#and overanalyze that thought in a familiar spiral of “why are you making this up?” “because I'm right”

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Extremely incoherent tired ramble I think mostly about what the heck does empathy mean and I can't have npd right (<- doesn't remember if he actually confirmed you can't be high empathy and have npd or just got confused by something but still probably just being mentally ill in unrelated ways)

why do narcissist memes need to be so relatable like I'm high empathy unless I've gravely misunderstood what empathy is? I think that's gotta be one I don't have right ?? my brain is just still disorder hoarder mode because it still hasn't realized we already got the validation of knowing we're genuinely messed up that we were craving years ago (which was mainly "yes you're plural actually no like legit you're not making those guys up and yeah no that stuff was trauma you are not just mysteriously messed up without trauma there was definitely trauma what part of being terrified every single night for most of your childhood did you think was not traumatic") what was I talking about uh empathy is like just interpreting information to the best of your ability and then feeling things based on that interpretation like it can be incorrect just like you can read words wrong and react to what you think you read and like empathy makes you feel what you interpret other people as feeling to some extent right? and it's like analogies and metaphors in how it requires you to map one situation onto another in order to interpret it and lacking knowledge about one of them will make it much harder to understand just like I don't understand what it means to not understand metaphors to the point of struggling to communicate without the use of analogies in case that wasn't obvious but that's what empathy is right like it's not telepathy it's just interpreting and reacting to information?? I have that I can interpret information and then I react like just now I thought what if a child was sad for some reason and I almost cried bc hypothetical child is sad and that's incompatible with the thing isn't it someone who's better at humans than me please explain good night

[kaportka]

Hi! How can I feel less crucial of myself? I take myself very seriously and as a result of that, I feel very insecure. Example - When I'm conversing with native speakers. The fact that English isn't my first language and I'm still required to speak with the people in the US quite often at work, I find myself anxious every time the meetings are coming up. It is extremely unhealthy and embarrassing. Could you give me some tips.

Maybe you should just step back a little. You know, get some perspective. Nothing is as serious as our minds make it up to be. I know that meditation is a helpful tool for many. I know there is much hype about it right now, but for a reason. Quiet your mind. Put some distance between your thoughts, how you perceive the situation, and what narrative you ascribe to it.

You are not an insecure person, you just think that you are, thus your behaviour, circumstances may send you evidences of it. Change the narrative in your head. Whenever anxious thoughts start clouding your judgment, pause. Focus on your breathing. If it helps, close your eyes and affirm.

'I am confident.

I speak very good English.

I am brilliant.

I am calm.

I know what I am doing.

My worries are not real.

I have utter control of my reality and my thinking.'

Stop overanalyzing your situation, is your language good enough. This type of spiral is doing you no good. Why perpetuating it? I know it is familiar. I know it is comfortable, as we have been taught that such thinking gives us control. But it is so delusional. It is time to start thinking anew.

You want to change your story, right? You want to eliminate anxiety, right? Then, you have to make internal shifts in how you perceive yourself and the world. It is simple. I promise you. Tell yourself over and over, that change is simple, and you can do it. You've got this. 💕

[softjeon]

i dont know if that counts but can you do write a headcanon for kiss me quietly maybe? i really loved the characters so much 😍

— GENRE; fluff | — PAIRING; Yoongi x Jungkook | — DISCLAIMER; anxiety— Wordcount; 2k  | — written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ If you want to know which story the anon is referring to, you can read “Kiss me quietly” here!

Jungkook was biting his lip nervously. His heart was beating fast and his palms felt sweaty as he rubbed them against his jeans, before trying to take a deep breath again. He failed miserably, just gasping for air like a fish on land instead. His cheeks blushed in embarrassment, hoping that no one had seen him. No one cared for the young man in his fluffy sweater, that held on tightly to the hem of the fabric to ground himself, but to Jungkook it felt like he was being stared at from everywhere. Why the heck did there need to be so many people on a saturday night. There were one too many familiar faces, some waved at him and Jungkook had awkwardly repeated the motion as they looked at him in a mixture of surprise and questioning gazes. 

Jungkook wasn’t one to go out, not alone at least. They were probably asking themselves where Jimin was. It only made him want to vanish even more. Jungkook was shy; he usually never went out and rather stayed inside or with his friends. 

And waiting alone in a crowded alley was just heightening his anxiety. 

Someone stepped beside the younger and Jungkook looked up at the taller man, who nodded at him with a smile, making him turn his face at the speed of light. The other just chuckled at him and Jungkook quickly pushed himself past the sign, almost making it fall from how he was nervously stumbling. But he couldn’t stay there for long either, when a group of girls made Jungkook turn on his heel and walk to the other side of the bar. He kept his gaze low as he finally found a new corner, where he was still visible enough and yet felt like he could push himself as close to the wall as possible if he needed. Jungkook breathed in slowly and observed the happy people around, vanishing into the bar or stepping out of it with smiles on their faces. He should see this as another opportunity to get out of his comfort zone, to try and do things he usually hated. 

Jungkook wanted to do it for him. He wanted him to like him more. But he would be interested in a shy boy like him? He was so scared that Yoongi would turn his back on him, getting bored of his nervous antics, him being too shy to speak up. His mind was spiraling and his heart was aching at the thought. He wanted nothing more to turn around and go home. 

Yoongi had chosen dark denim jeans that were tight fitted and not as ripped as the pants he normally wore. It was his version of dressing up, together with a leather jacket that wasn’t really black but rather greyish-blue and really soft to the touch because it had softened through the years. When he came into the bar he had a smile on his face, looking forward to their date - that was until he saw his date sitting in a corner, stiff and awkward. It looked as if Jungkook would have given anything to possess chameleon-characteristics and be able to melt into the wall behind him. When he saw Yoongi he perked up - but flinched immediately when someone behind the bar clanked two glasses together. He looked really uncomfortable and Yoongi suddenly felt bad about suggesting to go out. “That bad, hu?” He whispered when he slipped into the sitting booth right next to Jungkook.

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, cheeks blushing when he felt Yoongi shifting closer to him. They had been on a few dates already and Jungkook still needed to wrap his mind around that the outgoing-heartbreaking-leather-jacket-wearing man was interested in him. Him, out of all the people, he could have chosen.

Jungkook smiled softly as he nudged his boyfriends side. “S-should I get you a beer?” His voice was so quiet that Yoongi almost didn’t understand him, but Jungkook pointed at the card on the table.

“Yeah, that’s.. if you want to? That would be nice.” He had to fight the urge to tell Jungkook to just stay seated and that he would get them their drinks in a second but Jungkook looked as if he had fought hard to get himself to say this because while Yoongi had no problem with walking past a dozen strangers and ordering drinks without the fear of being judged or overanalyzed he knew it was something that Jungkook had deeply engraved in his mind. So he didn’t want to take that moment of pride away from the younger who visible straightened himself at the prospect of his difficult task. 

Jungkook bit his lip as he got up with his wallet in hand. He was taking deep breaths the closer he gotten to the bar, mumbling the type of beer Yoongi wanted a dozen of times in his mind. It was just about ten steps away from the booth. Not far and yet, it felt like Yoongi was too far out of reach already. He was always his safety line.

“What can I get you, love?” The barkeeper didn’t even really look at him, busy with handing out a few drinks, before his gaze froze on the younger. Jungkook opened his mouth but the moment he was sure he could easily do it there were no words. Nothing. Jungkook whined helplessly, when the barkeeper asked again getting obviously frustrated at the younger’s silence. 

“Listen dude, if you’re not ordering…”

Jungkook nodded his head, gaze flickering around the room nervously when he spotted the sign at the wall. He pointed at it, quickly making a sign that he wanted two and to his own surprise the man got him right away. When he came back, Jungkook had a proud smile on his face, even though the blush and almost feverish redness of his cheeks were showing how much energy it had cost him to get two bottles of beer.

Yoongi had watched him like a hawk, ready to jump in and solve any problem that might occur but when Jungkook managed to come back with what he had gone to the bar for, smiling from ear to ear he felt pride surging through him, like a father whose son had just made his first steps. “Thank you, Kook.” He took the bottle with a nod, waiting for the other to sit down before they softly clinked their bottles together.

Jungkook leaned against Yoongi, feeling exhausted from his encounter with the barkeeper and way too many people between the ten steps and this booth already. 

“H-how was mus-?” Jungkook got interrupted by a group of young students that suddenly stood at their booth. “The whole pub is full; do you mind if we just sit here? You guys don’t need that much room right?” They laughed and Jungkook knew they meant well. They really did. It wasn’t their fault. It was his own for being like this. Jungkook shifted closer to Yoongi, fighting the urge to climb on his lap completely as he tried to give the other enough space. 

It was like watching a door shutting right in front of your face: Jungkook’s face closed off, a polite smile the only thing left on it but it wasn’t real, rather like a default mode he used when he wasn’t quite sure how to react. When Yoongi put his arm around him he could feel how the other’s muscles had locked up and it felt like he was hugging a statue. He leaned in, as if to kiss the other’s cheek and whispered quietly so that only Kook could hear him, “Do you want to go? I don’t mind where we are as long as I can have that date with you. And I want you to be comfortable. So whatever you chose it’s fine by me.”

Jungkook felt awful as he averted his gaze, trying to blend out the loud music or the people next to him. He wanted to be better for Yoongi at this, he really did. But it was just too much. With a little too shaky hands, Jungkook reached for his phone and opened up the notes as he always did, too scared to talk. He typed as he leaned his head on Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling a lot safer with him by his side. Jungkook held up his phone for the other to read, a smile appearing on his lips when Yoongi read the two words he had written down: Banana milkshakes?

He smiled encouragingly at the younger. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” He kept his arm tightly around his boyfriend as he got up, pulling him along with him while shielding him from the others view a little. He knew it made Kook felt safe if he was manhandled a little during instances when it all got too much. Because Jungkook trusted him to have his best interest at heart and sometimes it was a blessing to just shut off his mind and follow where he was guided. “Excuse us, we were kinda finished here so you can have the table completely. Enjoy the night.” Heads were bowed politely and smiles were exchanged and then they were out, stepping away from the table.

The moment they were out in the fresh night’s air, Jungkook took a deep breath feeling like he had held it. He let himself get pulled along and out of the busy streets, trusting Yoongi to take him somewhere else.

“I really wanted to do this for you,” Jungkook mumbled, brushing his sweaterpaw over his cheek in embarrassment. “It’s what you do with Hobi…like…going out and…and drinking beer. It’s not that hard, is it?” His lips pursed into a little pout, while he was beating himself up about it mentally. He was an awful excuse of a boyfriend. 

“What do you mean you wanted to do this for me? Didn’t you want to go out yourself?” He looked at the other in surprise and then sighed deeply when he understood. “Baby, you don’t have to do that. Ever. Trying to do something that you don’t want but think I’ll expect of you. Because I don’t expect you to do anything but being yourself. That’s enough for me. You’re right, I do go out to drink with Hobi every now and then. But that doesn’t mean we have to do the same. We can do our own thing, And I’m perfectly happy with drinking banana milk with you if that makes you happy as well.”

The moment, Yoongi called him ‘baby’ Jungkook felt like his heart jumped out of his chest. He nodded softly. Jungkook was aware, at least the rational part of him that Yoongi was right but it was just so god damn hard to get it on his mind. “But you’re always so happy when you’re with Hobi and…when you’re out and I want to make you happy, too.” He whispered, holding on to the hem of Yoongi’s leather jacket as if he was scared that he could leave and he could prevent it with a soft grip. “I’m scared you’ll get bored of me.” 

“How can you think I could get bored of you? I love you, Kook. You’re not a game to me that’ll lose it’s fascination after having been played three times in a row. Don’t worry, I fell in love with you as a person not with what I thought you should be like.” He leaned in as if to confess something “Also I have to tell you a secret. Everytime you smile that happy bunny smile of yours that comes out when you’re truly happy makes me fall in love with you all over again. So the best way to make sure I have no chance of getting a break is enjoying yourself.”

Jungkook immediately wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s neck, pulling him closer with the action as he held onto him tightly. His heart was hurting – but it was the good kind. The really good kind. 

“I..I love you, too.” Jungkook whispered, brushing his hand through Yoongi’s hair as he pulled back enough to look at him. He couldn’t help it, but the bunny smile that he had talked about only seconds ago was coming out, making Jungkook scrunch up his nose in the cutest way possible.

[remedialpotions]

Tied Together

Wishing the happiest of birthdays to my amazing friend @theperksofshippingromione ! You deserve all the best (and all the bagels your heart desires), today and every day! ❤️

***

Ron scowled down at the tie, then up at his reflection in the mirror, then back down at the patterned strip of silk in his hands.

Things were not going to plan.

When he tried to put himself into a rational frame of mind, he knew he should not have resented it as fervently as he was doing - it was just some Muggle accessory, nothing more - but the bloody thing just would not cooperate. Over the course of his many attempts, the fabric had become crinkled and every time he tried to fasten it around his neck, little beads of sweat popped up on reddening face and he was sure that nobody, in the history of mankind, had ever been as much of a walking disaster as he was.

Behind him, the door creaked open, and reflected in the mirror he could see Hermione entering his bedroom. Her dark blue dress just barely skimmed her knees, and gem-encrusted earrings glittered on either side of her face.

Ron spun to face her, letting the ends of the tie drop onto his chest.

“Hey,” he greeted her, unable, despite his anxiety, to stop the smile spreading over his face at the sight of her. “I thought I was meeting you at yours.”

“Oh, I know, but I was ready early,” said Hermione as she reached him and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, “so I thought I’d come see you.”

That, or she had somehow sensed that he was slowly spiraling into a tie-induced panic, but he thought he wouldn’t overanalyze it.

“All right, well-“ He paused to kiss her squarely on the lips before turning back to the mirror and noting, with considerable dismay, the way his hair stood up at all angles; he could have given Harry a run for his money. “I’ll be ready in a mo’, then.”

As she seated herself on the end of the bed - which gave him all kinds of ideas that started with skipping this dinner with her parents and ended with her dress in a pile on the floor - Ron valiantly picked up the ends of the tie again. He knew how to do this. He’d been taught by Bill, at the tender age of thirteen, during the family trip to Egypt, but since then he hadn’t had many opportunities to put the skill to use, and now five years had passed and the tie he had borrowed from his father had become a crumpled mess in his shaking hands.

But he would do it. He was eighteen now, a trainee Auror, he’d yelled at Lord Voldemort and landed Hermione Granger - he would tie the damn thing even if it killed him in the process. He looped one end around the other, once then twice, then looped the bigger end under - but no. Now it had creases in places it shouldn’t, and when he went to adjust it, the knot cinched so tightly against his throat that he reminded himself of Percy. He wanted to make a good impression, but not that sort of impression.

“Oh, come here,” said Hermione, rising and approaching him again. “I can help you.”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” said Ron, unknotting the tie and resituating it under the collar of his dress shirt, “I’ve just got to-“

But Hermione’s hands closed over his, soft and small and cool against his flushed skin, and he stopped. For all that they’d spent their formative years bickering, for all that she made his heart hammer in his chest and set his nerves alight, she was also the most grounding, steadying force he had ever known. Just the simple act of her skin on his, and her intent, affectionate gaze, soothed his frazzled nerves like nothing else.

“I’ll do it,” she said softly, patting his collar gently into place. “I want to.”

She ran her fingers down the length of fabric, smoothing it out, and Ron watched as that dear, familiar look of concentration came over her face; he had to actively work not to kiss her.

“I don’t know why you’re nervous,” she added, comparing the lengths of the two ends of the tie. “You’ve met my mum and dad before.”

“Yeah, but it’s different, I’m your boyfriend now.”

It’d been three months, yet he still sometimes couldn’t believe he could say that, and he found himself fighting back another smile as he spoke.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “You were my boyfriend in Australia too.”

“Right, but there was a lot going on then, it wasn’t - y’know, it wasn’t exactly the point of the whole thing, but now they’ve gone and invited us to dinner.”

“Because they like you.”

“Yeah,” said Ron slowly, entirely unconvinced. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” replied Hermione, startled by this, her fingers ceasing their slow, steady motions as she looked up at him. “Why wouldn’t they?”

So many reasons flashed through his stress-addled brain that he struggled to grasp one long enough to actually express it.

“I’m a wizard,” he said finally as her fingers deftly circled the fabric around itself.

“So? They’re not the Dursleys.”

“No, ‘course not, but I’m so different from them. My whole life, the whole way I grew up is so different-“

“Maybe you’ve forgotten,” she interrupted, “but I’m a witch too, and I’m their daughter-“

“Right,” he said with a little laugh despite himself. “And that’s the thing, what if...“ He pressed his lips into a tight thin line, reluctant to speak the words lest he make it come true by doing so.

“What if what?” prompted Hermione, sliding a perfect double Windsor knot into place at the base of Ron’s throat. Her hands, however, stayed resting on his chest.

“What if they don’t think I’m right for you?”

The words hung in the humid air of the attic bedroom as Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“But you are right for me.”

“But they’re your parents, and - and I’m sure their opinions matter to you, and...” He couldn’t believe he was actually about to say it, but he’d started this whole thing and now he couldn’t not say it, no matter how much the words hurt on the way out. “And if that’s something that’s a dealbreaker for you-“

“Dealbreaker?” repeated Hermione, aghast. “Why would you being a wizard and my parents being Muggles be any kind of problem for me?”

“Well, just ‘cause, I mean...” He released an exasperated breath; none of his words were coming out right. “I mean, what if this night goes terribly and it makes you realize that maybe this isn’t what you want-“

“No.”

“No?”

Hermione shook her head fervently. “How I feel about you isn’t conditional. And it isn’t...” She stood up straighter, her hands still on his shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes. “To me, this isn’t just dating to see where it goes, it’s... to me, it’s forever.”

He had sort of known it, already, the way she felt. She had never articulated it quite so clearly, but it was there in the little things: how she curled up against him on the nights they spent together, and the way her fingers always sought his out, and her determination to stay by his side even in the dark early days after the battle. He had already understood, somewhere deep down, that this wasn’t casual, and it wasn’t just a young romance. It was something more, something deeper, something stronger.

“Maybe that’s crazy,” added Hermione in a rush, regarding him with a sort of panicked look in her eyes, “since it’s only been three months, and - and I suppose I’d understand if-“

“No, it - it is for me too.” Ron’s words came out anxious, half-strangled. “Has been for a lot longer than three months, I reckon.”

Her hands slid up his shoulders and onto his neck as she pulled his face down to hers, and he could not stop himself smiling against her lips as the gap closed between them.

“Then it’s sorted,” said Hermione when they broke apart, now combing her fingers through his hair to tidy it. The soft scrape of her nails on his scalp sent tingles over his skin. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, again, I don’t know about that.” At her inquisitive look, he continued. “I’m still the bloke who’s shagging their daughter.”

Hermione let out a startled laugh. “Maybe don’t lead with that,” she said as she brushed one last strand of his hair into place, “but I promise you that it’ll be fine.”

Ron took one last look in the mirror. His tie was knotted flawlessly around his neck, his hair no longer looked like a ginger version of Harry’s, and the flush in his cheeks had calmed considerably... but all he saw was Hermione beside him. She was all that mattered anymore.

[verkwannie]

A Little Jealousy || Kim Mingyu

Summary: Mingyu x reader College Au where Mingyu is the reader’s knight in shining armor.

Genre: Angst maybe? For me at least. Floof!

Requested?: Yes! I hope you like it and feel free to request more!

   “Y/N!” I heard my name being called as I walked out of my dorm building. Turning my head to the source of the sound I saw my friend, Vernon, half-jogging towards me. It brought a smile to my face and I waved at him as I waited for him to get to me. When he finally did he threw an arm around my shoulder and started walking towards the school, “Ready for class?”

    “That’s one way to say it. I stayed up until 4am working on this speech if I don’t get an A I’m going to cry.” Vernon laughed as I took a deep breath, at least one of us was calm. The idea of giving a speech in front of the class was my worst fear and I’d been having anxiety over it for weeks. Public speaking was already terrifying but to add to it I was a little bigger than a lot of the girls at my school and a lot of people, especially the boys, seemed to like to comment on it. I had thought the kids in college would be more mature but so far they seemed not much different from the kids in my high school.

    “Don’t worry,” Vernon said, pulling me out of my downward spiral, “You’ll get an A plus plus and graduate top of our class and become president or whatever you want to be and you can thank me in the future for being the one to encourage you,” as he finished talking he put a hand over his heart as though he was clutching it and looked to the sky. I laughed a little and shook my head. He was great at lightening the mood and I was grateful that he was able to make me laugh even when I felt like I’d rather crawl through a train of spiderwebs than go to class. 

    As we reached the door to the school building he finally took his arm off of my shoulder and opened the door, letting me walk in ahead of him. We walked to the classroom in silence and took our seats. I counted down the minutes and seconds until class started, unable to focus on anything else. The teacher greeting the class sent a spike of adrenaline to my heart. Everything seemed like a blur as she started calling people to do their presentations. When she finally called on me the rush of anxiety felt physically painful. 

   The walk to the front of the class simultaneously feeling way too fast and unbearably long. I started to overanalyze everything. Was my hair okay? Did I smell? Did my outfit match? Oh no… maybe a crop top was a bad idea. As I reached the front of the class it felt like everyone was staring at my choice of outfit, judging the way my stomach stood out in the high-waisted jeans or the thin strip of skin visible above the waistband. When I’d put it on this morning I’d felt cute and like it would give me confidence during my speech, but now I was feeling like it showed my figure too much. I looked around the class at everyone and felt my heart drop a little further as I locked eyes with Mingyu. He was in a couple of my classes and unfairly attractive. However, he wasn’t just good looks, he had an amazing personality to match and I was powerless to stop myself from falling for him. Seeing him staring at me I felt a thousand times more insecure and I tried my best to pull down the crop top I was wearing in an attempt to cover up the skin there.

   Taking a breath I finally started my speech and with shaky hands read the words on my cards. The next few minutes passed by in a blur and at the end, I felt a wave of relief and pride in having managed not to cry or spontaneously combust. I immediately walked over to my seat, took the biggest breath I could manage, and slowly released it. Finally done with the assignment that had been causing me the most anxiety I felt like I could finally relax. After class was finally over Vernon and I went to the cafeteria, getting some food to celebrate me not fainting during my speech. As we were waiting for our food he suddenly had to go to the bathroom and left me waiting alone. I pretended to be texting someone on my phone to avoid eye contact as I waited. When the food was finally done I grabbed both of our trays and found a seat. Just as I was about to eat someone from my speech class came to my table and sneered at me.

  “One meal isn’t enough for you?” he said and then turned his attention to my outfit gesturing very vaguely at my shirt, “Didn’t anyone ever tell you crop tops aren’t for people with your… body type?” 

   Deciding it’d be better to just ignore him I didn’t respond but I also didn’t eat, unable to stop myself from feeling a bit self-conscious at his words. I just looked down at the table and hoped either Vernon would come back quickly or this guy would go away. I found a third option to solve my problems in the form of a familiar voice yelling at the person making fun of me. 

   “Hey! Why don’t you stop being an ass and keep your unwanted and inaccurate opinions to yourself?” I turned in the direction of the voice and saw Mingyu walking over. My heart skipped a beat seeing him stick up for me. It felt like I should be a lead in a movie and I had to stop myself from getting lost in that ridiculous fantasy. 

   The guy who had been bugging me backed off but not without muttering something snotty under his breath and huffing. Mingyu sat down in the seat across from mine and smiled at me. I forced myself out of my shock to talk, “Thank you, for saying that.”

   “No problem, that guy was a dick. Don’t listen to him by the way, you look great,” as he said this, Vernon finally came back, taking the seat next to me where I had set his tray. 

   “What did I miss?” He asked, digging into his food right away.

   “I’ve gotta go,” Mingyu said, already standing up to go, “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

   “Oh, uh, bye Mingyu,” I responded, feeling slightly disappointed that he was leaving already.

   A few days later I had a class with Mingyu again and I was oddly excited for a class for the first time since the beginning of the year. As much as I tried to stop myself from raising my hopes I couldn’t help but feel hopeful that maybe something would have somehow changed just because he stood up for me the other day. I put a little extra effort into getting ready, hoping he’d notice the extra effort. When I walked into the classroom he wasn’t there yet and I was slightly disappointed. As the clock ticked closer to class time I wondered if maybe he wasn’t going to show up today. I pulled out my phone to distract myself until class started and when the teacher arrived and started the class I gave up hope that he'd be coming today. 

   Ten minutes after class started I felt someone sit next to me and looked over to see Mingyu. He gave me a small smile, which I returned, and then focused on the teacher. I couldn’t get rid of the smile after he broke eye contact so I tried to hide my mouth behind my hand and did my best to focus on what was being taught. 

   “Hey, Y/N?” I heard as I was packing up after class.

    “Yeah?” I said as I turned to see Mingyu already packed up and watching me.

    “Um, I was wondering… if you wanted to go get some food with me?” He asked and my heart nearly skipped a beat as he bit his lower lip. I could feel the heat in my cheeks and simply nodded in response as I didn’t trust myself not to stutter if I actually spoke. My response made him smile and he waited for me to pack up my stuff. We walked to the cafeteria, making small talk on the way. When we got out food and sat down I was laughing at one of the jokes he made when suddenly Vernon came up to us.

    “Hey! Fancy seeing you here!” He called out and took a seat next to me. 

    “Yes, not many people come to the school cafeteria so it was surely unlikely to see me here,” I responded sarcastically and rolled my eyes at him a little. 

    “I’m glad you get it,” he laughed and stole a bite of my food.

    “Hey! Jerk go get your own food.” I punched him.

    Vernon looked at me and smiled a big fake smile, “But yours tastes just fine.”

    Rolling my eyes at him for the second time I turned my gaze back to Mingyu and saw that he was frowning slightly while staring down at his food. I frowned with him wondering what was wrong. Just as I was about to ask him he excused himself and started walking away. Without knowing what brought about the boldness I told Vernon he could have my food and followed Mingyu out. It took me a bit to catch up with him because of his long legs but when I did I reached for his arm to slow him down.

   “Y/N? What are you doing? Aren’t you going to finish eating?” 

   “I wanted to talk to you, you seemed upset,” I answered, scrunching my eyebrows together and pouting slightly.

   “I’m fine, honestly, just go eat with Vernon,” he said, stressing Vernon's name in a way that made it seem like it was Vernon he was upset with.

   “Are you angry at Vernon?” I asked, tilting my head a little to the side. To my knowledge they didn’t see each other much outside of class so I didn’t know why he’d be angry at Vernon. 

   “I’m not… angry at him. He seems like a good dude, I just... nevermind. It’s stupid anyway.” He turned away and started walking again and I jogged to catch up with him and held onto his arm to stop him.

   “It’s not stupid, please tell me. I wanna know what’s wrong.” 

   “It’s just… embarrassing and I feel stupid even saying it.” 

   “I won’t judge, it can be stupid, that’s fine,” I joked, attempting to lighten the mood. He looked down and muttered something but I couldn’t hear him.

   “What did you say?” I asked, moving a bit closer to hear him.

   He sighed and spoke up a bit, still avoiding eye contact, “I like you and it seems like you and Vernon like each other and I’m jealous.”

   The smile that overtook my face was impossible to stop and I squeezed his arm, trying to make him look at me. It worked and he looked confused at the smile on my face. “I don’t like Vernon, we’re just friends” I assured him, “I like you too, Mingyu. When you stood up for me the other day I felt like a lead in a drama, where the leading male came to my rescue.” 

   He smiled and wrapped me in a hug, “I’ll stand up for you any day, I’ll be your personal knight in shining armor.” 

   “How could I ever repay my handsome knight?” I giggled and looked up at him.

   He hummed as though he was thinking about it and feeling the vibrations in his chest made me smile more. “I think I know something,” he finally said, looking down at me.

   “And what would that be?” In place of a verbal reply he leaned down slowly and I closed my eyes as he placed his lips on mine.

   “I still don’t think that’s enough,” I said, “We’ll have to do this more. Maybe when we’re on dates, for example?” 

   “I think that could be arranged,” he smiled and wrapped his arms around me tighter.

[jinlover19]

Dog Days

chapter index [ #1 An Encounter]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Rating: 17+

Genre/Warnings: ANGST, abusive relations, attempted suicide, mentions of self-harm, negative thoughts, severe weather, excessive use of the word stray

Words: 2.9k+

Once you’ve decided to end it all, you meet an unlikely savior.

A flash of lightning tears its way across the sky; roaring and rumbling thunder follows its other half. The wind whips through the empty streets of New York City as if searching for new prey. The dark clouds weep, sending down sheets upon sheets as if it was the Amazon and impairing the vision of all who dare to step outside. Not many people would dare to go out when the local weatherman issued an emergency flash flood warning anyway. Yet here you sat in the alleyway; rain seeping into your clothing as the 60 mile-per-hour winds find your hiding place and bite at your arms and legs. With an unchanging expression, you look up to the dark clouded sky. A lost, soulless gaze. You’re so far gone in your irreparable despair that the freezing rain, sharp winds, and deafening thunder are nothing to your numb senses. With how you overthink and overanalyze all the thoughts running through your head, your brain has no room to register the information that your nerves are trying to send it. All the negative thoughts and voices in your head swirl and morph into a vortex of anguish and misery, haunting you with their disdain.

“You worthless piece of shit.”

“You’ll never amount to anything.”

“Why are you even alive?”

“Just die already!”

“You’re such a waste of space.”

“You’re so smart, why do you act so fucking stupid?!”

A scream claws its way out of your throat and echoes throughout the barren streets for a moment before being drowned out by another clash of thunder and the downpour you’re in. You try to drown out the voices’ mockery, but they keep getting louder and louder. You clasp your hands over your ears and pull your knees up into your chest, attempting to create a defense against the jeering, but it does nothing to stop them.

You are suddenly thrown off balance from your quick actions and tip over, landing on your side onto the slowly flooding asphalt. The tears you have been holding back for hours quietly creep past your lashes. They trail down your face and over the bridge of your nose before intermingling with the steadily growing pond you’ve found yourself in. The pouring rain masks your tear-streaked face and dead eyes from potential onlookers that would be mad enough to to be outside in such severe weather this late at night. The vortex spirals faster as the winds around you increase and abruptly you’re able to identify familiar voices.

Your snooty, middle-aged mother, “You’ve been slacking off! I don’t care if you’re depressed. I don’t care if you’re not mentally stable. You are getting this done now! You can deal with your problems later.”

Your smartass older brother, “You’re so ugly and unresponsive! It’s no wonder why you don’t have a boyfriend!”

Your old-fashioned boss, “You have absolutely NOTHING to be depressed about.”

And lastly the voice of your self-righteous father, “I wish your mother and I never decided to keep you. You’re a spoiled, selfish, ungrateful brat.”

You feel the corners of your mouth quiver as they lift into a sad, broken smile. “They’re right, ya know,” you murmur to yourself as you let your tears flow freely. “They’re all right… Ha… no one truly loves me. No one would care if I just randomly disappeared. They would all be better off if I was gone.” You feel the weight of your knife and smartphone increase in the back pocket of your jeans.

When you ran out of the apartment earlier after getting yelled at for the thousandth time, you had enough sense to take your phone and swiss army knife with you. You keep them with you when in public at all times in case of an emergency. —Your parents are quite popular and wealthy; it would be “such a shame” if one of their “precious” children got kidnapped. So while your siblings got discreet bodyguards to look after and protect them, you got self-defense and martial arts lessons— The knife usually made you feel safe, but right now it’s burning a hole into your jeans.

You feel your right arm stretch back and your fingers grasp the smooth metal handle of your multi-use tool out of their own accord. “They won’t miss me. They didn’t even come looking for me despite all that happened tonight. It’s the best for everyone.” You mindlessly repeat to yourself as you roll up the sleeve on your left arm. —It’s littered with scars and blisters; old and recent ones— Twisting your arm over you see the pure, unblemished area on the underside of your wrist. You feel your body tremble as you release a hollow laugh. “I would say that it’s been fun… but it hasn’t.” With those words, you flip your knife open. Placing the cool, sharp blade against your most fragile spot. You glance down and you can see your reflection in the weapon as well as the rising waters. You close your eyes, at peace with your decision. Just as you begin to move the knife across your veins, you hear an abrupt noise.

~~

I heard her before I saw her.

Which wasn’t a problem for my superior canine hearing. I could hear a pin drop up to 60 feet away.

I was rummaging through the dumpster behind Rusty’s Bar trying to find my dinner. If I’m lucky I can snag some leftover pizza or some day-old bread. Most of the restaurant owners down here know me as one of the many strays of downtown NYC. Sometimes if they had a good day, they’ll leave some food for me at the back door of their buildings, and I won’t have to dig through the trash for it. Usually, it’s the places I hit up more often that leave me food. Those being Rusty’s Bar, Jessie’s Diner, and the run-down, high-quality local butcher shop run by Bart. Bart is a great guy, but he doesn’t tend to get a lot of business so I don’t usually get food from him a lot. Rusty and Jessie are much more reliable as food sources. I was lucky to even have reliable food sources. Most of the other animals would kill to be able to have a decent meal about once or twice a week.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world out here on the streets, only the tough and adaptable ones have been able to survive. I’ve met some fearsome animals in my lifetime, but none as fierce as the ones in New York. A cat will fight a dog to the death for a scrap of meat and vice versa. They have an established hierarchy based upon strength; the strong rule, the weak serve. Yet these guys seem to have adopted me as one of their own. One of the few strong strays that are able to rule the streets.

I’m not just any normal stray though. I’m a dog shifter. I have a dog form and a hybrid-like form that I can switch between interchangeably. Animal shifters aren’t rare per se, but we are uncommon. Most of us don’t even hang out around humans. Most of us prefer to live in communities that are isolated from humanity, but some shifters choose to live with a human as an equal or even a pet.

I don’t see how any shifter would ever want to be a human’s pet.

After scouring through the trash for a few minutes longer, I found the treasure of a lifetime. Three-meat pizza that a customer didn’t finish. I had just grabbed a few slices to munch on when I heard a blood-curdling scream. “What was that?” I muttered with my mouth half filled with soggy pizza. ‘That sounded like a girl… Why is she out during such crappy weather? Is she okay?’ I finished wolfing down my dinner and decided to go check it out. It sounded like she was a few blocks away from me, so I shifted into my dog form and sprinted off to see what was wrong.

About a minute later, maybe two, I arrived at the place where the scream had come from. I heard a girl’s voice, broken, empty, and without hope. It sounded like she was talking to herself.

“It’s the best for everyone.” I heard the voice say as I turned the corner.

There I saw a girl, laying on her side in the slowly flooding alleyway. A defeated look on her face and her left arm stretched out slightly in front of her body. She was holding something metal in her right hand. As she placed it against her wrist; a flash of silver glinting off of thin, sharp metal grabbed my attention. ‘IS THAT A KNIFE???’

“I would say it’s been fun… but it hasn’t.” She was about to slash her wrist open with the knife.

‘I have to stop her!’ For some reason, I was determined to not let this girl die. ‘But if I bark, or try to say something it could scare her and her hand could slip and she could cut herself by accident… What should I do? ...Maybe this will be less startling..!’ I raced over to a nearby garbage can and kicked it over with my back paws; a skill I developed in order to survive out here on the streets.

~~

CLANG!!!

The sound of something metallic hitting a wall makes you jolt and survey your surroundings. The blade of your knife runs across your wrist leaving a small cut, yet not deep enough to draw blood. “Who’s there?!” You call out in panic. Frantically whipping your head from side to side, you finally spot the source of your chaos; you feel your eyes widen in utter disbelief at the sight.

A vast shadow stands next to a garbage can that is rolling back and forth slightly. A flash of lightning lights up the area briefly and you see that the silhouette belongs to a large dog; although you can’t make out what breed it is or what the dog even looks like due to the pouring rain and the dark clouds blotting up the sky. The dog pads its way over to you. Its paws splashing and sending waves through the thoroughly flooded passageway.

“A dog…” You mutter under your breath as said canine approaches. It lays down perpendicular to you, facing you head on, and rests its head on top of its wet, dirty paws. “Hey there, doggo.” You say to the water-logged animal. It releases a soft puff in greeting. A few minutes pass with the two of you quietly laying in the steadily rising water; the only sounds being your conjoined breathing, the rainforest-esque downpour, and the occasional booms and cracks of thunder and lightning. You still had the knife within your grasp, wanting to wait until the dog had left before offing yourself. However, it’s been over five minutes and that thing has yet to move. Its deep, dark brown eyes burning holes into yours; the only action that dog has done is blink. Wanting to get the creature to move along so you can get back to what you were doing, you attempt to persuade it to leave. “Hey, doggo. You’re gonna get sick if you stay out in this weather…” The rising water suddenly catches your attention as you’re forced to close your eye close to the ground to avoid getting water in it. “Might even drown.”

The canine makes a face, and you can almost imagine what it’d be saying if it could talk; “Bitch, I know exactly what the fuck you’re trying to do. Don’t try that shit with me.”

A sigh slithers out of your throat. “I’m sure you have better things to do than watch me lay here, doggo. Your owner’s probably worried sick about you… running off during the middle of a storm.”

The dog moves its head to the side, showing the side of its neck to you. You can’t see that well, but you can make out that the dog is not wearing a collar.

You furrow your brow at this installment. “No owner, huh… A stray then… Shouldn’t be surprised at that… we got a lotta stray dogs here.” The minutes drag on as the two of you listen to the sounds of the rain and wind. After a while, you start to lose your mind over the fact that this stubborn dog will not leave you alone. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” You cry out after what feels like an eternity.

The dog lifts its head from its paws and looks at you sadly, water dripping from the underside of its muzzle. It brings its head over to the hand that is grasping your knife like a lifeline and nuzzles against your hand briefly, but gently. It brings its head back to face you and looks you dead in the eyes. A wave of realization crashes over you.

“...you want me to live… don’t you…” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Once again, the canine releases a soft puff of affirmation. Sighing through your nose, you flick the blade back into its handle; you shake your head as a soft smile graces your lips for the first time in a while. “You’re a weird dog, ya know,” you mumble as you stuff the swiss army knife into your back pocket once more. When the knife is completely put away, the dog jumps up and kisses the mark it left on your wrist. Chuckling, you reach your other hand over and scratch the top of the dog’s head fondly. “Such a weird dog.”

After a while, you sit up; it finally registers with you that your entire left side is soaked. To be fair, your right side is not fairing any better due to the rain. Your canine friend follows suit, sitting right next to you. “You can go, y’know. I’m not gonna do it.” The dog rises once more and looks at you. It dawns upon you that this stubborn dog is not going to leave unless you leave first. You purse your lips, stifling a grunt as you struggle to get on your feet. The dog wags its tail and barks happily once you’re standing. You look up to see that the rain is starting to let up, even though the alley is filled with water about ankle high; then you start marching towards the mouth of the alleyway. The splashing and sloshing of the water behind you tells you that the dog is following you.

The street lights blind you as you exit the hidden passageway. The canine shakes some of the access water droplets off of its coat and walks over to a nearby lamppost, lifting its leg to relieve itself. ‘Oh… so it’s a boy.’ You think to yourself, uncomfortably waiting for him to finish. Once he does, he turns to you with expectant eyes telling you to lead the way. “Okay, okay…” you release a small laugh. “I guess you’re walking me home then?”

“RRUFF!!” he replies loudly.

Shaking your head in amusement, you turn in the direction of your home. “Alright then, buddy. C’mon. This way.” As you start walking, he bounds next to you and matches your pace; you can see him a lot better now thanks to the streetlights. He’s a very solid dog. Probably some kind of pit bull or a mastiff. His tail is stubby, and his ears are a bit on the shorter side. His coat seems short from what you can see, but you can’t tell if it’s an illusion caused by the water rolling off of his back or not. His coat looks like a marbled pattern of dark brown, light brown, and black. It’s gorgeous; you’ve never seen a dog with fur like this before.

Eventually, the two of you arrive at the door of a luxurious apartment building. “We’re here, buddy,” you announce reluctantly. “You can’t go in with me though. No big dogs allowed. Sorry, buddy.” Reaching out, you pet the patches of fur behind his ears; he leans into your touch. “My room is on this side of the building, so you can wait here if you want. I’ll wave out the window so you know I got home safely. Okay?” He lowers his ears and lets out a small whine, but stays put. Your lips curl into a small smile and you rub his head gently. “Good boy.”

You turn away from him and look towards the looming entrance. You feel your anxiety bubbling up; you don’t have your key, so you’re gonna have to call up. With every step you take, you can feel your dread for what awaits you on the other side of the door increase. Swallowing the knot that is forming at the back of your throat, you scrape together what little courage you have left, and press forward. You raise your trembling hand to the intercom and somehow manage to buzz your apartment.

“Yeah? Who’s there?” A gruff, curt voice replies. You thank the Lord that it was your brother who answered.

“H-Hey, bro! It’s me. Can you let me in? I went… for a walk, and it looks like I forgot my keys.” Your voice is shakier than your hand is.

“Ugh. Oh my god. Seriously, Y/n?” He scoffs. You can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “What kind of fucking idiot goes out on a damn walk during the worst storm of the century?”

You don’t even attempt to answer; whenever he asks you something like this, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance it’s rhetorical.

“Whatever. C’mon up, brat,” he spits from the speaker. A buzzer sounds and the door unlocks. Mentally preparing yourself for what waits for you on the other side, you stretch your hand towards the handle and open the door.

[nighttimewrittenblues]

Time is seriously a bitch. 

I have too much of it, and nothing to do, so I waste it. Like right now, I have nobody to keep me company so I’m sitting in the stacks, surrounded by the familiar blue sky scrapers of shelves, engulfed by millions of words I’ll never bother to read, serenaded by the buzz and flicker of the dusty lights above. But why do I need to do something with my time? Why is it that I feel so compelled to always be doing something? Even if it’s sleeping or watching tv, I can’t allow myself to do nothing. This could quite possibly be because I’m afraid of myself, as I have learned in the past. Truly being alone with my own thoughts and no distractions is the worst torture I could ever imagine putting myself through, as that’s when everything begins to spiral out of control. Now I’m thinking if you really love me or not. You’ve been distant, or maybe I’ve been being distant? Whatever it is, something is off, and has been for a few days now. I’m not going to ask you because I know I overanalyze and I don’t want to make something out of nothing but I’ve gone so long without love and now that I have it I don’t want to lose it. It’s selfish of me, I know, and wrong of me to ever doubt you. You wouldn’t do that to me, so what’s wrong with me? Why do I always do this? Someone once told me that I try to hard to find reasons to not be happy, that I force myself to believe something isn’t as good as it is because I, for some absurd reason, cannot be happy. Well, I am happy. I can truly say that I am happy, even as I sit here surrounded by shelves of empty words instead of friends. I have people that care about me, and that’s the key to a happy life. So what there might be morning where getting out of the bed is the hardest part of the day, or days where I check out immediately after classes to sleep and read and listen to music because my brain just can’t handle any more strenuous activity. Maybe there are days where I can’t bring myself to speak, and others where I can’t seem to stop talking. I got in the car the other night after ditching school for a nap with a close friend of mine and my father told me he thinks I’m bipolar. I don’t want another label, I’ve already been depressed and have gone through enough with that. I need to be stable because if I’m not stable everybody is going to leave again. I’m finally feeling okay with myself, and everyone around me thinks something is seriously wrong. Maybe I’m just not an okay person, but I’m okay with that. So what gives you the right to tell me otherwise? People don’t seem to really mind, they inquire if something is wrong and I shrug it off and then they continue to tell me about their problems. All I want to do is help, trust me, I would do anything to diminish the pain some of you are living in, but all I can really do is listen and hold you while you cry and try with all my might to cheer you up. It’s exhausting. I don’t want it to change, I need you all to keep coming to me with whatever may be going on because I know what you’re going through and although I may not be much help, I’m a person, and I’ll be there right by your side the whole way. Because I know, going through it alone only makes it a million times worse. I hope you can be happy again. It pains me so much to see you like this, to watch you get worse every single day. To see you go down the same path I went down only a few years before, but not being able to stop you. I am so so sorry.