#and then keep trying to figure out how to kms

[snekdood]

& i stab him

You drank a snake oil salesman’s drink only for it to make you actually immortal in the old west now 300 years later you see that same salesman

[californiaquail]

missed the bus by one minute because of my piece of shit job fuck my stupid baka life etc

[shreddeddescent]

ok ok one last insanity check for everyone ok this is a lil different. like lemme just say im clearly someone who likes to go to the dark zone but also try and claw my way back out. i do sappy funny shit most of the time. and the writing of this thing has gotten long and insane, timelines have jumped as i try and parse events. as in i started w a scenario where raph nearly got sold out to his father and is rescued by his brothers immediately. we go to a place where he wasnt and is rescued later. theres been inbetweens where hes rescued but bad things happen despite that. all of this has led me to like his inner turmoils (diagnosis) and the other characters inner turmoils more. how they feel about each other how theyve coped. its good to jump around so im glad i havent said too much as if its all set in stone. im glad im not trying to write a fanfiction to SHARE if that makes sense.

my current shit that has gotten the longest was from the worst case scenario of his lack of rescue and i feel like... i dont need to say what that was? but i think i should point out that descent has a second meaning. its not just the spiralling downward, its also the root word of descendant. that was my feeling about the poetry of it.

so ill say i do feel like im in the danger zone of being fucking murdered for this but i wanna say it anyway cuz i think itll be ok. i think you guys will get it cuz ur being nice. im exploring shit and having fun. it gets raw, it gets hard, but its working out.

so i started writing this au as "ok so heres a scene where raph is just hanging out w casey, hes trying to tell her to control her anger, and theyre fighting a bit. and he fucking flashes back and realized hes a csa victim. let the story unravel from there"

and im currently in the. insane writing area of "what if ur presumed aborted kids come back from the future/pocket dimension to take care of u cuz theyre like 30 and have coped w what they are and know you have no adults around who give a shit. and theyre amazing and kind and want to help you."

shits.......... gone off the rails. idk what else to say. i am having fun exploring insanity and seeing if i can reign it in. if i didnt do that i wouldnt have come up w half the shit i have. so like. uh. idk if youll see anything of said thing okay. its weird i know it is. but honestly i feel like the insanity and seeing how real i can make it feel, how i can parse feelings over it is working well. maybe this all sounds spoilery or weird. i was really thinking "ill just draw out things chronologically" but im struggling with that for some reason. but this au is on my mind uh 24/7 and its good to just be like "ok, heres where my head is at, if thats not what you wanna hear about it the unfollow button is right there"

but i also feel like ive been OVERLY POINTING OUT. that this isnt a story for kids. so please try not to judge me too harshly. its just a fucking.... how insane can i go and tell you about it thing. i guess.

[foone]

Have you heard about the Polish Train company, Newag, and the bullshit it turns out they got up to?

So, the regional rail operator Koleje Dolnośląskie bought some Newag Impuls back in 2016 . In late 2021, some of them need to have major maintenance done, as they've been in service a while. So the company SPS (Serwis Pojazdów Szynowych) gets the contract to fix them. They basically take the train apart, replace a bunch of it, following all the rules in the documentation Newag gave them, and... it won't move. The train says everything is fine, the brakes are off, there's plenty of power, but you push the throttle up and it won't move.

SPS spends a while trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong, with no luck. So they hire some hackers from the Polish security group Dragon Sector. Dragon Sector figures out how to get into the code of the computer system that runs the train, and OH MY GOD.

So it turns out there's a secret train-lock system. If it's on, the train won't move. This will be triggered in some situations you might think are normal: the clocks are wrong, the serial numbers of the various parts have changed, and a firmware mismatch between the main computer and the power system. Now, the fact that it makes sense to not run the train in these situations until someone can check it? that doesn't extend to the fact the train uses a SECRET lock system, rather than just popping up an error message telling you what's wrong. There's also the problem that while these are all potential error problems, they can't be cleared by anyone with the technical manuals, which are supposed to cover everything about how to run these trains. Only Newag themselves can reset this system.

Which, you know, keeps SPS from properly fixing them. Only Newag can fix them now, but not because SPS lacks any technical ability, but because Newag sabotaged their own trains. But don't worry: it gets worse.

So now that Dragon Sector knows what's happening, they get to look at other trains. It turns out the trains aren't all running the same software, and there are other tricks in there.

One of them is a "how long has the train been stopped?" check. If the train hasn't hit 60 km/h in 10 days, the train locks itself and won't move until Newag can clear it. So, like, if a train is ever out of service, like it's going to a repair place... it'll break itself. Unless the repair place is owned by Newag.

But two of the trains go further: See, these trains have GPS built in, right? You may be able to guess where this is going...

THEY JUST MAKE THE TRAIN CHECK IF IT IS PARKED AT THEIR COMPETITORS' REPAIR YARD AND BREAK ITSELF IF IT WAS.

The sheer audacity of this move. This is frighteningly bullshit anti-competition self-sabotage.

This has, obviously, made some parts of the Polish government to start investigating this. Newag may be (and hopefully will be) in a lot of trouble.

For more info, there's a great video of a presentation by the three people from Dragon Sector who did the hacking, which was presented at the 37th Chaos Communication Congress in Germany.

Ars Technica also has an article on it, but it predates the presentation so it doesn't have some of the later details.

Anyway, the good news is that in the end the hackers at Dragon Sector were able to unlock most of the trains: A few had additional trickery that they didn't want to hack around, because it might break the train's certification. For the others, they discovered undocumented "cheat codes" in the software that they could use to bypass the secret lockouts... presumably the same ones that Newag would have used when they "repaired" trains.

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[sweetbans29]

Down Low - KM

Pairing: Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: After figuring out what you have is real, you and Kate navigate keeping your relationship on the down low (based on THIS request)

Warnings: very mildly suggestive, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Here is another cute KM fic!

"So how are we going to do this?" You ask the girl sitting on your bed. She is wrapped in one of your sweatshirts and holding Stuffy, the teddy bear you refuse to sleep without.

She shrugs. Neither of you really know what to say.

"We take it one day at a time and if it gets weird or hurts the team we stop," Kate says, looking down at the arms of the teddy bear she is playing with.

You nod. Neither of you really want to stop what you are doing.

You and Kate are heading into your fourth year at Iowa while Kate is entering her fifth. The two of you have been doing this little dance around your feelings for the past three years. That is until the two of you both decided to stay around during the summer. Summer was really only about 6 weeks but it was enough for you and her to start exploring the unspoken feelings each of you has been harboring. And boy were the two of you glad you did.

The two of you spent the past six weeks exploring the city and each other. It could not have been better. But now that summer is over and the team is getting back to start pre-season workouts the two of you are faced with reality.

"Mmmhmmm, one day at a time," you repeat what she says but can't hide the disappointment in your tone.

Kate stands up and comes to wrap herself around you. You turn to face her and nuzzle your way into her neck, breathing her in.

"When I say one day at a time, I don't mean my feelings for you. Baby, those are sure but one day at a time with the team, okay?" She explains, trying to reassure you.

You nod into her and know that is what she meant, but you can't help but want this little world the two of you have created to continue forever. Forever in your little bubble was unrealistic.

You let your hands that are wrapped around the taller girl sneak underneath the sweatshirt and allow your fingertips to dance across the skin of her back.

"Why can't we stay like this forever?" You ask, knowing reality is knocking at the door.

"I wish we could, I really wish we could," she says.

The team gets back and you and Kate go back to being 'just friends'. At least, friends in the eyes of the world. But the two of you are still very much figuring out what the two of you look like with everyone else around. As time passed and the two of you established this wasn't just a summer fling, you got so used to keeping your relationship between the two of you that neither of you felt the need to change anything up.

A few months pass and you couldn't be happier. The season is in full swing as games are beginning.

It is a full-team practice day before a big game coming up.

You are intently watching your team run a defensive rotation when Kate comes flying through, getting the block on one of the practice guys.

The team goes crazy as the team on the floor goes to chest bump and gives Kate her flowers.

"FREAKING MOTHER," Jada yells as the team celebrates Kate. The cheers are loud.

"Ha, more like daddy," you mutter out loud before you can catch yourself. You look around to see if anyone caught you little slip and it doesn't look like they had.

To be fair, you and Kate have been pretty active in the bedroom which may or may not be consuming your mind more often than not. It had been a newfound nickname for your girl that was up until this moment only used in the confines of your home.

When you think you are in the clear, you pat Kate's back and head to set up in your zone when you hear it.

"Oh shit," Caitlin says. "OH SHIT!"

Caitlin turns to you and puts her hands on your shoulders.

"Did you just say what I think you said?" Caitlin asks, squeezing your shoulders.

"I don't know what you are talking about," you say trying to cover up your slip.

Caitlin stares you down.

"I know you better than you know yourself, you would not go around calling just anyone that nickname," Caitlin says trying to pull your eye contact which you are actively avoiding.

"Fine, don't say anything but something is going on," Cait says letting you go. You finally let out the breath you have been holding and look over at your girl.

Your eyes meet Kate's and she immediately knows something's off. You wave her off but to your misfortune, Caitlin is out there calling Kate daddy on the next play.

Both Kate and your face are bright red when you hear the name escape Caitlin's lips and it causes the whole team to come to a halt.

"What did you just call Kate?" Jada asks.

"Daddy," Caitlin says. The whole team looks at her like she is crazy. "I am just repeating what I heard."

Caitlin then had the audacity to point at you, the bright red tomato that you are, as ever single eye in the gym gravitates towards you.

You hide your face and groan when you feel arms come around you. Kate covers you from the eyes of the team and practice squad.

"So if Kate is daddy...does that make you mother?" Jada asks pinching at your sides.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me, how long have we known each other? How long have I been saying you two would be a cute ass couple? Do I even know you at all?" Caitlin says barreling into you.

"8 months," Kate says pushing your intruder away from you.

"EIGHT MONTHS," Caitlin yells. "And you really think you know someone. I will be taking applications for a new best friend since BOTH of mine have betrayed me."

"CC, it has nothing to do with you," you say a smile finally making its way on you as you push the girl. "We liked the simplicity and your loud mouth couldn't keep a secret to save your life."

"Hey!" Caitlin combats but all of you know it's true.

You are all laughing and there is a shared sense of relief in both you and Kate. You didn't know how the team would react but it is better than either of you would have expected. Not as a lack of their understanding but more so to your fear.

"As long as I get to be in the wedding, I'm good," Caitlin says.

"Yeah - as my best woman," Kate says at the same exact time as you say, "Of course - as my maid of honor."

Your head whips to look at Kate who is already staring you down.

"She can't be your maid of honor if she is my best woman," Kate says like it's a known thing, Caitlin being on her side instead of yours.

"In your dreams Martin, she has been my best friend since high school - there is no question she is standing by my side," you say.

"She could always officiate..." Jada decides to pitch in her two cents.

Kate and your heads turn to her and simultaneously say, "No."

The whole team laughs as you and Kate continue to bicker. The coaches call for practice to continue.

Any time you were standing next to Kate, the two of you could be seen in the same little argument about who gets Caitlin. It even follows you back to your apartment when Caitlin is sick of hearing it.

"Okay that's enough," Caitlin says, rubbing her head. "I will be neither of your best woman or maid of honor."

You and Kate come to your senses and turn to the girl who just made the statement, now arguing with her as to how crazy it would be to not have her in the wedding party.

It didn't stop the arguing, but it did turn the tables so you and Kate were on the same side.

If you were honest, you would give Kate anything she wanted on your big day and she would do the same. At the end of the day, you both knew what was coming and had no problems with it. It was all a part of the plan. The plan the two of you drew up that first week of summer. The plan to spend the rest of your lives arguing about stupid things with each other because neither of you could imagine arguing with anyone else.

The plan of Kate and you against the world.

AN: A short but cute one in my opinion. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 💛

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 2: the wedding “you said i do, and i did too”

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 @ellehoops wc: 4.4k notes: lots of requests for this one 😩☝️ also yes i used the same banner as the proposal one shot and no i dont care. anyways this is just the wedding but i promise i have not forgotten the other requests: 1) teammate interactions/jealousy and 2) their kids, i'm just breaking these one shots down so i can get more out faster when biology isnt making me want to kms. they will be out eventually but the next fic i write will probably be based off of 'come around' by lisa curtis sooo keep an earhole out for that 👁️ not proofread bc i have 31 assignments due by the 24th. sorry for yapping but pls enjoy ���

FEBRUARY 8, 2029

After making their engagement official in November, Tess and Paige packed up their lives in LA and Dallas respectively, spending time with their combined families while negotiating with the Valkyries and trying to find the perfect realtor and the perfect house. The both of them knew they basically had a done deal with the Valkyries, which is why they weren’t all too concerned about jumping the gun and searching for the house in the bay they’d been talking about for months. They’d managed to narrow their search down to two houses, both having the right amount of bedrooms, bathrooms, ample outdoor space, a spacious kitchen large enough to fit their future family (and to handle the chaos of Paige learning how to cook). The only real difference between the houses was the location. There was one that was a little closer to the Valkyries facility, although the other one was a little more suburban and away from the bustle of city life. Tess was honestly leaning to the more rural of the option, but she knew that decision wasn’t fully hers – she and Paige had to remember they were expanding their family in the upcoming years, and it was important that their children had the space to flourish and be happy.

Tess and Paige still had plenty of time to figure it out, so they weren’t worried. By late January, once the official free agency period began, they spent only a few hours in meetings with the Valkyries front office. Tess and Paige wanted to go to the Valkyries, the Valkyries wanted them there. There wasn’t much to argue about. However, they did have to negotiate their contract salaries. The Valkyries initial offer was actually too much, especially since Tess and Paige weren’t planning on splitting up anytime soon and they had a career’s worth of endorsements, brand deals, and steady income. They talked the front office down to a less steep offer, requesting that the extra funds go towards maintaining the facilities and investing in growing their bench. Tess, Paige, Azzi, Ayoka, and Kiki would be their sure starters. It was already a deadly lineup, but when you had an excellent, deep bench with players like Temi Fagbenle, Kate Martin, Kayla Thorton, and Madison Booker, and when the front office was looking at several free agent players like Gabby Williams, Aneesah Morrow, and Olivia Miles, the Valkyries were looking to be in good form for the 2029 season.

In early February, the official signing period began. The internet all but lit on fire when it was announced that Tess and Paige signed to the Valkyries, mostly excitement – especially at the prospect that Azzi and Paige would be reunited, but even more excitement at the idea that Paige would be running point guard with two of the best shooting guards on the wings. Then, after a short trip to the Bay, they finally signed off on a house, too. They decided for the more rural option. The distance to the facility and the city wasn’t actually that bad and they were both getting a little too old for the constant city noise.

Then February 8th rolled around, which would be the perfect ending to a hectic three months. They’d had their wedding date set ever since the plane ride back from Italy in November – Tess was a flurry of excitement and anticipation, hardly allowing Paige the time to get buckled in before talking her ear off about wedding preparation. Though, to her credit, Paige was just as invested as she was, a perpetual smile etched on her face, a lingering warmth in her eyes as they discussed some of the broader technicalities. They both knew they wanted to be married before the season started – neither of them wanted anything too huge, but a ceremony with their closest friends and family on the Hawaiian coast sounded perfect to them. The weather would be mild, not atrociously hot, and Tess had to admit – the idea of Paige, windswept and sun-kissed next to the ocean waves, did something to her heart, so it didn’t take much convincing for either of them.

So, here they are now. Tess and Paige, along with their family, flew out to Hawaii a few days before the ceremony, enjoying their time on the beach and their time with each other. Tess spent weeks perfecting her vows, considering what brand of waterproof mascara she was going to buy (because she just knew she was going to cry like a little bitch as soon as she saw Paige waiting for her). But now that the day is here? She’s freaking out.

“Tess Alessanda, I’m gonna need you to get it together.”

Kamilla’s voice does little to soothe the pounding of her heart. It’s not cold feet by any means. She’s known for years that she was going to marry Paige, but it’s so real right now. In a few moments, her parents are going to walk her down a path made of rose petals and she’s going to marry the love of her life. The excitement and anticipation is so overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

“Kam, she’s getting married,” Aliyah gripes, which causes Kamilla to roll her eyes as she fixes the strap of Tess’s dress. It’s a clean white in color, the skirt of it extending down to her ankles. She opted for a classy ‘lowkey’ since she’d be getting married in sand and she’s sure she would have flipped out if she got their wedding pictures and her dress was wet and dirty. “It’s a big day for her. And for us.” Aliyah pretends to wipe away a tear as she fake cries.

Tess watches Bree and Raven exchange a glance, the amusement in their expression clear as day as Destanni steps forward, her suit a perfectly tailored lilac to match the color of the bridal party. “Kamilla’s right, though,” Destanni says. She adjusts the white flower in Tess’s hair, nodding in approval once it’s to her liking. “You’re crazy about her, she’s crazy about you. I know this is huge for y’all but let’s turn that anxiety into happiness, alright?”

“I know,” Tess agrees, nodding floundering a bit when she tries to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress. Zia hands her a towel and Tess gratefully wipes her hands. “I’m just…super fucking excited, you know? I didn’t think something like this was possible for me.”

“Marriage?” Zia asks, a little confused.

Tess shrugs a shoulder. “Marriage. Love. Buying a house with someone that’s not my mom.” Her joke causes her closest friends to burst out into laughter. “I don’t know. I’m excited and happy and anxious and like, everything is what it’s supposed to be. I didn’t think this was possible but I’m so glad my life has worked out the way it has and I get to get married with my best friends next to me.”

“Shut up,” Bree says, wiping her waterline slightly. “You’re gonna fuck up my eyeliner.” Laughter rings out again.

“Well, Tess,” Kamilla says, a coy smile on her face. “I have a surprise for you.” Tess raises a tentative brow, honestly feeling a little concerned as Kamilla huffs. “Come on, trust me, okay? Promise you’re gonna love it.” Giving in with a sigh, Tess allows Kamilla to cover her eyes as she leads her out of the dressing room and down the hall. She bites her tongue, not wanting to be negative on her big day, but soon enough, they’re coming to a halt and Kamilla is pressing her back against the wall lightly. “Keep your eyes closed, please?” Tess nods and slowly, Kamilla removes her hands from her eyes, reaching down to grab her wrist. “I know y’all were doing the whole ‘no looking’ thing, but I thought this might be fun.” Still confused, Tess allows Kamilla to guide her hand until her knuckles are brushing against someone else’s hand. Kamilla releases her and the other person fully intertwines their fingers. Tess knows almost immediately that it’s Paige’s hand from the firmness of the grip and the way her thumb finds that specific spot on her skin that always soothes her.

“Oh my God,” Tess says incredulously, chuckling a little in disbelief. Paige huffs out something akin to laughter, too, squeezing her hand. Tess barely registers the sound of Kamilla’s heels clicking away as she focuses intently on the woman next to her, still keeping her eyes shut.

“Heard you were freaking out?” Paige asks, her tone teasing.

Tess scoffs. “I was not freaking out,” she says. Paige hums, not quite convinced, and Tess folds instantly. “Okay, maybe I was freaking out a little, but in a good way.”

“If you asked Azzi or Nika, they’d tell you I was freakin’ out, too,” Paige admits.

Tess laughs gently. “Were you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Paige affirms. “Couldn’t figure out these fuckin’ cufflinks. My hands were shaking so bad, had to redo the button on my shirt a few times ‘cause I kept skipping a hole.” They both dissolve into giggles at the confession, some of the tension easing from Tess’s shoulders. “God, Tess, I’on think you know how happy I am right now. Part of me is still in disbelief…like I can’t believe I got lucky enough to end up with you.”

Tess feels the tears pool in her eyes, so she takes a deep breath, willing them back. There’d be plenty of time for crying later. “If you’re as happy as I am, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she says, which makes Paige let out a watery chuckle, squeezing her hand again. “I’m so glad I’m doing this with you. I don’t know if I can wait.”

“Just a little longer, yeah?” Paige asks. Tess can hear the smile in her voice.

“Just a little longer,” she confirms.

They stand in silence for a moment, eyes still closed, but Paige speaks up again. “Don’t freak out, okay?” she murmurs. “I know – easier said than done, I know, but today is already perfect. I was yours from the moment you shot a three over my head eight years ago.”

That makes Tess crack a small, grateful smile. “And I was yours the moment you blocked my shot so hard it broke your nail.”

Paige laughs, a little smug. “That was a crazy block, not even gonna lie.”

If Tess’s eyes weren’t closed, she’s sure they would be rolling by now. “You’re not allowed to freak out, either,” she says instead.

“I’m good now,” Paige promises. “Bein’ near you helps. I’m getting a little impatient, though, so Kam needs to come and get you before I start sayin’ I do.”

Tess chuckles a little. “A kiss for the road?” she says hopefully.

Paige hums. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“Are yours closed?” Tess asks, hearing Paige shuffle behind her, but she figures she gets her answer when she hears some part of Paige’s body slam into the corner of the wall between them and she hisses under her breath. “Point taken.”

“Be nice,” Paige grumbles, both of her hands blindly grasping her hips. “Where’s your face?” Tess grins, reaching down to take Paige’s wrist’s in her hands and guiding them up. Paige’s hands find home on her cheeks, cupping her jaw, and Tess leans into the touch as Paige’s fingers map out her features, brushing across her cheekbones, the bow of her lip, the slope of her nose. “I can feel you blushing. Your cheeks are hot.” Tess groans, much to Paige’s endless amusement. Tess can hear the rustling of her clothes as she leans forward, her lips finding her forehead, and Paige presses a kiss so delicate on her skin that it feels more like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Paige’s thumb traces her jaw as she holds her a little tighter.

“I love you,” Tess says as Paige draws back.

“I love you, too,” Paige whispers. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Soon.” Tess squeezes her hand once more, hearing the sound of Kamilla’s heels once more. Before Paige releases her hand, she brushes her lips across her knuckles, finally parting with a lingering promise in the air.

Tess heads back to her dressing room for the final touches, feeling lighter than she has all day. After a while, her bridesmaids, Kamilla, Aliyah, Bree, Raven, Destanni, and Zia leave the dressing room to take their spots at the altar as Tess’s parents join her. Her mother and father are dressed in matching lilacs, the smiles on their faces full of pride and love.

“We’re so happy for you, piccola,” her mother whispers as she cups her cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. Her father rubs her shoulder comfortingly, kissing the crown of her head as all three of them try to hold back their tears.

“Are you ready?” her father asks, and with a strong, confident nod, Tess links arms with both of her parents as she walks out.

The sand is warm beneath her bare feet and the sun has begun setting across the ocean. She follows her parents along the familiar path towards the Makena Cove where the altar awaits. Her chin trembles a little, a strong mix of excitement and anticipation settling in her body. She’s really about to get married. She never thought she’d ever be over the moon for something like this, but knowing that Paige is waiting for her makes it so incredibly worth it.

The cove comes into view. Their guests rise – a mix of friends, family, teammates old and new, and it’s so beautiful. The horizon is painted a vibrant orange, streaks of pink and lavender and yellow coursing through; it reflects off of the calm ocean waves, which mesh perfectly with the soft music in the background as she walks closer and closer. The wind blows gently, flyaway strands of her hair dancing in the breeze, but what truly steals her attention away is Paige standing just a few yards away from her at the altar. She’s dressed in an all white suit, matching her dress perfectly. It’s crisp and tailored and fits her in all of the right places. The first few buttons are undone at her chest, revealing a nondescript chain, but from afar, Tess can make out the glint of the rose thumb ring she’s worn for years now. Paige’s hair is half up, half down in soft waves with two strands framing the side of her face and her make up is natural. Tess will never get tired of looking at her or saying it, but Paige is the most beautiful woman she’s ever met.

As she’s led closer and closer to her, more of Paige’s features come into view. Her eyes are a lighter blue, illuminated by the setting sun and the slight sheen of tears. Her lips tremble but her smile is bright and infectious, the joy and love and gratitude radiant on her face. Finally, she reaches the altar and her parents release her, swooping in to draw Paige into a tight hug, whispering words of encouragement to her. They wrap Tess up in their arms, too, pressing gentle kisses to her temple as they leave and take their seats at the front.

Taking their spots at the altar, Tess and Paige can’t wipe the smiles off of their faces as they link hands again. Tess can feel the slight shake in Paige’s hands, but the grin on her face is fearless. Paige’s bridesmaids (or brides-people, rather), consist of Aaliyah, Nika, Azzi, KK, Lauren, and Drew. Tess hardly has the time to think too much before the officiant launches right into the ceremony, welcoming their guests and delivering some opening remarks. Tess knows she should pay more attention to the officiant – it is her wedding, afterall, but she’s laser focused on Paige and honestly wants to skip to the part where they get to exchange their vows and finally say I do.

She doesn’t have to wait too long. The officiant makes it around to the exchange of vows and after a sure nod from Paige, Tess goes first, trying to find the words she’d spent so long perfecting. Her voice is soft, gentle, quiet enough that only Paige can hear it over the tender whistle of the wind.

“On this day eight years ago, we played against each other and I met you for the first time,” she begins, watching a slow smile spread across Paige’s lips as she listens intently. “Then, we competed again in 2022, and in 2023, I tore my ACL. I didn’t think I could survive it. I made it pretty hard on myself, to be honest, but the right people stepped in and there you were. You were there to stay – or so I’d hoped – and you made me want to take care of myself, to commit to PT and therapy and everything else under the sun so I could get better and live out my dream of playing basketball.

“When I was growing up, I thought basketball would be the only constant in my life. My dream was simple – play ball, get drafted. I didn’t expect to meet you or fall in love, but my future expanded. I dreamed of playing ball, of coming home to, or with you, of sharing a life with you and growing with you. You became part of my dream, Paige, and I’m so thankful that I get to do life with you. I’m thankful you understand me in the way that you do and I’m thankful that you push me every day to be better. I’m thankful that you love me unconditionally. My vow to you is that I will love you unconditionally. I promise you we’re a team and there’s nothing we can’t figure out. I promise to give you my all, to give our family my all. You’re my best friend, my person, and after today, my wife. I was yours before we even knew what loving each other meant and I’ll be yours forever – when we’re old and arguing about whose dentures were left on the nightstand, when we’re nothing but specks of stardust in space, when we’re in the next life together because there’s just not a world where you and I exist and I don’t fall for you. I love you endlessly, proudly, without reservation, and with every inch of my being.”

By the time she finishes, a tear is sliding down Paige’s cheek, and Tess wipes it away with a giggle. “I’on know how I can match that,” Paige jokes, drawing a fuller laugh from Tess, but she squeezes her hands gently. Paige’s eyes shine in the setting sunlight, holding so much warmth and wonder that Tess feels her heart swell at the sheer amount of love that she sees reflected in her features. “The first time we spoke, like actually spoke to each other, you said somethin’ that stuck with me for years. I was annoying you, tryna get you to tell me your middle name, and eventually you told me, ‘home is a feeling.’ I thought I knew what you meant by that. I always felt like myself on the court. I felt like no matter what, there was always gonna be a place I belonged as long as I had a ball in my hand. But as I got to know you, I realized there was more to that. A home isn’t just somewhere you belong – it’s somewhere you’re accepted and loved, where you can just be. As soon as I realized I felt at home with you, I knew there was no way I could ever only be your friend.

“You get me like no one else ever has, and it should be scary, but it’s not. It never is with you. It’s like this intense feeling of relief ‘cause you know you don’t gotta do it alone. That’s just who we are, right? We work together, we take care of each other, and we bicker and flirt and tease each other like it’s the first day we met all over again. That’s what I can – what I will promise you: I’ll love you more and more every day and cherish the time we spend together. As long as you’re with me, you don’t gotta be scared of anything. I promise to take care of you, of your heart, of our family, our future. I love you. That’s never gonna change. I thank God every day that our paths crossed and I got my chance with you, no matter how difficult our journey was. But it’s our journey and that’s why it’s so important to me. I wouldn’t change a single thing about us. You’re the best part of my life and I’m so excited to grow old with you – and, just to be clear, you’re the one leavin’ your dentures everywhere.” That’s enough to make Tess roll her eyes, giggling despite the tears beading at her waterline. One manages to slip through and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s wiping it off her cheek, her subsequent smile so soft and full of a warmth that would make the Dallas heat feel like it’s freezing. “I love you, Tess; you’re my better half, my purpose, and my home. You’ve made me the happiest woman in the world and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Paige finishes, and it takes all of Tess’s willpower to hold her composure as her bottom lip wobbles. Kamilla spent an hour on her make up – she’s not going to start crying until they’ve both said I do and they’ve sealed it with a kiss. The officiant smiles, gently requesting the rings – Drew and Kamilla hand them off to Paige and Tess respectively. Paige squeezes her hand, trying to calm the tremors, but they’re both shaking from excitement and anticipation. 

“Tess, do you take Paige to be your lawfully wedded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to keep yourself open to Paige, to allow her to see through the windows of your world and into your innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams? Do you promise to grow alongside Paige, willing to face changes as you both change in order to keep your relationship alive and exciting? Do you promise to love Paige in good times and in bad, with all you have to give, and all you feel inside, completely and forever?”

“I do,” Tess responds confidently, her voice strong and clear. Paige smiles at her as she slowly slides the wedding band onto her finger, the ring glimmering in the last remnants of the sunlight.

“Paige, do you take Tess to be your lawfully wedded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to keep yourself open to Tess, to allow her to see through the windows of your world and into your innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams? Do you promise to grow alongside Tess, willing to face changes as you both change in order to keep your relationship alive and exciting? Do you promise to love Tess in good times and in bad, with all you have to give, and all you feel inside, completely and forever?”

Paige’s response is instant. “I do,” she states. She’s grinning widely, her eyes watering with happy tears as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger, exhaling deeply in sheer contentedness as soon as it’s on. The ring is gorgeous, a perfect match to the engagement ring on her opposite hand, but Tess’s attention is captured by Paige wholly. It’s been like this for years – at the end of the day, Paige is truly the only person who is able to hold Tess’s attention. Ever since their initial fake dating agreement, Tess hasn’t looked at a single person since. Her heart was Paige’s from the day they met, and after their vows, their rings, and their marriage sealing kiss, her heart will remain in Paige’s tender care for the rest of their lifetimes.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you both married. You may now–”

Paige’s hands find her hips before the officiant can even finish their sentence, pulling her into her body and capturing her lips in a kiss that’s equal parts delicate, encompassing, and a testament of all the things they’ve been through to get here. ACLs, arguments, misunderstandings, the feeling that it was easier to pretend they didn’t love each other than to confess what they both knew to be true. Paige was right – this journey was theirs, and Tess wouldn’t change a single thing about them. In the end, they made it here on their own time after they learned crucial lessons about each other and about love. Their journey has been nothing short of perfect and as long as Paige is the one that she gets to experience life with, then Tess is all too happy to see where the wind takes them now that they’re married.

Their friends and family applaud for them and the officiant has moved out of the way for the photographer, but neither of them are paying attention to much of anything that’s not each other. Paige’s smile is bright, blinding despite the rising moonlight. The sheer happiness on her face is difficult to describe but Tess knows it, knows Paige well enough at this point. She fists her hands in the collar of Paige’s top, pulling her back down, grinning against her and laughing when Paige lifts her gently off the ground. The last kiss she presses to her lips is softer, but it’s a lingering promise that feels like returning home all over again.

(And, for the record, when Tess and Paige arrive at the Valkyries facility for their first practice of the season, they are met with gift boxes nestled in their lockers right next to each other. They open the boxes together, finding their matching home and away game jerseys, the name on the back proudly reading BUECKERS-KENNEDY.)

[beiibeiii]

can i get uhhh Jealous Roommate Gets Possessive [M4A] [Friends to Lovers] [Jealous] [Possessive] ASMR Roleplay with a side of arlechino interpt this however you want honey bun xx

IT WOUDNT LET ME ANON WIRHT THE IMAGE IM GONNA KMS

SOBBING NOT THE ASMR TITLE

YES OFC IN HONOR OF ARLECCHINOS RELEASE IN LESS THAN 13 HRS

you started leaving your shared dorms more oftenly, coming home later than usual. most importantly, you haven't been spending much time with your roommate, arlecchino. you've been hanging out with tartaglia lately and arlecchino, being the observer she is, instantly notices this.

she mentally notes down the way you smile at tartaglia when she sees you two at the library together. the way you laugh at his jokes. how close you two in the photos you post on instagram. arlecchino feels herself getting jealous. you never belonged to her in the first place, why was she feeling this way?

arlecchino struggles with what to do next. so she decides to spend more time with you. asking whether or not she could hang out with you and tartaglia, and which you say yes to of course! tartaglia is surprised to see arlecchinos hands would subtly rub against yours. her hands lingering around your waist. any time she sees someone getting a bit too close to you, she pulls you back gently towards her. shes standing closer than normal to you, as if shes trying to hide you from everyone. every can see how obvious she wants you near her but you dont :(

eventually this normalises physical interactions between the two of you. arlecchino figures its the right time to steal you back for herself. and so with your next hang out with tartaglia, arlecchino had her arm wrapped around your waist tightly. she silently glared at tartaglia, as if daring him to do something about it, luckily except he didnt.

tartaglia started to back off a little after seeing you two start hang out oftenly again. throughout the days arlecchino would come up from behind you and hug you. her sultry morning voice in your ears. pure butterflies in your stomach. her arms wrapped securely around your waist. she holds your hands tightly, as if she never wants to let go. but god.. you are so oblivious! shes obviously wants to keep you close!

your not hers yet, but soon you will.

[kxttqi]

ノ [01] THE START OF IT ALL (t. oikawa x f!reader)

fic m.list . prev

+ content: swearing, suggestive, crack, kys/kms jokes, manga spoilers for timeskip, written and smau

guys i beg ignore the microsoft emojis its a long story 😢😢

[ send a comment under the fic m.list or send an ask to be added to the taglist!! (4/50) ]

the arrival in brazil had been smooth. yachi had booked a cozy airbnb close to the beach, tucked away in a neighborhood where the scent of saltwater clung to the air and the sound of crashing waves provided a soundtrack to every moment. after a quick power nap—just enough to shake off the haze of the flight—you found yourselves walking along sunlit streets, the kind that felt alive with color, on your way to the beach where hinata was set to play.  

you hadn’t expected to feel so at ease this soon. brazil was bright and unfamiliar, but something about it wrapped itself around you like a warm breeze, coaxing you to settle into its rhythm. what you really hadn’t expected, though, was to run into oikawa tooru at a small café on your first morning.  

the café was tucked into the corner of a quiet street, its awning striped with faded green and white, the smell of fresh pão de queijo wafting out onto the sidewalk. you’d walked into the cafe, still shaking the sleep from your bones, when you noticed him.  

at first, you weren’t sure. the early morning light filtered through the windows at just the right angle to make the edges of everything a little too bright, a little too surreal.   

but it was hard to miss the way he carried himself: tall, composed, every movement so deliberate it felt more like choreography than casual habit. he was standing at the counter, ordering something in fluent portuguese that rolled off his tongue like he'd been born speaking it.  

you knew of him, of course. who didn’t? even if you weren’t religious about every volleyball match, his name was impossible to avoid. he was a figure who existed in stories, in highlight reels, in the corners of conversations you only half-listened to. yet here he was, very much real, very much in front of you.  

your gaze must have lingered too long, because as he turned to leave, his eyes caught yours.  

he smiled.  

“hey,” he said, his voice smooth, warm. “i think i know you. you’re… y/n, right?”  

it took you a second to process. oikawa tooru not only recognized you, but knew your name. you blinked, fumbling to keep your expression neutral even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.  

“uh, yeah,” you managed, suddenly acutely aware of how disheveled you probably looked after the long flight. “that’s me. and… you’re oikawa.”  

he laughed, a sound that was annoyingly charming, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you were the punchline to a joke you hadn’t realized you were telling. “small world, huh? what brings you to brazil?”  

you shrugged, trying to appear unbothered, though the weight of his gaze made it hard to stand still. “vacation, sort of. i’m here with a friend for a university project.”  

his eyes lit up, sharp and curious, and you had the distinct feeling that oikawa was the kind of person who could make you want to spill your life story without meaning to. “a project? what kind of project?”  

you explained it briefly—the film project, how you and yachi were here to gather inspiration and maybe even shoot some footage of hinata’s matches. he nodded along, his interest feeling genuine, which only made you more self-conscious under the weight of it.  

“that’s impressive,” he said. “if you need any help, let me know. i’m not bad with a camera.”  

he grinned, but there was something in his tone—half-joking, half-serious. before you could decide how to respond, yachi appeared by your side, wide-eyed and a little out of breath.  

“y/n! we need to leave soon if we want to get to hinata’s game,” she said, her voice cutting through the haze of the conversation.  

you glanced back at oikawa, offering a small, apologetic smile. “i guess i’ll see you around?”  

he waved as you turned to leave, his grin softening into something easier, less practiced. “yeah, see you.”  

the two of you stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the interaction lingering on your skin like the heat rising from the pavement. as you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back once. he had taken a seat at one of the decorated tables now with what you assumed were some of his argentinian friends, sipping a latte.   

[ tagging: @stwberri @scoupsworld @x3nafix @kenyuukissme ]

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[kiss4noo]

dating roulette – n.rk . ˚ ౨ৎ ⊹

꒰ 🤍 ꒱ CH. 2 – CHAT I'VE LOST ALL CONTROL OF THIS AIRCRAFT.

genre. smau (social media au), comedy, fluff, angst, romance, best friends to lovers. .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,best friend riki x fem reader. ໒꒱ warning(s). profanity, kys/kms jokes, poor attempt at humor. <//3

synopsis .ᐟ you have horrendous luck with men… and your best friend knows this. so, when you ask him to set you up with a guy, he immediately agrees– except, he secretly likes you. in attempts to do what you’ve asked of him, he sets you up with his friends, sabotaging every date you go on: until you finally agree to go out with him.

status. ongoing! updates. every 2 to 3 days. (attempting) start. 11.04.24

꒰ 💌 ꒱ taglist. open! comment / send an ask to be added!

@nshmuras @wonsdoll @pshbites @greentulip @roarr-ki @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic @sol3chu @rikidaze @lelestarmy @17ericas @who-tf-soddhi @yangjungwonnie (bold cannot be tagged)

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. sorry for my disappearance! i had a big amount of schoolwork to tackle and have been working sooo much... but i'm back with ch. 2!!

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

CH. 2 – chat i've lost all control of this aircraft. . . . masterlist / previous / next !

it was the day after you’d asked riki to set you up on a date, the boy sat in his desk chair– distracted from his usual gaming session with heeseung and jungwon. considering there was no class schedule on fridays, it gave him even more time to plot his extravagant plan… which was currently nonexistent.

“yo, riki. what’s got you so distracted?” heeseung questioned through his headset, the discord call set up on his left monitor.

“bro is head empty, just y/n.” jungwon comments, snorting at his own words as though it were the funniest joke ever.

“stop, bruh. i’m just trying to figure out how to set up y/n’s date. i don’t even know who to ask to go on a date with her.” riki mutters in slight defeat, sighing heavily.

“i mean, y/n is pretty, i’m sure anybody would agree.” heeseung responds, causing jungwon to agree with a small “yeah, dude.”

“but that’s the thing, i don’t want anyone to go on a date with her.” riki grumbles under his breath, jungwon laughing at his misery.

“just confess, ki. it’s getting pathetic, how bad you want her.” jungwon remarks, huffing in annoyance at his friend’s deep infatuation with you– knowing he won’t do anything about it.

“i still think it’s unfair to sabotage her dates, riki. it’s not what she entrusted you to do.” heeseung admits, his concern evident in the boy’s method of keeping you for himself.

“whatever, i’ve gotta go.” riki scoffs, his tone shifting into frustration at his friends’ lack of help. leaving the call, he proceeds to sit in thought, needing to make a plan– and quick.

[yourlocalstranger123]

Original idea [not mine!]

Credits: @2w1ld3st-2dr3ams

Part 1?

2 versions. Albedo and aether actually being a doll or just pretending. I'm down bad for this ngl-

Gn reader, doll collector reader

Note: gonna Kms while doing this from embarrassment and cringe of my writing.

Warning: slight NSFW? Mention of nudity. [Has some sexual stuff? I don't know what's SFW for me yet-]

—

Aether pretending to be a doll with Albedo joining him and leaning on his shoulder, no movement at all.

They got soooo jealous after they saw you taking care of a doll so gently as if it would break with any pressure. Giving it all of your love and attention that they crave. Yeah, you may have a un-usual hobby of collecting dolls but....

Them? Being jealous by a doll? Yes, they are. And that how they got here while you just stood there chuckling.

—Slight NSFW—

You put your jacket on the chair as you went over to them, seeing them sitting on the edge of the bed. You could barely hear their breathing. You could let the blush that was dusted on their faces slide. Because ruining them was the fun part ♡

"You know what happens if you keep this up hun"

You smirked as they still didn't budge. You kissed Albedo's forehead then worked on Aether first. You trailed your finger on his inner thigh as you could hear his breath hitched softly. Trying to not tremble and become exactly like a doll.

Albedo tried his best to not look over as he could hear Aether starting to break down piece by piece. Excited when it's his turn.

"Still not giving up? I'm quite suprised my doll haven't malfunctioned yet"

Aether's heart began to speed up. He decided to breathe as it was more easier to control his body from acting up. Albedo paused when he felt his body being picked up so easily by you. He was placed on your lap or between ur legs on the bed as Aether could only watch him being teased by you.

Your hands slithering under Albedo's shirt, pinching his chest as you say sweet nothings into his ear even though he couldn't already not understand anything. Aether was watching everything, wishing he was in Albedo's place. The fabric of his pants makes it uncomfortably tight for him. So well as Albedo's.

You wonder how long they can keep this act up until they crumble beneath you.

— version 2 —

Albedo and Aether was friends without the engineers knowledge as they grew a conscious. When they were finally sold to a person, you. They were unexpectedly being treaded so tenderly.

The way you shyly and awkwardly changes clothes for them to wear while being embarrassed was amusing. The way you didn't noticed or even oblivious when they scooted over to you, leaned on your shoulder, massage your back, asking how was your day, 'sleeping' with you or watching you sleep or anything honestly.

You always thought it was just apart of the programing. They always thought just how oblivious can you get? But it didn't matter. As long they can have you, It. Never. Matters.

—slight NSFW—

They were positioned on your bed, being charged while waiting for you to finish your shower. Their eyes shifted to your figure as they heard the bathroom door open. They paused, stunned when they saw your nearly naked body, water dripping from your hair, slowly on your body and to the floor. Oh, how you look so divine.

They kept having certain thoughts and flashbacks of that moment. Such lewd thoughts of you kissing them, touching them, and even being used by you.

Maybe you'd finally figure out their true love and desire when you wave up, finding them sitting on both sides of your bed. Ready and needy with lust in their eyes.

[ninadove]

As a (very niche portion of the) fandom, our collective attention has been captured by how much Felix adores Kagami — which is true and good and beautiful and pure. But we’ve been sleeping on how much she loves him, and today, I want to shine a spotlight on her side of the most beautiful love story ever written.

Before we begin, let me get the obvious out of the way: yes, she did try to crush his skull with a chair in Pretension, and she was iconic for that.

HOWEVER.

This is only how their relationship started. What truly matters is how the story unfolds from then on.

And boy does it unfold fast. By the end of the episode, Felix has shaken Kagami’s worldview so much that she:

Stands up to her own friends and fellow heroes in an effort to not only protect him, but also ensure that he can keep the Peacock Miraculous;

Actively challenges her mother’s teaching that emotions (in this context, romantic love) are a weakness that should be eradicated from the face of the Earth;

Is planning secret dates with Felix, even though as far as she knows Tomoe has her amok (because you can’t tell me this little genius didn’t figure out the entire Sentilore in the sewers);

Trusts Felix with said amok despite his extensive criminal record, as illustrated by how quickly and firmly she takes his hand — with a little sigh if happiness, might I add. This is especially significant compared to previous instances of hand holding between the two, when he had to make all the effort while she remained completely limp.

And then Representation rolls around. And oh, boy.

Kagami instantly calms down from her TV-induced rage upon seeing her boyfriend on her balcony — a major improvement when you consider how big of a role anger and frustration play in her akumatisations.

Tangent 1:

Something similar happened in Ikari Gozen, when Mari protected Kagami from her mother, causing her to narrowly escape Hawkmoth’s influence. More on the Marigami-to-Feligami pipeline in another post, coming to your dash someday in the not-so-distant future.

Not only does Kagami instantly relax in Felix’s presence, but she laughs — something that previously only happened in the context of Adrigaminette, and we all know how that ended. Felix is the one to mend her heart and make her laugh again, for the second time since the dance.

Our two lovebirds proceed to straight up RUN AWAY INTO THE SUNSET. Kagami presumably spent the following 350 km (300 miles) cuddled up in Argos’ arms, admiring how handsome he looks in his glittery cosmic suit which we don’t get to see because budget.

Later on, they casually discuss Ladybug’s identity, while fireworks go off in the background. Let me rephrase this: Kagami trusted the person who stole the Miraculous with her best friend’s most burning secret, not because she wants to defeat Hawkmoth per say, but because Gabriel has been getting in the way of their make out sessions and she can’t have that.

Tangent 2:

Also coming to your dash in the not-so-distant future: an analysis of Kagami’s relationship to the concepts of truth and lies, and how dependent it is on what serves her and her loved ones in the moment.

Then, of course, the core of the episode: Kagami actively participates in the play, helping Felix tell his story in a way he feels comfortable with.

Tangent 3 (lots of ‘em today):

This part is extremely important to me, because I’ve seen So. Many. People. complain that the play could have been boiled down to two lines of conversation.

And like.

No???

Firstly, this is a show, not real life: we as an audience needed the confirmation to be as climactic as possible. If it hadn’t been, I can guarantee the exact same salters would be crying about the story’s “WaStEd PoTeNtIaL”.

But let’s delve into the real life implications of the Sentiplot for a second.

Abuse survivors do not owe you a brief, comfortable explanation of what they went through, neatly wrapped up with a pretty little bow.

The play is a beautiful illustration of how art can be cathartic and therapeutic, and I need you guys to understand that this sequence means something to many, many viewers — most of them children in similarly terrible situations. If I were to bet, I would say it very likely speaks to one or more members of the writing team on a personal level as well.

So you can pry these scenes from my cold, dead hands.

The kisses… All of them… During the firework show. As the sun rises to signify a new beginning. Disguised as Adrien’s parents. For context, this is the same girl who previously found a hand kiss to be too much for her broken heart to bear.

And of course, there’s the way she looks at him like he is her entire world, like she cannot understand how anyone could ever call him monstruous. Because Felix doesn’t get the monopoly of heart eyes.

Finally, in Recreation:

THE LIES CALLBACK. THE MIRACULOUS TEAM TOOK THE TIME AND MADE THE EFFORT TO PUT A LIES CALLBACK IN THE FREAKING FINALE. You guys know I’m insane about this scene already.

So what’s my point.

Because yes, I do have a point, apart from “KSSGDJDKSS Feligami SGDHDKLS 🥰🥰🥰🥰” (which, by the way, is a completely valid meta post in itself).

While we joke that Kagami is so far out of Felix’s league in every aspect — she doesn’t perceive him that way in the slightest. As far as she’s concerned, she has achieved every fourteen year old’s dream: dating the perfect cursed prince, tortured artist, evil-genius-on-a-redemption-arc combo.

She is just as enamoured with him as he is with her, and I think it’s beautiful. 🦚🐉

[starsenha]

DUET - lemme kms (chapter 3)

You stood in the middle of the dance studio, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared at Jay, who was leaning against the mirrored wall with that infuriating smirk on his face. It was the only time you had to reherase the duet for regionals. Just a couple of hours four times a week. That was it.

"Alright, let’s get this over with,’’ you huffed, tossing your water bottle aside. ‘’We need to Strat with the basics. What kind of vibe are we going for?’"

Jay raised an eyebrow, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you with an easy and confident walk. "Hip hop obviously. Something cool and fun would be good."

"Cool and fun?" your tone was skeptical. "We're supposed to impress the judges though, not make them laugh."

Jay rolled his eyes, hands on his hips. "You're taking this too seriously, sunshine."

Your eyes narrowed at the nickname. He had been calling you that ever since you got paired up, and it was driving you crazy. "Don't call me that," you snapped, your voice cold. "And this is serious, we don't have time to mess around."

"Relax, sunshine," he repeated with a grin, clearly enjoying how much it irked you. "We'll figure it out; we've got weeks to perfect this."

"Weeks that'll fly by if we don't start working on the choreo right now," you walked over to the sound system, scrolling through your playlist.

Jay followed you, leaning in closer than necessary as he looked at your phone screen. You could feel his breath on your neck, and you had to resist the urge to shove him away. “How about this one?” you suggested, pointing to a bass-heavy track with a strong beat.

Jay made a face. “Too slow. We need something that’ll really get the crowd going. What about this?” He reached over and selected a fast-paced, aggressive track.

You frowned. “That’s too fast. The judges won’t even be able to see the moves with a beat that fast.”

“That’s because you can’t keep up,” Jay teased, nudging your shoulder.

You shot him a glare. “I can keep up just fine, and you know it. But it’s not about speed, it’s about precision.”

“Speed and precision,” Jay countered, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “We can do both.”

You rolled your eyes and finally gave in. “Fine. We’ll try it your way, but if it doesn’t work, we’re going with my song.”

“Deal.” Jay grinned as if he’d won some great victory.

You spent the next hour trying to choreograph the first few sections of the routine, but it quickly became apparent that you were getting nowhere. You wanted clean, sharp movements that emphasized control and technique. Jay, on the other hand, was all about flair and big, showy moves, like he usually was. Every time you suggested something, Jay had a counter-suggestion, and it always ended in bickering.

“Your arms need to be straighter,” You said, demonstrating the move for the hundredth time. “Like this.”

Jay imitated you with an exaggerated motion, a mocking smile on his lips. “Like this, sunshine? Or should I be even stiffer?”

Your jaw clenched. “Stop fucking calling me that! And no, it’s not about being stiff. It’s about being precise.”

“Well, you’re starting to sound like we're in the military or something. Loosen up a bit.” He leaned in closer, his smirk widening. “Or is little Miss Perfect scared of not being perfect for once?”

“That’s not—” You started, but Jay was already moving into the next part of the routine, adding a flourish that completely threw off the timing.

“See? Like this!” Jay said, his tone teasing as he twisted the move into something flashy.

“No, no, no!” You exclaimed, stepping forward to stop him. “You’re totally ruining the flow. We need to keep it tight.”

Jay laughed, clearly not taking you seriously. “You’re such a control freak, sunshine. Maybe that’s why you can’t handle a little improvisation.”

You could feel your patience wearing thin. “And maybe you’re just incapable of sticking to a plan.”

“Plans are boring. Dance is supposed to be fun, not robotic.”

“It’s not robotic if it’s done right! It’s called being disciplined, something you clearly know nothing about," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jay’s grin faded slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should try stepping out of your comfort zone for once. Might do you some good.”

You opened her mouth to retort, but the words stuck in your throat. As much as you hated to admit it, Jay had a point—you were always focused on being perfect, and it frustrated you that he could be so relaxed about something so important. But there was no way you were going to let him know that. Instead, you just called a 5minutes break and walked over to your water bottle. You two spent the next 5 minutes without exchanging a single word, and honestly, it was relieving you.

When you went back to practice, the sun had dipped below the horizons already. The overhead lights cast a harsh glare on the polished wooden floor, reflecting the tension between the two dancers. You were sweating from exertion and frustration as you tried one last time to get through to Jay.

“Jay, can we please just focus?” you snapped, your patience hanging by a thread. You were standing in the middle of the studio, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “We’re not getting anywhere because you won’t stop messing around!”

Jay, who had been spinning lazily on one foot with a smug grin on his face, stopped and faced you. “I’m not messing around, sunshine. I’m trying to keep things light. You’re the one who’s being all tense and uptight.”

“There you go again!” Your voice was sharp, echoing off the walls of the empty studio. “You keep calling me that like it’s some kind of joke. I’m done with this, Jay. I’m done with you not taking anything seriously!”

Jay’s expression hardened, but he couldn’t resist getting in one last jab. “Maybe if you didn’t take everything so seriously, you wouldn’t be so miserable right now.”

Your eyes flashed with anger. “I’m miserable because you’re impossible to work with!”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.” Jay crossed his arms over his chest, his posture defiant. “Maybe we’re just not meant to do this together.”

“For once, I actually agree with you,” you shot back, grabbing your water bottle and towel from the floor. You were fuming, your entire body tense with irritation. “I’m done for tonight. I can’t stand another minute of this,” you said, taking your bag and belongings and heading towards the door.

Jay shrugged as if your words didn’t bother him, but you caught the slight flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like regret. “Fine. We’ll pick it up wednesday, sunshine.”

You didn't even respond this time. You just turned on your heel and stromed out of the studio, the door slamming shut behind you. As you walked down the hallway, you tried to calm your racing heart. You hated how easily Jay could rile you up.

When you reached the exit of the building, you found Chaeryeong and Sunghoon waiting for you in the lobby. Chaeryeong was scrolling through her phone, but Sunghoon immediately looked up when he heard your footsteps. His eyes narrowed as he took in your flushed face and the tight line of your mouth.

“Hey, what happened?” Sunghoon asked, his voice laced with concern. He stepped closer, his protective instincts kicking in as he studied your expression.

You shook her head, trying to brush it off. “Nothing. Just a frustrating practice.”

Chaeryeong looked up from her phone and raised an eyebrow. “Frustrating? You look like you’re ready to kill someone.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing that someone’s name starts with a ‘J’ and ends with an ‘ay’,” Sunghoon said, his tone darkening. “What did he do this time?”

You sighed, running a hand through your damp hair due to the sweat. “He just kept… I don’t know, he kept pushing my buttons. He wouldn’t stop calling me ‘sunshine’ and acting like none of this matters. It’s like he enjoys fucking with me.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with anger. “He called you that again? I’m gonna have a word with him.”

“Sunghoon, it’s fine,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm before he could march back into the studio. “It’s just Jay being Jay. He knows how to get under my skin, and I let him. I’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to,” Sunghoon replied, his voice softer but still edged with protectiveness. “You’re working your ass off, and he’s just… messing with you? That’s not okay.”

“Hoon's right,” Chaeryeong chimed in, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Jay’s always been a bit of a pain, but if he’s making this harder for you, we’ll back you up. You don’t have to deal with him alone.”

You smiled faintly, grateful for your friends’ support. “Thanks, guys. But really, it’s okay. I’m just tired and frustrated. I’ll figure it out.”

Sunghoon wasn’t convinced. “If he keeps this up, I’m not going to just stand by. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied softly, reassuringly squeezing his arm. “But I can handle Jay. He’s not worth getting worked up over.”

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly, but you could still see the protectiveness in his eyes. “Just remember, you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

Chaeryeong nodded in agreement. “We’ve got your back, babes. Always.”

Your heart warmed at their words, the frustration from the practice starting to ebb away. “I know. And I appreciate it. Now, can we get out of here, please? I need to clear my head.”

“Absolutely,” Chaeryeong said, looping her arm through yours. “Let’s get you some food and forget about annoying dance partners for a while.”

Sunghoon lingered for a moment, glancing back at the studio doors with a frown. “If he tries anything else, you tell me. Got it?”

“Got it,” you promised, giving him a small smile.

As the three of you walked out into the cool night air, you couldn’t help but feel a little better. The tension from the practice was still there, simmering under the surface, but with Chaeryeong and Sunghoon by your side, it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming.

previous / m.list / next

taglist: @sincerely-sunny @realrintaro @onlyhyunjin @mari-oclock @jooniesbears-blog

[superm4ks]

hey! you’ve been pretty quiet over the winter break (which i hope means you’re resting <3). how are you feeling about f1 as a sport generally going into the ‘25 season, especially with the influx of rookies? always curious to hear your take on the sport from a more macro level too. stay well!!

Hiiii babyy 🌸🌸 ur a sweetheart thank u hope ur good too. Not to get too much into it I decided I needed a break from socmed in general so I went quiet on all my socials tumblr was just a consequence of that. I never stopped missing this community tho I love talking about racing wid yall truly. About 2025 bro omfg it's so exciting like so many narratives that cud either culminate in something great or begin to reveal themselves like u said the rookie potential alone is crazy. U got Kimi 🐜 who's a genuine shooter and Torger not even hiding the Verstappen comparisons anymore like thats his Verstappen 2.0 which is . a choice. When u have George in the other car who barely escaped from Lewis' shadow and doesn't look interested in being pushed under another 1 so imo Brackley finna blow, a lil to the right in Milton Keynes Lawson appears insane enough to try and give the actual website some trouble regardless what his pace ends up being so how daddy.com deals wid that is gonna be entertaining for sure. Olly, Jack, Bubbles and Isack in teams that prolly wont really let them do all that BUT Olly and Esteban in particular prolly gonna stress Gene out and I'll be sat for that. Then obvi u got the big questions surrounding the 1644 dynamic, the pecking order of the actual cars, can Max go for the 5th in a row or is Lando getting a 2nd shot, is Oscar gonna learn how to stay on pace for a full Sunday and give Brown arrhythmia , have Maranello figured how to put a title contender in almost absurdly competent hands, is Kimi just humbling everybody right out the gate who knows like I'm not rejecting any possibilities. I think f1 itself kinda got a reality check wid Max's 4th because ((if only there was a post I cud put together about pookies wdc that condenses my personal fav races maybe a rewatch of some sort. Kms)) Max hustled every step of the way, he pulled out old school type of moves that we hadn't seen in a while and it was cool because f1 doesn't encourage shit like that no more but he said guess what I do. He said I'm driving this mf car and it matters what I do. And to f1's surprise most people who are not bitches were into that other drivers included. Max fully established himself as a top 5 oat in machinery that finished 3rd in constructors thats not just a statement on Max's skill but what racing drivers can do. So it'll be interesting wid players like Kimi who just have that dawg bursting out their fingertips making their way into the grid if f1 in the midst of all its instability is gonna allow drivers to put their thumb on the scale or keep trying to penalize them into submission. Also what the f are they gonna do for the 'special launch' 75th anniversary event and how many times am I gonna feel the urge to let Helmut outlive me

[exhausted-archivist]

Where are the Deep Roads?

Thoughts as of July 2024 - watch The Veilguard just kick this all over like a sandcastle.

So I've been plucking away at maps for a while, and I've been finding new things and yelling about them near endlessly. The depth of the Deep Roads being one of them, and how they're so cold you will apparently freeze to death without a heat source. There is a lot, and I really hope we get more for da4. But I digress. I've been trying to figure out where the dao Deep Roads map fits on the map, especially as I finish up my Ferelden map.

My current thoughts are that it roughly looks something like this:

Assumptions Made for this Map

The golem marker on the Deep Roads map to the left of Orzammar is Amgarrak and not Kal'Hirol.

The star marker on the keep map for Orzammar is the actual location of the thaig, as the surface entrance itself is likely several miles/km away due to the depth of the Deep Roads.

That like in Horrors of Hormack short story in Tevinter Nights, the staircase leading into Orzammar isn't one straight shot but a set of spiral staircases and antechambers.

That the Deep Roads section we traverse are smaller than Ferelden since it takes only a month to cross them despite collapsed pathways, cave ins, darkspawn, mega fauna - blighted and otherwise; while it takes a year to travel the entire nation of Ferelden.

The crossed axes south of the Anvil of the Void are a marker for an entrance to the surface/to the Avvar. This is used to mark entry points to the surface in the DA TTRPG as well.

Where am I Getting the Lore?

Dragon Age Keep World Lore Map

It gives some information not found elsewhere, however it is taken with a grain of salt; because like most BioWare lore sources there are some contradictions on locations of previously visited locations. Such as the Kal'Hirol thiag and Soldier's Peak.

The Keep map marks Kal'Hirol south of Amaranthine and next to Soldier's Keep. However, this is a discrepancy compared to the location provided in Awakening.

Amgarrak's location

On the Dragon Age Keep, they label that Amgarrak is south of Jader and west of Orzammar.

Deep Roads Lore from the TTRPG

This, while canon unless stated otherwise by more recent/direct from BioWare, should be taken with a grain of salt. In the adventure Buried Pasts establishes this lore provided by BioWare.

Heat and Fuel

The majority of Deep Roads and thaigs are built about two to four miles beneath sea level, although in the Frostbacks that means they're actually much deeper beneath the surface. Dwarven mining galleries normally stretch up rather than down, tunneling up into the mountain regions of Ferelden and Orlais from beneath, while the thaigs themselves burrow downward toward pockets of lava that have moved up from the mantle. Most older thaigs (including Orzammar) have open regions of molten rock near their center that are used for heat, while more modern thaigs (ironically those more likely to be abandoned thanks to the darkspawn pushing the dwarven empire back on itself) used steam heating. Inhabited regions between thaigs are heated and lit by oil lamps using the fat from nugs and brontos. Away from lava or artificial heating, the Deep Roads are bitterly cold. The lack of weather is a mercy, but travelers that go too long without a source of heat will begin to feel the effects. As their lanterns are likely the source of their heat as well as light, travelers must take extra care with the amount of fuel they have; the dwarven empire once maintained frequent waystations along the Roads for resupply, but running out of lamp oil in the modern Deep Roads can be a death sentence...

-- Dragon Age Tabletop RPG, Buried Pasts p. 4

[22ayla19]

In Hyuk Goo x Reader

- Let's have son's.

In Hyuk’s phrase left you off guard and confused. You were just working in your office at Shinhwa headquarters, and then out of the blue, In Hyuk says that he wants sons.

- Some strange chain of thoughts...

- When your father made me run 5 km, there was time to think.

Then you remembered that when In-hyuk first met your parents, your father made him run 5 km to convince him of his intention to marry you. Well, for someone who was awakened from the top 20 strongest in the country, In Hyuk ran those damn 5 km, but he remembered them for the rest of his life. Your father even kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t cheat.

As a result, In Hyuk convinced your father of his intention to marry you and also made a note to go jogging more often, otherwise his stamina was dropping.

- If we have a daughter, I’m afraid my ideas will be worse than your dad’s ideas. I almost figured out how to intimidate the suitors, but then our daughter will never get married.

You couldn’t help but laugh at your husband’s words.

- Ahahaha! I'm afraid to ask what ideas came to your mind while you were running that miserable 5 km!

- Judge for yourself, if we have sons, I will definitely teach them how to properly care for a girl.

- How will they take as an example the father who tripped and kissed the asphalt when he tried to ask out the woman with whom he was in love.

Again you couldn’t hold back and laughed at the memories. This happened a couple of years ago. You just appeared in Shinhwa as a new employee. In Hyuk volunteered to show you what the rules were in Shinhwa, and over the course of several weeks, while he was helping you settle into your new place of work, he realized that he had fallen in love like a boy. He liked the way you joked and teased him, how you found a common language with other employees, even managed to see you in battle. A grown man, but he fell in love like a boy. Ji Suk teased him about this for a long time.

And so he gathered his strength and went to invite you on a date. You were leaving the main building, In Hyuk, who was waiting for you on the street, immediately headed in your direction when he saw you. Only In Hyuk himself got too excited that he stumbled out of the blue and, roughly speaking, kissed the asphalt.

- Why did you remind me of this?...

- So that you remembers who he married.

With a malicious smile, you answered your husband, who hid his face from the awkwardness of the situation.

- Well, if we have a child, then its gender will depend on how well daddy tried. You see, I can’t influence the gender of the child, but you can, so if you want sons and not daughters, then try hard, otherwise I’ll give birth to a daughter with the same character as myself.

In Hyuk was distracted. It was nice that a daughter was born, a second copy of her mother, at least In Hyuk will be sure that she will be able to stand up for herself.

- By the way, I visited the doctor the other day.

- You are ill?! Why didn't you tell me earlier?

- Quiet, calm. I’m not sick with anything like that, I just felt sick in the morning, so I decided to visit the doctor.

- And what did the doctor say?

- Congratulated the future dad.

A minute of silence and awareness.

- Will I... become a dad?...

- Yeah! Once you said that you want sons, the doctor suggested the option of going for an ultrasound after the 13th or 14th week of pregnancy...

Before you could finish speaking, In Hyuk hugged you and then spun around the office with happiness.

- I WILL BECOME A DAD!!!

- Be quiet! Let it remain a secret, then we will surprise everyone. And it’s too early, I myself need to be careful so that nothing happens.

- I'm probably at the wrong time.

You and your husband looked at the unexpected guest who disrupted your plans to keep the pregnancy a secret.

- Chairman Ji Young, you will keep our secret?

You looked pleadingly at the woman, waiting for understanding in the current situation.

- Oh! Yes, sure. And congratulations to Miss (Y/F).

- Thank you, Chairman Ji Young!

Ji Young thought that she would talk to In Hyuk later. Still, he has no time for her instructions right now.