flutters to fade and his gestures losing impact along with them. But it’s all still there, just like when you first fell for him. Your heart still flutters at the dimples in which appear when he smiles, and at how his eyes turn into crescent moons as he laughs - how he shows affection but then becomes shy after. You’ve realized it’s those small things you usually wouldn’t think to pay attention to, but to you they all still cause butterflies to swarm in the pit of your stomach, and you swear you fall in love with him over and over again every time.

You still feel a force pulling you to the ground as you make your way to your closet, but not as intense as it was before Namjoon showed up at your doorstep. You’re still having to push thoughts back, still have to prevent them from getting the best of you. Knowing you have Namjoon with you, and knowing he’ll listen if you’ll talk about it, does bring you comfort. You’re well aware he isn’t capable of helping rid of these thoughts in your head, as he can’t assure you what the future holds or what path you should go down so it all works out - no one can. But still, you’re more than grateful because you’re certain he’ll be the one to at least make you feel better about things, and keep you from giving up.

You grab a lounge set from your drawer and slip onto it, the soft fabric fitting loosely over your body just like how you want it - only really seeking for comfort. Taking Namjoon’s words into consideration, you also make sure to grab a warm coat from your closet before heading back to the living room.

You find your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the couch with rays of light reaching him, a golden aura forming around his figure, making him look like a fallen angel from heaven. And thinking about it, you’re convinced he is one. Where would you be without him? 

You take a moment to enjoy the magical sight, your fingertips starting to tingle as you get an urge to skim them over his beautiful golden skin. Namjoon looks up, catching you as you eye him with a small smile on your lips.

He chuckles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, walking up to him.

He stands up, arms capturing you in a hug once again. Your cheek ends up pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater, the scent of his favorite cologne stuck to it, making you breathe it in and relax against him.  

“You look cozy,” he comments, pulling away to look you up and down.

You mumble a quiet thank you, your hands finding his and intertwining your fingers.

“Ready?” He asks.

Your nod doesn’t come off too assuring, making him laugh as the both of you slip your shoes on. Namjoon grabs his coat and with that you make your way out of your apartment, your hands interlocking again as you do. You exit your apartment complex and brisk air surrounds you, causing you to shudder and walk closer to Namjoon as you search for any source of warmth. The two of you stop at the side of the curb as your eyes search for your cab that has yet to arrive, the sun now hitting you and warming you up slightly.

As you wait you turn to eye your boyfriend, love swelling in your chest.

“You look really handsome today,” You say through a smile, eyes meeting his.

You hadn’t seen him in this particular outfit before, but he pulls it off really well. He’s clad in a denim on denim outfit, with a jean coat that reaches all the way to his calves. You’re not surprised it looks amazing on him, everything does.

“Thank you,” he says, cheeks rubescent as his eyes scan over his own body before looking at you and squeezing your hand in his.

You lean into him, nose scrunching at his adorable shy behaviour. Getting the sudden urge to peck him, you get up on your toes and press your lips to the dimple that dents his cheek. He pulls you into his side, hand laying on your hip. As you pull away your attention turns to the black car pulling up in front of you. Namjoon steps forward and opens the door and beckons for you to get in before him, being the gentleman that he is. You climb into the car, moving over so your boyfriend can get in next to you. He sits down and closes the door before reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone, leaning over to show the driver where he wants to go. Gazing over, you try to catch a glimpse of anything that might reveal what location you’re going to but you manage to get nothing.

“No peeking, baby,” He teases as he puts his phone back in his pocket.

You pout, giving him pleading eyes.

He laughs, his hand coming to lay just above your knee before squeezing lightly. “Be patient.”

You let out a chuckle at your own childish behaviour, laying your hands on top of his before turning to look out at the surroundings as they flash by in a blur. As the driver takes you through Seoul, you find your mind wandering again as thoughts start filling your head. To distract yourself you turn to your boyfriend and ask him about his recent work trip.

Before you know it, the car comes to a stop and with cheeks still aching from a joke Namjoon whispered to you just seconds ago you watch him get out of the car. He holds the door open for you, a grin still on his face as you get out - the adorable indents in his cheeks once again appearing. You always get an urge to kiss them, but if you’d act on it every time that’s all you’d do.

Once you’re out of the car, you glance at the scenery of which you’re very familiar with, and which you’ve come to love and appreciate since being with Namjoon. One thing you learned very early on about him is how much he loves and treasures nature. You didn’t really see the point before, especially since you live in such a big city you don’t really think of it that much. On your own, before meeting him, you’d never think to go to a park just to relax. But now you’ve really learned to appreciate it and the healing powers it holds, something Namjoon also taught you.

“You took me to Hangang Park?” You say, a tinge of excitement in your voice as your eyes take in the beautiful view of the setting sun reflecting in the river.

Namjoon looks at you lovingly as you view the location. Hangang park isn’t away from any civilization, there’s still skyscrapers in view and it’s crowded. It’s not what you consider a traditional park, there’s not grass everywhere you look or trees surrounding you. There are platforms in stone and bigger patches of grass scattered around evenly. Even though it might not be the most green park, something about it brings you more comfort than others do. You think it might be the combination of city and nature, since you’ve lived in Seoul your whole life you’re used to tall buildings and city lights - all that comes with it. And with what Namjoon has taught you about nature, and how you’ve become someone who appreciates that setting as well, you really feel at home when you’re at Hangang Park. 

You said this to your boyfriend when you came here with him for the first time, and that’s probably his reason for choosing this specific location. It makes you feel warm inside, happy he takes all these things and uses them to make you feel relaxed and calm when you need it.

Namjoon comes up behind you and lays a hand over the small of your back, the two of you starting to walk slowly closer to the river. The sunset induces beautiful hues of orange and pink to paint over the blue sky, making the world around you breathtakingly beautiful. You feel some of the weight slowly ease off of your shoulders, and you feel as if you’re finally able to inhale and exhale deeply with ease. The both of you walk over to one of the grass-patches by the river, sitting down on it with shoulders touching and fingers intertwined.

You sit like that in silence for a few minutes, and you sense Namjoon knows you need to just be for a while. You enjoy the feeling of him next to you, his presence as the both of you watch the sky and its reflection in the body of water before you. Surrounding you, there are groups of friends, couples, families, also enjoying the wonderful time of day. The atmosphere around you is happy and tranquil, in contrast to your dark apartment you’d locked yourself in earlier.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumble, laying your head on Namjoon’s shoulder as you watch the hues of the horizon fade into the light blue above you.

A few more minutes of comfortable silence pass by, before he brings his attention to you.

He brings your interlocked hands up to plant a kiss on your knuckles. “Let it out.”

You look up at him, your response lazy, “Hmm?”

“Whatever you’re holding in, whatever’s bothering you. It won’t do any good for you to keep it in.”

You exhale, resting your head against his shoulder again as your eyes return to the skyline. “I’m feeling overwhelmed, and every thought that has entered my mind I’ve been overthinking for no reason. I feel like I’ve gone down this path that I’m now stuck on and I can’t see any lanes or exits for me to lead me in another direction. There’s so many outcomes that could occur if, when the opportunity comes, I choose to walk another way - so many things that could go wrong.” You stop, fingers of your free hand coming to fiddle with the cool metal of his rings as you think of what to say next. “I feel like I’m putting in a lot of effort to do good at work and with studying, but it doesn’t feel worth it when I’m not sure the hard work I’m putting in is doing anything for my future.” You look down at your hands as you feel the familiar lump of anxiety form in the back of your throat.

“It’s normal to have thoughts, and to overthink them. I’ve been where you are right now, and I get you. It’s normal to worry about the future, everyone does - because it’s full of uncertainty and you can never really know what to expect or what it’ll turn into as time passes.” He pauses, and his words bring you comfort - knowing you’re not completely alone in feeling like this. “Someone told me once to think of my mind as a tree, and of my thoughts as branches. For these branches to grow, you’ll have to experience a lot of different things - hurtful things, things that’ll anger and confuse you along with happy and hopeful things. Your mind consists of so many of these branches, there’s happiness, pain, hope, desperation, devastation - everything.” He speaks, hand coming up from time to time in front of him to gesticulate.

You listen carefully to his words as your eyes follow pastel clouds that float across the sky. You’ve always loved how self-aware Namjoon is, you’ve come to think of it as one of his most beautiful traits - one that you really adore. He’s always stayed true to himself, no matter what. He recognizes his mistakes and faults so that he can better them and become someone who’s greater than the person he was the day before. You wish you can be that one day, as good of a person as he is. He always tries to be the best version of himself.

“You’ll need to prune and cut them to take care of the tree, to care for your mind and for it to keep growing beautifully. The hurt will be unavoidable, but you’ll have to make these choices so you can continue to grow and blossom. These thoughts and feelings you’re currently feeling, try to think of them as branches of your young days, as branches of a young tree. When you’ve experienced all of the hurt, the grief, the happiness, the love - you’ll be a beautiful tree, the most beautiful tree.” He says. “I know you’ll be,” He turns to search for your gaze, wanting you to see and notice the sincerity of his words.

Your eyes meet his, inside of which sunsets of their own exist as the sky reflects in them. You feel the force that’s been pulling you down fade, and you feel yourself tearing up as you look at the man in front of you, whom you cherish most out of anything. You realize how blessed you are to have met someone like him, someone with a precious soul like his own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling yourself starting to tear up.

Slightly embarrassed, you look away but you feel Namjoon’s finger nudge lightly at the underside of your chin - making your eyes meet his again. “No need to thank me baby,” He says softly, wiping your a few tears that escaped with the pads of his thumbs “I just want you to be okay, that’s all that matters.”

The love you feel for him spreads like a wildfire through your body. “I love you so much,” you say, eyes still looking into his.

A smile grows on his lips as he looks at you. “Come here,” he mumbles, hand reaching to the backside of your thigh.

He pulls your leg over both of his, so that you end up straddling his thighs before his arms snake around your waist to pull you into him. You embrace him by putting your arms around his neck and pressing your cheek against his. With your body now filled with relief and comfort, you find yourself wishing you could stay like this forever - keep him this close forever.

“I love you too,” He whispers in your ear.

The future remains a mystery, something you’ll never be sure of.

But in this moment, what you’re completely certain of, is your everlasting love for the man in your arms.

He’s your everything.

He’s your start and your end.

He’s your Solace.

[bonelesswords]

a study of souls | alex høgh andersen au

Chapter two: A good guy.

synopsis - chapter one 

Warnings: Languae, sexual content, mentions and using of drugs, mentions of a toxic relationships, grammar mistakes (english is not my first language)

Note: It was quite a ride for me to finish the second chapter, I had to write it again once I finished and translate took more time that I thought, but here it is, if you like it, please let me know what you think. (Btw I had a few problems while editing so if you find a mistake you know why)

   I start to get into the conversation,  despite the internal jokes, the names I don't know and the anecdotes that I'm not part of. Julia talks about her job in the city, in a nail salon, she asks me if I like nails. Eventually, she asks me what do I do and I tell her that I work at a bakery we own with my grandma and that I study in a public university.

"Do you study at the university, June?" Alex asks, turning to me. I just nod. "What are you studying?"

"Ah... Philosophy and Letters" I answer, dragging my words. I look him  in the eyes, in a silly attempt to demostrate that I'm not intimidated by his bruised face, nor his slightly black eye or the scratches of his face. But I fail in the moment that he cross his hands on the table and I look towards them. It has purple knuckles, a little red too. I manage so my eyes could make their way to his again.

"So you like to read" He say. I won't question him, at least not now. If you studied a minimally theoretical career in college, you were going to have to read anyway, whether you like it or not. I just nodded and he does it again, confirming my answer. "It would be too silly if I ask what's you favourite book, then. Right?"

"It depends" I answer, making him raise his eyebrows. I know from the expression on his face that my response causes him some fun.

"May I know on what?" He asks with that peculiar accent he spits every time he speaks, but I don't dare to ask where he is from, at least not for now.

"Well, maybe because we are in a bar, in your friend's birthday, and I know that the last thing you want to know is my favourite book, or because it's a questions that has been asked me millions of times. Or simply because I have lots" I explain to him and he listens to me with attention, then, suddlenly, he lets out a loud laugh that echoes throughout my head, making me smile.

He approaches to the edge of the chair and, therefore, me. It makes me wonder how someone can hold their gaze for so long with someone they barely know, without wanting to start laughing, or feeling intimidated, but at that moment the only one who felt intimidated was me, every time he opened his mouth to talk.

"You are leaving me the doubt, June. No one does that." He mutters as a fake warking and moves away.

"I guess I'm the first, then" I announce, taking the bottle of beer to my mouth. A smile that looks arrogant dances on his lips, shaking his head.

"That makes you the most intelligent person sitting on this table." he says and this time, I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"You can do much better than that." I whisper squinting.

"You are right," He whispers too "I can do much better than that." Winks at me again, and turns around, and like nothing, stars a conversation with Jack, he has the last words.

I am ashamed to feel a little disappointed when he turns around.

"Travis and I own a tattoo studio" Jack tells me when I ask him. I look at travis, who nods smiling.

"You can notice" He says, showing me his hands full of tattoos.

"Have you done them to each other?"

"Yes, some of them" Jack answers me. "What about you, June, do you have any tattoos?"

"Yeah, an ugly one" Rory interrupts with a laugh and I hit his shoulder, faking being annoyed by him. He is the only person who I've told the story about my tattoo, even if it's not a very exciting one, I haven't told my grandma I've done it drunk. She likes it anyway.

"I've got it done when I went to New York last summer" I tell them "I went to a party with a guy that I met, the owner of the house had a tattoo machine, who convinced a very drunk version of myself of getting it." The tatto has more quality that I expected to be done in a party, full of people and the unbearable noise of music. Ryan, the grandson of the owner of the house that I was staying those days, invited me to party of his friend, and I had returned with an unprofessional tattoo.

"Show us." Evangeline encourages me and everyone nods. I hesitate when I have to pull up my blouse where my tattoo is. In the side of my right rib, right under my bra, it's found the statue of liberty.  

"In the United States, liberty is a statue." I quote, making them laugh, I drop the blouse. "They wanted me to have a memory, I guess."

"That's so sweet." Julia lets out, cupping her cheeks in her hands.

"It could have been worse, due the fact that you were drunk" Says Travis.

"It could have been a dick" Helena says and  everyone bustle in laughs.

"It could have been, yeah" I confirm "I didn't choose it, he did it, the guy who took me to the party"

"You totally look like someone whose first tattoo is on their rib" Alex says, and  manages to give me the same smile I've been thinking about all night.

"That's a very elaborate description, isn't it?" I question, he nods with his eyes closed. "And why is that?"

"I don't know, maybe I'll tell you later" He just says, this time, leaving me with the doubt.

Maybe I tell you later, that was just an excuse to talk me later.

If I am honest, I didn't have much experience with men. Every time Alex opens his mouth, his only goal is to make me blush, and I am not used to that. William never treated me like that, and when he wanted to show interest in me, he used the academic field as an excuse. To remember that, makes me feel sick, the memory of William faking interest in my writing makes me want to vomit.

On the other hand, Ryan, he flirted like a high school boy, that's why was so difficult to get laid with him. Even if in the end I ended up doing it, I had to ask him to shut up in the middle of the act, lying that I couldn't focus, when the truth was that I couldn't stand when he talked about my eyes, and how beautiful they are. It seemed forced and it was annoying.  Although Alex's tone in speaking was closer to William that any other, it was different. Almost arrogant, a little hesitant maybe, but what I liked the most was that everything that came of his mouth seemed to be practiced before, as if my reaction was already calculated, and at the same time it seemed so natural, as if I was already part of him to answer that way to the girls. For some horrible reason I liked it more that I should.

"Rory told me that you own the bar with your brother" I bring up the subject. He turns a little in the chair to listen to me better and nods. The sound of the music and the people talking makes it a little bit difficult to hear each other, even if i'm right beside him, but he tries to answer through the noise.

"Oh, yeah, Luke. It was our grandpa's. He had it from a long time and when he died, six years ago, he gave it to us. Well, to Luke, the most part of it" He explains to me. "He takes care of the taxes and I take care of the other stuff."

"What other stuff?"

"Oh, you know..." He hesitates "Other stuff" I laugh, making him do the same while he gets closer, moving to the edge of the seat."I mean look at me, I should be seeing if everything is alright tonight, that no one is getting in trouble. But I'm here, sitting at the table giving free drinks to my friends. I'm a terrible owner."

"At least you are a good friend."

"At least I am, right?"

"Yeah, but you seem to be a terrible fighter." I say, pointing at my face in circles, referring to his. I feel curiosity to know who left his face like that, and if he did the same thing with the other person, but I don't want to ask and look like a nosy person.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter" He declares, with a hand in his chest, where his heart is.

"Mmm..." I hasitate "It's hard to believe you."

"Yeah, you're right. With a face like this I understand it's hard" He remains silent for a few seconds, as if he was thinking what to say next. He moves his eyes through the room, until they meet mine again and says: "I'm both, then."

When the bar begins to empty  and the only ones left are us. Evangeline decides that it's time to go home and everyone agrees with her. Jack offers to take her home  with Julia and my brother offer the same thing to Helena. Travis doesn't need it, he goes home on his motorcycle. Alex tells me that he lives right above the bar, so he just has to go upstairs to go to bed.

"No one is going out tonight? Jack asks "It's only two"

"No, Jackie, the only reason I'm awake is your birthday, I woke up at seven in the morning" Helena answers "If it wasn't for you, I would be already asleep."

"I apologize, Helena, I didn't mean to turn twenty four on a friday"

"I forgive you" She says, then approaches to hug him.

While everyone goes outside to say goodbye, after four beers I had to go the bathroom. When I go out of the cubicle I look myself in the mirror, watching my red cheeks, maybe due the alcohol, or the heat of the place, or for all the things that I've been said tonight.

How absurd, I think.

I wash my hands and I go out of the bathroom. All lights are off, except the ones from the drink bar that light up the place slightly. I hear noises and a blow, followed by a loud complaint. I startle suddenly, but then I see Alex getting up behind the bar, a frown on his face and a little baffled. I hide a smile before I start to approach to him.

"I hit myself with the cash register" he explains, as if I hadn't already heard him.

"Ah, yeah, I think I heard"  I say, and he laughs. "Were you hiding?"He raises his eyebrows, I notice how the darkness of the place shadows his entire face, making it look as if he has rings under his eyes. His eyes seem bigger, even more blue, but darker at the same time. It baffles me when he laughs at my little joke, although it is a  very typical of my thinking a lot.

"I'm not the type of guy who hides"

"Uhh..." I joke "Sounds bold."

"That's what i'm trying" He says with a smile without teeth. My heart suddenly feels smaller in front of him, as if it had been pinched.

"We are leaving." I announce. He nods and remains quiet, looking everywhere, as if he was looking for something.

"Yeah, right." He murmurs and looks at me again. His gaze fixes in mine during a few seconds and I see how barely his eyes move . I don't know if it's because he's examining my expression, maybe just my face.

The dim lights give a dark appearance to his beaten face, perhaps to the whole situation. "You are a curious one, aren't you?"

"Huh? And how did you come up with that conclusion?" I ask, resting my arms on the bar, looking closer, and that mocking smile appears on his face again.

"I can tell." He just answers.

"You can?"

"Yeah, you know what they say, the eyes are the window of the soul. And you have very big ones." I roll my eyes, but however, If he was trying me to like him even a little bit, he had succeeded in that very moment. Maybe it was all the things he said or maybe the way the light hits his face and made it looks a bit sinister, maybe just the four bottles of beer I had taken that night. I didn't think it, and I tried so hard not to make him notice.

"That's the only thing you can see in my eyes? That I'm curious?"

"Yes, a little bit too much" He answers, and suddenly shuts up.

"A little bit too much for what?"

"A little bit too much for wanting to know what happened to me, to my face, for example. I know you've been wondering all night." He says dragging his words. He takes me by surprise, in that moment I realize that I don't know him not even a bit, and that I am not capable to decipher the expression on his face or the intention of his words. I feel embarassed because maybe he thought that I've been looking his face all night because I can't help but asking myself who beated him like that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... you know, be rude" I say stumbling over my words, blushing like hell. But in the middle of my apology I hear a thunderous laugh that sends a shiver directly down my back, making me startle.

"Oh my god, June" He stops laughing, tilting his head to the side. "Don't be sorry. I got into a fight, it's nothing serious, I was playing with you"

"I really thought you were mad"

"No, I'm not trying to scare you, I'm trying to impress you, is it working?"

"No, it's not" I lie. He bites his lower lip in the middle of a smile.

"Romantic." I just say.

"I'm sure it wasn't" Alex shakes his head repeatedly.

"I would feel kinda flattered if my boyfriend got into a fight for me." I say raising my eyebrows, just for my convenience, wanting to be sure that the girl he named was his girlfriend or not.

"If I was your boyfriend I would happily get into a fight for you." He mutters hesitantly, leaning over the table that separates us.

"I've got the feeling that you would happily get into any fight" He shakes his head laughing and runs his thumb over his lower lip, I stare at him for a few seconds, less than I would like and more than I should.

And just like that, he spits those words "So you have a boyfriend or not?"

"I don't" I manage to answer and I know that the night begins to end when he yawns and stretches his arms.

"Nice, I guess I see you around, then." I nod and I start walking backwards, still looking at him.

"Nice to meet you, Alex."

"Nice to meet you, June." He answers giving me a broad smile. I turn around  and when I'm two metres from the door, he talks again. "She isn't my girlfriend, you know? The girl that I told you."

"I didn't ask." I say without looking at him, until I remember the question I've been asking myself since I heard him talk. Then, I turn around. "Where are you from, Alex?"

"Denmark, June" He answers "Thought you'd never ask" I smile at him for the last time, I nod and I turn around again, walkig out the door.

I say goodbye to everyone, to open the door of my brother's car and climb the back seat, Helena is on the passenger seat.

Rory and her start talking about random things, Helena makes Rory laugh a lot and vice versa, even if she tells jokes that would never make Rory laugh, he does it anyway, which makes me laugh as well.

It's not until they start talking about the night that I dare to talk as well, just because it seems the most prudent moment.

"Is Alex used to.. getting into fights?" I spit it out.

"Yes, he is" Helena doesn't hesitate when she responds, which makes Rory look at her with a bad face, she doesn't realize it, only I do.

"We say he's a little bit impulsive" Rory intervenes. "He's a good guy, though . He is just with the wrong people, people that at the end of the day makes him do those kind of things" He explains and I know that it is not a subject that makes him very happy.

"Alex has three group of friends" Helena turns around in her seat to look at me, she looks ready to explain everything to me, raising three fingers in the air."Us, the cool guys, the guys who he met at the bar, three other people, they're friend of high school. And some people he met at places he shouldn't had been, they never take care of him"

"He is not a child, Hel, he knows what he does" Rory interrupts her, but Helena rolls her eyes.

"Yes, of course he's not a child, Rory. But if you are wasted as hell and you want to drive your car in that state, I would take your keys away from you so you don't do a dumb thing, because that's what people who cares about you do, take care of you when you can't"

Suddenly, Rory remains silent.

"What do you mean, Helena?" I ask curious and she turns at me again.

"He does drugs sometimes, nothing serious though, it's not like he's a drug addict. He does it at parties if someone offers him, but he never buys anything on his own. But he goes to places where everyone offers him, all the time. For example, eveyone knows that when he takes strong pills he gets paranoid and stars seeing strange stuff, so we don't let him take them, but those people don't give a fuck, and neither does he."

"Oh, I get it..." I murmur "And who's this people?"

"Some guys and a girl, Megan" Rory answers this time "That's why he has his face like that, he got into a fight because of her, he didn't say exactly why, he only said it was for her. We don't like her, no one does, not even Luke."

"But you shouldn't blame a girl for his behaviour" I reproach him, but he didn't like what came out of my mouth, he looks at me fulminant from the rearview mirror.

"I know, June, I know more than anyone else. But it's not the same thing. This girl, Megan, it's different. She pushes him to do things, convinces him, tangles him, I can't stand it. Alex  is a very coherent person, but with her he becomes stupid, and not in a romantic way. It never is in a romantic way, quite the opposite, it's toxic."

Rory ends and I keep thinking about everything he said, wanting to ask more questions but keeping quiet.

"But he's a good guy, you know?" Helena says to me "With us he always has been the same boy. Besides, you liked him , isn't it?"

"Yes" I respond, letting out a long sigh. "I did."

taglist: (if you want to be in it let me know)

@youbloodymadgenius @wuxiesalt

[jae-bummer]

Do it, then Decide

Request: Could you do an enemies to lovers thing with changkyun please (I’m totally loyal to jooheon don’t think anything of this) :))))))

Pairing: Monsta X’s I.M x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff

You kept your fingers tightly locked to your lips as you clicked intently on the photoshop window before you. Hiding any remnant of a laugh, a smile finally started to turn the corners of your mouth before a small amount of hissing giggles escaped from the back of your throat. 

This would really get him. 

“You have dishonored me!” a deep voice bellowed, shaking you from your daydreams of disaster. 

Looking up quickly, your eyes grew wide, and you dropped the hand you had been holding to your mouth. Hurriedly returning back to your screen, you minimized the window you had been working out of and returned your attention back to the man in front of you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t understand?” 

He took a deep breath before slamming a piece of paper onto your desk and rolling his eyes. “I challenge you to a duel!” 

“Duel?” you asked, lifting a brow. With cautious fingers, you picked up the sheet of paper and bit your lip, if only to contain the threat of more laughter. 

Ah, it was your latest project. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked innocently. 

“What’s...what’s wrong?” he croaked. “What’s wrong is you put the Monsta X logo over my face, AGAIN.” 

“Oh!” you gasped in mock shock. “I hadn’t even noticed! Well, you see, there’s such little real estate on the edge over here and-” 

“And?” he interrupted. “This is the third promotion you’ve done this. I’m starting to think it’s a conspiracy against me.”

“You honestly have such a sense of self importance, that you think I’m going out of my way to do this?” you gasped. 

“Self...self import-” he began, hardly even letting the words slip from his mouth. He lifted his hand, pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and let out a dissatisfied hiss. 

“Chankgyunnie!” a rough voice coughed from down the hall. You watched in amusement as several other members of Monsta X came sprinting up. “Changkyun, what are you doing?” 

“I told you, I won’t stand for it any more!” he gasped, stomping his foot. You tilted your head, watching the show before you. 

Self important brat. 

“Our manager said he would handle it,” Wonho whispered through clenched teeth. He glanced your way, turning the clench into an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this has all been a huge misunderstanding.” 

“Misunderstanding!” Changkyun pouted. “I told you, this isn’t the first time and I dare say it won’t be the last!” 

“Ah, our youngest, so dramatic,” Shownu chuckled nervously as he clapped his hand onto Changkyun’s shoulder. “Come, we have practice.” 

“I’ll be back,” Changkyun muttered, pointing his finger at you. “And that’s a promise.” 

You watched with wary eyes as the three boys stumbled down the hall. Only after they turned the corner, you allowed yourself a small smile. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Changkyun. You quite enjoyed his music, and in general, you championed most StarShip artists simply because you worked for their Marketing department. He, on the other hand, had just never been someone you had gotten to know, or enjoy being around. 

He was odd. He was abrupt. And more often than not he said things that rubbed you the wrong way. As humans, we always look for someone or something to complain about, and for some reason, he had become one of your favorites. 

You loved to hate him. 

And even then, hate would be a strong word. Changkyun had become a casual annoyance to you over the years. The member who could never quite find the same angle as all of the others in a photoshoot. The one who stood out a bit too far from the group when editing photos. 

He annoyed you and you didn’t even really know him.

“What just happened?” your coworker whispered above your cubicle wall. “Half of the women in the department had to take a bathroom break. Apparently idols are walking about.”

“Nothing notable enough to mention,” you sighed. 

“I heard shouting,” she hummed. “Shouting seems notable.” 

“Just an idol temper tantrum,” you murmured, pulling back up the PhotoShop window you were editing, grinning to yourself as a sun ray blocked the majority of Changkyun’s face. 

Really, he did it to himself. 

.

.

Leaning back in your chair, you sighed as you joined yet another Monday morning meeting. Your team often met like this to strategize on upcoming projects or discuss any difficulties you had been experiencing. 

This week though, you were surprised to see a few fresh faces not usually associated with your department. 

They worked for your company, sure, but you would categorize them in the department of...celebrity. 

“Some of you may be wondering why we have a few artists in the room this morning,” your supervisor hummed, motioning over to the individuals most of you had only seen in the promotional work you had done. “This morning we have our Mad Clown, Monsta X’s I.M., and Soyou.” 

A quiet round of polite applause circulated the room before you chanced looking up, feeling the heat of Changkyun’s focus on you. Giving a small smirk, he shot you a wink before looking back toward your supervisor intently. 

You weren’t sure if he was trying to be a smartass or if he had completely lost his mind. 

“Due to...recent events,” your supervisor continued. “We have been encouraged to work more closely with our artists, even bringing them into the creation process. That being said, each team, or team member will be assigned to work with specific artists. This includes both you, as members of the Marketing team, shadow these artists, and in turn, have the artists shadow you, as you create their promotional material.” 

You rolled your eyes before leaning your head back on your chair. Of course this was Changkyun’s brain child. 

“Now, as for assignments,” he continued. “The green team will be assigned to specifically work with K.Will, Soyou, and MadClown.

Blue group will be working with Boyfriend and Monsta X. Y/N, it has been requested that you work closely with Changkyun, so you can walk him through the editing and production process-”

“How? How is that allowed?!” you groaned. “He knows nothing about graphic design! He wouldn’t know a new ad campaign if it hit him in the face!”

“Like the Monsta X logo in the past three comebacks?” he chuckled.

“I think it’s healthy for our artists and business staff to collaborate,” your supervisor nodded. “Makes them aware of the process and makes you aware of how hard they work and deserve to be represented. That way, small mistakes like this will quit slipping through the cracks.” 

“Why can’t he just slip through the cracks,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. 

“Y/N?” your supervisor asked, lifting his brows. 

“I gratefully accept the challenge,” you croaked, not even bothering to dignify Changkyun with eye contact. “I look forward to working with you, Monsta X I.N.” 

“I.M.,” your supervisor corrected. 

“That too,” you hissed. “Next point please.” 

.

.

For the following weeks, you were left to do just as your supervisor instructed. In your free time, you found yourself at Monsta X shoots, promotional activities, and show recordings. You begun learning the ins and outs of what it took to really be an idol. 

But you still took no joy in being around Changkyun. 

Just as he had previously, he had managed to only confuse you more. His quirks were on display daily for you to analyze, and he almost never appeared at your desk to shadow you as was expected. 

If anything, your resentment grew as the days passed. 

That was until...things seemed to change. 

Just as you had given up all hope on this experience teaching you a lesson, you were in the midst of submitting a new editing project to your supervisor when you felt a breath on the back of your neck. 

“Was the ray of light across my face really necessary?” Changkyun’s voice hummed thoughtfully. “Granted it does make the highlight pop on Wonho’s cheekbones.” 

“I thought so too,” you said quietly, trying to remain even in tone. Your heart felt as if it would beat from your chest. In general, you weren’t a fan of people standing behind you, let alone the person you had so diligently edited out of your work. 

“How about,” he continued. “Instead of using the photo where you can’t see my face, we pick a different one. Just a suggestion.” 

“I think I’m the professional here,” you murmured, your finger hovering above the mouse, ready to send. 

“And I think I’m the artist you’re supposed to be humoring,” he chuckled. “I know I may sound a little egocentric here, but I didn’t endure being a trainee, before being bullied on a reality show, to not get my face on a dumb poster.” 

You sighed before shrinking into your chair, removing your hand from the mouse. “Well...when you put it like that.” 

“Look, Y/N,” he sighed, his hand hovering over the arm of your chair before he retracted it to his side. You had never realized how awkward he was, how conscious he was with every movement. Swiveling your chair, you glanced up through your lashes to make eye contact with him for what seemed like the first time. “I know that we have this weird...whatever it is going on between us, but I’m honestly too exhausted to argue.” 

“...should I get you a coffee?” you said quietly with a wince. 

“I’m life tired,” he chuckled. “On top of regular tired.” 

“So...coffee and a nap?” 

He laughed again before looking away. “Let’s just make this work, okay? We’ll push out a badass promo, and everyone will call us the dream team, and then we’ll be co-employees of the month, and we’ll get our face on a plaque in the hall.” 

“Is that a thing?” you questioned, tilting your head. 

“Probably not, but it went with my pep talk,” he grinned. “Now let’s start by picking a photo that has my face actually on it, yeah?” 

.

.

“I’m telling you, add a purple accent,” he hummed, resting his chin on the back of your chair. 

“And I’m telling you, it’s going to wash out Shownu,” you muttered, squinting at the screen. You had been at it for hours, and most all other staff had gone home, Changkyun though, remained by your side. 

“Just try it,” he asserted. “If you don’t like it, we can take it out.” 

“I like how you conveniently use the word “we,”“ you chuckled. 

‘Of course by we, I always mean you,” he grinned. “You are the one who pulls the weight in this relationship.” 

Relationship. 

You gulped, trying to keep your eyes on the screen. You knew he meant it innocently, but the last few weeks had gone surprisingly well between the two of you. You had no idea you could grow to enjoy the attention of someone who had previously gotten under your skin by simply existing. 

“What’s that?” he murmured, pointing to a flurry of warnings appearing at the edge of your program. 

“I’ve never seen that before,” you whispered, furrowing your brows. “I don’t think-” 

You slowly trailed your mouse across the screen, searching for the save button, just as the screen turned blue. 

You leaned back in your chair and rubbed at your temples. You couldn’t believe it. Everything. Everything you had worked so arduously on had been blue screened. 

“I can’t -” you whispered, trying to choke back tears. “This was...this was.” 

“What happened?” Changkyun asked quietly from behind you. His hand hovered over your shoulder, unsure of what he should do to help. 

“Everything crashed,” you croaked. “I lost all of the work we’ve been doing and...” You couldn’t finish the sentence. The amount of trouble you were about to get in with your supervisor was monumental. 

You turned around, finally allowing the tears to hit your cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

Changkyun furrowed his brows, his expression showing he was deep in thought. 

After a few moments of silence and stifled crying, Changkyun finally let out a squawk. Looking up in alarm, you gasped as he grabbed your wrist, and yanked you from your chair. 

“What?” you squeaked as he drug you down the hall. 

“No time to explain!” he huffed. “Come on!” 

“Yes time to explain!” you groaned. “Changkyun, you’re going to rip my arm from it’s socket.” 

“Oh,” he hummed, his cheeks instantly turning a darker shade. He slipped his fingers between yours as if that would solve the issue before he began to tug again. 

You rolled your eyes, but quietly smiled to yourself. 

After being drug out of the building and the better part of two blocks, you finally reached another building that Changkyun began to pull you in. 

“For the thousandth time, where are we going?” you complained. “I really hope you’re not taking me to some wiseman who is going to perform some sort of spell to magically get my files back.” 

“Why would a wiseman live in my apartment building?” Changkyun clucked. “Sometimes you just don’t make sense.”

“Me?” you gasped. “The scenario I just described is literally something that I have heard you say verbatim.” 

“No wise men today,” he murmured, launching up the stairs. “Just I.M. saving the day.” 

“I.M. saving the day?” you huffed, your legs jelly from keeping up with your companion. You had ended up on the third floor before he finally released you from the stairwell and into a hallway. Rushing to one of the ornate apartment doors, he tapped a code into the handle and pushed in. 

“I hope everyone is clothed!” he called into the home. You only had a moment to look around before he pulled you along again. 

“I’m really getting sick of being tugged around,” you moaned. “What are we doing?” 

“Looking for something...” Changkyun muttered, disappearing into what you assumed to be one of the bedrooms in the apartment. You cast a curious eye at your surroundings, noting the modern furniture, and lack of team members inhabiting the residence. “Are you coming to help?” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Looking for something I don’t even know about.” 

“This!” he gasped, emerging from the room with a wide grin on his face. Taking your hand in his again, he flattened your fingers before placing a small, square piece of metal in your hands. 

“An external hard drive?” you grunted. 

“Yeah,” he smiled shyly. “After helping you...I started to get curious about how to work the programs you were using. When you went on bathroom breaks...I synced files to this bad boy. It won’t have the changes we made this morning...but it’s some-” 

“CHANGKYUN!” you screeched, gripping the drive, and feeling tears in your eyes again. You jumped forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I could kiss you right now!” 

Burying your face in his neck, you hummed with happiness as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“If I continue doing helpful things...” he said slowly. “Do I get more offerings of kisses?” 

You leaned back, resting your hands on his shoulders as you looked at his face. Lifting your brows, you felt your neck grow hot as you stared at him. “If...if that’s something you’re interested in.” 

You saw his cheeks grow flush as his eyes began to dart around your features. “I mean...it’s not, uh, the worst idea someone has presented to me.” 

“Oh?” you managed. 

“Yeah, I mean, you should hear the ideas that come out of Minhyuk’s mouth,” he grinned. “But I mean...I’m kind of the go to guy for bad ideas.” 

“So...you say this isn’t the worst,” you hummed. “Does that still mean it’s bad?” 

“Well,” he managed, biting his lip. It was difficult for him to keep eye contact at this point, but he was desperately trying. “We should probably do it, and then decide.”

[ser-yolomere-of-swagalore]

Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race myself, bitch.

James Joyce -- Ulysses (with some much needed editing)

I haven’t written here in a long time. In fact, after this post, I don’t really see myself writing here every again-- and no, before any of you (if there is, in fact, any one who will see this) jump to conclusions, this isn’t some kind of weird suicide note, or plea for help. What this is, is a sort of manifesto, or a summation, of everything that I’ve felt, and am feeling at the moment, and in a way, hopefully, purging myself of these feelings forever. It’s a goodbye, but also a new opportunity. A creation, as well as a destruction. A final litany of things that I have to say, or wanted to say, and a final exorcism of numerous antagonistic little ghosts that have been rattling around in my head for God knows how long. 

I’ve always been struck by the concept of a sort of Joycean paralysis. Maybe because it’s true-- that Irish people are, in a weird way, struck with a sort of deep, abiding, spiritual malaise, a psychological and emotional paralysis, as a sort of weird, post-colonial hangover-- or maybe because it simply hits too close to home. The narrative of a sort of genealogical, archaeological torpor is one that is all too easy to believe, because it is something that I have experienced quiet viscerally throughout my entire life, but also in a way that is difficult to articulate. The sense that you’re fundamentally at odds with the world around you because of some fundamental, spiritual displacement resulting from years (centuries?) of imperialistic and religious abuse isn’t something that goes well over dinner, after all-- especially when dinner is a hurriedly bought Burger King and the sound of mopeds careening up and down the Cardiffsbridge Road muffles the sound of Coronation Street on the television. 

But it’s a feeling that has stuck with me so long. Longer than I can really remember. This sense of being held back. By myself, by the world around me, by the people around me. Dreams of leaving, of emigrating, have been a consistent fantasy of mine. Occasional spurts of creative writing have always been characterized by the theme of a departure, whether through the realm of some childish Tolkien-esque fantasy or through a plane ticket that randomly fell into the protagonist’s (read: my) lap. That feeling of momentary, ontological vertigo, when the plane leaves the ground and you can feel yourself lifted in that miniature pocket of zero-gravity, is a sensation that I’ve craved and chased (either literally, or figuratively) whenever possible, with varying degrees of success. I even had, at one point, a bit of a miniature breakdown (you know those ones, where they creep up on you, where you have this vague sense that at any minute things are just going to collapse all around you, and nothing will ever be the same) and I started doing some pretty illegal things to get money (fill in the blanks there however you wish) in order to essentially run away, get a plane ticket to somewhere, and just start afresh. But that did crash down, either way-- I started having some viscerally severe panic attacks; I felt like I was going to be trapped here, forever, that I was going to die here, that all the dreams and aspirations I had of doing something worth while were just gonna be swallowed up the dull, plot-less relentlessness with which life here seemed to drive itself--arguably into the ground. I attended counselling, got a professional, objective perspective, and was able to get to grips with things. The anxiety stopped. The borderline insane drive to escape was lulled, and while the gnawing sense of there being a sort of hole, at the center of everything, dissipated, it didn’t quite disappear. I was, once again, able to manage, and plod right along. 

Over time, I’ve come to terms with the fact that my sense of malaise is not, in fact, the result of some kind of literarily prescribed sense of paralysis-- or, at least, not entirely. It is the result of years, perhaps arguably even decades, of mistreatment. By a family and a home that is so deeply dysfunctional that it is, legitimately, tragic. By an early upbringing so neglected and isolated that, to look back and take an earnest look, is genuinely pathetic. By a mindset and by people who see who I am and see something to laugh at. I’ve slowly come to terms with the fact that my family have never quite seen me seriously, as someone incompetent, flowery, soft, and not worth paying attention to. Years, again, potentially decades of subtle gaslighting, invalidation, negation, criticism, patronizing, condescension-- all compounded by shitty, so-called friends, who were all too happy to take advantage of my desire to please and turn it around on me-- had resulted in a person who had so much self-doubt, such a negative self-image, such a horrible sense of failure that, to further disappoint, would result in self-harm. Decades of having my life dictated to me, taking up responsibility and accepting the burden of my family’s terrible choices, of having my potential and my opportunities circumscribes by what seems to be the endlessly unfolding soap opera of my extended family’s self-inflicted pain.  And the worst part is that I simply thought all of this was normal. The concept of Joycean paralysis was able to help me understand, in a vague sense, what was really wrong, but only hindered me in truly understanding its origin.

I worry that if I go on like this I’ll only end up sounding like some kind of serially self-pitying asshole, one of those people that advertises their personal trauma and tragedy as a means to win the Sadsack Olympics, or obtain sympathy, or blame their lack of success and fulfillment on their past. But in the end, that isn’t what this is about. That isn’t the reason why I’m writing this post. In fact, the reason why I am writing this is far more joyous, written with a deep smile spreading across my face. I’ve spent my entire life orientating around myself around other people, of pleasing other people, and I’ve gotten very, very good at figuring out what is that people want, and giving it to them. What I’ve learned, an what I’ve finally gotten the balls to do, is do what I want. I’ve learned to say no. I’ve learned to pursue what I want, to accrue self-confidence, self-love, self-esteem. I’ve learned to deny people, to put myself first, and tell people who need to be told what for. I’ve learned that to be “good” is to give in, to do as I’ve told and take it all on the chin, and I’ve learned that to be “bad” is to pursue what I want, and to rebel. And, fundamentally, I’ve learned that when I am good, I am very, very good, but when I am bad I am FUCKING FIERCE. 

So I am leaving. In fact, I’ve been planning on leaving for quite some time now. Since March, roughly. I am moving to the U.K, getting away from this place, to spend time with people who I have chosen to spend my time with, that I have build up relationships purely of my own choosing and initiative, and whom I trust. To build a life that I choose to build, for myself, and shirking off as much of the trauma, pain, insecurities and self-doubt as I can. Psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan believed that the core motivating force in all human behavior was anxiety, and not just anxiety, but the creative and ornate ways we go about avoiding or managing it. According to him, a personality was simply a collection of habits and strategies people gathered over time to “avoid or minimize anxiety, ward off disapproval, and maintain self-esteem.” What I’ve learned, personally, is the sheer liberating power of identifying and deconstructing the aspects of my own psychology that are life-limiting, and taking great joy in completely and utterly destroying the ones that are build up anxious defense mechanisms. I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t scary, because when these mechanisms fall I’ll be thrust, head first, into facing the things I am most deeply afraid of—social rejection and abandonment, unworthiness and failure, unlovability and isolation, to name a few. But it is liberating because I’ve come to realize that, yes, our defenses serve a function, but no, we don’t actually need all of them to survive-- and then, suddenly, an entirely new life is possible. I’ve come to realize that I actually CAN tolerate anxiety; I CAN live with not being liked, I CAN be misunderstood, I CAN make mistakes, I CAN feel bad. And let me tell you, it is a relief. God is sometimes understood as a creator, but he can also be understood as a destroy-- And I am choosing to be the God of my own goddamn life, and taking great pleasure in destroying that which I don’t like.

I’ve ended up prescribing some great, symbolic significance to the act of me leaving. It is me righteously striking back at all the things that had made me hate myself in the past, because they couldn’t simply tolerate hating themselves and needed to destroy me in order to feel better. And so, to them, I say: 

Fuck my family, who have done nothing to actually foster and cultivate who I am as a human being

Fuck the people who have turned my own kindness against me and made me doubt myself

Fuck the people who have made me feel as though my command of words is a weakness-- I am a fucking fantastic writer, and I dare any of those people to challenge me, because I’ll write them into the fucking ground. 

Fuck the people who made me doubt my intelligence; I am more than smart enough to figure things out for myself and smart enough, at least now, to see them for the self-hating, jealous troglodytes they are.

Fuck this place that has made me feel that who I am is wrong, and lesser, and subordinate-- I am worthy, and powerful, and capable.

Fuck this country, and its backwards, stagnant, repressive culture

FUCK

YOU

And that’s it. There’s my gigantic, theatrical display of radical self-acceptance. In a way, what I want to do is leave, and never come back. To delete all my social media, and start afresh. But I know that’s not realistic. I know I have to tether myself to “home”, as much as I disagree with the idea this place is truly home. I will say this, however-- there are parts of my experience here, and my life thus far, that have been wonderful. I’ve got a handful of genuinely fantastic friends, and I’ve forged some very important memories with them. To burn those bridges would be unforgivable, and I would never be able to do that to them. 

It’s 2:16am. I was already exhausted but I had to write this and get it all off my chest. But this is it-- me signing off, forever. Let this be a testament to everything I want to be, an will be, from here on out. 

-Ian.