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ggukivrse · 2 days ago

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THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 07

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, swearing, fluff, angst, they finally communicate yayay, (1) pov switch, (2) cliche kdrama scene, (eventual) explicit sexual content, ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 7.7k

notes: one more chapter to go!!!! i hope this one explains everything :< if it doesn’t, please do drop by in my asks so i can over-explain everything until you guys are sick of it lolol. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are very appreciated!! enjoy reading my darlings <33

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⤷ chapter seven — zombie girl

"maybe i've been getting you wrong / i cover you with questions / cover you with explanations."

“Jungkook. You’re a fucking idiot.”

Taehyung’s voice is blunt and tired as it carries across the quiet living room.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He’s still lying on the couch, one arm flopped over his eyes to shield them from the grey haze of early morning light seeping in through the wide windows. His neck hurts. His back’s worse. And the blanket he grabbed last night is too damn thin. But more than anything, it’s the weight in his chest that keeps him from sleeping again.

Well, that and Taehyung who's crouched by the coffee table, in sweatpants and a plain top, his hair sticking up in multiple directions. He’s holding two mugs, and one gets plunked onto the table in front of Jungkook.

“I mean it,” Taehyung says, settling onto the floor, legs crossed like he’s gearing up for a lecture. “Like actually. You're an idiot.”

Jungkook sits up slowly, wincing as something in his shoulder clicks. Despite looking comfy, the couch had felt like concrete to sleep on last night. He takes the mug and mutters a thanks, even though he knows he’s not off the hook.

“Fuck, Kook.” Taehyung drops his head back and groans into the ceiling. “Okay. Let me get this straight. She said she wouldn’t take back an ex, in a game, while she was acting like your girlfriend, and instead of thinking ‘oh maybe she’s just playing the part’— which, by the way, is what you literally asked her to do— you spiral like you just got dumped or something?”

When he puts it like that, it does sound stupid, so Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just takes another sip of coffee.

“I need you to hear how insane you sound right now,” Taehyung adds, pointing at him. “You’re acting like she tattooed the words ‘I hate Jungkook’ on her forehead.”

“You don't get it, hyung. I— I kissed her,” Jungkook says quietly.

Taehyung’s mouth snaps shut. He stares.

“And then she said that. Or didn’t say anything. Whatever.” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots. “I know it’s stupid. But it felt… like I was wrong for thinking it meant something. Like I got my hopes up and she was just being nice. Or drunk. Or— fuck, I don’t know, trying to keep things from getting awkward.”

Taehyung leans back on his palms. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

Jungkook keeps talking.

“But it's fine now. I'm giving her space. Clearly she doesn't think of me in the same way anymore and fuck— it sucks but I'll learn to live with it.”

Taehyung exhales slowly. “Okay.”

“I just… I miss her. All the time. Even when she’s right there.”

Jungkook sets the mug down and leans forward, placing his elbows onto his knees. There’s something about saying it out loud, finally, that makes his chest feel like it might breathe again.

Taehyung watches him carefully with that frustratingly calm stare that always comes out when he’s being more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“You do realise you're fucking leaping to conclusions here, all based on something so miniscule.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for her,” he says eventually, voice quiet.

“Then just stop trying to protect her from yourself and talk to her," Taehyung says, voice laced with exasperation. "Maybe you're right after all — though I seriously fucking doubt it — but you'll never know unless you talk to her.”

“I can't."

"Why?"

“Because if I do—” Jungkook sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Then I have to hear her say it. That she’s done. That she doesn’t love me anymore. And, hyung, I don’t think I can handle that. I really don’t.”

Taehyung is quiet for a long moment. His eyes are unfocused, like he's thinking through a million things at once.

“Okay.” His voice is calm, but Jungkook knows him too well to miss the edge underneath. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say she doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Let’s say the kiss meant nothing to her,” Taehyung continues. “Let’s say she’s over it. Over you. That all of this”— he gestures vaguely between them —“is just her being polite and going through the motions.”

He pauses, watching Jungkook carefully.

“If that’s true... don’t you think she would’ve walked away by now?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, but something in his chest twists.

“She’s not stuck here, Kook,” Taehyung says, voice softer now. “She’s not trapped. We’re not kids. We’re all adults, and she doesn’t owe anyone anything — not even Jin hyung and his proposal plans. If she really didn’t want to be around you, she wouldn’t be. She wouldn't have agreed to your plan in the first place.”

Jungkook swallows hard. “I never said she hated me. I just… I don’t think she loves me anymore. Not like she used to.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung raises a brow. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Because the truth is: he’s not sure. Not really.

"You can't keep pretending that you know how she feels because it's easier than actually finding out, Kook. You can't just avoid her under the guise of giving her space that she never asked for."

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face. “When you say it like that, I sound like a coward.”

“You are being a coward,” Taehyung says plainly. “But I also get it.”

That surprises him.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “You’re scared. That makes sense. You’ve always loved hard, and you’ve never really figured out how to deal with the idea of it not being returned.”

Jungkook looks at him, something almost defensive rising in his chest, but then it fizzles. Because it’s true.

He has always loved hard. Maybe too hard. Maybe in a way that’s always been just a little too much.

“And maybe she’s scared too,” Taehyung adds. “But she’s still here. Still trying. And it's not fair if you don't try either.”

Jungkook’s throat feels tight again.

He thinks about your voice last night. The way it cracked, just slightly, when you said he couldn’t kiss you one day and ignore you the next. He thinks about the way you stood in the living room and asked if you could talk, like you were still trying to hold onto something.

Maybe she’s scared too.

That thought sticks.

“She deserves better than this,” Jungkook murmurs, barely audible.

“Then stop making her guess how you feel,” Taehyung says simply. “Be honest with her. With yourself.”

Jungkook leans forward again, elbows digging into his knees. His hands are clasped, jaw clenched. There’s a thousand thoughts running wild in his head, none of them helpful. But under all of it — under the fear and the guilt — there’s one quiet thought that keeps returning.

She’s still here.

Taehyung watches him for a second longer, then pushes up off his palms and stands, stretching his arms overhead until his back gives a quiet pop. He groans at the sound, rolls his shoulders, and then grabs his now half-empty mug off the table.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, glancing down at Jungkook, who’s still hunched over like the weight of the entire conversation is settling into his spine. “You don’t have to figure it out right this second. But whatever you do, just don’t hide from her.”

Jungkook nods absently. Not a promise, but not nothing either.

Taehyung takes a few steps toward the kitchen, then stops and glances back.

“Oh,” he adds casually, “and maybe be careful around the girls today.”

Jungkook finally lifts his head, brows knitting. “Why?”

Taehyung smiles over his shoulder. “Apparently Jimin overheard them planning to fight you if ____ needed them to."

Jungkook blinks.

“They were very enthusiastic about it,” Taehyung says, disappearing into the kitchen. “Might wanna watch your back.”

Jungkook huffs out a soft laugh despite himself, dragging a hand through his hair. Rain has started to tap against the windows again in a steady manner, and he's starting to find the glum weather to be rather mocking of the situation and everything going on.

He finishes up the last of his coffee in one, bitter sip before standing with a sigh and moving into the kitchen. His legs are stiff, muscles tight from sleeping in the wrong position — or maybe not from sleeping at all. He doesn't really know anymore.

He finds Taehyung leaning against the counter, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly while sipping from his mug with the other. The sliding glass doors are to his right, blurred slightly by the rain dotting the glass. It’s not heavy. Just enough to leave streaks down the panes and a soft grey veil over the view outside.

Jungkook makes his way over to the coffee machine, and nudges the kettle into place. His mind feels weirdly quiet now. Not peaceful, but blank in an odd way. Like there’s nothing left to think until something new sets off the spiral.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Speak of the devil,” Taehyung mutters.

The tone pulls Jungkook’s attention immediately. He glances over, brows furrowing. “What?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer right away. Just lifts his chin toward the window.

Jungkook follows his line of sight.

Out on the sand, maybe a few metres from the lazy ocean, sits you. Hood down. Legs pulled to your chest. Arms wrapped around them loosely. Your hair’s getting damp from the light rain, sticking slightly to your skin, and you're just sitting there.

No umbrella. No towel. No rush to move.

Jungkook watches for a few seconds, expecting you to shift, to stand, to brush off your jeans or shake your head and head back in, but you don’t.

You just stay where you are.

Taehyung exhales next to him, tapping the edge of his mug with his thumb. “She been out there long?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know. Instead, he simply says, "She's gonna get sick."

Taehyung hums noncommittally, eyes still fixed outside. “Yeah. Probably.”

The rain’s light but steady, enough to soak through clothes if you sit in it long enough. Which — judging by the look of it — you’re doing. You're not curled up for warmth or sheltering your head with your arms. Just sitting, with your back to the house, posture unreadable, and from here, Jungkook can’t even make out the expression on your face.

That bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

“She doesn’t even have a jacket,” he mutters. His hand hovers near the kettle, but he doesn’t go for another cup.

Taehyung leans against the counter, casual as ever, and sips from his mug. “You think she’s out there because of yesterday?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

Because what’s he supposed to say? That he doesn’t know? That he hopes so, because at least then it means you still care — but also hopes not, because it means he really fucked up?

He looks down at the floor briefly, and shakes his head. “Maybe.”

Another beat of quiet.

Then Taehyung says, like he’s thinking out loud, “Or maybe she just needed to be alone.”

That makes Jungkook hesitate.

Because yeah, maybe you’re out there for space. And maybe walking out with an umbrella and a few soft apologies isn’t what you need right now. He could keep doing what he’s been doing — hanging back, trying not to make things worse, convincing himself that silence is safer than saying the wrong thing.

But where has that gotten him?

Nowhere good.

The kettle clicks behind him, but Jungkook doesn’t move to fill his mug. Instead, he sets it down on the counter and walks toward the door, eyes flicking briefly to the umbrella stand that’s been sitting there since the trip started, untouched.

He grabs the handle of the nearest one. It’s a little worn at the edges, slightly bent near the tip, but it’ll do.

He stands there for a moment, the umbrella resting loosely in his grip. He still doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he gets to you — if he says anything at all. Maybe you won’t even want to hear it. Maybe you’ll ask him to go. Or maybe you won’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between you the way he did last night.

But watching you from behind the glass, doing nothing, feels worse.

The air that greets him as he pulls open the door is cool and damp, the scent of sea salt drifting in with the breeze. He steps out, closing the door behind him, and pops open the umbrella with a soft click.

The sky is painted a murky blue — too dark to be morning, but too light to still be night. The kind of early where the world feels like it has come to a still.

You sit in the sand, your knees drawn up, your fingers tangled together just to keep them still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here. Long enough for your plaid pyjama pants that you hadn't bothered to change out of, to get damp where they press against the ground. Long enough for your fingers to start going cold. The rain has softened to a mist, barely more than a whisper now, but you’re already soaked through at this point. Still, you haven’t moved.

You should. You know that. It’s not warm, and you didn’t exactly dress for sitting in wet sand like a ghost of your former self. But movement feels like a thing that belongs to people who have direction. And right now, you don’t.

You just feel untethered.

Not angry. Well, not exactly.

Just tired in a way you haven’t let yourself admit until now.

The past few days have been a slow unravelling. And yesterday — yesterday pulled at the last few threads.

You think back to the living room. The sound of rain tapping against the windows. The way you stepped in front of him, heart in your throat, trying to speak. Trying to say something — anything — to bridge the space that had suddenly, grown between you.

"I’m sorry the kiss didn’t mean anything.”

The words still sting.

You don’t think he meant it to sound cruel. Jungkook doesn’t weaponize words like that. But it definitely landed cruel.

Because it did mean something. It had to. Or maybe you just wanted it to so badly, you convinced yourself it did.

You glance down at your hands in your lap. Sand clings to the skin between your fingers. There’s a bit under your nails. You brush at it absentmindedly, then give up.

If you're being honest, this isn't really about the kiss. Or the argument.

It’s about how he’s been holding you at arm’s length ever since.

You keep trying to understand it. What changed. What line you must’ve crossed in that kitchen or at the beach or in the thousand unsaid things between you.

You try to make sense of his silence in the morning, of the way he ignored the coffee you made, the way he got up from the couch when you tried to sit beside him, and you keep circling back to the same hollow conclusion: he’s done trying.

But if he’s done trying, why does it still feel like he’s watching you every time you’re not looking?

You sigh, pressing your thumb to the inside of your palm, grounding yourself in the motion. Your eyes drift to the grey ocean that stretches out in front of you. It reminds you of Jungkook in that way. Always steady. Always showing up. Even when you didn’t ask him to.

Even now, after everything.

A part of you still feels like you’re waiting for something. For him.

And maybe that’s the worst part — not knowing if you’re waiting to forgive him, or waiting to finally let him go.

You hate that it’s not clear.

Because you don’t hate Jungkook. Not even close.

You’re hurt. You’re confused. You feel like you’ve been spinning in circles while he holds all the answers and refuses to hand you even one. But you don’t hate him.

You can’t.

He was your best friend before he was anything else. He’s still the person you catch yourself thinking about when something funny happens. Still the person you instinctively turn to in a crowd. Still the name your mouth almost forms when you’re half-asleep and dreaming about something soft and good.

And maybe that’s why all of this feels so impossible to sit with.

Because loving someone that much doesn’t always fix what’s been broken.

You close your eyes.

You don’t hear the sliding door or the soft crunch of footsteps in damp sand. You’re too far out to notice much of anything but the breath of the ocean and the thrum in your chest that won’t quite settle.

The rain stops rather abruptly.

Or at least… it stops hitting you.

You open your eyes, confused.

There’s an umbrella above your head.

And beside you, a quiet figure crouches, a little out of breath, holding it over you like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. His clothes are damp, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The shadows under his eyes and his hair seem to almost match in colour.

You look at him, but don’t speak.

He meets your gaze briefly. Then drops his eyes to the ground.

“Can I?” he gestures, motioning to the space beside you, his voice soft.

You don’t answer. Instead, you simply turn your face back toward the water like the question never left his mouth.

The space between you is narrow but it feels impossible to cross. And still, you feel him hovering there beside you, like he’s waiting for a sign you’re not going to give.

He hesitates before sitting down, the action almost cautious.

You hear the shuffle of damp fabric, the gentle thump of his weight settling into the sand. He angles the umbrella to cover the both of you, his arm stretched awkwardly behind you to keep it in place. You can feel the tension clinging to him in every movement.

The rain ticks against the nylon of the umbrella and the ocean murmurs. You can hear the faint sound of him breathing. You don’t look at him.

Not because you’re angry — okay, maybe a little — but because you don’t trust what might happen if you do. You’re too raw, too exposed, and you’re still trying to figure out if the ache inside you is grief or something worse — hope.

You’re tired of hoping.

Seconds pass in silence that slowly melts into minutes. You start to wonder if he's going to speak at all, or if he's continue his bullshit from yesterday when you hear him sigh quietly.

“I thought you were talking about me,” Jungkook says eventually, voice low, almost embarrassed. “When you said you’d never take back an ex.”

Your stomach twists as the realisation dawns on you.

“And I know I shouldn’t have assumed,” he adds quickly. “I should’ve asked. Or at least waited. But I didn’t. And it felt like… you were drawing a line. Like the kiss meant nothing to you.”

He shifts slightly beside you. You don’t look, but you can feel him angling toward you, tentative, like he’s bracing for impact.

“I didn’t say it to hurt you,” he continues quietly. “What I said last night. I just—” He sighs again. “I was hurt. And confused. And scared that I was the only one who still cared that much.”

You blink slowly, eyes on the sea.

He sounds sincere. He always does. But sincerity doesn’t patch holes. It doesn’t rebuild trust. Not when you’re the one who’s been standing in the wreckage for weeks, waiting for answers that never came.

“I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t answer me that night,” Jungkook says after a beat. “When I asked if you meant it. You just… went quiet. And I panicked. I thought maybe you were just being kind. Or that you were too drunk to really mean it. Or worse — that you were trying to keep things from getting awkward. And then I started thinking about what you said during the game, and I just—” He breaks off. “I spiralled. I thought I’d made it worse. That maybe being close to me again was just... exhausting for you.”

You still don’t look at him.

Not yet.

He sighs again, softer this time. “So I pulled back. I thought it was what you wanted. I thought, if you didn’t care anymore, then maybe I was just in the way. And I couldn’t take the risk of asking. Because if I asked and you told me straight out that you didn’t care for me anymore in the way I cared for you, I— I wouldn't have been able to handle it."

You finally turn to look at him. Just slightly. Just enough to see the way he’s holding himself — like everything inside him is tense and tired and barely holding together.

“You think I don’t care about you?” you ask quietly.

He blinks, startled by your voice, by your words, by the fact that you’ve finally turned toward him.

You shake your head slowly, incredulous. “You think I’d agree to your stupid plan to in front of our closest friends if I didn’t care about you in the slightest?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he says.

“I let you kiss me,” you continue, voice a little stronger now and sharp with disbelief. “I let you touch me like nothing had changed. I’ve spent every night in the same bed as you, Jungkook. Do you honestly think I would’ve gone through all of that if I didn’t care?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Do you know how hard it’s been? Watching you treat me like a stranger one second and like something you still want the next? Pretending it doesn’t bother me every time you walk away when I try to sit beside you, or when you ignore the coffee I made, or when you act like I’m the one who created this distance?”

His jaw tightens, expression pinched like he’s finally hearing all of it — the hurt, the confusion, the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since this trip started.

You look at him then. Fully. And it takes everything in you not to cry from the weight of finally saying it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says quietly. “When we broke up.”

The more he speaks, the more questions that form in your head. You look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes are fixed on the ocean now, like he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze again.

Your voice is low when you finally speak. “The right thing?”

He nods once, but doesn’t elaborate.

You wait.

And when he still doesn’t say anything, you ask, “For who?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, after a long beat, he says, voice so quiet that the sound is almost lost to the wind, “For you.”

That stings more than you expect. Because if this is what him doing what’s best for you looks like, you don’t want to see what the opposite would’ve been.

You want to speak, but you stop yourself. You want to hear the whole story — no more fragments, no more half-truths — and you want him to want to tell it.

Jungkook sighs again, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. His other arm is still outstretched, holding the umbrella over both of you. You wonder how long he’s going to keep it there before his arm gives out.

“I know you’re mad,” he says finally, softly. “You have every right to be. I just… I needed you to know it wasn’t because I stopped caring. I never stopped.”

But that isn't enough anymore. You've learned to realise that caring and choosing are two different thing, and he chose to walk away for reasons you're still unsure about.

The silence between you stretches long and thin. You return your gaze to the sand in front of you, but you can feel him in every fidget and every glance he throws your way.

“Then why did you?”

He doesn’t ask what you mean because he knows.

And maybe that’s the worst part — that he’s known this whole time, that you’ve been drowning in confusion for weeks and he’s been standing on shore with the answers in his pocket.

His voice is hesitant when he eventually speaks. Almost as if he never wanted to say the words out loud.

“I saw the email.”

Your brow furrows before you even realise it. You glance at him, and he’s already looking down, lashes low, jaw set.

“What email?” you ask.

“The one from Berlin.”

Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t told anyone. Not back then. You were still trying to figure it out yourself — if you could do it, if you even wanted to.

You never imagined he’d seen it.

“How?” you ask, a little sharper this time. Your heart racing now.

“You left your laptop open. You were in the shower.”

Your lips part slightly. “So you… read it?”

“Just the subject line.” He looks guilty. “The name of the program. The ‘congratulations.’ That was enough.”

You look away, back to the ocean. You remember the moment now — coming out of the bathroom, finding him on the couch with his phone in hand, your laptop screen closed.

He must’ve seen it and said nothing. Carried it and let it snowball.

You blink slowly, trying to process. “You should’ve asked me about it.”

“I know.”

“Instead, you—” You stop yourself. Swallow hard. “You broke up with me?”

His answer comes quickly this time, like he’s been holding it in ever since.

“I didn’t want to hold you back.”

It’s so simple. So clear. So frustratingly stupid.

You let out a short, humourless laugh and shake your head. “So you just made the decision for me?”

Jungkook goes still beside you.

“You didn’t even ask what I wanted,” you say, voice soft but steady. “Didn’t give me the chance to choose.”

“I thought—” He breaks off, then runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve talked about wanting to live abroad since freshman year. About how you’d take any opportunity you could get if it was the right one. And that program? It was a huge deal. You worked your ass off for that email. I couldn’t be the reason you turned it down.”

“But I did,” you say, not looking at him. “I turned it down.”

He’s quiet.

“I turned it down before we even broke up,” you add, and there’s no satisfaction in saying it. “I read it, I thought about it, and I knew I wasn’t ready to leave.”

You glance at him, and he’s staring at you, frozen. “You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you that.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Because you didn’t ask.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath. “I thought I was doing the selfless thing.”

You finally meet his eyes. “It wasn’t selfless. It was cowardly.”

He flinches a bit, like you hit him, but you don’t take it back.

You don’t enjoy saying it. You don’t want to hurt him. But it’s the truth, and the truth matters now more than ever.

You look away again, toward the sky and the dull curve of the horizon. Your voice is quieter when you speak. “You say you never stopped caring. But caring about someone means you talk to them. You trust them to make decisions with you, not for you.”

“I didn’t trust myself,” he admits. “Not to be selfish. Not to ask you to stay.”

Fuck. In a way, he's right in that sense — you would've stayed if he'd asked you to and you're not sure if that makes you proud or foolish.

You draw a shaky breath and hug your arms tighter around your knees.

“Do you know what it felt like?” you ask, voice just above a whisper. “Thinking I wasn’t enough?”

Jungkook’s voice is immediate. “You are.”

“It didn't feel like it, Jungkook. It felt like— like you just realised one day that I wasn't good enough so you left. That I was something you could just throw away without looking back.”

“I just— I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed.”

Your chest tightens. You wish he’d said that weeks ago. You wish you didn’t understand it now.

The umbrella has started to dip, though Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His shoulders are slumped, his hand shaking slightly where it grips the handle. You don’t reach out. You don’t steady it for him.

Instead, you stare at the ground.

Because for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally getting answers. And for the first time, you wish they didn’t hurt this much.

For a while, neither of you speak. You simply watch as the ocean laps at the shore gently, trying to quiet your mind.

Jungkook shifts slightly beside you, the umbrella angling just enough that a light drizzle brushes the edge of your shoulder. Still, neither of you move. He must feel it too, but maybe, like you, he’s not sure if he has the right to fix anything anymore.

You tuck your chin against your knees.

“I thought you were going to propose.”

He freezes.

You don’t look at him. Just keep staring down at the sand, wet and rippled and full of small, wavy lines. “I found the receipt from the jeweller. A few days before it happened. You’d left it in the glove compartment.”

His breath catches, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know if I was imagining it,” you continue. “But… you were acting different. Distant and like, nervous. You’d been asking Tae weird questions. I figured maybe you were just waiting for the right moment.”

Another beat passes, and you let out a soft, bitter laugh. “And then you left.”

You finally glance at him.

His face is tight with something like regret. Shame, maybe. His eyes are focused on a point in the distance, jaw clenched so hard you can see the tension in his neck.

“I was,” he says, voice low. “Going to propose.”

You swallow hard, throat dry. “Why didn’t you?”

He hesitates. “Because I saw the email, and I panicked. Everything just—shifted.

“I thought if I proposed, it would be selfish. Like I was tying you down. Making you choose me over something bigger. Something more. And I didn’t want to be that person.”

“You weren’t tying me down,” you say. “You were supposed to be part of the future. Not the thing standing in front of it.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally flicker to yours.

“I know that now,” he says. “But at the time… all I could think about was what if you said yes because you felt like you had to? Because you didn’t want to hurt me? And then a year from now you’d wake up in some apartment with me and wonder what could’ve happened if you’d left when you had the chance.”

You blink hard, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “You should’ve trusted me to make that choice.”

“I didn’t trust me,” he says. “I loved you so much it scared me. I still do. And it felt like— like too much of me was wrapped up in you. Like I couldn’t be objective anymore. I couldn’t think straight. I just—”

He breaks off, eyes cast low, voice thinner now.

“I thought letting you go was what I had to do.”

You breathe in slowly, trying to steady your pulse. “So you let me go. Without asking. Without warning.”

“I know,” he says. “I know I handled it all wrong.”

You nod once, slowly. “You did.”

“I kept waiting for you to call,” you admit. “I thought that maybe you’d change your mind. That you’d wake up and realise it was a mistake.”

“I did,” he says, instantly.

The wind brushes past you, loosening strands of hair from behind your ear.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, quieter now. “Why didn’t you reach out?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier. For both of us.”

You look down at your hands.

As stupid as it was, he thought he was being selfless. But really, he was afraid. Of being the one who made you stay. Of being the reason you didn’t go. Of being loved too much, and losing it anyway.

You don’t know what to do with all that.

You’re not sure if it’s something to forgive, or just something to live with.

The umbrella’s starting to tilt. His arm’s been outstretched too long.

You glance at it, then at him. He’s not complaining — just sitting there, jaw tight, fingers white-knuckled around the handle.

You reach over without thinking and adjust it yourself, steadying the angle so it stops dripping at the edge. Your hands brush, and his flinch is barely perceptible — not from the touch, but from the way it happens so easily. Like it always used to.

The umbrella rights itself. The air between you doesn’t.

God, this would've been so much easier if you didn't still love him. If you didn’t still want to know how he’s doing first thing in the morning or wonder if he’s eaten. If your body didn’t still tilt toward his in a room without meaning to, like it forgot what happened.

But you do. You still love him.

And love — the kind you had, the kind you have — doesn’t just go away.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t make the hurt disappear either.

You lower your hand, letting go of the umbrella. Letting go of him, too, just a little.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you murmur.

Jungkook swallows hard. “I don’t want you to say anything you don’t mean.”

“I mean,” you start, then stop. “I need time.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits a little straighter, arm still raised, rain still pattering gently over the both of you.

You continue, voice careful. “Not because I don’t care. I just… I’ve been so tangled up in everything that happened, and in what you did and didn’t say that I haven’t had a second to think for me.”

You draw in a deep breath. “And I need that.”

Jungkook finally lowers the umbrella. Not all the way, but just enough that the edge dips again and the mist kisses the back of your neck. He nods slowly, like it hurts, but he understands.

“I want to be honest with you,” you say, softer now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if we’ll fix this. But I do know that pretending we’re fine, or jumping back into what we had— it wouldn’t be fair. Not to either of us.”

Jungkook blinks fast and nods again.

“But I meant what I said the other night,” you add. “When I didn’t move away. When I let you kiss me. It did mean something to me.”

He exhales shakily. “Okay."

You don’t say anything after that. Neither does he.

The sky has slowly started lightening into morning. You know you're going to regret sitting out here later — you can already feel the ache building in your back. But for now, you hug your knees a little closer to your chest and stay.

The stars are bright tonight, painted across the dark sky in constellations. A soft breeze rolls through the open balcony, and the air is cool against your arms where they rest along the wooden railing.

Up here, it’s quieter than usual. Everyone's gathered around in small groups as you stand a few steps off to the side.

Your body relaxes into the railing, elbows hooked over the edge. You haven’t really spoken to anyone tonight. You’d slipped back inside after the beach and crashed on the bed without a second thought. It’s the first time all week your mind hasn’t been a mess of things you don’t want to admit out loud.

Now, you feel the last of it — the fog of that sleep — still lingering at the edge of your awareness. You blink slowly, eyes tracing the way the light spills over the floorboards, how it wraps around Namjoon and Aria as they talk quietly near their door. Jimin’s halfway through telling a story to Hoseok, animated as ever, and Yoongi keeps interrupting with deadpan commentary that earns a laugh every time. Kiara rests her head against Hoseok’s shoulder, her hand absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his hoodie.

They’re all waiting.

Yasmine isn’t here. She’s with Seokjin and Haeun, probably directing the last-minute touches for whatever proposal magic he's cooked up. She swore everyone else wasn’t allowed downstairs yet. “You'll ruin the surprise,” she said earlier, shoving Jimin back up the stairs when he tried to sneak a peek.

Your gaze drifts over the group again, pausing for a beat on the spot where Jungkook isn’t.

You haven’t spoken to him since this morning. You hadn’t meant your words to sound like a wall going up, but maybe they had. He's been giving you space ever since, and you'd taken it.

You’d gone inside and slept like you hadn’t in days. And now you’re here, awake and still somehow tired, unsure what to say even if you knew where he was.

You rub a finger along the edge of the railing just as you hear footsteps from behind you.

Jungkook comes to a stop beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne — faint and familiar, buried somewhere in your memory alongside sun-warmed sheets and midnight conversations. He rests his forearms on the railing, mirroring your stance. There’s a careful sort of quiet that settles between you, more comfortable than awkward.

“You slept,” he says after a moment.

You nod. “Yeah. Knocked out.”

His voice is soft. “Good. You needed it.”

“I think my body gave up arguing.”

He hums in agreement. “You looked peaceful.”

You glance sideways at him. “You were watching me?”

He shrugs. “Just… passed by. The door was cracked.”

You hum and let the silence return, not rushing to fill it.

Down the line, Jimin says something that makes Kiara burst out laughing. The sound is warm, and it pulls a small smile from you too.

You don't notice Jungkook moving until he's pulling something from his hoodie pocket. “Hey, um— before you say anything,” he starts, holding up his hands a little, “this isn’t me trying to win you over or anything. I just… I got you something.”

You blink, turning to him more fully.

He holds out a small bundle wrapped in crinkled tissue. “I actually bought it the day we went into town. That’s why it took me so long to ‘get water.’”

You stare at the bundle, then slowly reach out and take it from his hand.

“I saw them and just… thought of you,” he adds quickly. “That’s all.”

You unwrap the paper. Your fingers pause when you see what’s inside.

Earrings.

Small pearls that are almost identical to the ones you lost.

Your breath catches, but you don’t say anything. You just hold them in your palm, letting the weight of them settle, letting the quiet linger while your heart does something you’re too scared to name.

You turn the earrings over in your hand and the light catch on the glassy stones. They glint, just like the pair you used to wear.

“They’re almost the same,” you murmur.

Jungkook leans a little closer, arms still resting on the railing. “Yeah. I thought they were, too.”

You glance at him, catching the faintest curve of a smile before he looks away.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You brush your hair back and slip one earring in, then the other. They’re light, barely there. A part of you wonders how long he had them tucked away. How long he’d been waiting for the right moment — or maybe convincing himself there wouldn’t be one.

When you glance at him again, he’s already watching you. His eyes flicker to yours for half a second too long before he looks away, clearing his throat.

“They look good on you,” he says.

You smile, small and real. “You always say that.”

His mouth pulls into something like amusement, but there’s something else there too. Something quiet and tender.

He doesn’t say anything else.

For a few long seconds, you both watch the stars. And in the quiet, you feel it again — that thing that’s never fully left. The pull. The ache. The way being near him still feels like second nature even when everything else feels unsure.

The earrings catch the light as you turn back toward the sky, your profile soft in the glow of the overhead bulbs. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he. Jungkook stays still beside you, watching the curve of your cheek, the gentle sway of your hair in the breeze.

He lets out a slow breath and shifts his gaze forward.

There’s a strange peace in this moment; like standing on the edge of something that used to be home, knowing it may never be again, but still loving it anyway. He’s not sure what to do with that.

Then, from the stairwell behind them, Kiara calls out, voice bright and breathless, “They’re coming up!”

Everyone turns, chairs scraping and voices rising.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away. He watches as you straighten up, tucking your hair behind your ear. You walk forward a few paces, toward the centre of the balcony, just as Seokjin and Haeun step up into view.

“She said yes!” Seokjin beams, his hands thrown up in triumph.

Haeun laughs, eyes glassy and shining. “Of course I did, idiot.”

The group erupts — cheers, clapping, congratulations tumbling over each other. Jimin shouts something about planning a bachelor party that immediately makes Yoongi groan. Namjoon pats Seokjin on the back so hard it nearly knocks him forward.

Jungkook stays back, leaning against the railing.

He watches as you move forward and wrap Haeun in a hug, then Seokjin too. Your smile is wide — real — the kind that lights up your whole face. It hits him all at once: how beautiful you look in this moment. How easy it is to picture a future like that with you.

How close he’d come.

His hand twitches at his side.

He remembers standing in a jewellery store with Taehyung a few months ago, holding a ring box in his hand and wondering if you’d cry when he asked. He’d imagined this exact scene — your friends around you, stars overhead, your arms wrapped around him instead.

But it hadn’t happened. Because he hadn’t let it.

Because he’d thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go before he became something that held you back. Before he became the reason you said no to the rest of the world.

And yet here you are.

He swallows hard, pushing the thought down. It’s not just regret — there's something more than that. Something like almost.

Almost asked.

Almost said yes.

Almost forever.

Jungkook exhales slowly, and from across the balcony, you glance back at him.

It’s only a second, but he can tell you feel it too.

You look away first.

Only because Kiara calls your name, reaching out to pull you back into the circle forming around Seokjin and Haeun. Jungkook watches as you step into it easily, your laughter mixing with the others’, your hands clapping as Jimin demands a full retelling of the proposal, as if none of you saw it coming.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away.

He lingers at the railing, hands buried in the front pocket of his hoodie, eyes still trailing after you. There’s something familiar in the way you laugh at whatever ridiculous thing Seokjin is saying, the way you throw your arms around Haeun without hesitation, nudging Seokjin with a mock-scolding look. Like nothing’s fractured. Like you belong there.

You always did.

And maybe that’s what makes it hurt — how natural it still feels to love you in silence.

Eventually, he moves. Makes his way over with a grin that feels steady enough. He wraps both Seokjin and Haeun into a hug, murmuring something that makes Haeun laugh and Seokjin say, “Took you long enough.”

Just as he steps back, the first firework cracks open above.

A deep, thunderous sound fills the air before gold floods the sky, scattering into a trail of light that fades into falling blue sparks. Instinctively, everyone presses in toward the railing, crowding together. In the quiet jostling, you end up beside Jungkook again.

Neither of you speak.

You’re watching the sky like it’s something brand new. Head tilted back, arms loosely crossed on the railing, lips slightly parted. The reflection of the fireworks dances across your face in flashes; amber, silver, a soft lavender that makes your eyes seem even softer.

Jungkook doesn’t watch the sky.

Not really.

He watches you.

In the brief pause between bursts, he sees your lashes catch the light, your expression unguarded.

How are you still the most beautiful thing in a sky full of fire?

Another firework blooms — gold again, then violet, then a wave of silver sparks that make the whole group gasp.

You exhale slowly, like you’ve been holding your breath.

“It’s so pretty,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jungkook doesn’t look away. Not even for a second.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes only on you. “It really is.”

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vxnillabxn · 1 day ago

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hii!!! your zayne!fic is amazing <3333 can i request teasing!zayne and shy!reader like he effortlessly wink at him WHILE pulling the edge of his shirt to wipe his sweats just him being so insufferable (lovingly) <3333

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne x gn!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, suggestive! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚ZAYNE ZAYNE ZAYNE !!! that's me, i'm literally the shy reader, i love this idea so much, especially if both zayne and reader are like... already in a committed relationship yet they still get shy around each other ( ˶•ᴖ•) !! i didn't use gendered pronouns for the reader, so it is pretty much gn! hope that's okay! thanks for requesting, and enjoy!

you hate it.

you hate how he doesn't even try.

or at least, how it seems like he doesn't have to.

you could literally just be sitting in front of him in his office, and he'd purposely take off his coat and flex his defined muscles under the short button-up shirt he decided to wear on a conveniently sunny day.

he'd take his glasses off too, just to look at you.

“you're oddly fixated on me today.”

dang it.

you quickly look away, trying to hide how nervous he makes you feel.

he only smiles faintly, typing back into his computer.

if he finishes earlier, he'd take you out to eat.

and he definitely knows you'll get messy, because when some cream drips down the corner of your lips, he smoothly picks it up with his thumb and licks it.

and your heart does cartwheels.

“here, let me feed you. it seems you are being rather clumsy today.”

you want to kick him under the table, but how could you, when he takes the spoon to your lips with such an expectant gaze?

you'll get back at him…

after you compose yourself, of course.

now, something he does quite a lot is flexing his back.

as much as he loves holding and tracing yours with his fingers when he hugs you, he also likes showing his off.

because, let's be real, his physique is god-chiseled.

whenever he changes in front of you, he turns around, flexing his back muscles.

he knows you're looking.

and his act is so infuriating.

“have you finished your daily check-up, love? what's your diagnosis?”

your skin feels warm and you avert your gaze, before throwing a pillow his way.

gosh, gosh, gosh, you hate him.

if he chooses to stay shirtless, you literally have to sleep on your side without facing him, or else he'd take any opportunity to tease you if you even glance at his chest.

and if he does put a shirt on, he'd lift it up to clean his glasses —totally on purpose— not even thinking about how his abs are showing —he totally thinks about it— and not noticing how flustered you get —he notices, all the time— when he does.

it's so out of character, but he loves to see you struggling to keep composed.

especially after you tease him too, without realizing.

the difference is, you truly don't notice when you do subtle things to get him flustered.

massaging his shoulders, kissing behind his ear, taking his glasses off and cleaning them gently for him, or even coming behind him and stealing some of the muffin he's eating.

his heart rate shoots up.

and he wants to get back at you, which is fun, because you actually show how shy and nervous you can get, and he feels proud to even elicit those reactions out of you.

he'd have some mercy, though.

if he notices you are shifting way too much, and if your body heat increases to the point you have to excuse yourself to freshen up, he'll quietly follow you and hug you from behind, kissing your nape gently…

and telling you the nerdiest, most incomprehensible and obnoxiously advanced piece of information you've ever heard, thinking that will calm you down.

“...what?”

“yes. it has been researched recently. actually, if you look through pages 556 through 579—”

but poor zaynie doesn't know that being such a smart pants actually…

gets you even more flustered.

especially when he uses those complex words you didn't even know existed.

and when he quietly explains everything to you.

you need to…

you need to kiss him.

you quickly turn around and clash your lips with his, effectively shutting him up.

it isn't a passionate kiss in any way. in fact, it is rushed and clumsy, and you soon excuse yourself to get away before your heart explodes right there.

and that kiss, that seemingly-out-of-nowhere kiss, has zayne's ears red as a cherry, and his cold hands now warm and sweaty.

because if he “doesn't even try to tease you” in your eyes, then you “don't even realize you are teasing him.”

at all.

and all of these months, when you've tried getting back at him for making you a shy mess, he's been trying to get back at you…

for the exact same reason.

and until one of you points it out, which won't happen because he's too proud sometimes, and you refuse to lose to his charm, then this cycle will never end.

so you'll keep hating him for being so lovable and teasing.

and he'll keep loving you for making him feel things his usually composed self never thought possible.

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codeword-art · 3 days ago

Text

Can we talk about how well Hans took care of himself during the "divorce era" in KCD2? I've been thinking about this a lot more recently, especially after playing more of KCD and getting a feel for early-stage Hans. Not only does he manage to survive in the woods and poach game, but he also never gets caught until after the wedding. That's also not considering he managed to get some new threads and an invitation to the wedding.

How he got caught is debated, but still the wedding was the catalyst to anyone even knowing it was Hans in the first place. Even if Henry does find him, as we're apt to do as a player.

For a man who thinks so little of himself, he managed just fine without Henry. Just as he managed to save both their lives after the attack on the lake. Hans is a very capable man, even more than he believes.

It's interesting how easy it all came to Hans as well. Hunting, skinning, and butchering is not easy work, especially for one person. Sure, the gamekeeper mentions the butchering was sloppy, but it was good enough to make him money. The money he spent getting clothes, a bow, arrows, a camp, and eventually wedding attire, and from playing this game, none of that comes cheap. That is some grinding Hans did, with absolutely no help. Hans learned the area, found the poacher's trails, and successfully covered his tracks, negotiated an underhanded deal with the Trosky butcher, and hauled his game to wherever he would meet the butcher to sell.

I think being away from prying eyes and having the space and time to calm himself down and make his own decisions, without worrying if it might bring harm to others in the long run, did wonders for Hans. Without Henry there to take the tasks for him, Hans was forced to be more self-reliant, which he is capable of being. He's not given a lot of opportunities to show this side of himself, but Hans can take care of himself perfectly fine, and I'm sure he's been taking care of himself since his parents died.

It's so easy to view Hans as this big spoiled brat who has everything done for him, and he is in a lot of ways, but he's also clever and has needed to rely on himself in ways that are not immediately apparent in the game. In ways Henry hasn't gotten to see.

I hate how he isn't given more credit for this. The game and Henry treat this choice of Hans as a stupid and bad thing, but honestly, Henry can kiss my ass here. In either the Blacksmith or Miller quests for the Wedding, Henry does illegal shit in both. Stealing, grave robbing, possible murder or assault, and that's not accounting for all the various ways you can make money around Trosky to help get you in that wedding. Things like poaching!

So yeah, poaching has a death sentence tied to it, but it's the only thing Hans felt confident doing. Not everyone can be a Davinci Man like Henry, and he did what he thought would work in the quickest amount of time for both himself and Henry, because he never once dropped the idea of doing all of this for both of them. Also, Hans wasn't wrong; once it was understood he was a nobleman, the crime of poaching was quickly dropped as nothing more than a misdemeanor. So, a tinge, a nibble, of recognition for Hans would have been nice here.

#hans capon #kingdom come deliverance #kcd2 #kingdom come deliverance 2 #kcd #henry of skalitz

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inejinn · 2 days ago

Text

Marks you shouldn't have to hide

────── ──────🗡────── ──────

I) rumi centric: in wich hiding from your friends by covering yourself during a heatwave is not the brightest idea

(takes place before the events of the movie!)

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

It's so hot. The heat? Blazing. Blithering. She's dying. She's going to drown in her sweat.

Rumi has everything she could wish having. She's never had to endure being destitute: she's always had more money than the amount you need to have to live and not just survive.

She's strong-minded, her will more than firm.

Never has she been bullied, but now it's absolutely the opposite. People? They love her. They love her, so, so resolutely it can be a little scary sometimes.

She's not just speaking about her friends, who seems to appreciate her despite much, like that one time Zoey forgave her for breaking her favourite cup, when she had accidentally used too much pressure while holding the "precious" dinnerware.

While Rumi was fretting over the broken shards , trying to rebuild the ugly lizard that adorned the tea-cup, its owner had fretted over making sure she had been unhurt, assuring her "i don't care about it all that much, really! i can buy another one, i promise, are you sure you're really fine though?"

She's not just speaking about her friends, but she's also speaking about their fans, who seems to admire everything they make. To extents that are sometimes a little much. Downright scary some other times, yes, mayyybe. But, honestly, sasaengs, or papparazis, are not that much of a problem.

They somehow are not recognized when they're just wearing simple facemasks, so..

Rumi's life is great, really. It is. Perfect, almost.

It would be, if her face was the only thing she'd be hiding.

But, unfortunately, it very much isn't. She has things to hide. Not her face, sure, but still parts of herself.

Rumi has everything she could wish having, wich include a fancy appartment that really is more a penthouse, that she gets to live in with her best friends. Their appartment has AC.

She's still dying.

It feels like her second skin is stuck to her first skin, the fabric of her shirt wet with her sweat. Her leggings are doing pretty much the same. Ohhh my god this is awful.

"I'm dying", she says outloud to no-one in particular. No-one, because she's currently alone in the penthouse. Wich logically means that she could go around as unclothed as she'd want to, but the thing is that there isn't a world where that is something she would want.

Mira and Zoey could be back any minute now, back from the pool and its water that must feel so refreshing. Back from the pool, as in, the most effective way of fighting against the heat of the summer wave.

Unfortunately, she has to resort to spraying herself, as if she were some sort of wilting house-plant. The vaporized water feels nice, but. Not enough. Definitely not enough.

"arghhhh, i hate thisss"

She really, really does. Hate this. This being how she's currently feeling as she's laying on the couch and gross with sweat, of course.

Not how she's using the heat as an excuse not to see her own skin and what's on it. Not even the slightest bit, noo, never

She might just have to go lay on the floor instead. It has got to feel blissfully freezing, right? Taking a nap on the tiles sounds heavenly right about now. She'll move there once she'll have finished her daily internet-scrolling session, maybe.

But right now, chosing wich tweets she should answer to and wich to like and wich to simply secretly chuckle to is way more important. Doom-scrolling time is too important.

The only thing that might be allowed to disturb it are messages from Bobby, Celine or her friends: .. very much like the one she just got from Zoey.

"Be there in a minute! ", it goes, wich means they might be back in about , what, 10minutes, if they don't get too distracted. But given that a new coffee shop opened recently...

Her heart pangs a little. She hopes they won't take too long. Because, well, of course they can go to places without her, but a coffee place is somewhere she can easily go with them, and she loves sweet, tastful drinks. So. It'd be upsetting not going. She should ask them to some other day.

'See ya", she sends.

The floor sounds more and more enticing as she keeps scrolling. Specially given that her phone is becoming a little too hot for her comfort. The disadvantage of fast charging chargers is that they get hot very quickly. They get hot.

And the additional heat is pretty annoying, when her body's own is already very much too high. Is the AC broken? If not, then it is definitely not doing its job, the lazy-ass.

With a groan, Rumi unplugs her phone, reachs down to unplug the charger as well and..

Her fingers release their grip on her phone, and she smushes against a previously discarded pillow, and the feet of the table comes greet her and. Woah. Yeah, it is definitely a little cooler down there.

The "ow" that comes is muffled into the plush pillow. Well. Floor time it is, apparently.

Sometimes, things happen despite not having being planned and that's fine, she supposes. You can't fight back against fate. You have to make do with it, and try not to suffer because of its doing as much as you can.

There's things that cannot be escaped.

Ending up down there was apparently one of those things.

She's kind of lucky, really. The (plush as well, courtesy of that one time Mira bought too much fuzzy fabric for an outfit concept and insisted on using the left over) carpet is far away from her that she didn't land on it, which means she's in direct contact to the floor. And to the tiles. The cold, cold tiles. "Oh my god. that's, like, perfect."

She had been right. This is her paradise. She can almost ignore the buzzing of her head. Yeah, she's forgetting about it again. Definitely. She's more focused on getting rid of the pillow, once again chucking it further away, just to lay her cheek directly on the floor. "Wow." As Zoey always says: "yep, that's the stuff", though she usually uses that declaration for food-related affirmations.

She can almost ignore that she still feels very much too scorched underneath her sleeves and pants. She should have stayed in the confines of her room, where's she's able to expose more of herself, but the girls could be back any minutes now, and she promised she'd watch a movie with them. To make up for not going to the pool with them, or to the bathouse, or to the private beach they rented once, or- yeah. Basically any place where it's necessary to show off flawless skin.

Not going means not having to explain things, like why she's not wearing a swimsuit and, what, going in the water fully clothed while Mira and Zoey are swimming around in their own swimsuits that, really, really display way too much?

Yeahh. This is better for her lungs, anyway.

Here, in the relative coolness, her pulse and breathing pace can stay relatively normal, at least.

Even if it means she's stuck inside with an AC that is probably broken , and that actually might have turned into a radiator. Seriously, why is it so hot in there?

She should ask Bobby if the building has any insulation problem, or anything like that. Wich, well. She needs her phone to do that, and she has no idea where it landed. Fuck. Guess she has to sit up.

Nooooo.

With a deep sigh, she does sit up, away from the coolness. Her phone's tucked away, near the other couch, a little bellow it. The screen's light is highlighting the presence of dust bunnies.

She grimaces.

Standing up to go get it is not sounding too appealing right about now. Nope. Her legs are way too achy. Maybe she should just stay there. The looping song from the reel she had been watching isn't that annoying, if a little frustrating. Seriously, they just had to pick an extract ending just before the best part?

Or maybe she could just..

Clanking sounds comes from inside the home. She hurries up, almost stumbling right back to the ground as her head goes slightly tingly at the rush. Is this-

"WE'RE BACKK", comes from in between the entry and the kitchen.

Rumi relaxes, her shoulders lowering back down as she herself does aswell. Okay. Phew. Just her girls.

"Wow. You're looking so red, are you cosplaying a lobster?", she hears next. Next to her, or rather, above her. Mira.

She blinks. "You're back already?"

"Uh, yeah? I texted you some minutes ago, Zoey's phone died so she couldn't tell you" Mira's towering over her, looking down as she speaks, folded arms on the headrest of the couch.

"Hah, yeah, that makes sense. ", Rumi blinks again. Her friend's still wearing her pop-star like (not that she isn't a star) sunglasses, wich is quite a contrast compared to her flowy, angel-like t-shirt. It fits her oddly well.

"Sooo.. why didn't you answer? I thought you were having your internet-phone-couch time. .. No, actually, screw that. What are you doing down there? "

" Mira, it is so much cooler down there", she bemoans. " I feel like I can survive there" Her friend's eyebrows furrow. She leans down a little further.

"Uhm, have you considered trying logical solutions like tying up your hair? Wearing more adapted clothes? You could go around naked and we wouldn't mind to be fair, i'm 1 degree away from doing it myself"

That gets a snort out of Rumi's nose, because , yes, Mira might just do that.

Rolling up her sleeves sounds so easy, right now.

Suddenly, Rumi almost feels like she's younger, just having her first summer with her two newly encountered co-stars and having to subtly manage to state that sleevless costumes were out the question without raising actual questions.

"Nah, my braid was giving me such a headache,"she settles on saying (It really is better now that she lets her hair loose, in comparison) "I prefer having my Rapunzel moment"

"Sureee", Mira drawls, right before masterfully tumbling over the headrest to land on the couch, lowkey striking a pose, except Rumi knows very well it's probably not done consciously. "Hope you atleast drank."

Something in her expression is convincing Rumi that Mira is reconsidering things. Like not having dragged her along to the pool with them, for example.

Wich is exactly why she (hurriedly) gesture to the bottle she fully emptied some half an hour ago. "I was gonna go stand up at some point to grab some more"

"Welp, no need to anymore. We got-"

"Better water than the sink's water?", she asks. Rethorically. Mira is concerningly obsessed with trying out bottled water brands to find out wich is the best.

Her teasing tone is not lost on her.

"Excuse me, I'll let you know that volv-"

"Rumi, want ice-cream?! We bought watermelon flavour, you've got to try!", Zoey screams from the kitchen, making herself known again.

So that's what she's been doing. Probably struggling to find a place to store it in, what's with all the noodles currently in the freezer.

"Oh, no, thanks th-"

"Yes she does!", Mira interrupts her. " Come on, you've got to try it, it taste like nothing but at the same time like absolute shit."

Mira is still carefully scrutinizing her. They're almost face to face. This is actually kind of creepy, really; and definitely disturbing.

"Why would it still be in sale if it's really that bad?"

" Zoey will argue it's good, but do not believe her, her taste buds definitely suffered when she inhaled the chlorine"

"Okay, yeah, I'm intrigued now"

" Ice cream time it is then", Mira snaps upright- like it's not way too hot and like she still has plenty of energy after swimming during around 2hours- , offering a hand to drag Rumi along with her.

She barely stumbles when she gets up, this time.

"We got drinks too, you might finally get to get the strawberry flavour if Zoey didn't drink them all already"

"I did not! ", comes immediately from behind the door, from an offended Zoey. Like she hasn't been drinking all the bobba tea they've been getting, because, you know, it's supposedly cheaper and way better tasting than the ones in America. "I'm innocent, this is slander"

"Why does it sound like you were trying to drown her for this earlier in the pool?", Rumi asks , looking to the side at a Mira that definitely seems guilty of said crime.

"I was not." "She absolutely was."

"Okayy", she laughs "sure"

"I would never." , Mira assures, solemnly nodding, the hand that's not on Rumi's back placed on her heart like she's pledging her honest honesty, or something along the lines.

"Everybody in this building know you would, you innocent looking-demon.", Zoey deadpans. Her gaze has shifted to Rumi's neck . To her turtleneck? To what's underneath it? She almost freezes, except- "Oh my god, I can't believe I didn't notice, you let your hair down? That fits you so welllll" oh.

Yeah. This is her friends. The watermelon flavour waiting for her and the laughter that escapes Mira's throat makes that evident. They're okay with her habits, as odd as they can seem.

"Zoeyyy, do not murder her with your compliments before she's convinced you that ice-cream taste like fucking garbage."

"Excuse me? It does not, it's tastefully original"

"Yeah, usually that means something taste bad", she intervenes. She's still going to try that ice-cream out, but teasing her smaller friend is too nice of a thing to pass. They do the same to her, anyway.

‎‎‎ ‎

#polytrix #pre slash #pre-romance #but i want you to know it's there #it'll be there at some point #maybe in the next part #rumi kpdh #mira kpdh #zoey kpdh #rumi x mira #rumi x zoey #rumi kpop demon hunters #mira kpop demon hunters #zoey kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters #kpdh #i love overtagging

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crowleysgirl56 · 1 day ago

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Something that I’ve noticed is how Crowley and Shax interact during this scene, discussing his old flat and Shax being Hell’s new representative on Earth. I suggest watch the short clip first, then come back for the analysis.

youtube

One thing I’ve never been able to understand about Crowley being homeless is how Aziraphale was supposed to have known about his situation (which is why he doesn’t react when Crowley asks for his flat back at the end of season 2) and did nothing about it.

This was a question posed a long time ago to NG and I’m loathe to reference back to anything he has to say, but he did say Aziraphale knew, and Crowley supposedly lost his flat right after the body swap (the implication being Crowley was living in his car during Covid!). And I think this sticking point is probably one of the main reasons why some people hate on Aziraphale. They can’t understand why the Angel wouldn’t be insistent that Crowley live with him, and therefore decided it makes him a horrible person (fuck NG for that).

Now as an avid Aziraphale defender I have a couple of thoughts on this matter.

If Aziraphale did in fact know of Crowley’s circumstance then I think the reason why he didn’t invite him to live in the bookshop is one of the following reasons:

1) he was too scared to ask Crowley to live with him because of a fear of rejection.

2) he was too sacred of what would happen as retribution if either heaven or hell found out (always protecting Crowley).

3) he was waiting for Crowley to ask him first (they’re both pretty stubborn after all).

4) he trusted Crowley to turn to him for help if he needed it.

5) he didn’t ask because it’s so typically them. The age old dance around each other. Forever in a stale mate. They’ve proven time and time again they talk all the time but never actually talk.

6) he did ask but Crowley refused (there is probably a whole plethora of similar reasons why Crowley would say no, but I won’t go into them, and you can probably guess them from the above anyway).

But what if Aziraphale didn’t know? That’s where we come back to the above scene. The way Crowley and Shax talk makes me think that Crowley losing his apartment, Shax becoming Hell’s representative on Earth and therefore taking over Crowley’s apartment all happened really recently. Why his mail keeps being sent to the apartment, why Hell won’t accept her signature, her questions about how things in his apartment works, how surprised she is that every time she comes up with a plan to wreak havoc humans think of something much worse. All of this put together doesn’t sound like someone who has already been operating on earth for four years. It sounds like someone who just got there.

Let’s not forget Shax has also mentioned about Hell being understaffed. So it wouldn’t surprise me at all that it took four years for Hell to actually come up with a replacement for Crowley and then send them to Earth.

It still doesn’t quite answer the question of why doesn’t Aziraphale know. In which case we come back to number 5 on my above list. Because Crowley not telling Aziraphale about his predicament would be so typically them. Skirting around worrying each other. Or waiting for the other to say something first. A stalling tactic to show that they’re fine and they don’t need anyone (Crowley in particular). And in the end, completely failing miserably at proving any of those points. That’s really what the story is about. Them desperately needing each other but failing to express that.

So to put to bed any Aziraphale hate, I think he didn’t know, and I don’t think he could have because Crowley’s homeless problem only happened recently, and before they could properly talk about it, everything with Jim happened, and then Crowley kind of moved into the bookshop anyway.

So that’s my theory. What are your thoughts? Was Crowley losing his apartment something that happened right after the Non-Apocalypse? Or was it a very recent event? And did Aziraphale know? If yes, when do you think he found out? And why wouldn’t Crowley have just moved into the bookshop?

Feel free to share your thoughts and theories on this one!

#good omens #something that I’ve noticed #good omens meta #good omens discussion #good omens headcanon #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #Shax #Youtube #good omens fandom

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sabrondabrainrot · 1 day ago

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Aw man

With the recent podcast announcement I feel like it needs to be said, a lot of the VAs use this to vent their frustrations with the fandom etc and clear up things from villains and characters.

But I don't know why the VAs think it's ok to basically give the green light to harassment.

Them teasing the fandom for liking Sun and looking Nexus really just opens gives all these random little haters the go ahead to just harass away.

I think this stems from how the VAs aren't always happy with how people are interpreting their characters and stories but that's just the thing, stories are always up for interpretation. I don't understand why they're so unhappy when people see things that they didn't want people to see?

I like Nexus because I think he's a fun character. Fall from grace characters are fun. Old Moon and current Moon are both fall from grace characters. Just because they toss around cringe and "I don't know what people see in this character" can be pretty harmful because it'll slowly kill your fandom. Policing what fan content people make kills your fandom.

I honestly have to say, if you don't want people to see Nexus as sympathetic don't make him sympathetic? Nothing he did was outright heinous until maybe after he was being manipulated by Dark Sun directly? I don't understand why they're genuinely mad people are drawn to a compelling character like Nexus? He's not cringe. He's complex.

I feel like the writers sometimes trap themselves in certain molds and formulas with their characters and just can't see past what they've made to see all the facets. They don't put on different goggles and shame others for being out of the box.

It's the same with the Solar x Nexus ship. I personally don't ship it, but I remember being more active in the fandom when they were sending gore anon harassment to people who liked that ship and it was because the VAs themselves basically gave the fandom the full rights to harass shippers.

Again, if they don't like shipping then why are they making Nova x Frost? Why have masm be the crack fest that it was? Why have Foxy and Puppet together? Why have Monty and Terra get engaged? Why have Ballora and Mony discuss having kids? Why have Sunny and Roxas even be a thing?

They clearly have explored shipping themselves.

I didn't finish the podcast episode, I always find the humor crass and just not really worth it. I heard Sun was jokingly called a Mary Sue and I'm just...

Wow.

Sun worked for everything he has and quite literally nothing narratively goes right for him. His own twin started the show off actively hating him and enjoying his pain.

I also can't the misogyny in throwing around Mary Sue. Literally every self insert shounen protagonist has everything go right for him and no one complains. It's just the fact when it happens to a female character that it is suddenly a problem.

I wish people would do better. The VAs actively recorded what they said, listened to it, still thought it all sounded ok to send, and posted it anyways.

I just don't understand why you would jokingly hate on your fandom at all? It's not funny and just harms your community.

Do they want an echo chamber that creates nothing new?

Let bygones be bygones and agree to disagree. Not everyone has to think exactly the same as the next. Human beings don't conform to one single mindset.

#tsams #the sun and moon show #brainrot #sun and moon show #sorry for the ramble #i sometimes need to just ramble away #i don't think the VAs intended this #i just hope everyone has fun #I'm a Nexus enjoyer

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teddyeddiediaz · 1 day ago

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@911hiatuspositivity prompt: jinxed/cursed

Eddie doesn’t believe in curses. Well, he doesn’t normally but he’s getting incredibly frustrated by the universe or whatever Buck thinks creates these curses. He’s been trying to get Buck alone for the last month, to ask him out, on a date. And every time he tries something goes wrong.

First, and the closest he got, was when he asked Buck to dinner, except completely forgot to mention the whole “date” aspect. Stuttering out, “Do you want to have dinner?” to Buck, who was lounging on the couch with Chris sat next to him watching some sort of nature documentary. But had said, “yeah, course,” before jumping up and heading into the kitchen to make dinner. He’d been too nervous and frankly a bit embarrassed to even try and correct him. Still, he’s happy they ended up having an amazing family dinner courtesy of Bobby’s famous Mac and cheese recipe.

The second time was at the firehouse, when he’d asked the question, Chim who was in the locker room with them, had immediately jumped onto it, talking about how with the new baby he desperately needed a nice night out. This had then meant Hen got invited, then Ravi too, until his intimate date became an unofficial 118 night out. It was still a lot of fun, but not what he was after. He settled for sneaking soft glances at Buck as he explained to slightly bored Ravi what he had learnt recently. Buck was so expressive, gesturing wildly, and not at all caring about speaking with his mouthful. Eddie couldn’t help but find it adorable. He was so gone. He caught Hen’s eye at one point who raised a brow but he quickly looked away.

The third time Eddie tried to ask Buck out, he’d gotten half way through “Would you like—” when his phone had started ringing with the ringtone that Buck had set up for Christopher, and he’d had to answer. The kid hadn’t even wanted anything important! Well, okay, Eddie shouldn’t say that but still. The boy had wanted Eddie to pick up something from the grocery store, and in all fairness Eddie had told him to tell him if there was anything he wanted since he had plans to go out. But talk about timing. “Would you like to go to the grocery store with me?” Eddie settled on instead, smiling like that was always his intention. “Only if we go to whole foods ,” Buck replied, because of course he did.

On the fourth and fifth attempts, Eddie had tried at the fire station, with the alarm ringing midway through both times. He’d started to believe the universe was giving him some sort of sign to give up. He’d sighed, when the bell rang, rolling his eyes at whatever God was responsible, and ran over to the truck like everyone else. When they’d returned back, Hen had cornered him in the loft.

“What’s up with you?” Hen asked, raising he brow as though she knew everything. He wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nothing,” he responded anyway, earning an eye roll from the paramedic.

“Oh yeah? And does that nothing have anything to do with a certain golden retriever firefighter?”

Eddie couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks. Looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, he sighed. “The universe hates me.”

“Since when do you believe in the universe?”

“Since the last hundred attempts at asking Buck out have gone awry.”

Hen didn’t seem at all surprised by the admission.

“Why don’t you go ask now?” She said, gesturing over to the lounge area where Buck was sitting on the couch with his laptop resting on his legs, no doubt engrossed in another research binge with his free time.

“I tried that, twice!” Eddie whisper-shouted. “The bell rang both times,” he said with a frown.

“Hey, Buck!” Chim shouted, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, and Eddie’s eyes grew wide.

“What?” Buck asked, looking up from his laptop.

“Eddie wants to go on a date with you!” He yelled back again.

Eddie froze, eyes wide as a blush grew on his cheeks. Buck turned to look at him. “I��I—” Eddie stuttered.

Buck looked at him, tilting his head for a moment before his face broke out into a huge grin. “Okay,” he said simply.

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “O—okay?” He said, scrambling over to the couch Buck was sitting on.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Sounds good.”

Eddie was both over the moon and also pissed off by how easy that was for Chimney. “Great,” he said anyway. “I’ll pick you up, tomorrow at 6?” He’d known the other man was free, their calendars basically synced at this point.

“Th—that sounds perfect,” Buck said. Eddie couldn’t help but notice the shade of pink that Buck’s cheeks had turned, any redder and they’d start matching his birthmark. Fuck, he was so cute.

“Good,” Eddie said, unable to think of anything else.

“Good,” Buck repeated, eyes never leaving Eddie’s.

They were both snapped out of their moment when they heard the sound of a camera clicking, Chimney looking back at them smiling. “I’ll save it for your wedding,” Chim said with a smirk, before walking off and leaving them alone again.

Both of them dropped their gazes to the floor, nervous smiles plastered on their faces.

“Hmm,” Eddie started, reaching over to lift Buck’s chin with his finger, a new found confidence taking over. “I’ll ask you in six months,” he winked, leaving Buck with a slack jaw, mouth opening and closing.

“Not—not if I ask you first,” he retorted.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Eddie said with a smile.

#buddie #911 abc #teddy post #911 show #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #911 fic #911 buddie #Buddie fic #911 ficlet #911hiatuspositivity #teddys writing

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m-jelly · 1 day ago

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Dont know if this request is allowed or not but can you write something with levi and his s/o have a kid that had a nightmare and was scared so badly that he or she wet the bed? And they kid scared to cry because they were worried how levi would react because they know he likes stuff clean?

Hi, I've recently done something very similar to this, so I'll try to make it a bit different.

It's okay

Levi x fem reader

Modern AU, married, dad Levi, mum reader, fluff, reassuring Levi, good dad Levi.

Evan has a terrible nightmare and wets the bed. He's worried his daddy will be upset that he made a mess, so he tries to clean up but Levi catches him. Evan cries but Levi reassures him it's okay and helps him out.

Evan sat up in bed, the last of his nightmare fading away. He hiccuped a little before looking down and seeing he'd wet the bed. "Oh no." He whimpered, it was the middle of the night, and he was sure his daddy would not be happy about the mess.

With a bit of care, he managed to move his little body and climb out of bed. He remembered seeing how his mummy and daddy had changed his sheets before, so he tried even though he was small and five. With as much strength as possible, he tugged on his covers, ending up with the whole quilt and undersheet in his hands.

He stumbled along to his door with all his things dragging behind him. He sniffled a few times as he walked the hall as quietly as possible. Evan was trying to be brave as he walked in the dark of his home. He didn't want to wake up his daddy or his pregnant mummy.

"Evan?"

Evan froze at hearing his dad's sleepy voice. "Mm."

"What are you up to?"

Evan slowly turned to face his dad, who was only wearing PJ bottoms. Tears filled Evan's eyes. "I'm sorry, daddy."

Levi's eyes widened. "Evan." He rushed over to his son as he stood in the hall, sobbing. "It's okay." He knelt in front of him and hugged him tightly. "It's okay. Daddy's here." He waited for Evan to calm down a bit so he could speak. "Alright, kiddo, tell me what happened."

"I had a nightmare."

He ruffled Evan's hair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Evan. Daddy gets nightmares, too."

Evan sniffed. "I wet the bed." He welled up and began sobbing again. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm a bad boy."

Levi panicked. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. You're not a bad boy." He wiped Evan's tears away. "You're not a bad boy."

"I am. Daddy hates mess."

He cupped his son's face and kissed his cheek a few times. "You're not bad. You're a good boy. You're a very good boy."

He sniffed. "Really?"

Levi nodded. "Yes. I'm always proud of you. I'm sorry if I made you think I'd be mad at you. I'm not at all. Accidents happen, okay?" He smiled at his son. "Sorry that you thought I'd be mad. I'm a bad daddy, huh?"

Evan shook his head. "Nooo, Daddy is amazing."

Levi hugged Evan tightly. "I love you so much."

"Love you too, Daddy."

Levi let him go, gathered up the bed things and walked. "Come on, buddy. We need to get you new clothes and your bed sorted."

"Okay." Evan held some of Levi's bottoms as they walked. "Is Mummy okay?"

"Mummy is still asleep."

"Good."

Levi chuckled. "You worry about Mummy like I do, huh?"

Evan nodded. "Yes."

Levi reached the laundry room, placed everything on the side and grabbed some fresh bed clothes you'd cleaned that day. "New bottoms for you, buddy." Levi helped Evan out of his things, cleaned his legs up and changed him. "Better?"

Evan smiled. "It has bunnies on it."

"It does." Levi put everything in the washing machine before grabbing new things for the bed. "So, what was your nightmare?"

Evan held Levi's hand as they walked back to his room. "Don't remember."

"Well, next time something scary happens, you shout for me, okay?"

Evan nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

Levi changed the bed with Evan's help. "I can scare the bad things away."

"Yes." Evan giggled. "Daddy is tough."

"I am." He lifted Evan up and put him in bed. "You want your rabbit?"

"Please."

Levi handed Evan his cuddly rabbit. "Here you go."

"Thank you." He gasped. "Mummy."

Levi looked over at the door to see you there, rubbing your eyes. "Yes, she's so very beautiful."

"Beautiful Mummy!"

You walked over and kissed Evan's cheek. "Thank you. Is everything okay in here?"

"I had a bad dream and had an accident."

Levi ruffled Evan's hair. "He thought I'd be angry. So, we chatted, and he now knows that I'd never be mad at him. Accidents happen and it's okay."

You ruffled Evan's hair. "Of course, it's okay sweetheart. We're here for you, okay? We love you so much."

"Love you too."

"Do you want to sleep with us?"

Evan shook his head. "I'll be brave and sleep here!" He grinned with pride.

You smiled. "Alright, but if you need us come running to us, okay?"

"Promise!"

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @demonic-bird @searriously @dreamerofthewest @abiatackerman @minminroie

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi x you #fanfic #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #jelly fanfic

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argon-7 · 2 days ago

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If you've been online recently, you might have seen this image going around. Here's a detailed description if you haven't:

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/orc-city

People have been making tons of memes criticizing this guy's writing, and that's fine. We've all written bad stuff. It comes with the territory of being a writer.

Anyway, I was thinking about it, and I wanted to make my own version. As a disclaimer, I don't know anything about the novel this is from, I'm only focusing on this excerpt here. I'll include some analysis of the original and an explanation of my thought process at the bottom.

______

PROLOGUE

"Drink your ambrosia and don't spill a drop!

Or the big bad orc is gonna eat you up!"

- Elven nursery rhyme

King Gaelin looked out over his conquest from atop what remained of the city's ramparts. Swathes of orcs littered the streets, the smell of their burning flesh tickling the King's nostrils. Elven soldiers stabbed the bodies with their spears as they passed, even though they knew they were already dead.

The orc city was now nameless. Everything about it was to be erased from the historical records by the time the last ember stopped burning. That was the way of the elves. Not even memory could survive.

King Gaelin didn't bother gathering his troops in front of him before he spoke. His Orator's Voice spell carried his words for miles.

"My brothers!" He boomed. "Dawn is breaking! Our nightmare nears its end! The last bastion of the orcs has fallen, and soon, every one of those foul creatures shall be purged from the Earth!"

The soldiers needed no spell to amplify their voices. Their cheers roared throughout the city, and reverberated into the very bones of the few surviving orcs still in the valley.

The nightmare had barely begun.

______

Now, I'll go into my thoughts on the original version, as well as my thought process on my version. A simple summary of the events in the passage is: The elf king gives a speech after the elves destroy an orc city. The content itself isn't bad, but the way it's conveyed in the original is pretty bland. I wanted to convey the same information in a more interesting way while also planting seeds for where the story might go next.

First, telling the audience that the elves hate the orcs. I thought of using an epigraph to add a bit of in-universe flavor, and I settled on an elven nursery rhyme to suggest that the elves are taught to hate the orcs since childhood. This conveys the information and provides a bit of worldbuilding at the same time. I added some extra bits, like the soldiers stabbing the corpses and the king enjoying the smell of burning flesh, just to drive the point home.

In updating the king's speech, I thought it would make sense for him to congratulate his army and point them towards their next objective. In the original, he says that they hate the orcs, which should be obvious, since they just burned an orc city to the ground.

Finally, I wanted to give an idea of what comes next. This is a prologue, after all. Since the story starts with the war ending, and since the elves hate the orcs so much, I think it makes sense that the next step is for the elves to hunt down any survivors.

______

To those who've read this far, thank you! This was a fun creative writing exercise and I hope other people try it as well.

Let me know your thoughts, and let me know if you decide to take on this challenge yourself! Maybe we should get a hashtag going?

#RewriteOrcCity

#writing #writers on tumblr #worldbuilding #writeblr #orc city #john a douglas #the dark crown #fantasy #novel writing #novel #rewrite #RewriteOrcCity #orc #orcs #elf #elves

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mirrored-muse · 1 day ago

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Hi!…. Sfw or NSFW but the alphabet with Van… that’s all, do what you can but yeah!

Also can I be 🩰 anon?

𝙥𝙧𝙚-𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙝 𝙑𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩

AN — Hi!!!! i’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve had some serious writers block recently. Hopefully i’ll be more active on here. And ofc you can <3

͏𝒘 — Van palmer & gn! reader ⟢ ( 1k ) not proofread. established relationship.

A — Admiration ⟢ What do they admire about you?

Van admires your calm. Not the fake kind, like, not the quiet, bottle-it-up kind of calm, but the kind where you see everything, take it in, and still choose to be soft. She watches you deal with people, the way you talk to the quiet girls on the team, the way you defuse drama without ever raising your voice, and she loves it. Because she’s all sharp corners and sarcasm when things get tense, but you’re steady and gentle when it matters.

B — Bonding ⟢ What’s their favorite bonding activity?

MOVIE NIGHTS!!! Movie nights are sacred. for you two. Van insists on them at least once a week. Blanket, snacks, the dusty VHS player in her basement. The best part for her isn’t even the movie itself (though she will quiz you after). It’s getting to show you something she loves, something weird or obscure or cult-classic-y, then watching you watch it. She barely blinks during the movie, too busy staring sideways at you, watching your reactions, nudging you every five seconds like, “wait, wait— This part’s so good!”

C — Cuddling ⟢ How do they like to cuddle?

Van pretends she’s not a cuddler. She makes a whole thing of groaning and flopping onto you like ugh, fine, but five minutes later she’s wrapped around you like an octopus and won’t let go. Her favorite position? Laying half on top of you, leg slung over your hips, face buried somewhere near your neck or chest with absolutely zero regard for personal space. She’s warm, heavy, always grumbling something under her breath like it’s a chore for her, but she secretly loves it.

D — Dates ⟢ What are date nights like?

Van does not do typical. If you suggest a sit-down restaurant or anything with mood lighting, she’ll act like you just insulted her. Dates with Van are spontaneous and loud, very high school. Sneaking out to get 7-Eleven slushies at midnight. Making out in the back row of a horror movie neither of you are really watching. Skipping practice to loiter at a local thrift store and try on the ugliest shit imaginable just to make each other laugh.

E — Emotions ⟢ How do they express their emotions?

Van feels everything, she just hates admitting it. She’s a master at deflection, she turns her feelings into jokes, shoulder nudges, or weird impressions the second things get too raw. But when it does come out, it’s raw and unfiltered. Like she’s been holding her breath for weeks and finally lets it go all at once.

F — Future ⟢ How do they see their future with you?

Van acts like the future doesn’t matter. But the truth is, she thinks about it all the time. Quietly, late at night when your head’s on her shoulder and you’re half-asleep mumbling nonsense, and she’s staring at the ceiling wondering how the hell she got this lucky.

She pictures a shitty apartment full of thrifted furniture and your clothes mixed with hers. A dog that sheds too much. A beat-up car she insists on driving even though it breaks down once a month. You, in all of it, that’s the part she doesn’t question.

G — Gifts ⟢ How do they feel about gift giving?

she gives you things that make you laugh, things that are a little weird, and things that show she listens. A mixtape of songs she thinks you’ll like (and some she thinks you need to hear). A vintage jacket she found at a thrift store because it reminded her of you. A Polaroid of the two of you, taken on a whim, because she wants to remember the moment.

H — Holding Hands ⟢ How do they hold hands?

Van grabs your hand like she’s staking her claim or something. fingers laced tight like she never wants to let go. She’s got this habit of squeezing just a little harder when she’s excited or nervous, like she’s reminding herself you’re real. Sometimes she swings your hand back and forth obnoxiously just to make you laugh or distract you from overthinking.

I — Injury ⟢ How would they react if you got hurt?

Van’s first instinct is panic, even if she tries to play it cool. She’ll curse under her breath, get in your face asking if you’re okay, and probably try to patch you up with whatever’s nearby. If it’s serious, she gets fierce, ready to fight anyone or anything that caused it. But when it’s just a scrape or bruise, she fusses over you with a weird mix of tenderness and teasing, she helps you up and says something like “stop being so clumsy, dumbass.”

J — Jealousy ⟢ How jealous do they get?

It is so obvious when Van is jealous. She doesn’t sulk or stew, she goes straight into action. The second someone gets a little too friendly with you, she’s suddenly at your side, arm slung around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder like, “Hey, babe, who’s your new friend?” She’ll crack jokes with a bite, maybe make a point to kiss you in front of them, and then spend the rest of the day being weirdly clingy. If you call her out on it? She’ll scoff and deny it.

K — Kisses ⟢ How do they like to kiss you?

When she’s worked up about something she’s all tongue and teeth. Pressing you into lockers, biting your bottom lip just to hear you gasp. But she also has a softer side, one she slips into when no one’s watching. Her softer kisses are slow, lingering, with her thumb on your jaw, her nose brushing yours.

L — Love ⟢ What’s their love language?

Van doesn’t say it right away. She feels it early, way earlier than she’ll ever admit but the words always seem to get stuck in her throat. So instead, she shows it. Through touch, mostly. Holding your face when you’re upset. Slinging an arm around you like it’s instinct. Giving you her hoodie without a word. Carrying your bag. Fighting your battles before you even know there’s one happening. She’ll call you a pain in the ass while tucking your hair behind your ear. Say “God, you’re annoying” while looking at you like you hung the moon.

M — Morning ⟢ How are mornings spent with them?

Van is not a morning person. She’s mouthy, Half-asleep and grumpy. If you set an alarm the night before, she’s instantly annoyed, muttering something like “Turn that thing off or i’m gonna throw it out the window.”

N — Nightmare ⟢ What is their worst fear?

Van’s worst fear is losing you. Not just physically, but the way people drift apart, how feelings fade, how the quiet space between two people can swallow everything. She’s terrified that she’ll mess things up, that she’ll say the wrong thing or push too hard and you’ll walk away. That the part of her you love the most though, the real Van, messy and soft.

O — Obvious ⟢ How obvious is their love to you?

If Van could tattoo “I love my partner” across her forehead, she would. There’s no hiding it. She’s utterly shameless when it comes to you. She wears your jacket 24/7, tells everyone off for talking shit about you, and brags in the most obnoxious way possible. When you walk into a room, her face immediately lights up, and if anyone tries to flirt with you? Van’s already there, arm possessively draped around your shoulders, ready to fight someone. Everyone knows you’re hers, and she loves that.

P — Pet Names ⟢ What do they call you?

Van’s pet names for you are equal parts sweet, sarcastic, and a little bit wild. Expect “babe” when she’s soft, “dumbass” when she’s teasing, and “hot stuff” when she wants to make you laugh. She loves seeing your reactions, whether it’s a smile, a blush, or a playful smack, and will switch up the nicknames just to keep you on your toes.

Q — Quirk ⟢ What is one of their quirks?

She never stops quoting movies and TV shows, sometimes ones no one else has heard of. She’ll say something random in the middle of a conversation and then smirk like, “Bet you don’t know that one.” She keeps a running mental playlist of her favorite lines and challenges you to catch the references. Bonus points if you get one right, she’ll actually smile, maybe even laugh, which is rare.

R — Romance ⟢ How romantic are they?

Van isn’t romantic in the traditional sense. She doesn’t do candlelit dinners or cheesy love notes. Her idea of romance is real, like pulling you close and comforting you after a tough day. She’ll make you ridiculous mixtapes or surprise you with tickets to your favorite band’s show.

S — Show Off ⟢ Do they like to show you off?

Van shows you off like you’re a trophy she just won at a championship. She’ll talk about you constantly, even when the conversation has nothing to do with you. “Oh, yeah, my s/o likes that movie.” She’ll tape polaroids of you on the inside of her locker, sneak away from the team to kiss you during practice, and wave at you from across the field, pointing you out to her teammates, even if they already know you’re there. You’re her favorite person in the world, and she wants everyone to know it.

T — Time ⟢ How quickly do they fall in love with you?

Van falls in love fast. Like, suspiciously fast. She knew after the first time you smiled at her. But she plays it cool, masks it with sarcasm, teases you to death, makes you think she’s just messing around. But every time she learns something new about you, it hits her like a truck. Your favorite snack? She remembers. Your bad days? She shows up.

U — Upset ⟢ How do they comfort you?

Van isn’t great with words, but when you’re upset? First, she tries to joke it away, “Wanna go egg someone’s house?” but if that doesn’t work, she drops the act and gets serious real fast. She pulls you into her chest, her arms wrapped tight, chin resting on your head. She lets you cry it out, lets you be quiet, lets you feel, without rushing it. When she does speak, it’s soft and low and real: “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” And she means it, every time.

V — Value ⟢ What do they value most about you?

Van values the hell out of your loyalty. Not the kind that’s loud or performative, but the quiet, constant kind, how you never flinch when she’s messy, how you stick around even when she’s being a pain in the ass. She notices the way you look at her like she’s more than what people think.

X — X-Ray ⟢ How easily can they read you?

Van reads you like an open book, no matter how hard you try to hide what you’re feeling, she can see it. One glance from her, and she knows if you’re upset, tired, or holding back. She doesn’t always say it out loud, but she acts on it, stepping in when you need space or pulling you close when you need comfort

Y — Yearning ⟢ How easily do they miss you?

Van misses you like it’s a physical ache. Two hours apart? She’s already calling your home phone just to hear your voice on the answering machine. when you get back? She’s clingy as hell, wrapping her arms around you and not letting go for hours.

Z — Zzzz ⟢ What are nights like with her?

Nights with Van are loud, warm and never quiet. She’s a restless sleeper, always shifting, mumbling, stealing the covers, sometimes waking you up with an elbow to the ribs or on purpose to whisper a joke she thought of.

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