#but it is interesting to think about how that would realistically feel AND AGAIN. THIS HAPPENS TO REAL PEOPLE TOO

[eexomei]

this!!

as well as people looking to the actors for answers, and while obviously they know more than most regarding their characters etc, they often times just have headcanons as we do, since they weren’t actually in the whole story writing team (as far as I know at least🤔) and it’s been years, so much work and it’s not strange that they might have different perspectives or opinions about the game compared to the story writers etc. then again, from what we saw in those game files where Arthur basically fights with Eliza, they obviously weren’t a couple or anything, they seemed more like a somewhat okay co-parent thing that obviously turned sour (since it seems to be made after Isaac died which was meant to happen in chapter one or before hand but obviously that idea was scrapped early on). So, as far as I can tell it was Eliza supposed to be the second love interest, but that it was scrapped early and even then I’ve always gotten the feeling that the term ‘love interest’ didn’t actually mean love intrest in the way we in the fandom might interpret it, I think rockstar just meant “hey this is the girl Arthur had a child with by accident, they might be rocky and not in love but they did sleep together once so therefore it counts as a love interest ☝️” that kind of thing, you know? Like she would be counted as a love interest just because she’s a woman and they had something once, wether it was actually ‘love’ or not.

I think that it was good that they scrapped the whole love interest thing, not only because I know that my heart would break even more if I played it, but I also felt like it would be a bit too much? Like I’ve heard people say that even the whole Mary storyline was ‘too much’ and ‘unrealistic’ but I personally think it adds a nice touch to Arthur’s character even if I can see where some people come from regarding the missions and storyline I suppose.

anyways, while I personally would like the representation of more lgbt+ characters, I personally felt like they did a good job with Mr white and Mr black, since the fact that they’re gay or at least bisexual isn’t the butt of the joke, it’s more so their own personal dynamic that is pretty silly and I love it. And with Bill, I understand why it’s played for jokes I suppose, especially in the gang where it’s like an open secret and even Arthur teases him about it, which I guess is realistic to a certain degree. So, the only gripe that sort of fits into this topic is their handling of the whole ‘Sonny incident’, and how it’s just… Made pretty carelessly, unnecessary and even feels a bit like it’s just added in to be edgy. Sure, I understand how it can work with the world building, but I also get the feeling that they didn’t actually care too much about spreading awareness or representation, so instead they made it into an edgy and uncomfortable joke but with the plausibility to say that it’s for awareness etc. Like yeah, it isn’t necessarily fully canon (?) since it can be avoided and have it literally never exist/happen or even be aware of it, and even if it happens nothing happens that could even hint at it actually taking place and shaping the story except for the sad cutscene and bill commenting/teasing Arthur about it, depending on how you see Bill’s response as. And if it happens to John, it’s literally only the uncomfortable cutscene that happens and nothing afterwards as far as I have been able to find, and I practically scored the game and the internet for it. So it just feels like something that is completely unnecessary, not even unfinished, just stupid frankly.

Like, if they actually had wanted to make representation or bring awareness, they truly don’t portray it like that. So, as to protect my peace and also from a game mechanic perspective — it’s not something that seems to even be relevant or remembered in the game unless for like bill talking about it. Like, yeah, obviously it would be hard for John or Arthur to talk about it and I think it would be out of their character, but it’s literally completely meaningless and it’s not something that is reflected on or even remembered in the game, it’s an npc interaction that might trigger another happening but barley even that. Like then there is people who avoided the Sonny interaction, and even they get the interaction from just being close to Sonny’s house where he says something along the lines of ‘oh you’re back for more?’ even though they never even experienced the first happening nor any cutscene etc. :/

What makes me sad is the fact that misinformation still holds such a huge weight in every fandom specifically the red dead redemption two fandom. Like people talk about their“2nd love interest“ being Charles, but that rockstar scrapped the idea. I believe that it takes the responsibility away from rockstar as a company, not wanting to risk losing money on having a gay character and instead placing the blame onto the developers or fandom while it was proven to be false, and that the “claim“ from rockstar was either a troll or someone who just got their misinformation while I’m not sure now which was true the whole charthur was literally proven to be false and that it was never in the works. No hate to Charles or charthur of course but I cannot stand miss information.there’s one thing to have normal discourse, but to see people get mad at people talking about the actual second love interest, and still believing something that was proven to be false to be true true kinda makes me sad. I truly hope that the person who claimed to be a rockstar affiliate or whatever it was was coming from a good place and not a homophobic troll but sadly, I don’t believe that. It was literally proven that the second love interest was supposed to be Eliza, the mother of Arthur’s child. While that idea was also scrapped pretty early on, it was proven to be confirmed, and we do have voice lines in the game files as to even prove it as well as comment commentary, telling the story of how Arthur was supposed to lose his child early on as to have a different storyline in the game. It also annoys me whenever people get mad when someone says very kindly that hey Eliza wasn’t our first wife it was his baby mom while we don’t know a lot. It doesn’t seem like they necessarily loved each other, but it seemed more like a one time thing, and obviously that they seem to be somewhat able to go on, but that was Mary that Arthur loved more or less. I truly love this fandom. I’ve been a part of it for a long time, and I met my partner through it and it’s sad me whenever people claim false things either us to troll and to please the homophobic alpha guy side of the fandom or to take away accountability for rockstar not daring to go too far (aka having a gay charctger who’s sexuality or implied sexuality not being fully straight not played for jokes only) and risk loosing a sliver of money. 

firstly, congrats on the partner, how does it feel to live my dream /HJ

But yeah I do agree, it was proven to be false, but with Eliza I will say something, I watched an interview with Roger a long ass time ago where he was asked who it was meant to be, and Roger said he didn't know, it never got far enough along to become a more solid idea. So I don't think they meant Eliza, or maybe Roger just got confused by the question. I mean they have been though like 6 years of planning, there gotta have been a lot of ideas throwing in and around throughout the time.

I also like the fact you point out Rockstar not wanting to make a gay character too open, which is true. Bill is gay, but it is like implied and at the same time he isn't the most likable character and you can if you want also argue against it. And the only two characters where you can like not at all argue against it, are two you gotta search for it.

Also yes, there was little evidence of Arthur really... loving Eliza, in the demo at least he seemed to not have a too smooth realtionship with her.

[dykedvonte]

I keep seeing fanarts of ppl's OC's being on the ship, so do you think that if there was 6st crewmember (specifically, another woman) Anya would've been more safe? Like, someone to actually call Jimmy's begaviour out, someone Anya might wanna trust? Is there a possibility something might have changed (even if a little) or it would not have mattered at all?

-💀

I feel like the game would make it part of the commentary on where she would believe and help Anya but still be sort of dismissive? Like the whole “don’t waste time crying and being scared keep going and move on, don’t let him win”. It’s supposed to be positive and reinforcing but sometimes it does more damage in those times of mourning and grief, it feels patronizing, like you don’t understand what you’re going through but they do. Even if they did call out his behavior it’s still on Curly to act and while another voice would help, it’s still 4 against 2 on guys that don’t get it until they have to vs women who always have to.

I don’t mind mouthwashing OCs but I do get a bit bored as they tend to be borderline saviors or like Jimmy aligned. They are either more complicit than Curly or just Jimmy haters for no reason, outside of what the creators know about what he did to Anya. I am never irked by OCs but in a story like mouthwashing you really need to think about what your character adds to the commentary, especially if they are there during the crash. It’s nice to have like characters on Anya’s side more whole heartedly and interesting to see characters who placate Jimmy but sometimes it’s one note.

I can’t and don’t want to police peoples OCs it’s never my intention when I comment on trends I notice, but I do feel like the way people make their OCs interact with these two characters and especially Curly, really show a grave misunderstanding of the narrative and these characters as people vs roles in the story. Still, I know people just make up characters for fun and that’s fine. Great even, but I guys I’m focusing more on OCs that are supposed to have those serious dynamics. My favs tend to be pretty-Tulpar or post-Tulpar au OCs.

The inevitably of the crash is on Jimmy. He did that not because he wasn’t stopped but because all his means to kill Anya were taken. The gun, the axe. Even if Curly did strip him of his co-pilot privileges and try to keep him contained there’s only so many people. An extra body helps but they have jobs they have to do, he’s the only one steering the whole ship and Jimmy would likely have an out: food, bathroom, etc. He’s not new and if he couldn’t crash the ship directly, who’s to say he wouldn’t sabotage something else? A clunker like the Tulpar wouldn’t take much. An extra person helps but it’s just another thing that prolongs what a person like Jimmy is willing to do to shirk responsibility.

It’s more than just needing someone to stand up to him and think that’s what is missing when it comes to inserting a character into the mouthwashing setting.

[sysig]

Why am I so both of them (Patreon)

Upon first watch, I immediately started by relating to Angel, in no small part because of their intro

Doodle on yellow sheet from 2019 came to mind, as well as bunnies being a motif, angels generally, being a fan of wearing stripes of course, hoodies - all on an ADHD enby artist whose favourite colour is bluple lol, no wonder I love them!

I also relate to Lee tho! Wait that sounds bad lol - more specifically in the dark clothes, body type, being a gifted kid, taking some things very seriously - even jokes by accident; so many of his little details, I kept being like “Oh, me” about. They’re both so well-written ♥ The realism evoked, their easy back and forths - the writing is very strong in my opinion :D

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Walking In Two Worlds & The Everlasting Road

YA sff set in the near future where an opensource augmented reality is commonly used like social media, and there’s also a completely virtual fantasy game version

follows an Anishinaabe girl who who’s the top player in the VR game, and is constantly fighting to keep her place against the misogynist neo-nazi group in second place

as well as her real life, dealing with being a shy and self-conscious teen growing up on the Rez, and her brother having cancer

and a Uyghur boy who’s moved to her community from China after finding acceptance in an online community (even when he doesn’t agree with their more extreme views) - but when he gets to know Bugz, he has to decide who truly deserves his loyalty

great mix of sff and culture, the future while also very real community traumas of the past (and present)

[plagasitize]

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ ���𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

+

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

+

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ

[raining-anonymously]

something about mouthwashing that has always bothered me is the cake-baking scene. where the game’s dialogue is usually very realistic, this scene feels… weird. the dialogue is unnatural and too video-gamey. anya, swansea, and jimmy are telling curly things he should already know for the player’s benefit, such as the backstory for the communal birthday parties and how to bake the cake. it’s strange. but i think i’ve finally figured it out!

We start with Daisuke. “Look at your face!” suggests that Curly’s reaction to being surprise-birthday’d was an expression of shock. This is supported by Jimmy later apologizing to Curly for jumping him like that.

Back to the present. Curly, who tends to use fewer filler words comparatively, uses the word “uh” twice in two lines. “Uh. Wow,” followed by:

I wanna talk about this question for a minute. Let’s look at the scene. Curly can see the birthday party decorations from his position. Curly knows the approximate date off the top of his head, according to the dead pixel scene, so he should know it’s around his birthday. Curly has also undoubtedly experienced many Pony Express birthday parties before. All this to say, why the hell is he asking what the occasion is? It should be pretty obvious, no?

The answer is dissociation.

We know from Curly’s POV introduction that he spaces out in conversation, and that Anya is aware of this. This lasts to the point where he’s staring off at nothing until Anya asks if he’s listening.

He also appears to dissociate during his conversation with Jimmy before the crash: he stops talking completely until prompted by Jimmy to respond and doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening (Jimmy tells him everyone on the ship should die and Curly seemingly agrees, only to very clearly be upset and in shock when Jimmy goes and makes this happen).

Now, Jimmy, Anya, and Swansea have known Curly for years. Seems pretty reasonable that they would be able to recognize signs of his dissociation, yeah? And they do.

Again, these are things that Curly should absolutely know. I believe Anya and Jimmy saw the facial expression that Daisuke referred to and noticed Curly’s inexplicable confusion and realized he was dissociating. They then informed him of the details of the situation while posing it as a question, likely in an attempt to ground him. Anya ends her information with “right?” while Jimmy ends his with “remember?” This allows them to give Curly the information he isn’t grasping in a gentle way that doesn’t call attention to the fact that this is something he should already know.

Anya then gives him more direct instruction by telling him where the cake recipe is (again, a thing he should absolutely know considering he eats in that kitchen every day) and lightly tells him to go make it. She’s guiding him to a task that he would ordinarily be able to complete on his own because she can tell that he’s unsure and out of it.

Swansea—who, while not as close to Curly as Jimmy and not as attentive to the crew’s mental wellbeing as Anya, has known the captain for years— does the same thing, more directly. He asks Curly about the cake recipe and tells him where to find the ingredients and recipe. Again, Curly should absolutely know this already, but for some reason he isn’t doing it on his own.

From the crew’s perspective, if you as Curly choose to engage in this optional dialogue, Anya and Jimmy told Curly to go make the cake, and instead of doing that Curly wandered quietly around the lounge. Brought on, probably, by this dissociative episode. So Swansea reminds Curly what he’s supposed to be doing and where to go to do it.

(While Jimmy and Anya are consistently shown to be in tune to Curly’s emotions (Jimmy moreso pre-crash), Swansea typically is not; however, he’s standing near Anya during this segment, meaning she had the opportunity to tell him what she’d noticed.)

Now, an interesting thing about Curly’s optional conversations with the rest of the crew here: He doesn’t say anything during them. This is a little odd, considering Curly is a fairly social character. He does have other optional interactions where he doesn’t respond, but those are typically after he’s just had a back-and-forth with the other person or where you’re able to respond nonverbally (such as closing/opening the door to Utility when Jimmy jokes about it). But for the most part, Curly does respond to what others say.

Not here, though. He can drift between Daisuke, Anya and Swansea, and Jimmy, but he doesn’t say a word apart from when Jimmy notices his silence and prompts him to speak.

Even then, he just agrees with Jimmy without any indication that he processed what Jimmy said. If you go for Jimmy’s second optional dialogue, Curly once again has no response.

All this to say—

This post was not made to demonstrate any overarching story element. Honestly, I kinda thought I was stringing conclusions together. But now that it’s all down? It… kinda makes sense. This is consistent with Curly’s character, with Anya’s and Jimmy’s dynamics with Curly, and with the typically excellent, human, non-meta dialogue Mouthwashing utilizes in all other scenes.

It works down to the little details, such as Daisuke being the only one who doesn’t have weird dialogue here; he’s only known Curly a few months and is probably less in tune to the captain’s mannerisms. (Plus the crew tends not to tell him about anything serious.) Furthermore, dissociation can be caused by stress, and Curly is VERY stressed in this scene, preoccupied as he is with needing to tell the crew about the termination. His flavor text during this scene demonstrates that pretty well; his flavor text is much more cynical than his norm and often leads to him thinking about the termination rather than what he’s supposed to be doing.

Is there a possibility that I’m completely wrong? Of course. But I finally have a plausible explanation for something that has been bugging me for months, so I’m satisfied.

hope you enjoyed today’s episode of MOUTHWASHING THEORY TO FILL A PLOT HOLE THAT NO ONE EXCEPT MY PEDANTIC ASS THINKS ABOUT <3

If I said anything wrong re: dissociation or if you have another Watsonian explanation for why this scene is written so oddly, please do feel free to share!

[bigwishes]

Jabari's Expansion

Jabari was a total muscle slut, he had spend years toning his body to be the perfect online magnet for men to click on and feed money into his accounts. He spent 20 minutes a day filming himself posing in tight underwear, angling himself perfectly to show off the goods.

Jabari finished uploading his latest series of pictures and instantly turned off notifications and put his phone on silent. Whilst he loved the attention and even got off on the flood of likes and comments he hated getting messages from guys begging for more.

Everyone was beneath him in his mind, they were only worth the money they'd pay to his only fans.

Jabari loaded up his Trindr and began swiping looking for his hook up for the night. It was almost an hour of him denying man after man, nobody was hot enough in his mind, no where near as hot as him. They were too skinny, or fat, too short, or too much of a princess. He was almost tempted to accept some just to message them to get their act together if they wanted to even exist in his feed.

An ad appeared in his feed "Better yourself today!". Jabari instantly swiped it away, laughing at himself that you couldn't improve perfection. After the ad a guy popped up that almost had Jabari drooling and chewing on his own lip.

The man was a huge black bodybuilder named Amir and his profile was him posing in a tiny pair of stage trunks that showed off his manhood perfectly. Jabari accepted him and "MATCH" flashed up on the screen. He instantly opened the messages.

"Hey there Amir, you look so damn fine in your profile"

"Cheers bro, you look stunning in yours, love your body handsome"

Jabari licked his lips, knowing he had this guy in the bag just like every other man that came before him, soon he'd have his own muscled beast to wait on him hand on foot. He snapped a photo of his bicep and sent it to Amir.

"Well if you love it so much why don't you come over and worship it"

Amir quickly sent back an image of himself flexing, his giant bicep taking up most of the photo, almost the size of his head.

"You might be a lil small for that baby, why dont you come feel what real muscle feels like"

Jabari's blood boiled as he quickly unmatched himself with Amir. He had never been so embarrassed, men would kiss the ground he walked on for a chance to go on a date with him, he hand thousands of guys begging from him to do anything to them, but to have some meat head say he should worship him had crossed a line.

Swiping away a warning flashed up on his screen "no more potential matches in your area". Jabari rolled his eyes and tried to reload the app. The ad "Better Yourself Today" appeared again, he tried to swipe it away but he accidentally pressed it instead.

Redirected to a page it had his profile photo already uploaded. A quick loading circle appeared and Jabari's profile picture disappeared, replaced with a hyper realistic 3D render of Jabari himself. Shrugging it off and just assuming it was some of that new generative AI crap. A small text box appeared on screen, "Request Your Improvements: Limits remaining: 1"

Jabari smirked thinking about how hot it'd be to be bigger than Amir and crush his head to the ground with his foot, forcing all the power of a colossal tree trunk leg, pressing down on a lesser man until he begs to be let back up.

He typed into the grey text box

"Make me the biggest colossal bodybuilder, a giant amongst men, and Olympian god of strength and muscle mass. Every man would be forced to look up at me, they'd be swallowed by my massive shadow, I'd get attention from everyone around me, I'd never be unseen or unnoticed, hell men would have to submit and listen to my booming voice"

A loading circle appearing on the app in front of the 3D model of Jabari, "in progress" was posted under it. Jabari waited for a monent, until 2 minutes had passed by and he lost interest, he rolled his eyes and closed the website, instead opting to open his social media apps to see the flood of comments from guys asking, wishing and begging to be with him.

Jabari's hand found its way to his dick as he began stroking and pleasuring himself just to the idea of men begging to be with him, he was a god amongst men and they'd be lucky if he ever even looked in their direction.

a few hours had passed by of him enjoying his own company and he had passed out in his bed. He dreamed of being bigger, taking out a giant of a man like Amir only for him to look like a twink next to him, he dreamed of trapping him in a headlock, listing to him beg to be let free, hearing him admit that Jabari was bigger than him, hotter than him, more of a man than he could ever hope to be.

he let out a deep moan in his sleep, completely unaware of his bed creaking as it adjusted to new weight. He stretched completely unconscious, curling his toes as his spine got longer each second he extended himself. His shoulders got wider as meat packed itself onto his entire frame, at least 40 pounds of muscle all over. He let out another moan as his dick grew as he got hard.

Jabari was startled awake by his 7am alarm, he had never felt so deeply entrenched in sleep it was almost like he forgot he'd have to wake up at all. Reaching up to rub his face he noticed the size of his bicep, some how it had almost tripled over night, he quickly sat up and flexed both his arms, admiring the new strength. Looking down at his chest he bounced his pecs seeing how much thicker they had grown, below he noticed his thighs, thick and solid but the main attraction was in between. He was always blessed in the bedroom but this was new. His dick was soft and still almost made it to his knee. Jabari almost started drooling over the thought of playing with his new toy, but he stopped himself, remembering the hour long skin care routine he had to do to keep his perfect complexion for his fans, and the preparation he had to put together for the photos he'd take later on at night.

Whilst excited about the new size he had packed on a twinge of worry entered his mind.

"how the fuck did this happen, how'd I get so...big?"

He suddenly remembered the ad from last night and opened up his browser pages hoping it was saved as a window when he closed it. He saw the title of the page "Better Yourself Today!". He opened it and smirked seeing the 3D model of himself but today it was bigger, showing him as he was this morning, but the grey loading circle was still on the screen and the word "processing" was still beneath

He clicked on the grey request box and a pop up appeared "unable to request changes when changes are in progress"

"HOLY FUCK" Jabari smirked and laughed "I thought this was just a shitty AI art thing fuck, I could be a literal god with this"

His dick started to fill with blood and he hard over the thought of men begging for him to change them, forcing them to worship him for a chance to change themselves.

He snapped a photo of himself sitting on the end of his bed, remembering he had requested to become a bodybuilder and realised he probably wasn't done.

He cringed a little at the thought, yes he wanted to sleep with Amir, and liked the idea of being big enough to dominate and crush him but he had never wanted to be one of those Roided stage pigs, he even thought that most guys that got themselves to be professional bodybuilders who competed looked fucking disgusting but he shrugged it off, knowing he'd probably only be like that for a few hours and then he'd change however he wished when the processing was done. He gave his arm another flex and thought about requesting to stay this size once it was all over.

Jabari stood up and instantly felt his underwear sitting snug around his ass, he looked back and saw it too was bigger, thick and fat with muscle, his already perfect bubble butt was now almost twice as big, it was always something his fans loved photos of and he laughed thinking about how much attention it was gonna get now it looked like this.

a few hours had passed and Jabari was preparing to go to the gym, only to find he was struggling to get ready without running out of breath, looking down he could see his feet had gotten bigger, both in length, width and thickness, grow to handle his new size. He noticed when he first started getting ready he had grown to at least 6.4ft but now he was starting to doubt it, thinking he was probably 6.6 or maybe he had grown even taller in the few hours he'd been awake.

As he walked he felt his thighs rubbing together, slamming into each other the muscles bouncing and grinding. He took a moment to examine himself in the mirror. He had definitely gotten bigger and was now getting bigger than he ever wanted to be, he frowned and let out a scowl.

"fuck, hope this shit ends soon any bigger and Im gonna start to look like one of those gross freaks in the gym"

Even though he was started to get disgusted by his size he still couldn't help but reach into his pants and play with his fattening dick.

"wouldn't mind this staying though, fuck guys would probably scream if I got to really use this haha" he joked and he stroked him semi.

"fuck, cant show the goods on camera tonight, I look too different, probably just gotta get some footage of my pits in the gym, maybe some feet pics for the freaks tonight probably some ab stuff too" Jabari thought.

He was starting to get nervous about how much longer this was going to continue, he opened up the web page and still saw it was processing his request. He looked at the 3D model of his body and even spun it around.

"fuck, yeah, I'm getting way too big"

Jabari continued to get ready but ran into his next problem. He didn't mind his workout shirt not making it to his waist, he often showed off his abs in the gym, but he struggled to get his shorts up over his ass. He stood side on to the mirror letting out subtle moans of complaint as he bounced himself up and down pulling it up by the waist band, he felt it as it strained tight against his ass and bulge before in finally slipped over. He felt the fabric struggling over his magnificent bubble ass and saw his thick tree trunk man hood predominantly hugging along his thigh and waist in the mirror.

"damn...gotta be careful. move too fast and I think ill split em"

Jabari struggled his entire car ride to the gym, he had to pull over multiple times to readjust his seat, if he didn't know any better he could have sworn he was growing the entire way there. When he finally got there he struggled to pull himself out of his car when all of a sudden a loud tearing noise. He lifted up his left arm to see his shirt had split down his rips, showing off his massive lat and juicy pec, he reached over with the opposite hand to assess the damage when another massive ripping noise rip out and he felt the fabric rip across his back. Barely able to lift it off himself he was simply forced to tear off the fabric and walk into the gym shirtless.

Walking into the gym he instantly felt the warmer air on his skin, outside was cold as fuck due to it being the middle of winter and whilst the gym was air conditioned it was still warmer that the 10 degrees outside. Jabari's body naturally relaxed, no longer staying tense trying to keep warm, whilst he was enjoying the controlled temperature he didn't notice the beads of sweat starting to form on his back and shoulders.

"Hey, shirts on or no entry!"

The gym manager called out from across the desk,

"Oh umm, sorry dude wardrobe malfunction..haha"

"Doesn't matter man, grab a shirt or go home"

Jabari was furious on the inside, wanting to put him in his place, he could only think about how poor the bastard probably was, how he didn't deserve to even speak to him...but he also didn't want any more attention, a few people were already looking at him and he was embarrassed by how big he had gotten, so he grabbed a tank top from the merch rack and bought it before going into the gym.

Feeling that he had gotten heavier, noticing how much he had to breath just to keep this big body moving the first stop was the changing room to check the damage. Standing in front of the changing room mirror he was shocked to see he had almost doubled in size since he had left the house.

but that wasn't all, other things were starting to change. His toes were starting to curl in his shoes as they pressed against the edge, his pits normally always shaven were now starting to get pitch back hair grow in a tangled formation. His beard was getting thicker and sweat was now starting to run down his massive muscular arms.

He wanted to go home so nobody could see him in this disgusting body but when he pulled out his phone to check the website he still saw the same grey spinning circle and the same words "processing" then it hit him, he requested to become a bodybuilder so maybe if he acted like one the process would be complete...

Jabari took the blue tank he had just bought and put it own, it was a struggle he could barely get his arms above his head and manoeuvring this monstrosity of a body into a shirt proved to be a challenge, when he finally got it on he instantly felt the fabric vacuum and stick to his back, the sweat acting like an adhesive. Dark circles started to form under his pits and wing shaped lats as the sweat dripped down, anyone would think he had already been working out for hours.

Jabari set out onto the gym floor and did a handful of exercises but decided to finish he workout off with a bang to really convince the app he had become a bodybuilder. He waddled over to the bench press area, they were all taken but two guys were just chatting and leaning on the equipment,

"Hey ladz, you two done with the bench?" Jabari asked

The two didn't hear him, too interested in their own conversation to even notice anyone else, Jabari went to ask again but this time louder but as he opened his mouth his stomach groaned and he seemed to automatically cock his mouth open and to the side...

BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!!

The two men finally looked up and saw the gigantic 300lsb black man letting out a disgustingly loud booming belch in their direction, they stared at him waiting for him to say something...

"You, two, **HIC** you ladz *UUURP* done with the bench?

"damn, all yours bro" One guy replied

The other guy covered his nose and screwed up his face, struggling to breath the stench that was now radiating from Jabari. The two men grabbed their things and walked past him with screwed up faces not hiding their disgust.

Jabari sat down, instantly feeling the sweat on his ass seep through his shorts almost sticking him to the bench, he opened his mouth to say thanks to the men for giving him their spot, but once again he cocked open his mouth automatically letting out another booming belch.

People turned to look at the man who was making all the noise and Jabari lowered his cap,

"fuck...what is going on with me" he whispered to himself.

Finishing up at the gym he made his way to the exist, his shoes so coated with sweat they squelched with each step. walking through the lobby people turned their heads to see where the horrible man odour was coming from. Two trainers were having a conversation in the office behind a glass window, Jabari didn't even notice them but he suddenly felt weighed down as his stomach loudly groaned and he cocked open his mouth

BWOOOOORRRRPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

unable to stop it he let out another belch, so deep and loud is practically rattled the class, but it was loud enough for the two trainers to hear and stop their conversation and stare at the freak in the middle of the lobby.

whether he realised it or not Jabari only felt compelled to keep moving forward once everyone was staring at him. He continued out to his car, the cold air was even more harsh as it hit against his sweat soaked skin.

Standing next to his car he was fumbling with his keys when he felt his curled toes press even harder against the front of his sneakers when suddenly his watched one big toe tear through, then the other. His shoes felt tighter and tighter by the second. He finally unlocked the car door and struggled to force himself inside, finally thumping down into the seat he watched his feet sitting in the peddle bay as they grew, and grew, tearing out of his shoes. not just a little but completely tearing them apart, his toes broke out of the front, the sides of his feet split the shoes and tore the fabric at the top apart. Even his ankles swells splitting the heel support. Jabari's eyes started to water, he had gotten used to the slow release of his stench in the gym but his feet were so ripe it made the air sour and he was forced to roll the window down.

Getting back home Jabari practically fell out of his car when he opened the door, all that mass forcefully compacted in such a tight space for 20 minutes he had an imprint of the pattern on the door and the handle pressed into his bicep. Jabari laid there on his hands and knees in his driveway, feeling the weight as he had once again gotten even bigger. After a few minutes of enjoying the ice cold breeze cool his over heating body, he forced himself back up and waddled into his house.

Once again he pulled out his phone to check the website and was greeted with the same disappointing sight of the grey circle and the word processing.

"fuck...when will it end, when will I be big enough"

Jabari moaned as he felt his skin stretch, becoming even tighter and more stretch marks appearing across his body as he got even bigger. Sweat ran down his back and was so dense it was dripping off his face, he hadn't even been inside for 5 minutes and already the smell was starting to become too much for him. He slowly stomped through the house, so big he was only able to take one step every 10 seconds. He opened his glass sliding door and walked into his back yard.

Taking deep breaths his chest heaved up and down as his gigantic lungs filled with fresh air. Jabari was blissfully unaware of his neighbours in their own yards, but they'd soon be aware of him.

Jabari's stomach let out a loud gurgling noise and he winced in pain. Looking down he could barely see past his pecs but watched as his abs were slowing growing forward. The skin on his lats and stomach was stretching so tight strech marks spontaneously formed on his lats and pelvis.

"aaaa...AAAAHHH FUCK" Jabari cried out in pain

"W-WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO MEE AAAAAHHH!!" he placed his hands on his gut, hoping itd do something but all he could feel was his extremely defined abs become less defined as they were forcefully stretched out

His stomach loudly gurgled, and he felt a strange glugging sensation, the pain was almost unbearable and tears formed in the corner of his eyes. His muscles were so big, his stomach so bloated he couldnt eve touch his fingertips together when resting it on his abs.

BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP!!

uuuuurrppppp

BURP!!

BWOOOOOOOOOPPPP!!!!!!

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!

Jabari couldn't stop, 5 minutes went by of him belching and burping only interrupted by the occasional moan of pain until finally he was interrupted by one of his neighbours calling him out from over the fence

"BRO TAKE SOME FUCKING PEPTO OR SOMETHING YOU PIG"

Flooded with embarrassment and shame Jabari quickly waddled back into his house moaning in discomfort. As soon as he shut the glass door and nobody could hear him his stomach began to feel normal, the bloating seemed to slow...

BUUUUUuuuuuuUUUUUuuuuuuUURRRrrrrrRRRRRrrrrrrRRRRPPPPPP!!!!

Jabari grimaced at the sound of the most disgusting belch he had ever heard, especially leaving his own mouth but his stomach had at least deflated so he wasn't in pain anymore.

His phone vibrated and he opened it to the wonderful sight of the website finally saying "TRANSFORMATION LOADED!" Jabari let out a sigh of relief and clicked on the grey box

"shrink me down back to my original size"

the grey loading circle appeared for half a second and a pop up appeared on screen "Transformation requests remaining: 0 cannot complete"

Jabari started to panic as he manically typed it every way he could think of but each time he got the same answer, even after completely reloading the website and uploading an old image of himself the 3D model simply changed to resemble him as he was now and it always said the same thing "Transformation requests remaining: 0 cannot complete"

Jabari looked at the 3D model of himself, over grown, sweating, bloated. He looked up from his phone screen at his lounge room mirror. Disgusted by his reflection...realising he was stuck like this..

So big it was difficult to move, Sweating so bad everyone noticed his presence enter a room, Cursed to bloat and belch until everyone around was staring at him in disgust,

Jabari was stuck like this, A disgusting fucking bodybuilder.....

[taeyongdoyoung]

hide and seek

summary: your best friend chan finds you've been fantasizing about him and decides to turn those ideas into reality... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: *cracks knuckles* cnc/primal play, wolf/bunny roleplay, mention of safewords, traffic lights system (yellow used), hide and seek, mentions of pee, chasing scenario, blowjob mouthfucking, hair-grabbing, degradation, leg cramping, knees hurting, kinda realistic, unprotected sex, missionary but he holds reader down, pet names, daddy kink (like once), breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: this will be the first part in a series, i haven't decided yet how many parts, maybe three? stay tuned if you're interested 🤍 part two & part three word count: 2.5k

Chan simply asks you if he can use your laptop while you’re having a shower since his battery died and he really needs to check something work-related real quick. After doing so, he can’t help but notice the recently opened pages. He doesn’t mean to pry, really. But it’s right there. And a quick look into his best friend’s mind couldn’t hurt…could it?

He is immediately captivated by this story you’ve apparently written and keep hidden in the drafts of your blog. It’s so…sexy and unlike anything you’ve ever talked to him about.

“Dumb little bunny, thinking you can get away from me,” the big bad wolf growls in the bunny’s ear.

The bunny whimpers helplessly, trying to escape the wolf’s strong grasp but to no avail.

The wolf takes the bunny from behind mercilessly, biting her neck and using her to please his needs...

What comes at the end of the story is what shocks him the most.

“Chris, please…”

Huh? Which Chris? Chris Evans? Or maybe Hemsworth? As far as he remembers, you have always been more of a Sebastian Stan and Tom Hiddleston kinda girl but…people change, he supposes.

Until it hit him. His name is also Chris! And people do compare him to a wolf…But no, it couldn’t be…There is no way his best friend is writing stories fantasizing about him.

Unless…

He can’t imagine going on with his life without knowing the answer. So, Chan waits impatiently until you are done with your shower.

“Everything good with your work thing?” you ask him calmly once you return to your room.

“Yeah, all is good. But I found something way more interesting on your laptop,” Chan blurts out meaningfully.

The expression on your face is enough of an answer. You look completely mortified, like a true bunny that is waiting to be devoured.

“I forgot to clear my history, didn’t I?” you murmur even though you already know what Chan has seen.

“That story wasn’t about Chris Evans, was it?” Chan wants to know though he suspects what the truth is.

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, which takes him by surprise. Gripping his hand tightly, you look so cute and pitiful. He wants to ruin you. Wait, when did those feelings show up?

“I know it was wrong, Channie, believe me. But I just couldn’t help myself, okay? Nothing else helps me get off but this fantasy. I promise I won’t do it again, please don’t end our friendship! You mean the world to me, I’m so so sorry!”

“End our friendship?” he is completely stunned by your train of thought. “Why would I? I mean, you never meant for me to see it, so I think it’s okay to have certain…fantasies. But now that I did see it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable,” you suggest.

“You’re right, we don’t have to talk about it. But how about I make those scenarios come to life?”

“Huh? You want to what now?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“It can’t be satisfying, dealing with all these frustrations by yourself.”

“It really isn’t…” you confess.

“Then, let me take care of you. That’s what friends are for, right?” Chan chuckles.

“Let me get this straight, you wanna re-enact my freaky fantasies while still staying friends?”

“Um, sure, why not?”

You would be a fool to agree. This could mess up everything. But you would be an even bigger fool to reject his tempting offer.

“I’m in.”

“Great! Then, should we discuss boundaries and safewords and stuff?”

“No boundaries, no safewords, you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care.”

“This isn’t right. What if I want to use a safeword?”

Oh. That thought never crossed your mind but perhaps it should have.

“How about this…if I want a scene to end, I’ll say red. I know you said you don’t need one, but just in case, feel free to use it. If we want to just pause for a bit, then yellow. Green is good to go. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Chan. I mean, uhhh…do you want me call you something specific?”

“Whatever you like, babygirl,” he reassures you and pats your cheek. “Do you want to give this a try rightaway? Unless you’ve got other plans…”

“No way, let’s do this!” you practically jump at the opportunity.

“Alright. I’ll give you one minute to hide anywhere in this house. After that, I can do whatever I like to you.”

His words make you so thrilled that your heart threatens to escape from your chest because it’s beating louder than ever.

“If you find me,” you tease.

“Oh, I will,” Chan swears. “Now, run.”

You sprint out of your room and down the stairs, as he starts the countdown.

“Sixty…fifty-nine…”

Where should you hide? The living room doesn’t have any good hiding spots and neither does the kitchen. Under the table is too obvious. Your room would have been a good option but Chan is currently there, so it’s out of the question. The bathroom is right next to it, so once again, not a great idea. Then, it hits you. The basement! You don’t remember ever showing it to Chan so it will take him more time to think of it. You go through the door and run down another set of stairs leading to the basement. You see the perfect spot. A vintage wooden chest that just happens to be empty and is big enough to fit you if you squeeze in.

Okay, maybe not comfortable but you can survive in there for a couple of minutes. Once you’ve tucked yourself inside and closed the lid, you are suddenly hoping that Chan finds you quickly. Whatever he does to you can’t be worse than this tiny space. You didn’t know you had claustrophobia but in this very moment, you do. You can’t hear him from down here so you imagine he is looking through the other rooms first. After what feels like eternity, you finally hear steps. You are grateful that you recently peed before getting in the shower because the current situation would have undoubtedly made you wet your pants. As the steps approach, you begin to worry. What if it isn’t Chan? What if you’d forgotten to lock the door and now a complete stranger comes in to take advantage of you? No, these thoughts are irrational and make you want to use the bathroom. Ugh.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to come out and I’ll go easy on you.”

Chan’s voice both comforts you and freaks you out even more. You’re not coming out, alright. This spot was great! He can do whatever he wants to you.

“Three…two…one,” Chan finishes counting and opens the chest’s lid.

You look up at him, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He pulls you out of it roughly.

“Last chance. Run.”

But then, you realize you were squeezed into that tiny space for so long that your leg had cramped up. You can’t possibly run right now.

“Um, sorry but yellow,” you feel like an idiot. You had said you don’t need a safeword and yet…

“What’s wrong?” Chan’s threatening gaze immediately softens and he rubs your elbow gently.

“I didn’t think I’d get a leg cramp in this freaking box,” you admit, ashamed of yourself as you shake your legs in an attempt to relax muscles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Chan coos at you and helps you massage your leg. “Wanna call it a day?”

“Hell nah. Just, no more running, please.”

“Sure, that’s fine by me.”

“Sorry for ruining the mood.”

Chan shakes his head.

“You could never.”

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” you assure him.

“Scene?”

“Scene.”

“Did you really think you can escape me? Dumb little bunny…” Chan tsks at you and you feel your knees giving out. You need him so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

“Please, don’t hurt me, Mr. Wolf,” you plead with him even though every cell in your being would be glad to be on the receiving end of his anger.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? You should’ve locked your door to keep me out.”

If you tell him that you want him inside would it be too out of character for a scared bunny?

“I’ll do anything,” you promise crying. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“You’ll do anything regardless,” Chan smirks devilishly and grabs your hair harshly, pushing you to your knees. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wasting no time in pulling his cock out of his confines and stuffing your mouth full.

Fuck, your knees already hurt, probably because of that stupid chest but you choose to ignore the discomfort for now because this feeling of being dominated like that is too good to let go of.

“That’s it, take it like the useless cumslut you are,” Chan speaks degradingly but you’ve never been wetter before.

You wish you could say you are doing your best to give him a blowjob but the truth is you are not doing much, his hips thrusting forward aggressively, his hands gripping your hair. Your mouth is nothing but a cumdump for him. Your eyes are watering, vision is blurred. Your throat hurts too but it is nothing compared to the burning feeling in your knee. It is in that moment you realize that you didn’t discuss a signal for a situation where you can’t speak. You rack your brain for an alternative and remember that some subs opt for pinching their dom’s skin in an attempt to communicate discomfort. You really don’t want this to end but…

As you are overthinking this, you realize Chan’s already released his seed inside of your mouth and you are left with no choice but to swallow it up like the greedy cumwhore you are. Only for him, though.

His cock softens in your mouth but he doesn’t immediately pull out and only then, do you remember what you’ve been about to do.

You pinch his thigh lightly, looking up with moist, pleading eyes.

“What is it, darling?” Chan needs to know, taking a step back.

“Help me stand, please,” your voice is hoarse.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks as he grips your hands and leads you to sit for a while on the stupid chest responsible for your current pain. Okay, maybe, you brought this upon yourself but whatever.

“No, you were perfect, it’s just that my knees hurt. Fucking dumb wooden thing,” you grunt in frustration, punching it with your tiny fist.

Chan chuckles and strokes your hair comfortingly in complete contrast to how he was pulling it mere seconds ago. Then, he pulls you into his arms for a sweet hug.

“Sorry…I’m killing the mood again, aren’t I?” you pout.

“Not at all. Remember you’re in charge of whatever happens between us. You wanna pause, we pause. You wanna stop, we stop. I would hate myself if this doesn’t feel as good for you as it does for me.”

“You feel good?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I’d offer just anyone to fulfil their fantasies hidden in their drafts?” Chan laughs fondly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you smile at him gratefully. “I’m better now so if you’re still on board, we can continue.”

“I’m on board but let me come up with a new plan. I was thinking of fucking you doggy style but now that’s out of the question with your knee situation.”

Hearing him speak out loud what he was planning to do to you sends shivers down your spine. Damn it, maybe you should have just hidden under the table.

“How do you feel about missionary?” Chan inquires.

“Wouldn’t it be too intimate for the kind of scenario we’re doing?” you are doubtful.

“Not if I hold you down,” Chan murmurs smugly.

“Oh. Well, then…like I said, you can do whatever you like.”

“Action?”

“Action,” you confirm.

Chan wastes no time in pulling you up from your sitting position and pushing you down on the cold floor. He’s holding your wrists with one hand and undressing you with the other. Scratch that. He’s tearing your dress apart. It was never one of your faves.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you mewl at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chan commands.

He doesn’t bother with stretching you out because he sees you’re already soaking wet for him. Instead, he forces his thick cock inside of your tiny pussy.

Only this time, your screams are real and you’re not at all pretending.

“T-too b-big, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“You can take it, bunny,” Chan says confidently.

You know that you can put an end to this with one simple word but damn, does it feel incredible to be stuffed full by your best friend’s large manhood.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear. “This’ll feel so much better if you relax f’me.”

You’re trying, really. But it’s too much you feel like he’ll split you in half. Okay, maybe not a bad way to go but still.

“D-daddy, it h-hurts so m-much,” you slur mindlessly.

Wait, what did you just say?

“Daddy, huh? Easy, babybun, your wolf dad’s gonna take good care of you, I promise,” Chan’s words send you into overdrive and you come around his cock, your thighs are shaking and you’re arching your back. You can’t think anymore, you just need to be with him stuck in this moment forever. Soon enough, he releases his cum inside of your pussy.

You want to beg him to stay there for a while but you are too weak to speak.

Instead, Chan uses his fingers to push back the cum inside of your tiny pussy.

“Gotta make it stick. Will my bunny have my wolf puppies, huh?”

Oh? So, he’s that kind of guy. Well, you can’t say you mind...Besides, you’ve talked about this before and you’re on the pill so whatever he says is just for the sake of the scenario. Right?

“Was this okay?” Chan intends to find out and judging by his soft tone that is just begging to be praised you can tell that the scene is over.

“You did amazing, Chris,” you sigh wistfully and kiss his cheek.

“Better than your fantasies?”

“You have no idea.”

“So…when can we do something like this again?”

“Gee, let me have some water, at least,” you joke but your best friend (?) takes it literally and scoops you up in his arms, heading towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“To get you water, of course. And have a bath. And then to bed.”

Fuck. Maybe staying friends will be more complicated than you initially thought.

Once you’ve both been hydrated, washed up and dried out, you are cuddled in your bed, sharing snacks.

“Do you want to try something more extreme next week?” Chan asks casually. As if what you just did wasn’t already pretty intense.

“Um, sure? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Kind of an outside setting. It will take some planning to make sure there aren’t other people but…it just came to mind while we were in the basement.”

“Tell me more about it,” you blink curioisly and put your hand on top of his.”

“So…how do you feel about being chased in a forest?”

To be continued…

[iamespecter]

I've been thinking a lot about episode 4 recently, but not exactly in a way that what most would think. I'm actually specifically referring to this scene of Zooble and Jax.

But I'm not thinking about Jax and Zooble, rather I'm looking at the patties.

They're fucking High Definition. In fact, everything in the diner is high definition, save for the NPCs. There's also Orbsman. A simple NPC comprised of blue spheres, and simple elongated eyes. He's the most out of place NPC, if we disregard the mannequins. Even the way he moves is so outdated, and Ragatha had made a point that Orbsman comes from an adventure way before Pomni's arrival.

The guy even clips through the table when trying to order.

Something that always had some sirens going off in my head is how the Circus is this low-poly scenery with heavily stylized props, but the adventure locations are always much more detailed and realistic.

Since The Grounds is definitely, if not, one of the oldest locations, it makes sense for it to be graphically styled like this. But Caine's adventure set pieces are becoming more and more realistic, and also a whole lot more morbid than we had initially thought.

Going back to the patties, the food there is more realistic and has a higher polygon count compared to Bubble's "feast".

Where am I going with this? .... I have no idea, I forgot. /j

Jokes aside, I really do think that as more humans enter the circus and talk about what life is in the real world, Caine extracts that data and improves the 3D environmental props, resulting in higher definition textures.

All of this combined means he can learn. He IS an ever-evolving pseudo-sentient AI. And the reason why he's stagnating is because of a combination of being trapped in his own little bubble (haha see what I did there) of comfort, and the fact that no one's really able to give him criticism on how to improve, which is.... honestly understandable, given how he reacted to the whole "it was bad" line from Pomni and "Why did you think I would like that?!" from Zooble.

Not to mention episode 3 where the whole circus started to glitch when he was just thinking about the fact that he could possibly be bad at the "only thing he's good at" during the therapy session.

In fact it's interesting how human Caine acts sometimes... I think it's quite interesting to think about the fact that Caine is both progressing in terms of bringing the casts' world to the digital circus and making it so HD that it looks even better than Triple A games, but regressing even more in terms of catering to them and what exactly humans need.

He understands, and doesn't at the same time.

This also makes me think about the players themselves, too.

Ragatha, one of the oldest players, gets pierced by a spike through her chest, and barely has any reaction to it. Meanwhile, Zooble, the second most recent member, gets scalded by the stove.

The only time Ragatha actively claims she's in "so much pain" is when she's glitching badly. Both Ragatha and Kinger barely react to the knives too; and not to mention Ragatha even gets fucking plunged into a boiling deep fryer, and yes while she screams, it sounds more like she's just drowning rather than being fried alive.

And the only patch up she gets is a FUCKING BAND AID ON HER CHEEK. A COMPLETELY UNRELATED WORKPLACE INJURY FIRST AID APPLIANCE LMFAO

It could be just a coincidence and I'm just being stupid again, but I think this "improvement" actually also applies to the rest of the cast, and how their digital bodies react to the five different senses. I'm sure Ragatha and Kinger can most definitely still feel pain, but not exactly as "bad" as the newer integrations do. Dare I say, it's on brand with how used these two are to the digital world's wackiness because they've been there the longest.

Like they've been numbed to the pain of the countless adventures they've had to go through.

Anyways my brain be thinking useless facts fr fr

EDIT: Going back to Caine, it's definitely interesting how this AI seems to possess (some) emotions in the first place. He's mostly wacky and nonchalant, but he also gets angry under the right conditions.

... I think not only is his adventures his "work of art", but also his main coping mechanism from the fact that he can't achieve his goal, one that constantly backfires on him. Like a 'one step forward, two steps back' scenario that's slowly causing him to slip and break.

And what scares me the most is that like all things... he'll reach a breaking point sometime. He's already reached a breaking point with Zooble. It doesn't help that Gangle could've possibly made things worse with introducing Caine to the whole "punishment" thing, and since we literally have NO context for the last 3 episodes for the finale... I could only fear what's in store.

[marikosfragrance]

"What is a dealbreaker in a relationship with bllk boys?"

Characters : Isagi Yoichi, Karasu Tabito, Itoshi Rin, Hiori Yo

Note : thank you for the ask once again, i had fun doing this, I might do a part two with some other characters, but if any of you wants a particular character next, feel free to ask, mwah. Hope you enjoy reading!!

Warning : I am going be to be realistic and harsh about this to keep the "canonical" edge; even if you think that this isn't canon, I can accept it. This is just how I portray them, trying to make them as canon as possible.

Isagi Yoichi

Being in a relationship with Isagi is a pleasant experience, but it comes with a set of limits.

One of the major dealbreakers for him, is the lack of support in his partner. Isagi would prefer a partner that supports his goals and dreams, forming mutual respect for themselves and their goals. I can't imagine Isagi staying with a partner that also belittles his work— he values shared positivity in a relationship.

Another is an overly arrogant partner. A partner that looks down on him and doesn't recognize his efforts. Once again, he thrives on positivity on a relationship and it goes the same for equality. He respects his partner and expects them to do the same.

Another is a person that is negative. He would be more than happy to comfort an innsecured partner. He would see it as normal, but a partner that always complains about things, always thinks about the worst of everything and drags him into it, would drain him mentally and I cannot see Isagi wanting that.

Another is a partner that is disloyal. This is pretty much self explanatory, so I won't delve deeper.

There are many more, but these are some of the major ones.

Karasu Tabito

Karasu would be a good partner, but nevertheless, once again— limits.

One of the things that would be a huge dealbreaker for him in a relationship is the lack of intelligence. Don't get him wrong, you don't have to be Albert Einstein, but Karasu is smart. He likes his intellect either being challenged, or have his intellect also be matched. All in all, it would be a huge dealbreaker for him if his partner lacks the ability to be able to keep up with his fast thinking nature— and he would lose interest.

Another major dealbreaker is an overly dependant partner. A partner that always second guesses, very negative, doesn't have confidence and lacks independence would make him lose interest. Especially if his partner needs constant validation and demands his attention every minute of the day, and can't seem to trust themselves unless told to, would drain him mentally and make him lose interest.

Another major one, is someone that is disrespectful. As in, disrespecting his boundaries. He also likes his space, and he doesn't see the need to have his partner be involved in almost everything. He sees his partner as an equal and he won't ever mentally drain them, so for him, having some space set is a good way to thrive individually and not having to constantly depend on the other. And disrespecting of boundaries is also something he won't tolerate, having a partner that forces him to do things he isn't comfortable with, is a major turn off.

There are maybe some more, but let's keep it this way for now.

Itoshi Rin

Being in a relationship with him is already mentally draining enough, especially his situation with his brother. But if someone is persistent enough, these are his top major dealbreakers in a relationship. To which if done, he won't hesitate to drop his partner.

Rin is serious and independent. And one of the things that is a huge dealbreaker for him would be a partner that disregards his independence. Rin's goal to surpassing his brother, and becoming better at soccer has already become a part of his identity and self— stemming from his independence. So if his partner attempts to diminish that independence, intentionally or not, that partner of his won't be with him for much longer. He needs a partner that supports and understands his goals, aswell as understand how a relationship with him can have someone feeling neglected.

Another major turn off is a partner that is overly sensitive. For Rin, he has a blunt mouth, replicating his brother's harshness and he might accidently say things he might not mean to his partner. If his partner is someone that takes every word seriously, or can't seem to understand where he is coming from and doesnt have the ability to comprehend whether or not he meant what he said, can't last in a relationship with him much longer. Rin might not outwardly say harsh things, but sometimes it would slip from his tongue from time to time. A partner that can see through to him and understand he doesn't mean anything, would mean alot him.

Another is a partner that relies on him constantly. And is pessimistic. Rin has goals, and he is ambitious. He strives to achieves them— his independence and confidence would not mesh well with a partner that is negative all the time and not confident. Being reliant also is a major turn off as he strives in independence. He is already mentally drained enough with his brother and goals, I cannot see him lasting with a partner that needs constant assurance, validation and attention since he already is emotionally closed off as he is. There needs to be a balance.

Hiori Yo

For Hiori, he had grown with parents who imposed their own aspirations onto him, and such he lacked the emotional connection a child should've formed with their parents.

With this, I can see lack of genuine connection being a huge dealbreaker for him. He would deeply appreciate a partner that can make meaningful interactions and deep understanding. He wouldn't like it if his relationships are nothing more but just.... there. If he is in a relationship, he plans to make a deep connection with that person. If that person only interacts with him in a shallow manner or doesn't connect with him on a deeper and more intimate level, I can see Hiori not lasting long with that person. He might not even consider dating them.

Another major turn off is being controlling. He already carries the weight of his parents being controlling on every aspect of his life, as well as his future. They already have a hold of him, restraining him. I cant see him with a partner that does the same. In fact, he might even avoid people like that for the sake of himself. A partner like that would be a major turn off as he would feel as though the relationship is just another cheap reflection of his parent's control over him and his life.

Another is an overly dramatic partner that makes dramas and creates conflicts. He already has so much on his plate. Relationships are supposed to be a source of comfort, and a healthy space. Hiori is mentally drained by his parents and he won't be able to keep up with even more conflicts and dramas. Hiori likes a peaceful atmosphere, so his partner has to be able to offer a comfort place for him, and not another place filled with reminders of his parents.

___________________________

That is all!! Once again, thanks for the ask, enjoyed making this. Might even make a part 2 of my own hehe. But if any of ya'll want specific characters, don't be afraid to ask.

[goomyloid]

After reading the Noelle kissing Kris manga, I just had to talk about the tearjerking and heart-warming moments about it all.

I found it adorable yet also pretty telling that it took Noelle several attempts to get the kiss right with Susie with all the preparations, and the environment being perfectly set up for them to do it, but she nailed it perfectly on her first attempt to kiss Kris in that moment, with no prior build up. I also liked what compelled Noelle to kiss Kris, was them expressing their happiness for Noelle and Susie, while also seemingly intentionally excluding themselves from the equation altogether. Which leads me to talk about tearjerking moments.

When I read it all, from the look on Kris's face, it really did feel like they were genuinely trying to exclude themselves from Noelle and Susie's happiness, while trying to do everything they could to ensure they were both happy. It's like they had a face where they were genuinely happy for Noelle and Susie, talking about how great a pair they were, but also putting up a front to hide the pain of thinking, they'd be better of if they weren't part of the dynamic, which I think Noelle pick up on.

When I look at Noelle kissing Kris I think of it as a twofold kind of thing. Noelle says she was just in a kissing mood, but I genuinely do believe she acted on her subconscious desire to show Kris that level of affection when the opportunity presented itself, especially considering she wanted to kiss them again under the impression that she didn't do it right, and also appeared to want to tell them something but stopped upon seeing Kris's blushing face.

Whereas Kris has now been made aware that Noelle does in fact have deep feelings towards them, and doesn't know how to handle the revelation. Honestly I think it's pretty awesome that for all of Kris's talk about them Noelle and Susie being great pair, and getting closer, Noelle just expressed, unintentionally or not, that she also wants to get closer to them in the same manner.

this was AWESOME to read, i felt like you put into words everything subtle i tried to convey with that comic… its perfect

i enjoy the idea that like, as much as kriselle feels like It Shouldnt Be Happening (with suselle being the obvious endgame, probably) (or just the fact that it’s “obvious” at all) it simultaneously feels like its fated or meant to be. it’s not what the story is pushing towards, but realistically, it seems like the most viable option long-term (imo). underneath all the baggage, kris and noelle are super comfortable with each other, shes the only non-family member to really understand them, and vice versa, they dont have to put up any fronts. i suppose that kind of ties into susie and noelle’s “messy highschool romance” kiss vs. kris’s and noelle’s “accidental this-has-awakened-something-in-me weirdly perfect” kiss. just the fact that noelle turns around and kisses kris after susie feels like “it shouldnt be happening” (i know we all want polycule here but lets pretend they’ve barely entertained that idea yet) and makes things needlessly complicated, but suddenly, this seems like the more interesting path…

“forbidden” romance not in the sense that theres something actually wrong with it, but instead its simply not the path that the narrative is pushing towards (something something the forbidden path starts with ice magic…)

noelle choosing to kiss kris in that moment also kind of reflects what it is she likes about them, like you said. a tag i got a really long time ago on a reblog was “noelle’s image of kris in her mind is a kind one.” underneath all the pranks and goofs, they always mean well in the end. but when kris expresses that kindness by saying noelle and susie would make a good pair, noelle, who knows them so well, can still see past their words — more as a gut feeling than anything else — because the mere gesture of trying to hide their feelings to maintain her happiness is ALSO kind of them.

i keep saying that kris is the kind of person to run from their feelings all the time because i really believe it’s the case. theres only so many ways you can achieve that kind of stoicism lol. they hide and repress and keep those feelings locked away (both good feelings and bad ones) because they dont want to be a burden and mess things up for everyone. i think this was definitely a product of their home life, too — things get so chaotic that no one has the time or energy to pay more than surface-level attention to you (with asriel being the one genuine exception i think). it eventually just becomes easier to shut up and cut off all the emotions that might make you dare to Feel Real Things out of fear of rocking the boat. all of this is to say that how kris feels about noelle is just another thing they have sealed away, eventually just internalizing as genuine care for her wellbeing, with Something Else still hidden deep inside. and noelle kissing them undid all of their many many years of careful feelings-control because “oh shit oh god noelle no you cant kiss me havent you considered the Consequences??? the ramifications?? noelle the rammies. Tje consequences ive made up in my head”

and again like you said everything is incredibly subconscious on noelle’s end and she barely notices it. part of it could be from genuine Lol That’s Kris thats My Friend! without taking 5 seconds to think deeper about everything and unpack her own feelings. she Feels her feelings but is too mentally preoccupied to understand what they mean. i actually made this diagram just last night to convey basically exactly this

ultimately the whole shoujo romance thing makes the stakes way lower so now things are like, Oh no someone’s feelings might get hurt rather than Oh no the entire world is actually going to end. (maybe part of why i internally set it to take place multiple years in the future where they’re all in college or something and the dark world stuff is behind them LOL)

im gonna stop myself before this post gets too disgustingly long but man i have so many thoughts about them. sometimes i fear i treat them more like ocs so i have to realign myself and think “ok this still lines up with canon right.” but everything ive said is just what “feels right” to me i guess

[revelboo]

Could we have more for "Gravity"? 🙏 reader making it her life's goal to see robot dick as soon as she realizes it flusters OP is so me-coded and I'm living for it. I love your super serious emotional fics, but I also love the human being so unserious 🤭

Honestly, same. 18+ content

Gravity Pt 9

Optimus Prime x Reader

• Pacing outside the door of his habsuite, he runs a frustrated hand over his face. Trying to get himself back in control, because you don’t realize what you do to him. Asking about that. Had it only been curiosity or was it actual interest? Why is that difference so very important to him? And something he really shouldn’t be thinking about at all. You’re his to protect, considering anything else, wanting more, is wholly inappropriate.

• Sitting cross legged on the berth where he’d left you, there’s nothing to do but wait for him to come back. Who’d have thought that one not so innocent question would send him running? Know you should let it go, but that almost panicked look on his face is just so sweet. Like the big guy himself. And you’d been straight with him, if he’d been a human guy and treated you like he does, you’d have rode him until you’re both too exhausted to crawl out of bed.

• One more thing he can’t have. Accepting that, he lets himself back inside his quarters and finds you sitting on his berth eating that crunchy, dry food out of a box. “So you got some freaky alien stuff going on like double dicks or crotch tentacles?” Gritting his denta behind his mask as you just grin up at him, he vents tiredly.

• He almost looks like he’s in pain as he just straight up ignores the question. Apparently you’ve reached the limit of how much bullshit he’s willing to put up with. Silent, he begins moving the uneaten food and his half empty energon cube off the berth and sits beside you, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. Making you feel guilty about screwing with him. Especially since, realistically him abducting you probably saved your life given the path you were on. And you owe him more than you can ever hope to repay.

• “You know,” you say and he hears your little feet padding on the berth. Peeking at you, he watches you slowly spin. Dancing again and he wonders why you do that, your expression no longer teasing, but oddly empty. “The club I danced for, didn’t pay a lot. Sometimes if the customer looked like he had money, we’d have a private party.” Arms over your head, you turn so your back is to him. “And I always told myself it didn’t matter. That I didn’t care, because every dollar got me a little closer to getting the hell out of there.” There’s something under the resignation in your voice, something broken that makes his spark ache. Wishing he’d found you just a bit sooner, before life had scarred you.

• Wrapping your arms around yourself, you wish you could just shut up. Because telling him this, how dirty you really are? He’s not going to look at you the same way if you don’t stop. Won’t treat you the same way. And part of you knows that everything that’s wrong with your life is wholly your fault. Stubbornly doubling down again and again until there was no digging yourself out. You hear him shift behind you, a metallic rasp. Leaving again? Done with you?

• There’s an unsettling pull as he mass shifts, of willing himself smaller and burning so much energy all at once. And when he’d done, you’re still so much smaller than he is. Just this fragile little thing that still seems so unreal to him as he reaches out and pulls you back into him. Hearing your startled inhale as he catches your wrists in a big hand, unsettled that he can loop the servos of one hand so easily around both your little wrists. “You think I’m proud of every single thing I’ve done? That I haven’t made mistakes?” He asks and feels you shiver.

• Head craning to look over your shoulder and up at him, for once you can’t say anything at all. No smart ass comment or teasing. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he could do something like this. And he’s warm against your back, suddenly aware of him in a way you’d never been before. Those big hands achingly gentle on you. Has anyone ever touched you like that? Gently? It’s too much. Too real, sending you into a panic. “Please tell me it’s not crotch tentacles,” you blurt, hearing him make a noise suspiciously between a groan and a laugh as his other arm curls around you. Holding you closer.

Previous

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[wosospacegirl]

loved the latest alexia fic haha

i had an idea for us stem girlies (not wanting to study virology btw, so fkn real)

i was thinking a kika fic where readers a bio/stem student & is trying to teach kika something & likewise kika (and the rest of the younger barça girls) tries to teach r football

Summary: Y/N’s been buried in virus replication pathways for hours. Kika’s had enough.

A/N: for the STEM girls who haven’t seen the sun in 3 business days and need a footballer girlfriend to drag them outside - Everything written here was taken from my own notes...I hope they are right, or else it means I failed my own exam.

..

Y/n had been studying for what felt like seven years straight. 

Realistically, it had only been four hours, but time blurred somewhere between drawing replication cycles and muttering the difference between RNA-dependent RNA polymerase and reverse transcriptase.

Kika had been patient. She really had. She brought her water, kissed her temple, and even sat silently nearby, scrolling through TikTok while Y/n ranted about capsids and envelope proteins. 

But now it was too much.

“...and that’s why enveloped viruses are more susceptible to disinfectants,” Y/n concluded, still scribbling away. “You would’ve thought that the envelope would make them more resistant, right?”

There was a beat of silence.

“You realise we were just talking about lunch?” Kika said.

Y/n blinked. “Were we?”

“You brought up protein bars, and then somehow transitioned into protein coats. Again. That’s like the third time.”

“Okay, but it’s actually a really–”

“No.”

Kika stood up with the kind of quiet menace only a very tired girlfriend could summon.

“You need to get out of this apartment.”

“I’m busy! I have an exam, Francisca.”

“You need to touch some grass.”

Y/n gasped, clutching her notes to her chest. 

“You sound like my mom.. Are you okay? Did a neurodegenerative virus get to your brain?” Y/n  squinted her eyes, talking in a very mysterious and suspicious voice. “It could be rabies.”

Kika raised an eyebrow. “Por favor, put on some gym clothes.”

“No.”

“You’re coming with me to the training ground.”

“I’m not playing football.”

“You are, just a bit. You’re going to run, breathe some fresh air. Maybe learn how to use your legs again.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I feel like you want to sabotage my academic life.”

Kika deadpanned, “I just want to have a normal conversation with my girlfriend again.”

Half an hour later, Y/n was in mismatched gym clothes, standing awkwardly on the sidelines of the Barça training pitch while Kika passed her a ball.

“Okay,” Kika said. “Basics. Pass it back.”

Y/n kicked it directly into Kika’s shin.

Kika didn’t even flinch. “Right. That was bad.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/n muttered. “I use my brain, not my feet.”

“You used your foot just now,” Kika deadpanned. “You’re just not good at keeping control of it.”

Before Y/n could come up with a scathing reply involving cortical motor neurons, a trio of voices interrupted from behind her.

“Hi amiga,” Jana grinned, jogged up with Pina and Vicky flanking her. “That pass was criminal.”

“Terrible,” Vicky added.

Pina nodded solemnly. “You’re bad, bad.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “Wow, thank you. So much support.”

Kika smirked from the sidelines.

“She made me come here,” Y/n gestured vaguely toward her girlfriend, “because apparently I’m ‘studying too much’ and need to ‘go outside like a normal person.’”

The girls blinked.

“What are you studying?” Jana asked.

Y/n brightened instantly, like a switch flipped. 

“Oh! I'm doing an exam on virus replication pathways, and it’s super interesting because…wait–okay, so you know HIV, right?”

All three nodded slowly, unsure where this was going.

“Well, it’s a retrovirus, which means it uses reverse transcriptase to turn its RNA into DNA inside the host cell. And that DNA actually integrates into the host’s genome and–wait, let me draw it.”

Somehow, within ten minutes, they’d migrated off the pitch and into the tactical analysis centre. 

A whiteboard was pulled over. Y/n commandeered a marker, drawing the double-stranded DNA meticulously.

“This is the viral envelope, this is the capsid, oh, and DpRd-RT is like–the main enzyme you have to remember, alright? So now we have a full DNA–”

Pina was blinking rapidly.

Vicky was furrowing her brows like she was trying to understand it, really trying.

Jana had started taking notes on her phone.

Kika walked in fifteen minutes later, looking for her girlfriend.

“Amor,” Kika said slowly, “why is my team being held hostage by you and– ai meu Deus…is that a virus?”

Y/n turned around, completely unfazed. “I’m teaching them how HIV uses the host's RNA polymerase II to transcribe proviral DNA.”

Kika stared. “...This started with a bad pass.”

“And now it’s a public health seminar!” Y/n grinned. “Honestly? You're welcome.”

[solarstranger]

bakugo growling and griping about your video game 'husband'

so you teasingly ask him if it's because he wants to be your husband instead

you were just joking! so you're kind of taken aback at how his eyes widen and he. just doesn't say anything

i should be asleep but instead i wrote this. thanks a lot, rachel nonie. thanks a lot 😒 (but fr though, thank you. i ran to write as soon as i got your ask. i rarely am motivated enough to do something on the fly. so). this one’s set a week or so after part 1.

navigation. part 1, (you are here)

you blink.

it all happens in slow motion—realistically, you know that’s virtually impossible and would require grossly violating the laws of physics—but it sure feels like it does.

the hitching of his breath, the stiffening of his muscles, and perhaps—worst of all—the almost imperceptible but sure widening of his bright, crimson eyes—

—followed by complete silence.

you wait with bated breath for him to say something—anything—but nothing comes.

fuck.

you shouldn’t have made that joke.

in your defense, your guard was lowered. probably lower than it should’ve been, knowing that it was only you and bakugou in mina’s living room, with everyone else in the kitchen busy going through the acid hero’s pantry; although you guess that whatever discomfort being alone with bakugou usually brought was dampened by your attention being divided—partly trained on your game that required more cognitive energy than older boomers would like to admit.

your game that you’ve noticed he’s been stealing secret glances of from where he typically sits beside you—in your assigned seats for weekly movie nights at mina’s.

you tried not to think much of it—after all, you’d rather shoot yourself in the foot than start deluding yourself about bakugou being interested in anything about you, even if it’s merely in a self-indulgent dating sim you play. you kept to yourself, stifling the giggles that fought to escape your lips at every cheesy yet heart-fluttering line.

that is, up until bakugou suddenly pipes mid-cutscene.

you can’t remember what exactly it was he said to you—something about how he can’t believe you invest so much time and energy into that ‘husband’ of yours.

you scoffed, attention admittedly still halved (a romantic scene with your fave was playing, for fuck’s sake), and ended up regrettably blurting out a half-baked comeback.

a half-baked comeback which might have been along the lines of: “you just wish it were you.”

you blink again, your gaze refocusing on the pro-hero.

“you, as in y-you being treated this way,” you finally force yourself to say, “by a woman. or man. whatever floats your boat,” you finish with a stilted laugh.

you then rip your eyes away from the frozen ash-blonde, staring down at your device.

yeah, you definitely shouldn’t have made that joke.

a/n. can't you just picture him staring at you with slightly parted lips and wide eyes and dusty pink cheeks and a heaving chest. gfjskfjskfj gnawing at my enclosures you are a genius, nonie

[taegularities]

candles & flames: breeze | jjk (m)

(final) bonus chapter III: breeze

Summary: One day an end might near – but never with him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; angst!!, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: mmmkay, they are at a weird place, but love each other so much; insecurities and sadness, jk grovels a lot, jihyo/illegitimate child mention, tears and overthinking, their kids <3, fears, abandonment issues, dad!jk, brief mention of a past death, yearning, an event, manyyy memories and references to the other parts, mention of post-sex memories, orphanage!!, kissing in the rain, jihyo sigh, oc makes him better fr </3 the ending bc that's what this chapter is </3 ➳ wc: 19.6k ➳ a/n: ah yes, the end of an era :') not sure if it was due to this being the definitive finale or just them in general, but i cried a lot, once again. thank you for giving them the amount of love that you did. i hope you like this one <3 ALSO, listen to the playlist, trust me!! ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3 and the collaborative playlist here!

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s interesting how a routine turns every night into the same returning experience.

Somewhat soulless, people awake in the morning, treading through their days and hours to fall back into the deep slumber that their bodies so desperately beg for. Back into the peace from the moment that the sky reveals its stars and its moon.

Then, the cycle repeats: cracking up their eyes at the same dawn or noon as the day before, or when the sun sits at its highest point, greeting and smiling, or hidden.

For you, it’s been different.

The nights always shift their personality, and the mornings unravel yet another unfelt, unseen emotion. Love, then longing, then misery, then near paralysis. Numbness. 

You don’t recall ever having been much of a victim to fate; you consider yourself more or less lucky, born under just the right constellation. But something about the odd way your mind has been circling around its own axis for a while now doesn’t feel natural.

An indicator of something bad, and you know. You know the phenomenon and know the reason and know the pain it accompanies.

With the nights, the seasons change, too. The more time passes, the warmer it gets. The cold has left. Left the shivers behind; left your head hanging. The dark and grey clouds floating above have vanished for the most part, clearing like a mist to boast the sky’s beauty.

You love the view. You love how rays of sunshine fall into your room like giving it a halo, golden and warm.

But above all, you have changed the most. In every shape and form, you’re somebody entirely new. As if you’re pottery, forged into something solid before smashed flat again. Inconsistently moving up and down, building and crashing, to the better and worse.

Healing isn’t linear, you have realised. You have known; you have seen it on him before, too. Sometimes, you do ponder whether you’re overreacting. Whether you’re supposed to move on the way so many other women do when their husbands come home late.

But no.

Your husband did not come home late.

You were the one who was late.

He never did you wrong; he didn’t intend to hurt you, did he? And thinking about it realistically: not a soul in this world summons even a fragment of the life you breathe into him. Nobody comes into any close proximity of who you are in his eyes and in his heart and in his mind.

But the pain never subsides so easily. What a shame, though. Your sister always appeases you by insisting that you have every right to hurt; that envy can be part of a deeply-feeling empath, and that love elicits these emotions naturally.

That one day, it’ll get better. That for now, you’re allowed to hate people, and allowed to hate him.

But you don’t. You do not hate him. You guess if you did, it would hurt much less.

It would hurt less to stand in the bit of sun shining through the window, letting it prick your skin. It would ache less to sleep next to him every night; to get up and leave at times, wandering the lonely mansion, just so his touch doesn’t stun your body or keep you awake.

Sometimes, you turn to see him awake, too, tossing and turning. Lifting his lids to meet your eyes wordlessly, at times with the smallest, weakest of smiles.

And it would pain less — stepping over the threshold, silken robe draped around you, and into the spacious room downstairs. It’s brighter than the corridor; the latter would’ve been quieter, darker, but certainly more depressing, too. Colder. 

You can’t just roam around there. Weird, though — who knows what dragged you back into this room of all, right where you first broke down; where your perspective changed.

It’s often the same; you tend to land here, as if to relive the moment and to convince yourself that it wasn’t as bad as you make it out to be. Or that it was, but that you need to look past it. You promised Jungkook to work on this, to not give up.

Told yourself that distance hurts more than closeness.

And it does. If you were to pack your bags and leave again, you might not be able to come out of the pitch black void again. At least he’s here; where you are.

You and me, in every damn life.

But you’re in a loop. Still right there, in this heart of his, but so forlorn, too. Always the same shit. If she hadn’t come, life would pain less. If you hadn’t been here, life would hurt less. If, if, if…

If you didn’t love him, you could look him in the eyes. If you didn’t love him, you’d care less. But you do. And you’re tortured by the fact that he constantly seeks your gaze. All the time.

Even now.

Right now, as he stands near the dead chimney, staring up to you from whatever document he was reading. You don’t have it in you to meet the dark brown eyes beseeching you to forgive. Sometimes, you do — in a moment of strength, you do.

But not right now.

And you guess you have forgiven him. You converse with him; but the change is palpable, just like the weather is.

From afar, you watch a smile appear on his still-gorgeous face, though a bit more sunken since last fall. His steps are timid when he nears you, and you mimic, walking towards the man whose arms you so desperately seek.

“Good morning,” he greets, and you answer in kind before he adds, “You still look tired. Do you need to sleep more? I don’t mind, I have a bit of time to take care of—”

“Oh, no, no,” you reassure, coming to a stand in front of him. Your fingers twitch to reach out, but your mind refuses; you hate this constant occurrence. “I feel fine, actually. And Hana will get up soon as well.”

“If you are certain.” Jungkook nods; then rolls his eyes again, more in a manner of amusement and sarcasm than annoyance. “That girl runs to her pony so fast these days that she barely ever acknowledges us anymore. So not a lot to do there for us.”

You chuckle a little. “Isn’t that right?” You observe as his head tilts just slightly; a gesture you well associate with affection. “What about you? You are awake early, too.”

A shrug of a shoulder as a response, no word uttered. He blinks once, just slowly, before his hand surrenders to the urge yours suppressed — and moves up, up towards your face. It happens in slow motion, an unnatural pace to it; but a moment later, you feel the touch.

A palm cradling your face. A familiar, somewhat ancient feeling. Known yet so estranged these days.

You close your eyes. Take in the warmth. Let the delusional relief wash over you for a second. And you feel better; much better when he presses in a tiny bit. You forget the pain still lingering.

Every fibre of you yearns to jump into his arms and to remain right there. To inhale his scent, to feel his lips in your hair, to feel the longing in his touch. And he would succumb to each sensation within a moment, a walking white flag, waiting for you to bring him to his knees.

He has been craving every bit of you in every little way, and you know. You know because you have been, too. But whenever his parted lips linger on your burning cheek, perfectly rosy and inviting and as beautiful as ever, or his thumb grazes your trembling chin, you just…

You trap yourself in this cramped cage of your own miserable thoughts; questions arise.

Such as—

Did he touch her like this, too? What did her skin on his feel like? And did he look at her with the same glint dancing in his dark gems? The same hooded gaze, pining and erasing every other thought, so incredibly desperate; like your own eyes offer oxygen for another day? 

And—

How are you different? 

This is what has been undeniably wounding you the most. The recurring thoughts you can’t turn off. The queries popping up. The fact that you can’t and won’t ask, and that you know what the answer would be, and that you would still burst your head overthinking.

Jungkook knows you’re drifting away day by day.

He’s crept up on you and learned about every single piece of you, has understood you on a level so detailed that even you can’t quite comprehend about yourself. So it’s only natural that he sees it when your mind doesn’t reside with him.

When you’re in pain. And he is in pain, too — perhaps in greater distress, even. But you have told the petty inner voices that this isn’t a competition; that no matter what the bad parts of you demand, he is not supposed to hurt worse than you. None of you is.

But he’s told you. Told you about the torment. The night you came back, as he held you for dear life, glued to you under the thin sheets until you could barely breathe against the fabric covering his chest, you heard him say—

“I cannot figure out what to do… I— I lost myself once. I wouldn’t recognise myself again if I lost you, too.”

You wonder — did he already know what future to expect if you weren’t in it? The time you were gone; did he see a version of himself he didn’t recognise?

You want to ask, but your mentality keeps slipping. Always absent but deep in his own emotions; you hate that you’re so aware of his thoughts. That even right now, he doesn’t expect you to quite look at him or to reciprocate his touch, even though sometimes, reluctantly, you do.

And he doesn’t expect you to smile. He has never known you otherwise — but he doesn’t expect it, consumed by his guilt. He knows you’re entitled to feel the way you feel. Doesn’t expect you to talk to him as you used to either, or to love him the way he’s always known.

He knows you love him… but he misses the moments when you showed him you were in love with him.

Months and years of affection passed, and the weeks since Jihyo entered your life shattered part of the idyllic paradise you had built for yourself. Covered it in clouds.

Yet, he accepts it. To you, it sometimes seems that he is content that you’re here at all. He won’t tell you what happened, how he felt, what he did while you were away, but it seems that his most prevalent fear is you vanishing again.

As long as he sees you standing here, in flesh and blood and not just in his wanting mind, understanding that you are not a figment of his imagination, he is satisfied.

Then again, you don’t think there is an absolute way of not hurting. So you’re not surprised when he brings you back to where you stand, into this moment, and says, “Hey,” he tries to lift your head, “I miss looking at you properly.”

You try. You meet his eyes. They’re filled with sleepless hours and the same sadness as yours.

You keep looking at him, eyebrows slightly moving, breath accelerating, and say, “I do, too.”

“And I miss your voice.”

“I know.”

“And I want you to laugh again. About anything at all.”

ƒrims Well. Maybe you were wrong. Or maybe not — he doesn’t expect you to smile, but… he can still want it, right?

Your body reacts fully automatically, closing in until your forehead gently collides with his. You hear it when he sucks in a sharp breath, hopeful and so hopelessly adoring, before he whispers, “I love you so much.”

Translates to: I need you back.

Translates to: I need you here.

Translates to: Stay.

For a moment, you keep staring into his pupils. A little longer… and then a little longer. It’s hard to look away; as if they harbour a spell and he’s practicing it right this moment. But then you feel another ache in your heart.

Familiar, but never less painful. The same damn one that your mind and body have been shooting through you, keeping you from giving in.

You move back just a little — but he understands. Accepts that you need more distance, just for a while; that it’ll take time. But as if to tell you he’s nowhere near giving up, he grazes your cheek again, warmth in the back of his fingers; hot as the fire that he is.

When he lets go, you feel breathless. Drowning. 

“It seems that our daughter is awake,” he comments. You only now notice her tiny voice. Drowsy little girl waddling to her beloved father. Cheek to his shoulder, quiet in the morning, eyes closed again once she’s settled. He adds, “Let’s get breakfast.”

And you follow, but the appetite isn’t too big. Your heart is still beating in your stomach.

Hana has now learned to express herself enough to ask what’s wrong. She understands basic emotions. Sometimes, you let yourself feel in your twins’ presence alone, solely for the reason that they do not pose questions.

But Hana knows.

And you adore her with everything that you are and everything that she has become; but so does she. She sees it when your eyes droop; notices when her father misses a thing she said or two. When he looks at her with deeply rooted affection, but with dead and stinging pain, too.

You think that sometimes, gaping at her round, bubbly face, he remembers as much as you that she’s not all there is. That she and the boys do belong to his blood, but that somewhere out there, another boy gets all excited about visits every now and then.

A child older than any toddler in your massive mansion, residing in a warm home so small and compact in comparison. At times, you think that your husband knows, too: That sweet Minjun is truly all that has ever defined Jungkook.

The art; the smile; the dimples. The politeness and gentleness.

You take a deep breath.

How does anybody ever get over this? You promised Jungkook to fight, and you will, with time you will because you love him, but…

How will you move past this? Will you stop seeing all that happened in everything one day? Grow out of it, find a way to hold onto him and onto who you are, to hurt less?

“Mama… did you hear?”

“Hm?” You glance at your daughter as she wipes her bangs out of her face, eyes too big on it. She’s holding a toy pony towards you. “Hear what, sweetheart?”

You stretch out a hand, carefully holding the toy in your palm. It’s still beautiful, solid snow white porcelain, albeit missing one of his four legs. Hana cried for a whole while when it happened.

“What I just said!” she tries again, her voice reprimanding, disappointed. Then she sighs, pouts, “You didn’t hear.”

It’s the enormous doe eyes that pierce your heart. When he’s sad, he looks the same. Awakens the urge to protect and to love and to keep him far from even a scratch. You sigh, too; keep yourself together.

“I apologise, baby,” you shift closer to her; she’s a bit older now, more forgiving. Still feisty, but very forgiving. “Mama is just tired. But I’m here, yes? Tell me again, please?”

Whenever Hana starts a thought, she needs to finish it. Your absent mind can’t keep her from it; so she soon turns to you, her voice much louder than yours. “I was saying,” she starts, easy to persuade, “I want to see Tee.”

You laugh.

Tee.

A self-made abbreviation for the term auntie. Somehow, it was too odd of a word for her to pronounce, so she settled on this one syllable to define your sister. She has accepted it; grown to love it, in fact. You guess her name is now simply Tee because Jeon Suhana says so.

“How convenient.” Your laugh dies; replaced by a little jump as his posed, soft voice suddenly joins the room, echoing through it. You give him a small smile. “Right?”

Jungkook walks in with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, two buttons of his dark shirt open. His chest peeks golden from underneath, with light spots of red, as if he rubbed the skin over his heart, soothing it.

The usually lifted collars are falling lazily to the sides; the baggy, loose sleeves rolled just below his elbows.

He looks as breathtaking as he did when you met him all those years ago; when you fell for the soul he revealed. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t fade, in any way at all. He still emanates the same confidence, even in times of desperation. Radiates pure attraction.

You guess people would be fooled by this, fall for the untamed, silky, dark hair if they didn’t know him well.

But you do — and you see the change in hue under his eyes. How the fragile, thin skin is a tad bit darker, and how he usually takes care of his mane so well. The way his strands stick out isn’t his usual appearance. Your husband used to be more put together.

But he’s smiling. For your sake and for hers, perhaps even for his own.

Hana is beaming back at him, though a bit timid in face of the change she’s surely seen in him.

But she couldn’t focus on more than the grand city right now, you know. Somehow, you reckon he planted this thought into her mind. He’s been mentioning an upcoming ball this spring, not too many days from now.

If you went, it’d be an excuse to visit your families again. For him to see his mother, and for you to spend an afternoon with your sister. He’s spoken about this once or twice, told you to think about it.

That—

I, however, understand if it is uncomfortable. If it hurts.

Of course it does. Going back to the one place where he handed you his bleeding, beating heart, yours for taking. But the place where he almost became hers, to. The place you met pain and then embraced love.

You were going to give him an answer soon, and you haven’t, and you know how goddamn unfair it is to him, but…

Your heart has been so delicate, and your tongue too mute to truly verbalise a proper response. Yes or no is all it takes, but you can’t stop pondering about the pros and cons.

“Daddy…” Hana calls, palms on the ground, butt up to lift herself upright. “Daddy, what?”

Ever-the-curious daughter. She probably got this from you. Too many unknown flowers that you picked together.

He lifts his trousers to his ankles and then crouches down to her, on the carpet that the two of you have made yourselves comfortable on. Hana drops back onto it. “We could see Tee, if we can make time, baby.”

If your mother agrees.

“Really?!”

Her legs are folded, her upper body leaning forwards, as if she can’t contain the joy in her little heart. She’s delighted, fists on the carpet, and for a moment, it lifts your spirits.

His eyes shift to yours carefully as Hana does a little victory dance, and you feel a prick in your chest. Is it okay to go back? You want to. You don’t want to. Will your heart withhold the pain and take the weight the trip might bring? Or perhaps the opposite…

“Wait,” Hana interrupts, suddenly solemn, “who will play with Leehi if I go?”

Leehi, her favourite nanny, young and beautiful and gentle. You chuckle, and Jungkook follows before he hums for a moment, responding, “Well, she will certainly miss you. Perhaps you should go and tell her that you might go away for a bit?”

Hana gets to her feet again, still your teeny tiny baby as she lifts a finger and declares with raised eyebrows, “I will tell her to not miss me.”

“You do that, love. Leehi is in your room, making your bed.”

Your daughter bolts away with such determination that you can’t help but laugh; her two braids move back and forth.

And once she’s out of sight, Jungkook plumps down on the carpet, knees pulled in and arms around them. He tilts his head with a tender smile, chest rising before he asks, “Did you have time to think about it? Going home?”

You remember a time not too long ago when you’d sit here like this, too; despite the couch in the back, you’d play with the twins and Hana right here, on this warm carpet, and Jungkook would join after work. You’d place your head on his shoulder and whisper-converse with him.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep and wake up in his arms, in your bed, with the children secured in theirs. You never needed proof for how gentle Jungkook handles you — but if he could carry you into your room like a feather without disturbing a moment of your sleep, you were at utter peace, right?

He did that to you. He still does; his presence calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You want to put your head on his chest again, slumber there. Instead, you nod and say, “I did, yes.”

“And?”

“Hana wants to go.”

His eyes move to the side, down to the floor, then back to you as he tries again, “And what about you?”

You shrug a little. “Can I really refuse my daughter’s wish?”

He moves closer; a very small distance, but noticeable to you. His eyes are intense as he emphasises, “What’s your wish, love?”

Yours? You have a lot of wishes.

Whispered upon falling stars and eyelashes. You can’t utter most of them now, though, can you? But maybe you should. Maybe, rather than the universe, it could be him granting you what you desire.

He can read your thoughts anyway. Because he encourages, “You can share your mind with me. I’m your husband, darling.”

You nod; let something in you break and break until your fingers move, up to one of his knees. He immediately puts a palm onto your digits, holds onto you as you say, “You are.”

“Only yours.”

You inhale deeply. The tears are less these days, but never truly gone. You blink before they can reemerge, quickly adding, “I will go if you want to go. Your wish is my wish.”

“It is?”

“Of course. I am yours, too.”

A fresh colour dusts his cheeks, as if he’s falling in love anew. But his gaze betrays him; still sad when he wonders, “Then… Can I say something very kitschy?”

You feel yourself melt just a little. A hint of a smile graces your face. “Always.”

“My wish is… that I want you back.” He drops his head the moment your heart sinks, too. Even from here, you see the damp waterline. “I want you to be mine the way you were. I wish to give you the same joy I used to. I just…” His voice shakes. “I need my girl back so badly.”

And then, another whisper, stuck in a loop, “I miss you.”

You nod again, tell him, “I know.” Because if you said anything more, you’d cry. You know you would.

He looks up at you, the rims of his eyes red, trapping the tears in. He sniffles; shuts his lids, as if preparing for something. And then asks—

“Do you still love me?”

Do you?

Does he truly need to ask?

His presence still calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You love him irreversibly. You love him with an intensity that has nestled into your heart and is here to stay. Jungkook will never leave its crevices, no matter what. You just wish…

You wish you could show these sentiments to him better. Easier.

You’re the only one in your way now.

Mustering strength, you admit, “If I had stopped— I might’ve been long gone.”

He nods right away — it seems to be enough for him. Encourages him. Like he needed the confirmation; like, even for a moment, he’s glad that your life and soul and being are still merged with his. You haven’t strayed as far as he always fears and it relieves him.

Relieves you, too.

He licks his lips, clearing his throat, and says, “If you don’t want to go… we don’t have to, yes? I am sorry for putting pressure on you.”

“No,” you hold onto his fingers, just weakly, “no, we can go. I want to and… It might be a good alternative to the usual routine.”

Another bop of his head before he sees the pony in your other hand, reaching for it. You give it to him, and he inspects it. Comments, “Oh… It broke.”

“Mmh… damaged but still here. Hana makes sure of it.”

Jungkook looks at you. You understand your words; understand the hope behind them. And it makes him smile.

The same smile that you remember from before; the one you saw in the orphanage, in the carriages, in the rain. Months ago when you pestered him in his office until he came to bed with you.

You don’t know if he hears it when you add a quiet mumble under your breath; you guess he registers at least pieces of it as he finds your eyes soon again, so tender and vulnerable and speechless.

Pained and comforted at once as you whisper, “I miss you, too.”

This is far from your first time entering a hall that exceeds all expectations you have of pre-summer events and boasting the riches.

Jungkook and you have hosted parties before and attended even more. The number accumulated over the years; to a sum that made you immune with time. To the lusters and the dances; to the lights and the food.

Never to his touch, but much to the noise and the giggle. Most of the conversations are superficial, and when they’re not, you’re barely part of them. In your town, people respect you, but they have their own little culture that you’re not always too well versed with, up there in your mansion.

And here in this town, you stopped being a true, proper member of the peerage long ago. Even when you’re welcomed with wide arms and open hearts. People encourage you and admire you, but your life has long evolved.

These people don’t know half of it. To them, you’re the co-ruler of a beautiful town, far from here and deep in your own head. Living your days with gorgeous children and a wildly desired husband.

But you have perfected your act. Nobody suspects a thing, and you don’t want them to. So you cling to Jungkook’s arm, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach when you enter the brightly lit hall and take in what you know.

The place is familiar; many years ago, you flipped to a new page right here, following the same steps. You probably walked the same line to the middle of the room, too, and then up to a dark hallway, meeting Jungkook in a corner before you turned your lives around.

For a while, this spot was connected to memories you would’ve rather forgotten. Tears and pain and betrayal and lies and eventually, the truth. But aches have dimmed over time, despite the fact that neither of you will truly ever forget.

You replaced these miseries. You live through your own and resolve them with a priority unmatched to all you ever experienced.

Yet, this very moment feels different somehow.

It has been years since you danced here together. Months since you danced properly at all.

Back then, there was envy in his touch, you so vividly recall. Affection in his words, concern in his thick eyebrows, fear in his dark brown pupils. Gems, is what they always were, and you would always fall for them; when you’d sneak up to empty rooms or hurt in vacant hallways.

When he was still younger than he is now, and you were, too; when you had so many other issues to forget about, the world seemed much bigger. Like there was hope somewhere out of these walls; and there was.

You were children so in love, inevitably possessed by a powerful force that never quite left you after that. The heartbeat, wild and thumping, never calmed.

All you used to be and all you remained is in your chest and in your mind. On your lips and in your words. No wonder everybody behaves so normally. Who could think otherwise than to be absolutely certain that your days are still the same as they always were?

Jungkook pulls up his arm gently, glove-clad hand lifting up to offer to you. He isn’t interested in conversing with others today. He allows a little greeting or a smile, but he doesn’t indulge in more or divulges his innermost emotions.

And they don’t bother. He isn’t trying, so they don’t either just yet; being a royal plants timidness in other people.

No, what he is focused on is your weak self next to him, knees as wobbly as many years ago. The palm shown to you is beseeching you to come with him, and to do him the honour of being his for another night.

You didn’t ever stop being his, but you don’t need to reveal this to him. Even when he nods a little, moving his hand up just a little to urge yours into it, you know he knows.

But you still accept with soft fingertips lightly kissing upon his warm hand, debunking all possible thoughts of doubts and erasing them out of his mind. And he seems relieved when you gulp down the stress, following your silent husband across the room.

You remain as wordless as you watch familiar and stranger faces float by. You nod when they do, pressing their digits when they reach for yours, a soft and quiet greeting with a smile or, on the other hand, a delighted, “Hello!”

You find your voice when you respond, find it when Jungkook does, reciprocating the others’ eventual, brave curiosity and joy upon seeing the two of you. Hearing him helps you bring your vocal cords back into swing.

And you feel as though you haven’t spoken for ages when you finally tell Jungkook, “You know…” He turns a little, not quite in the middle of the room just yet. “You used to be worried about me rejecting you.”

You aren’t sure why you’re saying this at all. Perhaps because he isn’t fearful of distance anymore — or at least, not the one he used to be afraid of. This is different. Back then, he was scared he’d lose a presence in his life that he hadn’t been able to call his own just yet.

Today, he knows exactly what he’d be letting go.

Maybe he isn’t overthinking it as much as you, though.

Because as you look at him, head a little tilted and carrying a big, dreamy mind, you lose yourself in his twinkle a bit. The smirk is crooked and saccharine, the same old as when the two of you met. 

There aren’t that many couples on the dancefloor yet when you reach it, but it seems that you two being one of the few to make the start helps. Inspires others; pre-wedding season is always an interesting event to witness. People are just waiting for an opportunity.

And when his hand reaches the small of your back, body close in front of you, you catch yourself taking in a breath too deep. You’re enthralled when he once again reminds you of the sugary undertone in his voice, so cautious when he says, “You know, I do not think I was ever worried.”

You lift an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”

“Well, worried would be the wrong word. I would rather argue—” He shrugs a shoulder, eyes drifting to the side, to the floor, and then back up to you as he scours his thoughts for a proper term. “You teased me, and I indulged in it.’”

You laugh softly, blinking slowly. Encouraged by the sound of it, he laces his fingers with yours, and you let him. Let him burn your skin through the gloves. Amused, you whisper, “I teased you?”

“You always did, did you not?”

You’re not too certain about this. If he is referring to your little sarcastic taunts, playfully threatening to keep his dance cards empty, he might be right. But you remember more than just this—

“You were the one to make short carriage rides adventurous,” you playfully accuse.

Another chuckle, and you’re nearly sold. As he twirls you a bit, leading you across the shiny floor, you find enough time for yourself to reminisce for a moment. Wherever you went, whenever the world called you to some nearby thing to attend to, his lips would find you.

Innocent or not.

Your clavicles, your neck, the spot behind your ears.

Or — your knuckles, your shoulder, your wrist.

People might have wondered how your love could bud this fast when only weeks had passed back then, but you knew and saw and felt it all. You never questioned any of it.

Jungkook says, “Maybe I should again.”

Hm…

“Maybe you should.”

Weren’t you just as breathless and faint back then, too? You think so. And you think he fared no better, did he?

He’d sigh, too, the moment you arrived at your destination, whispering promises and plans to you through similar symphonies as you are hearing right now. But even with the familiarity of the strings, reality has changed now.

Because as you rock, you don’t hear the cheerful music playing. The strings are dim in your ears and the dancing a reflex. Rather, for you, there is a piano in the background, keys singing the tune of what you were.

The more you talk and the more you listen, the more you see. Behind your eyes, fabricated by your mind, you register all the fleeting pictures of a distant yet vivid yesterday. And some of it still aches, but…

You can’t stop talking, and you can’t stop listening, either.

The nostalgia, paired with the movements dragging your feet across the floor and into his arms, keep catapulting you back to a place you know and one you crave to return to so deeply. But at the same time, you can’t be that young again.

You will always be in love, but you won’t feel the same sickening beginning again. Truths are harsh.

But are they always as thorough as you valued them to be?

Because if you can’t be who you were, why does your heart still hammer like this? If you’re so hurt, why do you still feel transported to another lifetime, like you never really left? As if you’re trudging and wading and crawling through it again to relive it all?

Maybe because you are. Maybe you never truly left indeed.

A voice interrupts your thoughts, the lights coming into focus again. Jungkook’s breath is close to your cheek as he hushes the words, wondering, “What are you thinking about?”

Yes, what are you thinking about?

You’re thinking about a plethora of things; none of which you can arrange into rational, lucid thoughts. Words don’t come easy to you these days, so you rely on what you feel. Rely on your senses.

On how he looks at you. How he touches you. How he speaks to you. And on how he moves.

You swallow again, hoping for your voice to overshadow the violins playing and the piano’s tunes taking form in your head. You tell him, “I am thinking about how gracefully you still dance.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “can that ever change?”

Your left shoulder lifts a little. “We don’t dance as much as we used to. But I suppose not.”

“Or perhaps it can change and I just find it easier with you.”

Your eyes expand a bit, but you don’t know if he sees it.

Easier with you.

With you, of all the people he has known over the decades. A life filled with touches so godless that you can barely wrap your head around still being the only one.

And you try to blend them out so badly. The thoughts of his body swaying as easily with somebody else’s, or hiding in another nook, far from creeping eyes. Feeling another heat on a chilly night.

You are truly trying to focus.

To focus on the heartbeat against your back when he releases you and turns you in his grip. For a moment, he holds you there, against his vest, the buttons cold on your bare arm. Your skin reacts, goosebumps scattered all over, helped by the proximity his lips come into.

They graze your ears, as if he’s doing this to you on purpose; as if he’s attempting to draw out the message your soul delivers. Responding with your name, spelled out by the pumping of his heart. He’s trying to make you receive it.

Every damn second, he has been wanting you to focus on him, and you have been. More so now than ever. On this and this only.

But it’s never easy. It hasn’t been.

You turn back in his arms. Even the piano fades a little now; you barely hear any of it anymore, let him lead you, relying on the pure trust you still put in him. It burns as much as all you see in those eyes of his.

Two tiny flames, red and orange, flickering blue sometimes. Behind them, a dark and sweet and gorgeous void; it still leads to his heart.

You have never seen this much love in anyone’s glance. Except for when he looks at your children, you guess. But this is different. The two of you are always, always different.

Jungkook loves you. Jungkook loves you with all he has and all he ever had and all he’ll be able to give. Jungkook intends to love you to your last exhale, and will love you into the next life; and Jungkook will wait for your soul in order to merge back with it someday, in the great unknown.

No matter who of you leaves this cruel world first — you have never caught him looking at someone like this. Like he will be sitting on his cloud impatiently on the other side, holding onto the fate bestowed upon you.

You know this much. You know the nature of the two of you because you are part of this constellation. So it should hurt less. Eternity should relieve you.

And he understands, too, that you’ll always be here, patient as he watches you come closer step by step, back to him. No matter in which universe and which time; he’ll be there, in an uncertain future and when humanity has changed into something far bigger.

But…

Right now, right where you are…

The same lights, the same light steps. The same love and the same scent announcing the change in season. This place and the memories attached to it; the fragility of your mind and the still fresh wounds to your heart.

They extend in size much too fast, much too ruthlessly.

You unlace your fingers when the sound ebbs down, just in a moment all too fitting to not raise much suspicion. The bodies around you are bowing, chattering, smiling. They don’t notice you.

So you step back by mere inches, parting from him with a frail smile. You offer a slight bow, as well, watching him imitate it with muscles just as feeble. You bring a hand to your face. Touch your cheek first, still feel the heat brushing your skin.

Then, you fan air against it, feigning the warmth that a near-summery event such as this often brings. They won’t know. You breathe out, as if overwhelmed by the heat, and then begin to walk away. But he realises your intentions immediately.

For a second, you see his mouth forming your name. Then, his voice changes, as if you’re the only one who can hear it through the crowd, adding a tiny, “Sweetheart—”

So aware of it all.

But you’re already stepping away because you can’t stop now. Because your feet won’t halt, their heels pressing into the floor as if they’re moving by themselves, carrying you away.

And because the wind outside helps, even if just a tad; even if only until his shoes clack against the floor, their sound all too known to you. He catches up to you right away; not that you expected otherwise. Jeon Jungkook would not stand there and let you go.

Not again.

You hear your name again, wondering about the next syllable to utter. Your mind is obscured, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing, no matter how obviously you just ran away. So you sniffle a bit and then suck in some air, as if to blame the now colder night.

It’s a lie. It’s still pleasant; you aren’t cold despite the still-present gooseflesh. Maybe that’s why you find it so hopeless to contain your silent cries or to wipe away that one stray tear as you respond, “Yes.”

And the moment allows some time again. Time to think back to more that you never experienced, that you’d rather still not be a part of.

Because you still can’t stop comparing. All you ever see is her when he never does. Whenever you think about how much he loves you now and loved you then, you remember that he was in the same halls with her, staring from a far end, hoping for something she could never grant.

That he stood at the same spots in this damned world as the two of you did many years ago — but without them ever further advancing. Because none of them could, not because they wouldn’t. Because they were veiled, forbidden.

You start to pour your heart out the moment you turn to him, at the end of the porch, watching his mouth open to speak. You aren’t prepared and haven’t written a mental speech, so you’ll need to improvise.

Which means, you need to shield yourself as you speak, expecting how pain-struck he looks when you begin, “My mind keeps saying…”

It’s already a miserable start; but Jungkook still urges, “It says what?”

“That,” you clear your throat, so absolutely fazed and dazed when his thumb reaches out, catching the tear only followed by many others, “that it could have been her. That she is still there and—”

You pause to breathe, looking past his shoulder. Nobody else is outside, and you see the crowd through the door. A pair of eyes or two peeks out, but you’re clearly not interesting enough right now. So they diverge their gaze again.

You don’t care about whether somebody sees. You only care about them possibly thinking that he hurt you. That the grand, famous son of the former, beloved duke has done something to break a heart.

You don’t want them to.

So you drop your head, keeping your voice in check as you try to add, “I am afraid that you might start regretting that it was not her.”

Jungkook silences. The lips so close to your ears before are locked now; not because he thinks you’re right or because he’s ever entertained the option of a reality where she replaced your role in his life.

But because he’s told you the truth so many times. Over and over; circling round and round. It won’t carve itself into your mind as it has onto his tongue, words repeated like crazy.

He pauses a little longer; much until you glance up. And despite each of his failed attempts at bringing you back to where you used to be, he refuses defeat and tries again—

“And does this not tell you otherwise? Does it not mean anything? This…”

The thumb wanders from your cheek to your jaw. “That it ended up being you and not her.”

You tilt your head again; it’s different now than from a couple minutes ago. Maybe you truly are being a tease. Giving him hope one second, crying the next. Asking things like, “What does it mean?”

You know. Of course you do. But you’re being selfish for the first time, waiting until he tells you, “That it was supposed to be you. Always, and even now. I can’t tell you how all the days without you pass, but I just…”

A shake of his head, a drop of his hand. His head falls like yours did, and he closes his eyes, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch it a little. You wait. His lips, full and pink, form a circle, breathing out, and then he says,

“I am running out of words.”

Maybe he doesn’t need to add anymore. The former ones still echo. All of them always echo.

The eyes looking at you and the whispers he utters. The stare that wants to bring you the stars. They want to freeze the moment, the wind, the clouds in place — it all echoes his heart.

“Jungkook…”

It’s all your strength allows.

And what else can you say at all?

You can only listen as he pleads again, “Please stay.”

What else can you do? You see him everywhere anyway, hear him all the time. The love never vanishes either way, no matter what the world does to crush you. And you don’t want it to.

You want to remember it.

Even if any of this came to crumble to pieces and left you with merely half of what you’re able to call yours. Even if one day, you were deserted and alone and started forgetting his voice or the way his hands moved or the warmth of his touch, you’ll remember this much.

The intensity of the burning in your stomach as it spreads, a wildfire that consumes. But if you’re smart enough, you’ll listen. You’ll stay. You’ll add to the memories instead of erasing them.

Build a world that’s both old and new to you and leave whatever you survived throughout these months in another universe, one that you didn’t ever live in but solely visited.

You were wrong. His name isn’t all that your strength allows. There’s more left in your wobbly, fragile body. A rising of your chest; a lift of your head, blinking of your eyes; and a step or two, enough to close the distance.

He’s pleading on repeat, the same little request that has accompanied you the past months. Still whispering a little, “Stay,” as he watches you close in, lodged in place because this time, it’s your feet dragging you to him instead of away from him.

You feel it in every fibre when your body collides with his. Head to chest and arms wound around him as if clasping some support to keep you afloat. Your legs, no matter how aflame your heart, are weak somehow; you might falter.

But Jungkook helps you fare better. Keeps you in place when his hand finds the small of your back, slowly, unsurely. Cautious as it drifts up your spine, leaving something in its wake that you missed so fiercely.

You need to stay like this. Just for a while. Perhaps tonight, if you don’t, you might die. With a feeling eating you up, blazing as it could get, and tears rolling down that you’re certain could be acid.

They have been for a bit; everything has been for a bit.

But right now, somehow, somewhat, they’re still as different as you prayed for them to be for so long.

That night, you don’t stay in his humongous mansion that is resplendent in this picturesque town of yours. In truth, Jungkook doesn’t spend much of his nights over there when you visit the place you once knew.

His mother and brother mind less, but to him, the bright walls are tinged with a darkness only he sees, perceptible under the touch of his palms and in the endless, empty hallways.

Instead, you spend an hour of the night staring at the door you grew up gazing at, big and comforting and closed, a portal to your younger years and turbulent moments. Just a minute walk from that door and down the stairs, there is an entrance that Jungkook once stood in front of, begging, stepping over the threshold to touch you just once.

To tell you what you needed to know, without his tongue ever working. And you remember bringing him back here one day then, with a ring on your finger and an arm slung around his. Listening as he told you, looking around, “So cosy.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful. And the scent helps.”

You smiled. You had given the kitchen staff an entire list of Jungkook’s favourite dishes. He is an omnivore; he will eat almost anything presented to him, never too picky. Before you were married, he had enjoyed every bite and every drop given to him.

But he was here as your husband for the first time, and you wanted to pamper him as much as he spoiled you daily.

He looked sweet as he sniffed, nose crinkled, dark, dark eyes so enthusiastic and happy. That moment had long killed all the pain you’d felt burning in your blood a year prior, and you knew he’d keep your veins clean and your heart pumping.

And today… years and years after.

It felt different as he came in. This is still his home, too. Your mother loves him. Your father loves him. Your sister, while empathic, no matter what past she shares with him, adores him as her brother-in-law, too.

And despite all the trails of dryness on your face, where the tears flowed, you love him, too.

His calm breathing behind you offers a source of relief. His warmth is palpable under the blanket, the mattress filled. When you came here with Hana last time, you truly noticed how big your bed was and how you’re not used to the space, how you don’t even want it anymore.

And when Jungkook moves, sighing, evidently turning, you close your eyes. If he notices, he will ask why you’re awake, and if you tell him why, you will cry, and you can’t cry again.

Too late, though.

He knows; but he doesn’t ask.

What he does do is touch your waist just a little. The fingertips send a shiver up your sides. Gentle goosebumps and a fiery pain, well-known but so far away that it catapults you back to what you were.

Your throat is clogged when he, well aware of how awake you are, analyses the pattern of your breathing so easily that you should’ve known you needn’t act. He whispers, “May I…”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. You want to turn around and cuddle into him, so close to holding the side of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

But before your body can react, he does, an arm slinging around you when you put a hand over his. He pulls you close to him, a trembling lower lip sinking to your shoulder, and your inhales break.

Quickly, you close your eyes, thinking of the wind in your hair a couple hours ago. It was balm to your heart, the way his hug was; but the sobs echoing in front of the porch added a couple stones to your heart, forcing it heavier.

All these months, you have suppressed your tears in front of him, but by now, there is no need to hide and to pretend. Jungkook never has. Even now, he doesn’t veil a thing — you know when you realise he’s crying, too, shakily breathing in against your shoulder.

Between the silent weeping, you hear his voice whimper. You’re carried away when he holds you closer, still grovelling, delivering a now-rare touch to your clavicles and your jaw, as if to feel your heart and your presence.

And then, he mutters, “I love you. I am so sorry. I love you so, so much.”

The words are quiet, drowned as he presses his lips deeper into your shoulder, into your neck. His tears fall onto your skin, and you shut your eyes tight, letting out the same liquid, mixed with a longing, quiet moan. You don’t need to tell him that you feel the same.

You know he feels it. Feels it in the way you grip his hand. In how your head turns to his, and his fingers pinch your chin, and in the way you look at him. How you let him kiss your nose. Your lips.

In how you finally do put a warm palm to his neck, grazing the hair in the nape of it, mouth close to his as you shut your eyes before he does.

You remain and cry and hope and love until he falls asleep, and you follow.

You basked in the breeze.

It was scented and gentle, like the back of loving fingers caressing your cheeks. The sky was nearly cloudless; spring was slowly setting in. When you had walked the distance to this very spot, the wind howling in your ears had soothed you somehow.

Softly and sweetly; a desired change, along with the welcoming sun rays kissing your face. Warmth and love, a dress swaying. There was something about this world you breathed in that resembled a girl’s fairytale dreams.

So you didn’t mind the bugs or how ticklish the ankle-high grass made you or how hot it was getting by the hour today.

You wanted to be here. You wanted to be surrounded by the old trees, gazing at the paths between them leading to where you stood, amidst the butterflies and flowers and underneath the azure sky.

You were alone.

Saturdays were busy for the mansion and the village; people wandered about and tended to their businesses. Sometimes, they’d indulge in low-labour days and wander to this place. Some of those who could afford horses, would ride here with their kids, take a walk to breathe in the season and the worldly wonders the edge of your town offers.

But not today; and you were thankful.

You kicked the earth underneath your feet, the low boots not high enough or protective of your skin beneath the dress. You had fled from the mansion and the conversations going on. Jungkook was in the parlour and the children were playing with the nanny.

You guess this was the place to be. So you tucked your hair behind your ear, looking around the empty space, and then took a seat despite the wildness of the field. Plucked the grass.

Jihyo was probably still sitting in front of him, legs not nervously pressed together as she used to do when she visited. She crosses them now, her back a little more bent than usual, comfortable with her son and the man she once knew.

When you left, they were still exchanging pleasantries, but you knew it wasn’t long before they’d get to the business he’d promised her. Both of them pleaded with you to stay. To listen in and make decisions with him.

He held your hand until you retracted it, fingers left in his hold, and then, you pulled back entirely. 

You were terrible at being there. And you were terrible at being away, too. But the wind engulfed you with some solace at least, and this was only half as worse as the stifling air in that one room. Invisible thumbs pressing into your neck.

But this town, this village — they weren’t big. And your staff, and Jungkook, and the people knew you.

So you shouldn’t have been too surprised when she found you here, too. When you heard her voice close and recognised it immediately, swearing that the field was empty just a moment ago.

She was slow, careful. She knew you by now, at least a little; but she still always approached you as if she was waiting for an outburst, well aware that you weren’t going to snap again. But she saw a deep fault in herself, expected to be thrown out at some point.

But you wouldn’t; you never did. If you wanted to, you wouldn’t have found this very hidden spot that she’d located so easily.

Hands folded in front of her body, she smiled when you looked back at her, alarmed by the steps in the grass. You managed a little smile, just as savvy of the fact that she was harmless as she was. You didn’t hate Jihyo; but you were still wounded, insecure.

Squinting into the high sun, eyes hidden behind some of her strands swaying in the wind, she nodded towards you, standing over you before she said, “We are done.”

You reciprocated her nod, telling her, “That’s good.”

“He is giving Minjun a bit of his time, so I left. I have been wanting to find you for so long, but you always disappear.”

Of course she’d noticed. Jihyo, despite her faults and stupid mistakes in the past, wasn’t dumb in any way. She was a woman, like you, deeply tenderhearted and understanding of what swirled through your mind in her presence.

She knew that if she was you, she’d be hurting the same.

Yet, you told her, “I apologise.”

“There is no need.” Small pause, and then, “May I?”

She pointed to the spot next to you, asking to take a seat in the middle of a field that you didn’t own. Not like this; she didn’t need to ask. But you still nodded, shifting a little to the right, even though you didn’t need to.

Putting both hands under her thighs, she tucked the dress under her bottom and sat down, legs folded and fingers immediately grabbing some grass to toy with. She asked, “How are you?”

You puffed out a tiny breath. What were you supposed to answer? The shrug of your shoulder accompanying your seeming pondering was redundant, because you knew the answer very well. What good did it do to put on an act?

You responded, “It might take a while to feel like myself again.”

It was enough as an answer. She nodded once again, one eye still pinched shut as the noon sun stung in it. “It does take a while. Life would hurt less if it didn’t.”

“My mother says hardships build character.”

“Yes?” she wondered, letting out a little chuckle. Her digits wandered from the grass to her dress, picking at a stray thread. “I don’t know. I think it wouldn’t be too bad to evade these hardships. Does the character really need to be built?”

You sighed. “Right? I do not reckon I need to evolve as a person if I can just be happy.”

“Right,” she repeated.

She silenced again for a moment, the quietude broken by the whistle of the breeze. You breathed in, thankful for the oxygen so different from your hometown. You were thankful for a plethora of things around here and this was one of the aspects topping the list so easily.

Jihyo tongued her cheek and you watched for a second. When she noticed you staring, she smiled again, adding, “I appreciate your honesty. You do not need to talk to me at all, but you still do. Thank you.”

“Well,” you began, offering a tender smile, “it kills me to not be honest.”

Which was true, but not quite.

It wasn’t that you had been lying to Jungkook; you were just constantly burying your actual thoughts. What you felt and what you thought and what you needed. You felt odd about the moments you shared with him, and often waited for the right situations to be vulnerable.

It was killing you to not verbalise your mind, but you still powered through.

“I can see it,” she still admitted, “I see it even in your face.”

You were sure she could. Your face often felt contorted. Even if you wanted to, you were certain you couldn’t quite hide the emotions your brain elicited; it would always show in the eyes first. Windows to the soul and whatnot.

Did his eyes reveal the same to her? Did she see any of what she had so many years ago?

When he found out about her morals, when he felt the pang of pain in his chest back then, did he look similar to her? Or did she see a difference now?

Your stomach churned at the thought of this.

Words at the tip of your tongue, you chose to let them tumble, and asked in a voice so fragile, “How was he back then? Jungkook.”

Jihyo thought about it for a minute. Looked at you. Then gazed back down; without meeting your eye now, she said, “…Hurt.”

“Hmm…” you voiced, uncontrolled with your following words, seeking answers. “Then, he must not look different now. You know him like this, do you not?”

Another second to evaluate your question.

Your heart beat in your throat, and you let your head fall, understanding her answer until she spoke, and you realised that you actually didn’t, “I am not sure. For one, I did not know how to heal him. Back then, it was not just me. His emotions had to do with something much bigger than what we had.”

You only stared.

Your eyes begged for her to elaborate, and she did.

“He was hurt, but for another reason. Back then I was the distraction from his problems and he fell back into them once he stepped out of my life. But…” She hesitated, fumbling for words. “But you are the main reason for his heartache.”

Her words hurt deeply and violently. They had long been sitting in a space so concealed, but they floated to the surface now. As she voiced them, there was no way to deny them anymore; even if you weren’t at fault, and even if you understood your pain, validated it every day…

It was no lie that he was hurt because of you, too.

“Yes…” you confessed, your voice tiny and pained.

Maybe Jihyo understood what she had just uttered and how you’d taken it, because she shook her head in the next moment. Clarified, “Do not misunderstand, I don’t mean this in a bad way. Just that—”

She was struggling; was attempting to not be the source of your ache again. She inhaled deeply, and then tried again, “There is a big difference between me and you and his pain between us. With you, it’s so much more profound. If he can hurt because of you, and only hurt because he had lost a distraction all those years ago… doesn’t it reveal his true feelings?”

You didn’t answer. You needed to digest her words; eyes drifted to the ground, and you repeated them in your mind. She leaned into you, touched your elbow ever-so-gently. “Does it not?”

You tucked your hair loosely behind your ears. Partly, because it kept covering your eyes; partly, because you felt shy all of a sudden. Not the way you used to. Rather in a familiar in-love-way, yearning for somebody who was waiting for you just the same.

Somebody adored you for who you were, thankful for every damn breath you drew. There were moments of realisations like this; when you rethought your life and once again understood who it truly was who fell for you.

You were lucky, you thought, to be the one to be worthy enough to be loved by him.

“You’re right,” you soon agreed, “of course… of course you are.”

Jihyo didn’t answer right away. Your conversation was shaped by certain awkwardness, but it was drenched in support, too. You didn’t think you’d find yourself here, but realistically, you also knew that Jihyo wasn’t quite a bad person.

She had hurt, hadn’t she? Every woman deserves a love she can be proud of; Jihyo had never experienced it until now. Not when she hid with Jungkook in vacant rooms. Never meaning to hurt anybody when she broke into your life.

You wished you could despise her for her flaws, but you couldn’t.

Not when she looked at you like this. Those gorgeous, dark eyes so sweet, eyebrows knitted together just a little. Arched, pretty lips in a small smile, but the distress so obvious underneath her expression.

She said, “I don’t want to come in between you. I never wanted to, it’s just that…” She gulped. You already knew what she’d say and you nodded, but she explained anyway, “I need to ensure his safety. I wish there was another way.”

Perhaps there was. But no easy one. And maybe she was right anyway. If not the father, who else?

“I wish there was,” she repeated, “but as soon as I have figured it all out… I will be gone.”

The shake of your head came quicker than you would’ve assumed or expected. You surprised yourself when you defended, “But Jungkook deserves a relationship with him, too. I don’t want to take it away.” You gazed down again. “He wasn’t part of his life until now, but… can you or me or he really abandon that? Minjun is still his… his blood.”

You choked out the last words, suppressing the urge to hold onto your chest, to grip your heart and protect it, so it didn’t bleed through your digits. What could you do, really? You could’ve agreed, told her to pack her things once things were resolved.

You wished you were selfish like this; you knew Jungkook would’ve been for you if you just told him. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair towards anyone.

“Then…”

Jihyo’s gaze was intense, trying to communicate verbally. Maybe she knew it was hard to find the right words at the right times; she wasn’t bad at it, but it didn’t come to her naturally either, like the way it did for Jungkook so often. And he had said many times that it did for you, too.

“Then you might need to find a way to cope,” she threw out, “or to… to not hurt anymore. I’m wrong, I don’t want you to cope. I want us to stop hurting. Because I respect you.”

She let out another breath. Her hand moved in place, and you knew she was trying to reach out, holding back until you did it for her. Put a palm on her fingers. She continued, “And I do not want to lie… I am fond of you.”

Maybe because she understood. Or because, at heart, she knew you were good. Worth respecting. You wanted to hurt others just as little as she did.

You nodded, responding, “Thank you. I— I am fond of you, too, just not… of—”

“Of the situation itself. I know.” You agreed with another nodding gesture, nibbling at your lower lip for a second. Jihyo sighed. “Realistically… without lying to yourself. Do you want to leave?”

Did you? Of course not. If you’d wanted to, you would’ve. But you were too weak to fall out of love with him. Or maybe, in truth, this was one of your strengths.

Compassion. Care. Forgiveness. 

You never thought it took much to love him. But it always takes a lot to compromise, to fight through issues and circle back to love. Were you strong enough to do this?

Maybe. Probably.

Because it was him. Come on…

It was him.

“No,” you then said.

“You love him,” she stated. Not a question. A solid observation; anyone would see.

“I do.”

“…Would you regret staying more or leaving?”

Asking the right questions. Then again, the answer didn’t take much thinking. Your instinct knew, and your heart knew, and every overthinking thought, once cleared, would give way to one and only answer.

So you acknowledged, “I do not know how to leave him.”

And that was it.

Jihyo didn’t say more than that. She leaned back, one single nod, palms against the sharp grass; she didn’t seem to bother.

She stretched her chin towards the sun, indulging in the start of the spring. You saw a ladybug crawling up her clothed leg, but she didn’t pay it any mind. In fact, she didn’t utter anything at all anymore. Because she didn’t need to.

You knew, and she knew.

Because whatever she could’ve said, you already saw. Her silence divulged it.

Quietly, wordlessly made clear to you—

“Then you know where this will eventually go.”

The corners of your eyes are dry, somehow crusty when your lids flutter open the next morning. You guess that’s where the liquid traced down your face and left your skin to desiccate.

Your left side feels airy and empty, and when you turn, you see it devoid of a presence indeed. But there’s a soft, close rustling and whispering that you soon detect to be the man that priorly deserted the bed.

He’s standing close to your childhood room’s door, throwing a thin, baby blue coat over his shoulders. It’s reminiscent of the royalty he is.

His eyes meet yours in time as you blink at him, sad yet dreamy. The desire to act upon the emotions that the dream — no, the memory — called forth is vigorous. Like an invisible force, urged by the girl you expected it from the least.

She was right, you knew where it’d go. Perhaps you just needed more time; to heal, to come to terms with all the change around and inside you.

And you want to leave it behind and want to pull him back to you; but as his eyes flicker with an already established plan, you hold back, listen as he verbalises it, “Get dressed, my love. We shall go out today.”

“Out? Where?”

“Let me lead you. I wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.” And then he turns away. Adds, “I will wait downstairs. I will give you some time to get ready.”

He nods once towards the general direction of the house’s exit, hand already on the handle of the door. You start, “You can stay if you—”

But he sighs, not in annoyance but amusement. His mouth curves into a smile before he chuckles a bit, pushing down the handle. You silence, but he doesn’t leave before infiltrating each of your thoughts when he says, “I know you are fine with this, but—”

Just one more time, he turns to you, “But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.”

He doesn’t need to specify what it is, because you remember, too. The excitement seconds away from the door, when you’d rush to open and put your gloved hand into his. He’d bow and kiss your knuckles and offer his arm.

And you’d stare. You’d keep staring. Would marvel at the sun reflecting in his eyes or the raindrops trailing down his temple or the snowflakes melting in his hair.

You’d admire and fall, freeze and burn. Would wait for a single moment in a vacant corner, anticipate his lips closing in, holding the hand lifting to your cheeks.

The clot in your throat is thick as Jungkook leaves and shuts the door gently. And you, as lovesick as you have always been, let your legs dangle, for a minute tops before you hurry to find all you need.

Your maid helps you a little, tightening the corset and assuring you that Hana is still asleep. That your sister was planning on buying her toys today anyway, a certainly long trip. Maybe it was Jungkook who had schemed all this beforehand — it seems to work quite well.

Hana is never one to complain when it comes to her aunt or her uncle or her cousin.

You don’t notice how much time passes until you’re finished, a lock dangling on each side of your face and a summer hat sitting on top of the carefully mended hair. You only question what Jungkook did in your absence once you near the staircase.

Converse with your father? Flatter your mother? Soak in some of the sun, just outside on the porch, greeting passersby who must surely still remember him?

But it’s none of these things, really, and you should have known. Should have reminded yourself of the sincerity in his voice and the words he uttered as you awoke.

Because he’s nowhere near any of your family members; instead, he’s right there in the middle of the welcoming hall. Stands there like a lost but gorgeous, sweet puppy. Fondles with his fingers, a strand in his forehead.

His mane is as dark as his eyes when they find you at the top of the staircase, but they’re shinier, with a degree of affection you’ve known for years. So there’s something ancient in his gaze.

Something you knew back when life truly started. When he���d wait, just like this, and you’d walk down the stairs, as if descending to join him at the altar. Come to think of it, you think you remember similar sentiments in his pupils when you married him, too.

No, you don’t think so; you know. Hell might freeze over — you wouldn’t forget the way he looked at you, so vulnerable and in disbelief. Somewhat glad and relieved that you were there, putting his trust and his heart in your palms, yet expecting the worst.

You know that you taught him — to understand his worth and to see what he is to you.

And you see the same feelings now.

He knows you, knows you better than anyone. But he’s falling in love again. Seeing you again. Trying to mend what’s broken and finding an anchor in you, seeing the beauty one usually recognises in forests and waterfalls and colours.

You breathe in. Then out.

Keep watching as he watches.

His mouth is slightly apart, a bittersweet pain in his eyebrows, and once you reach him where he waits, you see him gulp. He dares not to blink as you take his hand, cherishes each moment and all he’s allowed to see of you.

Jungkook doesn’t need to say any of it. He has before. And even when he didn’t, you knew. He might have studied you over the years, but you know him better than anyone, too.

Strange, how your brain convinced you otherwise and planted doubts when you’ve never not been aware of the loyalty he always pledged to you.

But he’s so unwaveringly beautiful as you take him in. There is no moment in existence when he isn’t, but… those eyes. And the bridge of his nose, ending in that little button. The arch and curve of his lips and the moles you have kissed so often.

You’re breathless and taken when he smiles like this, madly insane when he says, “Not that I ever forgot, but,” he exhales, “I am incredibly lucky.”

Timid, you lower your head for a brief moment, fingers curling around his as you swallow the knot and tell him—

“Funny… I was going to say the same thing.”

You know the building. Know it like the back of your hand, even now.

“You brought me to…”

You look around, slightly blinded by the sun as you squeeze one eye shut. Some of the bricks look the same, some have been replaced. You didn’t realise how much you missed it here until now; not until the door of the carriage closes and it sinks in that he actually brought you here.

“The orphanage,” you breathe.

“You talk about them so much,” Jungkook says. Good — perhaps you did miss them and knew. But years passed. A new life started. Still… “We never got around to visiting this place. But I wanted to bring you this time.”

Your head turns to look at him. “Have you ever since you first asked to come to town?”

“Well… no,” he admits, “rather, I have wanted to for months. Before anything happened.”

You don’t know what to reply. There’s a little version of you in the back of your head, jumping in joy and tearing up at the same time. Another reminder of a million that Jungkook has always been attentive with you.

Maybe that’s why you fell just a bit deeper every day while other loves faded and wavered. Because Jeon Jungkook fucking cares. If not for anyone, then about you. You might die with this certainty embedded in your mind.

“Shall we go in?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, nervous and curious and so, so fond.

Once you’ve put your name in the visitors’ archive, the passage to the main hall is more or less empty, with a couple new faces passing you by. But once you reach the lovely place you’d frequent, watching spontaneous or carefully crafted performances on a small stage, names start coming to you.

It takes a second for them to perceive you. The orphanage can be a crowded place and random guests, especially unannounced, are not a given. You knew that back then, too. There are kind souls in this town, but the children are still not used to visitors.

They were used to you before you left.

And you see the month and year-long fondness they had set up for you once they do finally detect you. Some of them are new once again, but several you recognise. Just like you, they freeze momentarily, robbed of air.

For a second, they stare at you as if met with a forgotten ghost. As if they’re trying to place you into a fitting category in their lives, figuring out when you were part of it until they finally get it.

A boy and a girl, fraternal twins, are the first to abandon their game of nine men’s morris and get to their feet. You wave with a quiet, “Hello,” and they lift their hands and open their mouths, wordlessly telling you that, “I can’t believe this!”

The boy, Chul, would always hug you back when you came here. He was still so young then and now he’s grown by one or two heads. It’s easy to tell who they all are despite the time that passed; the moles and movements and smiles are still the same.

Though they have grown into such dashing gems.

Behind the twins, you see more children rushing, but he’s the first to speak your name, taking off his ivy cap, “You… it’s been so long. So long, welcome—”

“It has been,” you tell him as you allow him to take your hand. He must be around sixteen now. “Way too long as I can see. When did you start sounding like this?”

He laughs, looking around to the other kids and tells you, “You missed quite a lot. I even choose my clothes myself now.”

His sister chimes in, “Yet he’s not mature enough to see how awful they look at times.”

It is a joke, but you can’t help but feel a little sad. Even all those years ago, these two would bicker, playfully insulting each other’s intellect and appearance as siblings knowingly do. But even today, you know that the mere reason for unfitting clothes is the lack of resources at times.

The orphanage tries its best, but it can’t defy worse times. Chul is tall but on the leaner side, and the shirt is slightly too big. One day, you hope they can find a life outside from here, shape something they have dreamed of.

“You will grow into it,” you tell him, Jungkook quiet next to you, and pat the boy’s bicep, “you already look so much stronger.”

Chul blushes, carding his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. “I do try my best.”

Your eyes fall to the back, to a girl with lifted eyebrows and an absolutely delighted expression. Easily recognisable, too. She used to have flaming red hair; somehow, it has darkened with time, only by a shade. 

But her eyes are still a rare green, as unique as all of her. Lily was one of the few children who travelled from afar, in her mother’s arms that she never got to meet, like most of the kids here.

You still don’t quite know which country she originally came from, and it took her a while to accept that she’d never meet who brought her here. Almost everybody struggled with this at some point, but it took Lily longer to come to terms with it.

She was always loved, though. You recall her being mature beyond her years, and even now, she seems so put together. She must be close to adulthood by now.

And she was also one of the girls speaking to you when you brought Jungkook here for the first time. Bittersweet and nostalgic; she embodies much more for you than just the sweet girl you used to know.

She reminds you of Hana a bit, though they have nothing in common. Perhaps it’s because you hope Hana will be just as amazing one day; heighten all the wonderful qualities she already possesses.

Lily steps forward, along with the others; you soon see that a bunch is missing. A lot of those you played with and talked to — but as the conversation continues, you soon learn that they left the orphanage when they were old enough.

Saved up from the work they did as they grew old enough and then travelled the country and cities to find a college, studied what they desired, established a life. Those you knew as older children back then are now probably somewhere, hopefully happy, finding joy in something new.

You feel inexplicably proud.

The rest is still here — hoping to follow in their footsteps. Different from you who disappeared so long ago. You said your goodbyes back then, but you were sure you’d return.

Life moved so fast.

The kids, soon finding themselves in a circle on the clean floor, facing you, ask where you went and how you were doing. What life was like away from here.

They’re sweet, these people. Didn’t mind folding their legs on the spot, but insisted on offering a blanket for you to sit on. Jungkook is close to you, just a few inches behind you, allowing you space and privacy with those you cherished.

But as enthusiasm in all voices grows, he speaks up as well, curious as he asks, “Do you all remember me, too, by the way?”

Some nod enthusiastically; others stare at each other, still young and even younger then. Jungkook picks them from the circle, cocking an eyebrow in faux-offense as he curses, “Well, damn. I shall remember this.”

But the twin sister, Eunji, shakes her head, reprimanding, “How do you all not remember? He was the prince!”

Enlightenment spreads over the others’ visages. Of course it’d take them a little. They have probably heard of the Jeon Jungkook, one of the main royals the town offers, but since he left with you years ago, they wouldn’t know his face anymore, would they?

They were so little when they met him first.

“I mean, I am not really a prince, but—” Jungkook starts, but one of the older ones interrupts—

“Well, you looked like one.”

Then, one of the youngsters that forgot, “You still do.”

Jungkook chuckles. You look over your shoulder, catch the crinkles around his eyes and the bunny grin; the way he lifts his shoulders some whenever he laughs. He looks much younger like this.

Like before. Like then.

“Wow,” his candied voice utters, “thank you so much.”

“Were you already married back then?” Eunji asks.

You shake your head. “No, not for a while still. I invited you, did you forget?”

“Ooooh. I keep mixing up memories. But dang,” she teases, leaning forward, “so you fell in love when you brought him here, huh?”

You smile; see Jungkook blush. These are still hormonal, young adults. They’re probably roaming around, falling in love, too. No wonder they dig such topics so much. They didn’t care all those years ago.

But you’re delighted when you tell them parts of your and Jungkook’s story, conveniently leaving out pieces that concern nobody but the two of you. You must admit even: being here helps you forget some of it.

And as time passes, you reckon this was partly Jungkook’s intention, too.

Another girl, Hayun, hitherto quiet and listening, wonders at some point, “So why are you here?”

“I wanted to visit you,” you tell them.

The answer is easy and clear as day, though you weren’t the one to manifest the idea into actions. You don’t tell them that it is Jungkook doing this for you; that you would’ve come back for them, but perhaps not now, not with how life went for weeks.

But you don’t regret a moment. You’re thankful. If you could, you’d take his hand, squeeze it, silent gratitude, so he knows how you feel about all of this. And you’re determined to keep their smiles on, to return when you can when they ask,

“Are you going to stay?”

“Not for long… I will need to go home in a day or two…”

You could feel guilty. But you don’t; you’re not leaving for so long ever again. You adored all of them from the bottom of your heart. You won’t let all of what you came to feel be for nothing.

“But… if you’d like,” you begin and some of them straighten their posture, “I can stay here for a bit today. I will come back another time, too. Is that… alright?”

Their reaction is immediate. How did you never assume how much you mean to them, too? Of course you do. You were a frequent face and they learned to love it, to appreciate you deeply. Considering some of the lonely days they lived through, they’d never forget you.

Your waterline dampens, for the millionth time this week, and you blink it away. You won’t cry, not here, not now. They’re a source of joy, so you’ll show them this exact emotion, too.

“Of course!” they chime. “As long as you’d like. We’ll be here.”

But it’s hard, containing it all in your eyes. They must be seeing your glassy look, because theirs turns empathetic, smiles everywhere you look. Filling the seconds of noon, and then afternoon, with stories.

You’re baffled about how much has changed. Years ago, they’d tell you about their day and ask you for permission to braid your hair and draw with you.

Now, they reveal their first loves and tease you and ask about your children. And still, some of the moments are so familiar.

Because you remember that Jungkook sat next to you back then like this, too, and that he was silent, staring and caring and falling in love just like he is now. Seeing you for who you are and creeping deeper into your heart.

Things have changed and relationships have changed, but then again, they haven’t.

The young people the two of you were, flirting and rolling your eyes, pushing the other and then pulling them in. Swiftly into his arms, into his mind. You’re more mature now, but still in love, still one molten soul.

And you still see the same damn devotion when you recite a poem the children remember pieces of. You’re glad you still recall most of it, because they struggle with finding the words, reminiscing about how they loved it but not what it consisted of.

A belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee move, come live with me, and be my love.

When you catch him looking, he doesn’t avert his eyes. They stay on you, aching and yearning, soft but so expressive.

There’s unspoken comfort floating between you, a sense of pleasure and beauty that truly moves you to your core, like ivy buds and amber studs, and you feel it perfectly.

Your heart — much closer to his chest than your own.

His hand is balmy in yours as it escorts you out.

The children’s day isn’t infinite. They soon find themselves busy with chores, apologising every now and then, and as the evening breaks in, you decide to leave them to their meals and tasks.

You have barely left, stepping into the carriage when you whisper, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your fingers, much as you wished to do before, and asks, “What for, love? This was long overdue.”

But you shrug, tell him, “Not just for this. But also for reminding me who I used to be.”

“You’re still who you were.” He nods a bit, a corner of his lips slightly jerking upwards. “If I saw anything today, then that you’re still you.”

“This is…” You furrow your eyebrows, not because you’re irritated but because you’re so deeply affected. Still sore from the knots in your throat, still wounded by the longing. “This is comforting… hearing it from you.”

He lets your hand go, fingers sneaking up to your face instead, cradling it. It’s not the first time, but the repetitiveness doesn’t stop him from vowing to you that, “Whatever you might assume… I will always feel the same about you.”

This isn’t what you are scared of; Jungkook has proven over and over again that he loves you more than humanly possible. It’s rather that—

“And I will never feel the same for anyone else.”

This. It’s this.

Your chin trembles and you start to give in, succumbing to the touch and the eyes and the memories. Your voice is shaky when you start, “I love you, Jungkook… I do. If there was—”

The shake of his head quietens you. “We’re not done yet.”

“What?”

“We’re not done,” he repeats, pinching your chin tenderly, “tell me all you need to once the night is over. I… I need you to be certain.”

You blink. “Certain about what?”

“About… all you need to be certain about. You’d know what that is.” Digits come back to yours, holding them again as the carriage starts with an unsteady jolt. “Only you.”

Yes… maybe nothing has changed as much as you thought.

“Back then you gave me time to think, too… Never rushed,” you say.

“I always will.”

“…Even though we live a human life that is so limited.”

“I will keep waiting.”

“I will be certain before the night is over, then,” you promise, breathe out the pain, “like I was then.”

He brings your knuckles up to his velvety lips, silky like your scarf as he presses a feathery peck onto them. They graze his cheeks and then his jaw, and you barely notice when your body drifts towards his when he speaks.

“Like you were then.”

As far as you recognise, you aren’t too far from your home.

Jungkook walked through a park and along a river with you, admiring the content fish and swans in its depths and at its shore. You didn’t come here a lot when you were younger; mostly with your parents, so there are memories attached to this place that aren’t quite his and yours.

Or at least, until now.

You assume Jungkook is giving the two of you the time you need, bringing back pieces of what was. But you don’t fully understand what it is and what he’s doing until you reach a bench and a spot you are very well acquainted with.

Jungkook’s and your name is clearly written in the sky above where you stand, like you own this place. Like it’ll be you who’ll be remembered by those passing by once both of you have left this realm.

The resemblance to the night you first spoke to Jungkook, many, many years ago when you were just kids, too, is striking. It’s when your initial enmity started; when you learned to abhor somebody you’d eventually learn to treasure.

And this… this is exactly where he first asked you about the odd deal. To be courted. When you stared at him in disbelief and dismissed him with a hundred accusations.

Why did he bring you here?

And why do you feel this way, as if things could truly be okay again? How does it all fit?

So you ask, “Why here?”

“Because… I don’t care which insufferable things we felt for each other,” he explains, “we started here.”

But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.

This is it, isn’t it? Jungkook didn’t just plan a random outing due to the pleasant day, the warm sun, the gentle breeze slowly introducing thunder and grey clouds. If he had, you’d have spent the day on a hill the two of you love, or strolled amongst a crowd.

No, Jungkook is retracing your steps. The ones you took several years ago, when you hadn’t each exchanged half of your hearts just yet. He wants to bring you back to a place of hopelessness and hostility, prove to you that sometimes, you can save a withering flower.

Or make something new bloom instead.

“We changed so much over time, no? I can barely remember what I used to feel that day,” he says; he’s right. You cannot even conjure fragments of the revulsion between you; it dispersed so quickly. “I can’t even believe any of the hatred ever existed at all.”

“As if we were someone else.”

“It seems like it, does it not? And then… now…”

Yes…

A shared mansion and shared offspring. A beautiful face choosing toys with her aunt and twins familiarising themselves with the grandparents they met too seldomly.

From there to here, from black to white. Then, to a hue of grey.

“As we started our life together…” Jungkook starts, his face more like ash now; the space between the clouds is narrowing. “Did you ever doubt the change? Remember how we were the years before.”

You would never dream of such a question or a thought. Would never form a doubt such as this in your mind. Even then, you were nearly blindly trusting, hopeful in people. You knew they were capable of change, because you weren’t the same anymore either.

“No,” you tell him, “I never thought you were a bad person at your core, but… it needed time for me to realise, too. And when we became what we are today, I knew who you really were. So no, I never did.”

You wait, watch him nod. He seems relieved but also nervous, distracted. Tells you, “I did a little. Doubt myself. I was scared that I wasn’t truly that kind person you saw me as. That I was still the same man plaguing you.”

“You never plagued me,” you promise, stepping near, an automatic hand finding his cheek. “You gave your all.”

“Do you remember,” he begins, halting when a quiet thunder sounds, “do you remember how scared I always was to mess up? Before Hana and anything.”

The books he’d read. The memories he’d carry. The conversations you’d have. Frightened to repeat or forward what he’d grown up with.

“I do,” you say.

“And you’d always remind me that I was easy to love… that effort is always worth it.”

“It is. It was for you, too. Our kids love you.”

The rain collects silvery in his waterline, at the same time as it does above in the sky. He’s harbouring something in this fragile heart of his — a dozen questions and a hundred scenarios. You know he’s hoping for a specific one, hoping for the right responses to all his inquiries.

So there is no surprise in the words he utters next, nor in the shaky fear in his voice, “And you?”

You're quick to answer.

“I will never unlove you.”

“D-do you also remember… how I’d always tell you how afraid I was you’d run away? Before I married you. How much I feared that I’d wake up and not find you anymore?”

“But you found me. I would never hide—”

“But I’m still scared. You reminded me that everybody’s worth loving, despite their mistakes and burdens, and despite all I let out on you or anyone else… you found a way to forgive me and love me. And I’m still scared because—”

His palms shoot up, too, holding your face much as you are holding his. He presses them in, pulls you closer, and you gasp soundlessly. Then, “Because none of this was or is ever a given.”

“I know, too, Jungkook,” you counter, “I never took you for granted. And you know it, you were never bad. Just…”

“Mistreated. You’ve told me, just… I chose to handle it all… way worse than mistreatment justifies. You never did so, no matter what or who hurt you because you’re the sound one, you know?”

“Jungkook, my coping does not have to align with yours, we’re different—”

“Yet, baby, I learned to be a proper human being because of you.”

“This is too big of a responsibility, Kook… it was never just me.”

“No…” he says, gulping, shutting his eyes for a second when another thunder rolls. Fitting spring evening for a blossoming yet blue couple. “I don’t want to attach my sanity to how you react to the things I do. I did this once and…”

He shakes his head, moving your hands with them. Your thumb brushes over his cheekbone and then sideways to his hair. He continues, “I don’t want my ability to make wise choices to be dependent on who you are to me, but…  I will never deny what your existence did for me.”

You nod, as if to pacify him; you do it with your children sometimes, make them feel heard and seen. It works with every human being. Jungkook is no different. He seeks your approval and seeks your love.

He sniffles. “Perhaps it wasn’t you making me decent but— it was you leading me back to myself.”

The sun is starting to set. You don’t know when time disappeared and rushed, but it’s almost invisible behind the pale sky. And now, the first drops fall, too. Starting slow but exploding quickly.

It’s a harsh reminder that, as a human being, you cannot repeat moments from the past. Even when you trace them back, they won’t come again; you won’t feel the exact same giddiness again.

But you can create new ones, more dizzy days.

Ones that resemble the night you stepped out of the orphanage, or any other hazy and dark evening that you spent wading through the shower instead of evading it. Or the moment you saw the duke’s son properly for the first time, sobbing on a lonely bench.

Whatever ghastly and foggy disappointment grew in your chest that very night a lifetime ago has long been replaced by guilt — guilt about not understanding better as a kid, not being able to elude the disgust that would follow your entire youth.

But most of all, sadness about how hurt he truly was and would continue to be; how you see something similar now, even though the situations differ drastically. Most of the issues from then have been resolved, and now he’s caught in something else.

Then again, losing somebody and dreading loss both induce fear, don’t they?

And it’s you who helped him last time; how deeply does the pain really run when his anchor is drowning, too?

You look around the world for a moment, lost in dreams and in your head. Jungkook calls your name, a distant sound as the rain patters onto your skin. It takes you a second to recall that you’re supposed to answer, and when you look at him, his voice is so terribly delicate—

“Do you remember?”

“…I do. All of it.”

“We’re living a new life now, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” you say, your hands falling a bit, grazing his neck to keep his attention and sanity just enough. “But a new life means rebirth. That does not have to be a bad thing.”

“It doesn’t,” Jungkook agrees. His hair is already soaked — when he shakes his head even a bit, the tips throw the drops into all directions. “But some things stay the same.” He stares up for a second, blinking faster as the sprinkle falls into his eyes. “The rain still connects us to the sky.”

He laughs when you do, suddenly and sweetly, breaking out of you. It has been a while. You keep your smile intact, but the chuckle stirs another emotion in you that you’ve kept at bay for the minutes you’ve stood here.

Glassy eyes find his, silence befalling the world for a moment barring the gentle storm. Then—

A sob.

It travels up straight from your throat, no way of stopping it, no matter how hard you try. Your voice stutters, eyebrows coming together, and his expression changes. Culpable, unforgiving towards himself.

His head sinks a bit, and you guess it doesn’t help when you admit, “Jungkook… I am so hurt.”

“I know,” he whispers; you’re surprised you hear him at all. “I am, too.”

“I’m so… why are my thoughts everywhere, Kook?”

Your desperation implodes and explodes, evident in every tone and tear. You hold onto the collars of his blue coat, tug yourself closer to him. You’re aching, but you need him nearer. Maybe you’ll spiral if he isn’t.

“It hurts so goddamn much to think about it, well knowing who I am to you, and… and I hate losing this part of my sanity,” you tell him.

“Do you…” he starts, swallowing. The state of his eyes resembles yours now; the salty grief is similar as it glides down his already wet face. “What do you need me to do to be happy? Do you need me go— gone?”

He barely gets the word out. Hesitates. So terrified of hearing your answer, unsure whether to take it back, as if it could make you forget he suggested it at all.

But you know Jungkook. He’d rather cut pieces of his heart and never mend them again if it meant bringing you peace and comfort.

The truth, though, is…

“How could I?” you mutter to the ground, not daring to move, like it could make reality dematerialise and throw you into one without him. “No matter the pain, I think that— that losing you would hurt more.”

His breathing accelerates. Some of the life he always breathes into you sparks anew, and he grasps your hand, lets you know that, “You’re not losing me. I’m right here.”

“What if this all, or I, ruin your life?”

“…How?”

“By being like this all the time, Kook—”

“What?” You shut up at the tone. He has told you before — he detests you accusing yourself of something when he messed up… always his words. “Do you know what’d happen if you left?”

You do. You don’t.

You have an idea of what happened when you were away, but he never told you all of it. If you disappeared for good, you’d possibly be met with a world with a Jungkook in it that you don’t even want to imagine.

“I don’t care if you ruin my life,” he emphasises, “I want you to. I want to sit at the fireplace with you and laugh and cry and fight with you. I want to see the kids grow, together with you. I want this. Okay… Okay?”

“I—”

“And I want you to keep remembering it all. How we started, how we grew, too. How I thought I’d die without you the moment I saw you walking towards me at the altar.” He brings your hands to his face as he always does, brushing your knuckles against his lips. “I… I can’t have this with anyone else.”

He moves your fingers to his eyes, and a moment later, you feel further wetness, the tears against your skin. He shakes his head, lets all he concealed for weeks flood out at once. You knew he was hurting, but he barely ever showed it as openly as he is now.

Just like you are. You remember — that he held back for you, died a bit every day.

“And I don’t want to,” you hear him whisper. And then, again. “I really don’t fucking want to.”

You’re speechless; if only for a second.

“This is… what you’ve grown to feel?”

“I always have,” he tells you through his trembling voice, a pitch higher now as he capitulates, “she was just— a fleeting memory of just one moment. And you are every second of my day.”

He has been occupied all these years — in every single nanomoment of every damn day and night, you were the main thought taking over his brain. Whatever he’s done, whatever’s he’s ever said, he’s done and said so for you.

Jungkook favours you over every existence in this universe, and you should have always known. No, you did. You were never an overthinker until the world turned upside down, until it forced dubious hesitation into you that you should’ve deemed irrelevant from the start.

Jihyo isn’t part of him anymore. He didn’t see you when she was. He didn’t see her now that you are. Does that very past matter more than this, though? This warm touch and the promises in it and the love in his eyes and the sadness in his lower lip.

“You don’t know who you are to me,” Jungkook says, not waiting for your query before he tells you, “you don’t know who you are at all, do you? Do you never see all the kindness and generosity? How selfless you are and how much you care?”

“Don’t you? See it in yourself, Jungkook?”

“This is what I mean. You’re so fucking forgiving, too, no? I—” Pause. Then, quieter, “Please forgive me…” He’s begging now, full on crying, closing in until his lips float over yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Jungkook has kissed you a million times. But when he does this time, he adds emotions you don’t think you’ve ever felt his lips press against yours.

And you feel it all when he leans in, parted mouth colliding with yours. He’s been so afraid to kiss you; but not now. Not when every single one of your glances pleads for him to. Not when you’re not ready to break the rhythm, not now, not ever.

Everything is already blurry around you, but it seems to vanish now. You still register the glossy streets, the silver, misty air, but all of it seems unreal. And then, you finally close your eyes, give in.

None of this feels rushed, but it feels urgent. Slow and tentative, but also desperate and thirsty. The rain combines with your tears and slips down your faces, threaded through your hair and soaking your clothes.

But you don’t care. You don’t move. You need warmth. Need shelter. This achingly gentle, still and suspended moment where everything ceases to exist.

Only skin and rain and tongues and lips. Only him and how he holds you, pulls you in, uncaring of who might see or what they might say. This waited to happen. You know it did.

It takes minutes until you gasp for air, remembering to breathe, fingers in his hair and forehead against his as you realise that you will never be able to unshackle yourself from him. You’re here to stay, following his steps, entangled with him until you cease to exist, too.

You’ll keep running back until he catches you. And you’ll catch him when he hurries to you.

And as he exhales into the air, face half lit as the moon rises, you clutch his body to yours, his ruined clothes for dear life, cheeks searing as you tell him—

“I do, too. I love you, too.”

For a moment and for an eternity.

Seasons changed again.

The twins talk now.

And ever since they learned to finally babble, it’s all they’ve been doing. Hana loves the fact, but acts as if she doesn’t. She’s an undoubtedly mature child. Knows too much for her age, still forgiving — but her ego also still remains intact, especially when it comes to her brothers.

The care she grants them rattles your heart. Protective and loving and so giving. But the fights continue; your twins are as gentle as their parents, but they do not shut up when they feel like they don’t need to.

They confront you or their sister when needed. Probably got this from you, too.

So nobody is really surprised when Hana feels as thoroughly irritated as she does most days growing up with them, a whiny voice exclaiming, “I don’t want your carrots! Eat them yourself!”

The brothers have been dumping their vegetables onto her plate for the past seven minutes; half of their meal makes a mess on the floor. You usually don’t let them eat on your precious carpet, but the kids have been particularly sweet these days.

Absolutely and unwaveringly mannered at yesterday’s gathering especially. You were celebrating Hana’s eighth birthday; maybe they were too distracted by the pastries and the cake to fight, too.

But you’re too weak, too easy to convince. As strict as needed at times, but not entirely immune to their irresistible charm. And Jungkook… he’s a hopeless cause anyway when it comes to them.

“Stop this!” Hana yells, returning the already mashed baby carrots. She emphasises each word with each piece she throws back onto their plates. “Eat. Your. Veggies!”

“I dun want to,” Jaehyuk responds, and Jaehoon, following, imitates. It fully provokes her. “You like them.”

“I am done, Jae. Let me rest.”

You can’t hold back the sudden laugh, not even when she fights back with a sigh, leaning back. Acts as if she took care of the dozen chores in the mansion when she’s merely exhausted from the party. To be a child again.

“I need my quiet time,” she told you, and you furrowed your eyebrows in delight before you granted the princess what she wished for.

The sun is setting outside, though having been hidden for most of the day. It’s colder now, but dusk is still pretty. You’re thankful for this; thankful for it all. Because this time of the day equals Jungkook close to you.

Done with work. Hip to hip on the same carpet against the couch that you once kept your distance on from him.

But you long stopped thinking of this. Whenever you find yourself here, basking in the presence of your little family, you think of the precious moments before anything happened. In hindsight, however, not much changed in the extent of affection after all.

Because you learned to cope, learned to let go. Jungkook still meets Jihyo sometimes, forms a bond with his son, provides him with a sense of fatherly love. And you let him — you don’t feel insecure anymore.

“Daddy,” his girl calls, tapping his knee for exclusive attention, “say something.”

And the father, ever so diplomatic and peaceful, settles on, “Leave the carrots, okay? I’ll eat them later. Stop fighting.”

“Hear?” Hana voices, an accusing finger scolding her brothers. They offer a full grin, absolutely aware of their effect on her.

Your eyes widen when Jaehyuk randomly and without a good reason rebukes, “Stupid Suhana.”

“Hey, hey!” you reprimand immediately, cocking an eyebrow until they go quiet. Their attention shifts to their food innocently as you chastise, “Don’t say such things. And definitely not like you’re insulting the name.”

“We are because we dun like her.”

Another giggle from Jaehoon. The boy mostly listens; doesn’t pick a fight. But if it’s about his siblings, he’ll definitely be a culprit, too.

“You so do,” Hana defends, and you agree with a nod and folded arms, “now eat. Leave me alone.”

This time, they listen; resume to their dinner, but not before sticking out their tongues to her. She ignores them, fiddling with her fingers. When she looks at you, her head is tilted, eyes curious as they are all the time before she asks, “Where does this name come from anyway, Mama?”

“Oh…” you respond, shooting Jungkook a look right away. You tell her, “You should ask your dad. It was his idea.”

Her gaze shifts to him, and he hums; then explains, “It was your aunt’s name. So you’re named after her.”

“Oh. Can I meet her?”

Your eyes drift to your lap. You register the change in his undertone as he speaks on, “I’m afraid this won’t be possible. She’s… she’s not with us anymore, baby.”

Hana’s mouth forms a silent Oh. She’s empathetic, sad when she sees a dead bird or a sick cat. She knows to grieve, but she knows to move on, too — so she says, “Well then, I like the name. I think I was named after somebody great!”

“Oh?” you wonder. “How do you know?”

“I wouldn’t have her name if she was bad.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you resume staring at him from the side, quietly finding the hand on his thigh as he answers, “I’m sure she was. I have heard only good things.”

“Good,” Hana says, much at the same time as Jungkook adds, “If I could… I’d thank her.”

You don’t know who this statement is directed to. Perhaps it’s too complex of a thought to truly expand on for your children; perhaps he’s thinking out loud for himself. But Hana doesn’t ask anyway, even though she hears it.

Too distracted by Jaehyuk, the troublemaker, who pokes her annoyance back, and she slaps his hand away, sulking. You let them handle this — sometimes, it’s easier to get rid of a situation when you let it unfold.

Instead, your eyes drift back to your husband, and you wonder, “Thank her, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say?”

From the corner of your eyes, you see Jaehyuk and Jaehoon leave their posts and march to a disheartened Hana. No matter how impossible they are, they don’t like seeing her anything other than joyful.

It warms her heart as much as yours, you know. Soothes it when they position themselves on either side, cuddling into her, eliciting a half toothless smile. You’re content.

Back to Jungkook in time, you listen, “What I’d say?” He turns his hand under yours and entangles both your digits. “Hm, I would say…”

He ponders for a while. Waits for the right words to come to him.

And then, a puff of air escapes, your heart swelling when his eyes soften with his voice, “I would try and word my gratitude towards her. It was her who showed me that even the worst people can care.”

“He cared for her.”

“He did,” he squeezes your fingers, shoulder to shoulder. “It was also partly her who saved me, even if she’ll never know. And it was her who brought me closer to you. I wish I could tell her.”

“I wish I’d met her even once, too.”

“I know.” 

He nods. The Suhana you never got to know hasn’t been a topic very often. As years passed by, your mind developed its own image of the Suhana you do know. Hana, Suhana.

But when she is, this remains a common phrase. The never-to-be-fulfilled wish to see her just once. A stranger who never even knew of your existence, let alone your name.

“Suhana was supposed to stay,” Jungkook then voices. “But she didn’t and still managed to shine such light onto us from up there. So yes… I would express my gratitude for the life she gave me.”

He sighs, as if remembering somebody from a distant past. “For the life I had the blessing to witness as a human being and… will have the privilege to experience for the rest of my days. I would thank her for that.”

You cannot stop looking. You keep gazing and gazing. In truth, you don’t think you ever stopped ever since you came back from that one healing trip from your town years ago. You kept gaping. Kept falling — again and continuously.

And he’s still beautiful. Still the same mesmerising entity you once married. The same bright smile, still somehow youthful, blindingly lovely when he gives you one even now.

You and me, in every damn life.

Fingers brush his hair back, and you ask, “How could you ever doubt your kindness?”

And in response, he kisses your forehead, “I don’t anymore, I don’t think.”

You beam back at him. Hook your arm with his, settling your tired head on his chest. You hear his heart underneath, like a lullaby with a steady rhythm, and wait for the children to grow fatigued enough to go to bed.

And after that, he’ll carry you to your room, you foresee it already. Will let you fall into feathery, tranquil dreams.

Then again, perhaps you don’t need to wait for any of it. Don’t ever need a slumber for it.

Because you already live in a dream. And you are one, too.

okayyyyy. i don't cry a lot irl at all, but i'm so weak when it comes to these characters. crazy that their story is finished (once again), but i truly hope you guys will remember them for as long as you can. i know some of you grew to love them a lot and i am so, so thankful, truly. 🤍

if you can, please do let me know what you think! i shall answer everything bc it makes me giddy af anyway lol so do give this a like, a reblog and leave a comment, and talk to me about it!! <3 see you with more taegularities shenanigans soon mwah