#Shipping with your friends ocs is always a Good Time

[babystrcandy]

the lucky one (pt. 5) | jjk

summary: Growing up you only had one goal: beat Jeon Jungkook. Sometimes you'd win, other times you'd lose. Sometimes he'd lose, other times he'd win. But you'd both walk away from the match thinking the other was the lucky one.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | sports au, e2l/r2l, angst, fluff, smut word count: 27.7K chapter summary: You and Jungkook had always endured your lives, watching everyone else live theirs. It was time you helped each other learn how to finally breathe like real people. warnings/notes: typos probably, explicit language, jk and oc are the sun and moon 100%, hoseok i’m going to kiss you, karaoke..., yoonmin (i don’t ship them irl, don’t worry; all fictional and for plot purposes), panic attacks, poem referenced: mock orange by louise gluck a barbie dream house but all the dolls are kitchen knives by cassandra de alba, oc and jk are like so in love it’s not even funny anymore, oc in her mid-2521 na heedo era, she’s not doing too good, reporters are vultures, mention of king lear, i’m telling you they’re embarrassingly in love, unprotected soft sex like...soft-soft extra soft, mention of icarus/the fall of icarus, i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know, i hope you enjoy, my loves <3

chapter five: violet, roses are red, not blue ( ← previous | next → )  

FIVE WAYS YOU CAN Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

OK . . .

You blinked once. Twice. Then once more, trying to make sense of the words before your eyes.

The thing was: you’d dealt with anxiety before. Hell, you’d been taking to biting your nails until they bled for a while now. You knew how it felt to peel over the edge of a toilet and empty your stomach’s contents just before a game. But . . . you never knew how to handle it or how to deal with it in such abundant measures.

Why were you looking into it now one may ask? Easy. You didn’t care much about how much you could endure, because truth be told: you knew you could handle it. You knew it would pass and while it sucked, you knew it was something you could deal with. And besides, you could deal with a lot, so . . . 

But . . . 

There were certain things that made sense to you. While you knew you could deal with everything on your plate . . . and while . . . while you knew Jungkook could handle himself . . . for some reason, you just didn’t want him to have to. 

It was an odd thing: realizing you’d rather deal with both your problems and his than let him suffer. You supposed that was what it meant to be friends, though . . . and well . . . you’d never really had any, so this was all new territory for you.

So ever since a few months ago when Jungkook told you about what happened to him just last year, you’d taken to the internet. You spent countless hours researching anxiety disorders, how to help, what to say, what to do, and on the off chance he had a panic attack near you, you’d taken to researching what to do then, too.

It made you feel a little stupid, yes, but you didn’t know how else to help. You didn’t want to make him feel . . . different for telling you, but you also . . . you didn’t want him to feel so alone anymore. (You’d even bought a book on it all (it only made you feel more clueless). 

Now . . . you didn’t know much, but you hoped the research would do something. And perhaps it wasn’t too far off either. After all, you’d been helping Jungkook stay away from booze as much as possible, even deciding to stay sober with him and you thought it was helping some. But you knew the late night talks were what helped more. You didn’t know how to say this without sounding full of yourself, but you liked to think you were helping him. 

That was what you truly wanted. To help him in ways you couldn’t help yourself. You could handle everything as long as he didn’t have to. That . . . that was what felt right to you.

So . . . five ways you can help someone with an anxiety disorder, you read again. You felt a little more than clueless. Still.

“Hey, Sunshine—“ Jungkook called for you, snapping you out of your own mind— “come look. It’s done.”

Blinking quickly, you clicked off your phone out of habit, realizing where you were. A tattoo parlor.

Yeah . . . 

It was the weekend of the final tournaments. The win or lose all, and Yunis was up there right next to the big leagues. How? All because of Jungkook. These past few months you and him had been unbeatable. Sure, you’d lost a few, but . . . more often than not, the two of you would end a match with grins on your faces moments before you jumped into his arms and just let yourself . . . celebrate with him.

That was how it had been. You and Jungkook against the world. And to be honest, you quite liked it that way. (Granted, after your little outburst, your teammates had stopped talking about Jungkook altogether and started to . . . almost but not really but also kind of . . . respect him more (except Wooshik, but whatever). That made things a whole lot better, but it was still just you and him and you were sure it would be for the rest of the season.)

Anyway . . . you were getting off-topic. 

The point was: it was almost the weekend of the final tournaments and Yunis was staying at some hotel somewhere in Ulsan. And well, while you and Jungkook were watching some movie in his hotel room, he got an idea. He wanted a new tattoo. For good luck, he’d claimed, and you . . . you hadn’t gotten a tattoo since that one mistake of one. But somehow, someway, Jungkook had managed to drag you out of the hotel and into the nearest tattoo shop he could find on the GPS. 

Which landed you there: sitting in the waiting area while Jungkook went first. (He wanted it to be a surprise. That was what he told you, which you thought was a little silly, but whatever.)

And then it would be your turn. 

Actually . . . 

You turned to face Jungkook, taking in the dopey grin he had spread across his face while he peeked at you through the door leading to the tattooing room. It was your turn.

“Hmm?” you hummed in questioning.

Jungkook shook his head. “Come look,” he repeated as he gestured for you to follow him. “And then I’ve got a couple ideas for yours. Don’t let me forget. And don’t pretend to forget. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes with a huff, but nevertheless, followed after him, shutting the door behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of the artist, but, well, you had never been good at greeting people, so what should’ve been a small greeting wave, turned into you just staring at him with some kind of . . . smile on your face. And when you realized that was so not the way to go, you turned your attention back to Jungkook, grabbing onto the loop of his jeans as he led you to the mirror on the other side of the room.

Jungkook glanced to where you clung onto him, raising his brows as he looked between your face and your hand. “Good?”

You blinked. Then realized what you were doing. Then well . . . you cleared your throat and attempted to tear your hand from his body, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist. And without a second glance, Jungkook guided your hand back to him, allowing it to slip into his back pocket. 

All you could do was stare at the back of his head in shock. His dark hair was long now. Longer than it had ever been, to the point it could only be tied back with a hair tie or it’d be in his face all day, which was his go-to most days considering the days were long and hot. And somehow, he looked more like himself like that. He seemed to smile more, too, and you always managed to smile back even when you least expected it.

But you couldn’t help it. He was just . . . well . . .

(Sometimes he made you wonder if you should really find your friend this attractive but you ignored that most days.)

Whatever . . . the point was: you had trouble wrapping your head around his touch; around the fact that while he wasn’t exactly yours, he didn’t mind your hands on him at any time. No one had ever liked your touch this much. You had always been too cold; too harsh; too rough, but around him, you felt like your touch was almost . . . soft.

And that was what always shocked you.

“Are you drooling?” Jungkook asked, snapping you out of your own head.

Only then did you realize you had been staring at him for quite a while now, and well, he would always tease you about that. Because he was . . . Jungkook.

Your brows scrunched together. “What?”

But he didn’t bother to repeat his question. No, instead, he took his thumb and swiped at your bottom lip, inspecting it in thought. “Yep, just as I thought—“ he jutted his thumb toward you— “drool.”

Glaring, you stepped closer. “I don’t drool,” you nearly huffed.

“Mmm, that’s not what the evidence says.”

“It’s chapstick.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You glared a little harder. “Will you just show the tattoo?”

Jungkook only grinned.

And then, he turned his attention to his tattooed arm, slowly pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes stayed trained on his arm the entire time, expecting some sort of skull or something stupid, but instead . . . no . . . as he pulled up his sleeve, he revealed a vine of some sort of blue flowers traveling from the empty space left on his lower forearm to his hand, covered by a saniderm wrap.

“What flower’s that?” you questioned, eyes still trained on the fresh tattoo as you carefully brought your hand to his arm. 

“Morning glories,” he hummed while he watched you slowly turn his arm to get the full view. “My mom says they’re a pain. They grow everywhere like weeds. Once you plant one, that’s it, she says. They grow like wildfire. A nuisance.” He laughed softly. “Figured it fit.”

“It’s pretty,” you murmured with a small smile. “Fits the rest.” You tilted your head to the side a little. “Kinda looks like the snake is wrapping around it.”

Jungkook nodded. “Cool, right?”

It was. It actually really was. 

“It’s nice,” you settled with instead, feigning disinterest. 

But Jungkook knew you well. “Admit it,” he pushed on, leaning toward you. “Admit you’re impressed.”

Nearly rolling your eyes, you finally huffed, “Yes, fine, it’s actually cool, Kook.”

“So I’ve impressed you?”

“Well, considering I thought you were going to get a dick, yes, I suppose I’m impressed,” you muttered with a small shrug. 

Jungkook snorted. “Well.”

Oh god. No, he didn’t.

Furrowing your brows, you pegged the question, “Please tell me you did not get a dick and balls tattooed on you.”

His face screwed up as he tilted his head to the side in thought.  “Well . . . “

“Kook.”

Pursing his lips into a cute pout, he offered you his other hand, showing off his fingers. And there on his ring finger was the number three, and on his middle was a sideways U. Meaning, yes, Jeon Jungkook did, in fact, get a small yet visible yet inconspicuous yet not that inconspicuous at all, penis tattooed on his fingers. And no, no, you were not surprised.

“Really?” you deadpanned.

Jungkook shrugged. “Whoops.”

“As long as you don’t think this is a matching tattoo kind of thing,” you started off with your finger pointing directly into his chest. “Because, I’m telling you right now, Jungkook, I am not getting a dick tattooed on my body.”

And Jungkook only snorted, shaking his head. “No, god, I’m stupid, not an idiot. I have my designs in my bag.”

Designs? Your brows twitched. He spent that much time on this? But—

But Jungkook was already one step ahead of you, walking from you toward where his bag lay on the ground beside the tattoo chair. He rummaged through its contents until he clasped his hand around a small sketchbook before he took it out and reapproached you, already flipping through it.

Flip, flip, flip . . . and flip, until . . . he paused on a page and slowly offered it toward you with an almost shy (?) look on his face. Jungkook, shy? You almost didn’t believe it, but still, you took the sketchbook from him without another word, letting your eyes take in the sketch before your eyes.

It was another flower. Well, a stem with a few flowers. Yellow this time. And a little different from Jungkook’s. Perhaps it was a little more peculiar. 

“It’s an evening primrose,” Jungkook began while your eyes stayed trained on the sketch, still analyzing it. “My mom used to have them in our garden back home. They, uh, only bloom at night. I remember every night we’d watch them. They’d do this little shake and—“ he laughed, softly at first, then a little louder— “my mom would say it was like they were yawning.”

You traced your fingertips over the sketch, remembering your own little memories of the silly flowers. That was why you remembered them. They were your mom’s favorite. She used to plant like five batches each spring and force you to come outside and watch them with her, and yes, you said force because you had always been a disagreeable child. But still, every night, you watched them.

“They’re my mom’s favorite,” you voiced aloud with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Yeah,” he hummed under his breath. “My mom said she gives her a bundle every year for her birthday.”

Glancing up, you nearly beamed. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

“I guess they’d be proud of us, hmm?” you murmured, searching his face. When you realized what you’d said, you quickly cleared your throat. “For becoming chummy, you know?”

His brows twitched. “Yeah . . . I guess they would.”

A beat of silence.

Then . . . Jungkook cleared his throat, shaking his head of his thoughts as his eyes turned back to the sketch. “Anyway, uh, they remind me of home, so I thought maybe they’d do the same for you,” he allowed himself to say in a hushed tone. “But, I mean, there’s others. The drawing’s kinda shit, so—“

“I like it,” you cut him off as you held the sketchbook closer to you. “I’ll—“ you shrugged— “I’ll get it.”

Jungkook’s brows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Really?”

You only nodded. “Why not? It’s cool. It means something I think, so yeah, fuck it, I’ll get it. Besides—“ you flicked his nose— “the sketch is not half bad. You didn’t tell me you could draw.”

“That’s because I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“OK—“ he agreed with a shrug— “hand me the tattoo gun. I can give you a Jungkook original.”

Narrowing your eyes, you couldn’t help but purse your lips into an unamused grimace. “No, thanks, I’ll end up walking out with testicles drawn on my forehead,” you muttered with just a little bite in your words.

And that got him. Jungkook laughed, his eyes crinkling first before a grin broke out onto his face. All the while, he playfully ruffled your hair, gesturing for you to sit down in the chair a second later. And you let it happen, a small dopey smile on your face.

(And you almost realized that while Jungkook had been smiling more lately, you, too, had never smiled so much in your life. You supposed you had him to thank for that . . . 

Supposedly.)

It wasn’t your reflection which caught your attention in the mirror. No, rather, what your eyes had landed on was the fresh tattoo of an evening primrose placed in the center of your sternum. It was almost similar to Jungkook’s, yet different just like the two of you, and the funny thing about it was . . . it kept managing to bring a small, almost unnoticeable smile to your face. 

“What’s got you smiling?” you heard from behind you as Jungkook appeared in the doorway of the hotel room’s bathroom (completely shirtless, might you add).

“Oh, nothing—“ you shrugged as you reached for a comb (totally not just pretending to untangle the ends of your hair), while maintaining eye contact with him in the mirror— “just the fact you whined and whined about how much pain your arm was in for like, what? An hour after?” Turning slowly to face him, you puffed out your bottom lip into a pout. “Such a pussy.”

His brows raised—a look of challenge. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence.

Another shrug was your only response.

Jungkook fought off a grin, crossing his arms. “I’m a . . . pussy?” Pushing off the doorway, he took a step toward you, head cocked to the side slightly. “Hmm?”

Mirroring him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s what I said.”

“Oh, is that what you said?” he mused, mocking your voice. 

And before you could even protest or drop your jaw in shock, he was in front of you. He caged you in, leaning his hands on the counter behind you. One more inch and his nose would be touching yours, but you didn’t dare close that gap.

“You’re such a child,” you hissed in a hushed tone as if his proximity had made the room that much smaller and you that much more exposed.

“Mmm, am I?” he mused, his eyes trailing over your features with such languid strokes, you wondered how you ever handled his gaze before.

You raised your head ever so slightly.

To which, obviously, Jungkook found amusing. With that small, toothy, almost endearing smile on his face, he closed the gap, his nose brushing yours. “Kiss me then,” he murmured, pressing closer, just enough to brush his lips against yours in a feathering touch.

And you began to wonder how on earth you ended up becoming putty in his hands. “What if I bite you instead?” you murmured, but despite your words, you leaned into his touch.

Resting his forehead against yours, he hummed, “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

You felt yourself grin. “Good.”

The only response you received was his lips pressing against yours. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as a grin tipped onto his face. His hands tickled your sides, lightly dancing across your skin before settling on your rib cage just below the crescents of your breasts. 

(Perhaps you forgot to mention that you were entirely topless . . . 

What? It was uncomfortable with the fresh tattoo.

Whatever.)

And well honestly, you couldn’t resist not having him close. So what if it bothered your tattoo? He felt better than any pain relief. 

Quickly, you found yourself tangling your hands in his dark, grown-out hair as you pulled him close enough to have your bare chest pressed against his. It made you feel close . . . closer than you had ever felt with anyone . . . closer than you had ever let yourself. His grip tightened on you instantly, his hands squeezing your sides once more before he gently sucked your bottom lip under the grasp of his teeth.

It only deepened from there. You melted into him, allowing him to meld his tongue against yours. The act squeezed a soft sigh out of you, to which Jungkook couldn’t contain himself. He smiled widely against your lips, and then his arms were around your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter. And once you were supported by the countertop, he stepped in between your parted legs as his hands found your face, gently caressing your jaw while he all but sucked on your tongue like he had done so many times before.

“Stop trying to eat my face,” you chuckled against his lips, still kissing him back while your arms wrapped around his neck.

He shook his head, but the small grin you felt against your lips gave him away. “Stop turning me on then,” he murmured back. “It’s just not fair, Daisy baby.”

Daisy baby. That was a new one.

Your brows twitched without your permission as your eyes traced his features. More specifically, your gaze fixed on his lips, watching as he tongued his lip ring—a habit he had accumulated over the years you supposed. 

It made it harder to focus on anything except him. And for the second time that night, you wondered how on earth you ended up being at his mercy time and time again. 

It just felt so unlike you. So different. So new. So . . . unfamiliar. 

Did you like it? 

You questioned yourself over and over again these past months. It felt like something you shouldn’t be able to feel. Really . . . it just made you wonder and wonder and wonder.

Until . . . Yes, you decided. Oddly enough, yes, you did like it. You quite liked feeling like this.

But what exactly was this?

. . . Your eyes met his, and your gaze softened instantly. You had no idea what this was. No idea . . .

Jungkook caught onto the look which crossed your face and leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “What’s got you lookin’ like that?” he sighed against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses anywhere he could.

And your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into his touch. “Nothing,” you hummed, angling your neck to give him more access to your body. “I just—“ 

But a knock at the door halted the words from leaving your tongue.

The two of you paused.

A beat of silence.

Another knock came.

Jungkook pulled back and your eyes met, confusion passing between the two of you. 

Who could be knocking at the door at this hour? Especially Jungkook’s? (Because, really, after the whole meltdown you had at dinner after the first tournament . . . everyone had steered clear of the two of you. So you wondered once more . . . who could be at the door?)

No words were exchanged between the two of you, Jungkook only took the step into the hall, and peered through the peephole on the door. You watched in silence as he stared a second too long, his posture stiff before he sighed and disappeared back into the room. And well, in utter confusion, you hopped down from the counter, following after him only to find he had put on a tee and grabbed another, moments before he handed that very shirt to you with a tight-lipped smile.

“Who is it?” you whispered, your voice hushed as you put on the shirt he’d handed you, covering your bare chest.

Jungkook tongued his inner cheek, but before you could even press the question, his face softened. A small, stiff smile met his lips as he reached out and caressed your chin with his pointer, while his thumb brushed your bottom lip. “Keep your claws in,” he murmured, that small smile still on his face as if he thought that alone would be enough to ease your wandering mind.

“What—“ 

But he was already gone. 

His touch left you and you watched as he approached the door, while you followed slowly behind. The door was swinging open the next second, revealing—

Oh. You blinked in shock.

In the doorway stood Hoseok, whose back was facing you at that very moment while he talked to . . . Seulki?

Huh?

Tilting your head in confusion, you caught Seulki’s wide dark eyes. Her eyes widened further at the sight of you two as she quickly smacked Hoseok’s shoulder and pointed behind him. The action caused Hoseok to immediately shut his mouth as he slowly turned around, his lips down-turned into an awkward expression as his gaze darted between you and Jungkook.

Furrowing your brows, you sent him a look. 

Hoseok blinked back in response. Seulki nervously waved before trying to pass it off as her attempting to scratch the back of her head. And Jungkook . . . well . . . he was the one to clear his throat, putting an end to the silence. (You, however, caught onto the fact that his eyes remained glued to his feet the entire time.)

That . . . that made you step forward, until you stood beside Jungkook, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the door frame. “Something wrong?” you questioned the two of them, keeping a close eye.

Hoseok opened his mouth, hesitating slightly. “Uh—“

“We were looking for you guys,” Seulki cut in with a wide smile on her face. “So it’s good that you’re both—“ she glanced at Hoseok, starting to fidget with her hands as she cleared her throat— “here. Hoseok?”

Hoseok eyed her, a tad startled before he nodded in agreement. “Right, yeah,” he hummed with a clap of his hands. “We were gonna meet up with some friends from college in Busan for karaoke. They’re just . . . they’re coming to the final tournaments and we thought ‘why not, let’s go out’.” He laughed . . . awkwardly if you might add. “Anyway . . . We’ve got two extra train tickets. Could be yours . . . ?”

Quirking a brow, you glanced between them. “How much?”

A perplexed look crossed both their faces. But it was Seulki who spoke up first. “What?” she mumbled, slightly puffing out her bottom lip into a small pout—something she happened to do a lot that you’d caught onto. “Nothing. We just . . . “

As her words trailed off, Hoseok picked up where she left off. In fact, he took it a step further. “We . . . “ He quickly shut his mouth, shaking his head at his thoughts before he raised his head once more, eyes now locked on Jungkook rather than hiding from him. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, it seemed Hoseok had something to get off his chest as he took a literal instead of metaphorical step toward him. “I . . . I feel bad . . . for how we treated you. I assumed things. I never asked you. I never thought to. I should’ve gotten to know you before listening to anything Wooshik had to say. I misjudged you. For that, and everything else . . . I’m—“ he touched a hand to his chest before he gestured toward Seulki— “we are sorry.”

And while his words lingered in the air, you hadn’t realized that the stiffness in your muscles had slowly loosened and your gaze was now set solely on Jungkook. How could it not be? 

With a careful glance, you took in Jungkook’s demeanor. It was clear he, too, was taking in Hoseok’s words. His head was still lowered, his eyes trained on his feet, but they kept moving in rapid motions as if he were fighting with himself to not look up. And all you could think was: look up . . . please, please look up.

You hadn’t expected it when you first saw them in the doorway, but you weren’t an idiot. Hoseok and Seulki had come here to make amends. They had come here to admit their wrongs. You couldn’t be angry with that . . . not when you had seen just how happy Jungkook had been the first time he’d been able to . . . see someone.

If he looked up . . . then that would mean he would be OK. If he looked up . . . then maybe he could breathe a little easier. And truly . . . as odd as it sounded . . . all you wanted was for him to be . . . happy.

If Jungkook looked up . . . all of that could be possible.

“Look—“ Hoseok began again, nearly reaching out to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but he stopped himself before he made contact— “Uh . . . you don’t seem like a bad guy . . . so I was wondering if we could all hang out like teams are supposed to, you know? Not just to apologize . . . but to . . . be friends, I suppose, is what I mean . . . “

You swallowed hard, fighting with yourself not to speak for him. Look up, Jungkook, you repeated over and over again in your head, watching him with careful eyes. Look up. Please . . . please . . .

Another beat of silence, more painful than the last.

Then . . . 

. . . Jungkook raised his head, and his eyes met Hoseok’s, and you knew what his answer would be.

In no way, shape, or form could you comprehend how you managed to make it to some random karaoke bar in the middle of Busan around, like, two in the morning. Hell, you didn’t even remember hopping onto the midnight train to get to the city in the first place, but there you were, dressed in whatever the fuck you could find in your suitcase that wasn’t a badminton uniform, and you were sitting next to one of Hoseok’s friends (Namjoon, you thought his name was.)

And while Namjoon managed to impress you with his choice in cologne, he had been talking your ear off for the past half hour and you couldn’t think straight for the entirety of the time he’d been telling you about well . . . you honestly had no idea what he was talking about. In truth, you couldn’t really hear much . . . because your mind was elsewhere. Because, because, because for the last half hour that Namjoon had been at your side, your eyes had been on Jungkook.

Now . . . you knew how that sounded, but you had a reason. You see, Jungkook wasn’t alone either. He had been sat next to another one of Hoseok’s friends (let’s call him Yoongi and hope you got that right) . . . and he was like . . . looking at him. No, no, like . . . he was looking him in the eyes . . . that is why you couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop trying to eavesdrop, couldn’t stop just . . . just . . . just whatever!

Was it embarrassing to say you were proud of him?

But . . . you were . . .

As much as you hadn’t wanted to admit it, he’d become the only person you’d ever been this close to in your life. He’d once told you you were the only one he could see . . . the only one he wasn’t afraid of to look in the eyes, and now . . . in just a few hours, he’d allowed himself to hear people, see them, interact with them beyond the restrictions he’d put on himself the entirety of his contract with Yunis.

And the little thing that made you feel all that more warm, was the attentive, genuine smile on his face as he nodded along to whatever Yoongi was saying. That . . . that made a smile of your own touch your lips as you took in the scene.

“You agree?” you heard from beside you, Namjoon’s voice startling only slightly enough to have you abruptly whipping your head in his direction with a confused expression on your face.

You blinked, furrowing your brows. “Hmm?” you hummed in a questioning tone as you snuck a glance back at Jungkook, only to find . . . oh . . . only to find him lazily shifting his gaze from Yoongi to you with an amused smirk on his face. (Great, so he had seen you looking at him. Great. That he’ll really get you later on with.) “Do I agree—what?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from Jungkook and finally face Namjoon, who seemed to be oblivious to everything else. You weren’t even really sure if he had heard your question or if he were too busy inside his own head, questioning himself. But it didn’t matter either way, because . . . the music cut out, Hoseok and Seulki’s voices died down, followed by their out of breath laughter, and then:

“Alright, who’s next?” Hoseok called out, offering up the microphone.

Immediately, Yoongi shook his head, leaning back to indulge in his drink rather than the question at hand. And no one else could get another word in before, Seulki and Hoseok had caught onto this little act, only they didn’t exactly . . . go for him. No, rather, Seulki, specifically, all but jumped toward Jungkook. “I vote Jungkookie goes!” she declared as she leaned forward to dangle the microphone in front of his face.

“Agreed! Jungkook-ah, onstage now!” Hoseok exclaimed, closing the distance to Jungkook before he wrapped a hand around his arm, urging him to stand to his feet and take over the spotlight. 

(Clearly . . . something you hadn’t mentioned . . . everyone but you and Jungkook were . . . perhaps maybe a little bit or a lot or yeah, yeah, yeah . . . they were drunk. (So you could see how . . . this had happened.))

And Jungkook all but turned cherry-cheeked. “No, no, I can’t,” he laughed it off, trying to wave them away. “I’m a horrible singer, really.”

Lie.

He once sang for your elementary school’s talent show . . . you know . . .

But the others persisted, whining and whining and blah blah blah—

. . . Five minutes later, no doubt, Jungkook finally gave in with a playful groan. He took the microphone from Seulki, slowly making his way to the center of the room you guys had booked, and then you noticed something . . . his eyes had only been on you the entire time. And suddenly, you began to wonder what that meant, wrapping your arms around yourself as your brows raised in question.

Until:

“Listen,” Jungkook began, a half-grin sliding onto his face as he maintained eye-contact with you, “I’ll sing . . . but I need my sidekick.”

Raising your brows, you knew you’d kill him for that later. But still you didn’t move. All you could do was shake your head, because no, no, no you did not want to sing in front of anyone. 

“OK. OK,” Jungkook nodded slowly to himself, but you knew him better than that. He had something planned. And you could just tell by the way he began to walk toward the system in order to plug in the song that was somehow someway on his mind. Then, he turned back around, both microphones in his hands, his eyes solely on you with a mischievous glint in them as the first seconds of the song began to blast through the speakers.

Squinting your eyes in skepticism, you watched him. 

He only sent you a knowing grin.

And you suddenly had a feeling you knew exactly what he had put on.

“ . . . She ain’t got no money,” Jungkook began, trying his best to sing, but his grin kept growing and growing just as your face fell and fell and fell. “Her clothes are kind of funny. Her hair is kinda wild and free. Oh, but—”

You nearly smacked a hand to your face.

“—Love grows where my Rosemary goes,” he continued, beginning to bob his head now to the music. “And nobody knows but me.” Clearing his throat over the music, you knew you were in for it. “Come on, Rosemary, on your feet. Let’s go. Let’s go. Let’s go, because! Love grows where my Rosemary goes! And nobody knows like—Come on!—me!”

And finally . . . finally after being hounded and hounded, you unstuck yourself from your seat, your eyes solely on him as if it were just the two of you against everything, and then you took the microphone from his hand, and you knew you’d sealed your fate. Shaking your head at him, you playfully rolled your eyes moments before you glanced at the screen, checking where you were in the song.

Great, you thought. Fuck . . . OK. Clearing your throat again, this was your Hell. “I’m a lucky fella,” you began, your voice nearly tone-deaf, and certainly agony to the ears. “And I’ve just got to tell her that I love her endlessly.”

“Oh, because!” Jungkook jumped in, bumping you with his elbow. “Love grows where my Rosemary goes, and nobody knows like me!”

Snorting once, you continued for him, “There's something about her hand holding mine. It's a feeling that's fine,” you hummed along, realizing that perhaps . . . this . . . was . . . fun. And slowly, so slowly, you didn’t even realize you were doing it . . . you had begun to dance along, following Jungkook’s lead. “And I just gotta say—”

“Hey! She’s really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away,” he drawled out, perhaps carrying out his words a tad too much, but there was something about the smile on his face while he did it that you didn’t care. 

That was when you really lost it. Perhaps lost it was the wrong word, but that was when you really stopped caring if there were other people in the room, about keeping up your image or whatever. It just felt like it was you and Jungkook and the music.

And before you knew it, the song had ended, cheers came from Hoseok’s friends, but your eyes were solely on Jungkook. They had never really left him, because this was the song you’d sang at the talent show in elementary. It was also the song you had been too afraid to sing alone . . . because you were perhaps maybe not a shy child, but an antisocial one. And Jungkook . . . Jungkook had offered to sing with you. He’d never wanted to be in the talent show, but you . . . you always wanted the spotlight, and so, it was because of him that you were able to have it that day. Otherwise you probably would’ve spent the entire night crying in the school’s bathroom because you couldn’t force yourself on stage. And he . . . he had saved you back then. 

It seemed he always was . . . 

That made a smile slowly grow on your face, but before it could form into a toothy grin, cheers erupted throughout the room. Eyes widening, you glanced toward the noise, realizing it was not just the two of you but rather the two of you and . . . them.

But this them didn’t feel malicious as it had in the past. No, in fact, before you could even blink, Seulki was already jumping toward you, jumping up and down while she beamed about how that had to be one of her all time favorite songs. And Jungkook . . . well . . . Hoseok had reached him in seconds, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he went on and on about how he had no idea he had such a voice, asking if he’s taken lessons, and blah blah blah . . . all the while everyone else shouted requests at the two of you, hooting for an encore.

It . . . well . . . to say the least, it managed to bring that smile back onto your face, and finally you let yourself look away from Jungkook, knowing you could trust the others with him, and suddenly all you could see was Seulki. You’d never had many friends. Perhaps competition or surface people, but a little part of you saw Yurim, your college doubles partner and probably the closest you’d ever had to a friend, in Seulki. 

Except unlike all those years ago . . . this time you embraced Seulki with a hand on her shoulder and a warm smile touching your face as you finally let yourself tell her the little story of how the song came to be for you. Now, yes, she was drunk out of her mind and would probably forget about all of this tomorrow, but you didn’t care. 

It felt . . . nice . . . to talk to people like . . . this. And—And this feeling when you did . . . Oh what was that feeling called? Like, like warmth but better, perhaps innocent? 

Were you . . . happy?

And then . . . you began to wonder . . . was this what it felt like to have . . . friends? Were you allowed to feel like this? Like . . . like you were happy?

In that moment, you glanced back at Jungkook for a brief second just as he did the same. Your eyes met, and you knew he felt the same. And then: relief, relief, relief . . . 

A beat of silence. 

In it more relief. 

Beat.

Beat.

Beat . . .

But . . . like all things . . . balance. A knock on the door ripped that blissful beat of relief from your grasp. Brows furrowing, you slowly turned to see a blurry shadow just behind the door, indicating that someone was . . . asking for permission to come in? But . . . who? As far as you knew everyone who was there was supposed to be there.

You wondered and wondered, trying to tilt your head to see if you could make it out. And then you heard them call his name, but you didn’t believe it at first. You didn’t quite hear it. Seulki was jumping beside you, and you could have sworn you heard Yoongi announce that it was probably his partner at the door.

And then as Yoongi slowly walked toward the door, opening it to greet the man with this adoring look in his eyes, your heart plummeted to your stomach. Instantly, your eyes snapped to Jungkook, and you saw the entire world crumble before you. You tried to reach him but Seulki was still holding onto you, and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything but stare and watch as the world fell and fell and fell, leaving you with no way to put it back together.

Amongst the chaos, your eyes fluttered back toward the door and you heard his name once more. Jimin, you could have sworn Hoseok had called out, and you knew this was reality. 

Like an old ghost, Jimin had appeared at the door, almost unrecognizable from the boy you remembered in college. His hair now honey blonde, his cheeks full and almost rosy, with this way about him that just screamed he was different now. It made you wonder how different he was now than a year ago when Jungkook left his past behind him. 

Breathing carefully, everyone’s attention was on Jimin, but you caught sight of it first. Jimin’s eyes scanned the room and then . . . then they met yours. Your heart stopped again and you could have sworn his mirrored yours. His eyes widened only slightly, until they shifted just to the right of you, and you watched in silence as his lips parted, his brows twitching upward.

That was weird.

You would have expected him to meet the sight of Jungkook with anger . . . but the only expression on Jimin’s face was that of pain . . . perhaps . . . yearning . . . ? For something . . . ?

And finally, you allowed yourself to glance back at Jungkook, and you began to wonder if it truly were possible to die of a broken heart.

Jungkook stood stagnant, unmoving without even a single rise and fall of his chest. No, instead, his hand was clasped over his chest as if he were in physical pain, but he still didn’t move. Until he did.

Before you could reach him, Jungkook was off. He made a B-line for the door, pushing past everyone while they were distracted by Jimin’s appearance.

And you were a step behind him.

“Kook, where you going?” you briefly heard Hoseok call to Jungkook. “Jimin’s got to show you his vocals, man. He’ll give you a run for your money.”

But Jungkook wasn’t reachable. “I—um—restroom,” he barely strained out and then he was gone, slipping out the door and out of your sight.

You tried to keep up, desperately pushing past the others as you reached the door as well, but a hand on your upper arm stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes flicked from the hand on your arm to the face of the person it belonged to. 

Jimin . . . he was the one who had stopped you. Of course.

But you had never been easily swayed. You quickly ripped your arm out of his grasp, and left without a look back. But it was no use. The hallway was empty. Jungkook was gone.

So what? You’d find him. You had to.

Without another thought, you didn’t even wait to hear the door close behind you as you began to stalk down the hall, but a voice called out to you. 

“Hey, hey, wait,” the voice pleaded.

But you knew this voice well. You knew Jimin well, and you didn’t care what he had to say, not when Jungkook was missing.

Attempting to make another run for it, you put one foot in front of the other, only to be pulled back. Jimin wrapped a hand around your upper arm, pulling you into him and turning you to face him all at once. And you saw that hurt expression once again, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care! Jungkook was out there and he was alone and you needed him to know you were never leaving his side again.

So fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. You didn’t care!

Desperately, you tried to peel his hand from your arm, but his words halted you in your tracks.

“Is he OK?” Jimin quietly asked, his voice barely above a whisper, almost as if he were ashamed of his own words. 

Taking a step back, you could only shake your head at him. “Are you fucking serious?” you all but hissed, the words burning on your tongue as you finally ripped your arm out of his grasp. “Now you care? Now you want to act like—“ Your words were ripped from your lips, unable to finish the sentence. Instead, another shake of your head came. “You’re fucking unbelievable . . . Of course he’s not OK. He hasn’t been for a while, and you would know that if you hadn’t—“ 

The words died on your tongue, and Jimin watched. While your eyes betrayed you, watering slightly, Jimin looked as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His gaze darted across your face, his brows raised in concern (?) while he watched as you fought against the floodgates, trying to bite back the tears in your eyes and the lump in your throat. 

And finally, you were able to force out the words: “He’s not OK. He’s really—“ you quickly exhaled— “really not.”

A beat of silence.

You swallowed that lump in your throat while a look of realization crossed Jimin’s face. It was funny . . . he looked completely different now than he did years ago . . . or maybe it was the look he wore. It was something you had never seen on him before. 

But you really didn’t care.

Sucking in a breath, you cleared your throat and began to back away. “And he needs me so I have to—“

But Jimin cut you off. “So he told you?” he asked almost a little too hesitantly as he took a step toward you.

Nodding, you swallowed hard. “Yes.”

His brows raised. “You guys are . . . good?”

“Yes,” you muttered, nodding again. “He’s—We’re friends.”

Jimin blinked. “Oh.”

“What?”

“I just . . . I didn’t see that coming . . . “

“Well—“ you bit your inner cheek— “it did.”

Another beat of silence.

Then: Jimin took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost too under his breath to even hear. “I didn’t expect that he’d be here. I haven’t seen him in . . .  in a year. I didn’t even think he was . . . I didn’t think he was like that.”

Oh . . .

Don’t say it.

Don’t say—

Don’t—

But you couldn’t help but bite out, “No thanks to you.”

Jimin pinched his brows together. “What? What do you mean?”

You just had to say it . . . 

“Nothing—“ clearing your throat, you realized just where your loud mouth had landed you— “just . . . I have to go, alright?”

With one final look at the man before you—a man you once knew that now barely resembled the one you’d known—you walked past him, eyes trained solely on what was before you. Jungkook was the only thing on your mind. Finding him was the only thing you cared about. Leaving the past behind was easy when you knew he was waiting for you somewhere up ahead.

But a hand wrapped around your forearm, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes widened as you heard Jimin speak, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying until you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his words head-on.

“Look . . . look, I know,” he had said, an almost desperate expression plaguing his face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly before he sucked in a sharp breath. “I know. Trust me. I do.” Exhale.

Slowly, your brows scrunched together as you pried his hand off your arm. “Know what?” you questioned, your voice a slightly accusatory tone while you cocked your head to the side, eyeing him with skepticism. 

A moment’s silence passed before he searched your eyes. What he was searching for, you couldn’t quite make out, but he kept searching and searching and searching until his brows twitched upward, an almost pained expression fueling his face. And then: “I know it wasn’t Kook’s fault,” he confessed, his voice soft and quiet as if he were ashamed of his own words. “What happened between him and Tae. I knew it wasn’t his fault.”

Instantly, your heart dropped. 

He knew. He knew and he still let this happen.

You wanted to scream. At him. At everything. At nothing. 

But you stayed frozen, your mind spiraling and spiraling.

“I tried to get them to see that, too, but . . . Kook had always been our glue, not me,” he nearly whispered, harshly pointing at his chest almost as if he were trying to punish or rather condemn himself. “Tae and I would get into arguments over stupid shit all the time, and Kook would always be there to get us to see eye-to-eye. I didn’t know how to help them. I’m not good at that; he was.”

And then you saw it: you saw the past in his eyes. Slowly, it unraveled, and you watched as the three of them practiced day in and day out while you glared at them across the field back in college. You remembered being angry, but you hadn’t known why, and now . . . now you realized you had been envious of the fact that they were . . . friends. While you had none, they had each other. 

To see the three of them in completely separate places now . . . made your head spin and spin and spin. Never once did you think they’d do anything without each other, and now . . . now you were watching the past crumble through Jimin’s sad eyes.

It was almost as if you could see the moment they went their separate ways. Kook alone. Jimin and Taehyung together . . . but . . . distant . . . 

The distance was clear on Jimin’s face, and when he spoke, he spoke with a certain type of nostalgia that you knew all too well. “I knew what I had to do,” he continued, those sad eyes of his not leaving yours. “I chose Tae. I would’ve chosen them both, but I couldn’t . . . so I stayed by Tae’s side. I knew how they both felt. I knew that I could play neutral all I wanted, but Kook was gonna leave and I had to either go with him or stay with Tae.” He shook his head as he chewed on his inner cheek. “And I couldn’t let Tae go through this alone . . . and—and there wasn’t enough time to fix what happened between them, but I thought Kook would be OK. I would’ve fought harder if I knew—”

His words cut off, getting tangled around his tongue as the lump in his throat rose higher and higher. There was no way to tell when it’d finally choke him. What would happen then?

“He was just always so . . . fine,” Jimin whispered more to himself than to you, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t believe it. “I thought he’d be OK. I thought he’d ignore all of this and win that medal we all dreamed of . . . but then he left the team and Wooshik . . he told me where he ended up.” He shook his head once more, his eyes now trained on the wall behind you, tears still glossing over and threatening to spill. “I didn’t think he was . . . struggling. I just thought he was hiding. I didn’t realize he was . . . “

“Well . . . I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with . . . guilt,” you heard yourself spit out before you could stop the words from flowing. You didn’t know why, you just . . . you just . . . you were just so angry. But at him? That you weren’t sure or.

It seemed Jimin was as shocked by your words as you were. His eyes met yours once again, blinking quickly, causing a few tears to slip down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, shaking his head in the process. “Don’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.

But you almost couldn’t control it. You were more parts anger than anything else, and there he was, the perfect subject to take it out on. Putting up a fight was useless, your mind was on autopilot. “Tae’s at home bedridden I assume and you’re here? On a date?” you hissed out through gritted teeth. “Mmm, I don’t know . . . sounds—”

“Don’t,” Jimin quickly cut you off, mirroring your anger. “You of all people don’t get to judge me.”

You raised your brows. “Why not?”

“You—“ he shoved an accusatory finger your way— “left him too once.”

And just like that, his words pierced your chest, making the anger spread into your bloodstream. “That’s different,” you bit out, eyes now shamefully trained on the ground.

“Is it?”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Don’t turn this around. You—”

But Jimin wasn’t having it. “He loved you, you know?” he spat like the words had burned his throat.

The world stopped.

A beat of silence. 

Two beats.

Another.

. . . You could have sworn your heart thud in your chest. But . . . but that could’ve been your breath catching in your throat. 

And then you heard it: your own shocked voice. “What?” you all but gasped out, taking a subconscious step back.

Jimin furrowed his brows as if . . . confused (?) by your reaction. “He loved you,” he went on, keeping a watchful eye on your face. “I don’t know why or how considering you were such a horrible person the entirety of college . . . but he stuck by you. I’ve never seen anyone love somebody that much. Hell, I didn’t think it was real, and I couldn’t understand why . . . but he loved you, and when you pulled that shit on him; when you left, me and Tae saw it. He didn’t talk to anyone for months.” 

He loved you? He . . .

“He slowly came back, and a year later I thought he was fine. I thought he was finally over you, but . . . “ Jimin wet his lips— “I guess some old habits never die.”

Jungkook loved . . . you? In college he—But, no! He thought you guys had been friends. You were the one who had hated him, and he had thought of you as a friend. There was no love there. No, no there couldn’t be. He did not love you. He couldn’t have. No. No . . . No!

“And now you’re here . . . defending him . . . and I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Jimin finished off, his words more stable now. Then, slowly but surely, he nodded as if he had made peace with his thoughts. “But I get it. We all make our own choices. You made yours, but you . . . you don’t get to stand here now after everything and judge me when you left him in the dark for years. I made my choices, and I regret them most days, but it is what it is. You of all people should know that.”

But if he had loved you, then . . . had you broken his heart? 

You knew you’d done quite a lot of damage on him, but you hadn’t considered that you’d broken . . . the very thing you’d come to grow so fond of. Because truly, over the past months, you’d come to know him more than you knew yourself, and you realized he’d always had this softness about him. He’d always had a good heart. That was what you had come to admire most about him. And if Jimin was right, that meant you had hurt that very part of him.

If he was telling the truth, you had done so much more damage to Jungkook than you had thought. Perhaps it had been you who had ruined him.

That . . . that made your rage boil. “I do,” you ended up biting out, your voice harsher than it had ever been as your rage boiled and boiled, nearly bubbling and spilling everywhere. “I regret every mistake I’ve ever made and I know hurting him is at the top of the list, but you knew that, too, and you still repeated what I did wrong. Why didn’t you go back for him? Why didn’t you, I don’t fucking know, try?! Why didn’t you fucking try?! Huh?!”

Those words left your lips and before you knew it, you were face to face with Jimin, not even two inches apart. Your breathing was ragged and you could feel your rage burning through your bloodstream, turning it to rot, surely burning through your skin. 

Had it reached your heart?

“Why didn’t you try?” Jimin mumbled, the anger gone from his eyes as he took in your expression. And his words . . . this wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking why you hadn’t tried to help Jungkook back then, no . . . he was reminding you that you hadn’t tried for a reason. 

Admit it or not, you hadn’t let him in because you hated yourself. And making yourself hate him, blame him, was easier than admitting you didn’t want to live with the person you had become. 

That was why you hadn’t tried—you were exhausted with yourself, with everything. 

And only then did it hit you. As those final words left your lips, you realized why you were so fueled with anger. You realized why you had chosen Jimin as your punching bag, and you realized what you had done. 

Because, really, you weren’t angry with him. No, you were angry with yourself. It was like he had said . . . you had left Jungkook once, too. 

Looking at Jimin was like looking in the mirror. What he had done to Jungkook was nothing close to what you had done to him. So being angry at him . . . hurting him was an excuse to ignore who you were really angry with: . . . yourself.

And finally, Jimin spoke for the both of you. “Because . . . I was exhausted,” he mumbled through a heavy exhale. “You don’t get it . . . I’ve stayed by Tae’s side for a year, and I’d do it again and again, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t blame him, too.”

Wetting your lips, you took a step back, your anger slowly turning to guilt. This wasn’t his fault. Why did you blow up on him like that? Fuck.

Hating him wouldn’t make you hate yourself less . . .

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“After the incident, it was like he just disappeared,” Jimin went on, his voice equal parts solemn and guilty. “Badminton was his dream. I think Tae loved it the most out of all of us, and just like that, it was gone. And without it, he just faded away. I don’t even think he blames Kook. He’s just . . . gone. It’s like he’s been on autopilot for the better half of a year.”

Fuck. Jimin wasn’t to blame. Just like Jungkook, this entire situation was just one big mess. No one was to blame. Fuck, no one was to blame, and yet . . . you were sure they all blamed themselves. 

How could you have been so blinded by rage you hadn’t noticed this before?

“And I . . . I have had to live for the both of us,” he confessed, finally raising his head to meet your watchful gaze. “I knew what I was getting into, and I did it because I care for him, but I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize that . . . you can be there for someone as much as you want but there comes a time when caring for someone makes you stop caring about yourself.” His brows twitched only once, but the action carried a world of pain. “Tae is my best friend. They both were, and I . . . I didn’t just lose Jungkook that day. I had to live for Tae, and in doing so, I stopped living for myself.”

I stopped living for myself. Closing your eyes, you were only reminded how wrong you had been. The three of them were all in pain, refusing to admit it. They all blamed themselves, you were sure of it. 

But no one was to blame.

No one.

Still, you stayed silent, keeping these thoughts to yourself. Your eyes fluttered back open, and it was as if you were staring the past in the face once again. And god, did it have such a guilty conscience.

“I know it’s wrong, but there will always be a part of me that resents him for it,” Jimin went on, sighing as his words left his lips. “And he—” he gestured back to the karaoke room; back to where Yoongi still resided— “is the only reason I didn’t lose myself. He is the only reason I can fucking breathe just for a second . . . so that is why I’m here. I don’t care if it’s selfish. He’s my sliver of happiness, which is why . . . “ he wet his lips, staring at you as if you were a reflection of his own past “ . . . which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then. So . . . I don’t blame you either but . . . but I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I know what I did. I will always regret it and I will always wish I could turn back time and make it all go away, but I can’t.”

Which is why I don’t blame Jungkook for the things he did for you back then, you repeated in your head once more. Was Jimin right? Had Jungkook truly loved you? 

And then, one more final question popped into your head: Did he still?

“Min?” 

The singular name brought you and Jimin out of your little bubble. The two of you turned your heads in the direction of the sound, finding Yoongi had peeked his head out of the karaoke room. His dark eyes shifted between you and his boyfriend, a skeptical look plastered across his face. 

“Everything’s fine,” Jimin replied with a tight smile.

That was when you saw it—the way Yoongi’s face softened instantly with just a couple of words from Jimin. You recognized that look. You’d seen that very expression reach Jungkook’s face time after time again in the past months you’d spent getting to know each other more and more and . . . 

Wait . . . 

Wait, wait . . . you recognized that look, but in a deeper way, in a visceral way. Yes, you’d seen Jungkook wear it many times, but . . . you could have sworn you’d seen it somewhere else, too. You could have sworn you’d catch glimpses of it on your own face when you’d walk past a mirror or catch your reflection in a puddle. And you’d always catch sight of it when . . . Jungkook was up ahead or behind or near. 

Yes, that was it. You’d seen that expression on your own face when Jungkook was involved. But . . . did that mean? 

No, no . . . no. Stop it. You couldn’t think about what this meant or that meant or this or that and those and them or whatever! No. 

Right now . . . right now you had to focus. Jungkook had run off and you . . . you needed to find him, but—

Your gaze fixated on Jimin once again. What happened back then . . . He wasn’t to blame. No one was. They, all three of them, were in pain, blaming themselves and yet too scared to face it. None of them would dare to either. But it was so clear that Jungkook missed Taehyung and Jimin as well. And now . . . now it was clear just how much Jimin missed the both of them . . . 

And well, you could do something about that. Perhaps then this guilt would leave you alone. Perhaps then things could be set right. Maybe then things could be the way they were supposed to be before life got in the way.

The answer was clear, and you couldn’t stop yourself. “Jimin,” you began, clearing your throat and interrupting the conversation between him and his boyfriend. Once his eyes were on you, with a clearing of your throat, you continued. “I’m sorry . . . for blowing up on you. I didn’t realize that—nevermind—just . . . Jungkook . . . he misses you . . . and Tae. I can see that. He’s . . . He doesn’t hate you, you know? He blames himself, yes, but he’s not angry with either of you. I think he just wants you guys back . . . so . . . if there’s any way . . . ask Hoseok for my number.” You paused for only a second to swallow. “You shouldn’t have to live with regrets.”

A beat of silence followed your words once again, almost as if it were mocking you. But instead of turning your words to shit, Jimin welcomed the silence. He embraced it as a small smile lifted onto his lips. And then . . . then he nodded.

It was a silent agreement, but it was good enough for you. 

This could be it.

A new leaf.

For him.

For Jungkook.

For Jungkook, you affirmed, and with that thought, you nodded back. “It was nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you mumbled genuinely, before your eyes shifted back to Jimin once again. Another nod from you. “Jimin. Tell Hoseok that Kook and I went to eat, yeah? We’ll see him at practice tomorrow.”

“Hey—“ Jimin piped up before you could leave— “remember to live for yourself, too, yeah?”

And you nodded back with a smile.

The world fell away piece by piece as you turned from them, their faces still glued to the back of your mind, but you couldn’t waste any more time. As it was, your anger had already bubbled over and burned enough bridges that night to waste a lifetime. You should’ve kept your cool. You should’ve tried to see everything from a bigger picture, but this rage trapped inside you seemed to be bigger than you knew how to control. Sure, it had subsided now . . . but only because . . . because that was what was right.

You didn’t know how to explain it, but . . . Jungkook had become someone important to you, perhaps the most important in your life. You’d never felt that before. You never thought you’d be able to care about someone this much before, but . . . you did, and that was enough to put away that anger boiling deep inside you just enough to do right . . . for him.

Did that make you crazy? Maybe . . . maybe it did, but there wasn’t much in you to care about things like that. All you wanted was to find him. If you found him, everything would be alright. It would. You swore it would. 

Your feet didn’t feel like your own as you raced down the halls of the karaoke bar. The lights had begun to blur together in your vision, creating mixes of blue and purple racing in your peripheral. You’d even looked into room after room, disturbing group after group, solely searching for him.

Until . . . with your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing uneven, and a relentless shiver shaking throughout your body, through the muted colorful lights, you caught sight of a man’s figure crouched down in a corner of the building. His hands were covering his ears, his face hidden in his knees as he breathed heavily, but he was there. You’d found him. Instantly, your muscles relaxed. Exhale.

You’d found him. “Ju—” but you quickly cut yourself off before you could draw any attention to yourself.

Think. You had to think. You couldn’t approach him like you normally would. You couldn’t go in all thorns and nails on a chalkboard. This was different. This was what you had read about. What you realized you had never been good at—comfort.

How could you comfort? You had never been nurturing. Hell, you’d read something once that told you some women just weren’t meant to be mothers, and you knew you were one of them. You knew you couldn’t didn’t know how to be . . . soft.

But you had to try. For him . . .

And then you remembered:

Five Ways You Can Help Someone With an Anxiety Disorder:

Validate Their Feelings by Letting Them Know It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Don’t Tell Them to Calm Down

Encourage Them to Focus on Things They Can Change

Help Them to Help Themselves

Discourage the Use of Alcohol or Drugs to Cope With Anxiety

But . . . but . . . fuck! How was that supposed to help you now? Let them know it’s OK not to be OK. OK . . . You swallowed hard. You could do that. Focus on things they can change. OK, OK. You could do that, too.

Hesitantly, you took a step forward.

But shit! You paused, halting in your movements. What if that didn’t work? What if you didn’t do it right? What if it only made it worse? What if you only made him worse?

Just . . . just . . . fuck, OK! Just— 

“Kookie,” you heard yourself say clearly before you knew you had even opened your mouth.

In response, his breathing stopped but he didn’t raise his head to meet your gaze. Instead . . . “It’s OK. Just go back . . . “ he muttered out, just loud enough for you to hear, but he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I’m OK.”

I’m OK. You swallowed hard. No . . . no, he wasn’t, and unlike all those years ago, you were not going to leave him behind. Not now. Never again.

It didn’t take another second for you to cross the distance to him before you sank to your knees right in front of him, reminding yourself not to startle him. “I’m here,” was all you said, fighting against everything harsh and rough in you, trying desperately to be soft.

The thing was: people could tell you countless amounts of things on how to help someone, but . . . you’d never get it. You weren’t good at it. You couldn’t do that, be that. You knew him, too. He wasn’t textbook like all the things you’d read up on. You assumed no one was . . . so . . . you’d like to add one more to the list: ask him how you could help.

“What—” you inhaled sharply— “What do you need me to do?”

Still, Jungkook would not meet your eyes, but he didn’t need to. You saw his body shift. You saw him process your words. And you knew he wasn’t going to hide from you. “Just—” he all but choked out— “ground me. Put your arms. Squeeze . . . hard.”

And just like that, you acted quickly. You didn’t waste any time as you scooted behind him, wrapping your arms around his figure, locking him into your body, and squeezing as he’d instructed. Resting your cheek on his back, you continued hugging his body to yours, listening to his heartbeat as you did so. Squeezing your eyes shut, you begged for this to help him, but the beat of his racing heart met your ears like a drum.

It wasn’t enough. You had to keep going. 

“OK, OK, what else?” you asked him, your voice clear and calm . . . and soft.

But the beat of his heart was the only thing you heard.

Ground him. You squeezed harder. “You’re here with me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Speak to me, Koo,” you all but begged.

“Tell me something,” he mumbled, and you nearly exhaled in relief. “Please, say anything.”

Nodding quickly, you tried to scrounge up something, anything. “OK, um, um,” you stuttered out, racking your brain over and over again, until finally . . . “Do you remember when we were kids and my parents rented that cabin for the summer? You had this fake tattoo of a dragon that you really really wanted to put on your arm right—“ you grabbed his forearm, pressing your thumb into a spot— “here, but I wanted everything you had so I just had to have the tattoo. I whined and whined until you finally let me have it. And yet, in the end, my mom forgot to take off the plastic so neither of us ended up with the damn tattoo and we were both pissed.” Smiling against his back, you readjusted your grip on him, holding him closer than before, perhaps so close your souls could almost touch. “Your mom made us hold hands until we got over it.”

And with a small smile on your face, you heard it . . . 

His heart rate had started to slow, his breathing becoming more controlled as he tried his hardest to breathe in deep and exhale long. Was it? Was it working? OK. OK. Speak more. Speak—

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop crying, meanwhile, I won that thing in a raffle,” he interrupted before you could rack your brain for another memory. 

Wetting your lips, you replied, “But it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes danced around the room, the memory almost as clear as day. The smile on your face grew. “We were sitting by the fire, getting way too messy with those s’mores you swore you knew how to make.”

“We camped outside the entire night,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as a small laugh escaped him.

“Yeah, until you almost pissed your pants because you thought you heard a bear,” you remarked, the smile on your face too wide to contain.

“Hey!” he quipped back as his hand fell to your arm. “I was like nine.”

In shock, you watched as Jungkook slowly raised his hands to cover your arms, hugging them to his chest. Then, you rested your ear against his chest, and you realized his heartbeat had returned almost to normal . . . and . . . and . . . his breathing had calmed. And then you saw it, a drop of . . . something had wet his shirt where your cheek laid . . . and you realized . . . you were crying.

Was this softness that you felt? Or weakness?

The truth was: you didn’t care. Not now. 

Quickly, you wiped your damp cheeks on your shoulder and sniffled. “Scaredy cat,” you mumbled with a soft laugh.

Jungkook breathed out a laugh through his nose. “Brat,” he hummed as he squeezed your forearm.

A beat of silence met the two of you then. You nestled closer, holding him until he finally gave you the go-ahead that he was alright. You’d stay there all night if you had to. And he welcomed this with open arms, holding you as close as he could in his position, and just letting things . . . be, it seemed. 

Until, finally, after what seemed like hours, he whispered against your forearm, “I’m sorry.”

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your brows pinched together, confusion revisiting you as you asked, “For what?”

“You don’t need this,” was his only answer.

Another beat of silence.

And then: “You’ll always be unhappy when it comes to me.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, your only response was to hug him tighter. Fuck.

It is not the moon, I tell you. It is these flowers lighting the yard.

As the night droned on, writings upon writings popped into your head as you tried to make sense of this, of tonight, of everything; one, in particular, visited you too frequently to be ignored; one that you had held onto for years now. You supposed it was a silly thing—realizing just how many poems you had trapped in your head, but you had three years of isolation, three years of loneliness, three years where you only read and read and read. Those three years . . . poems had been all you had.

You supposed it would always end this way.

I hate them. I hate them as I hate sex, the man’s mouth sealing my mouth, the man’s paralyzing body—

And like the poem stated, these words remained true to you. You hated many things, perhaps too much. In those three years, you had grown to hate another’s touch, perhaps because you craved it so viscerally. But . . . the scent of mock orange wasn’t in the form of a man for you. To you . . . the scent of mock orange smelled a lot like a badminton racket.

and the cry that always escapes, the low, humiliating premise of union—

Perhaps you had grown to hate badminton. You hadn’t even realized it, but . . . looking back at it now . . . you had done everything to be someone . . . to be the best, and you had wanted that. You had really wanted that. Sometimes you thought it was the only thing that would ever make you happy, but . . . 

But . . . 

In my mind tonight I hear the question and pursuing answer fused in one sound that mounts and mounts and then is split into the old selves, the tired antagonisms. Do you see? We were made fools of. And the scent of mock orange drifts through the window.

But perhaps . . . like growing pains . . . a part of you had outgrown badminton. Could this be real? Could you really have outgrown the one thing you had ever loved? And if you truly had . . . what did that mean for you now?

How can I rest? How can I be content when there is still that odor in the world?

That odor.

That damned odor of mock orange blossoms.

. . . You had smelt them the day of the incident. The stench had followed you to the hospital, crawling under your skin and resting there for the months to follow. They hadn't even bloomed then, yet you still smelt them every time you breathed. When your heart felt less heavy and your mind was clearer than the day before, when it became month after month after month, the scent finally rid itself from your senses. And you thought you might have actually been allowed to rest without that odor in the world.

But as another month melted into the next, and you tried to get back onto your feet again, the scent of mock orange drifted back into your life. You, of course, ignored this, eager to get back on your feet. You’d been able to take a few steps, which eased the ache you had been carrying around for the past few months. You knew it was stupid to imagine you could actually be healed after a few months, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to walk again . . . maybe run . . . maybe play again with a racket in your hand.

It was nice—being able to dream for a few minutes.

But it did only last for a short time. Soon you being you had gotten too cocky in your progress. You wanted to try longer walks. You wanted to see if you could run.

Then as you ignored the warning signs from your parents, from your doctors, from your nurses, the second they allowed you out on the hospital courtyard, you took off, attempting to run. But . . . before you knew it, something snapped and . . . you were tumbling to the ground, crying in pain.

And just like that . . . the scent of mock orange drifted in and remained in the air.

You remembered just laying there after that, contemplating just how much this would set you back as the nurses hurried you back to your room to be examined. You wondered if you had fucked yourself entirely. You wondered if this was it and you would never be able to play or even walk again. You wondered what that made you now. You might as well have not even been a person anymore, because back then . . . badminton had been all that you had. Back then, if you weren’t the best; if you weren’t someone great, then you were nothing. 

And yes, you knew you had never been particularly interesting, but you never thought you were . . . nothing. The scent of mock orange tainting the air reminded you of the truth—without badminton, you might as well have been no one.

As you were escorted back to your room, examined, and left to rest, you laid there, the scent of mock orange being your sole company, and you realized you hated them. You hated those stupid, putrid flowers as you hated feeling . . . less. You hated them as you hated yourself.

Guilt might have been your ghost, but the scent of mock orange was your shadow.

How could you rest? How could you be content when there was still that odor in the world?

You were sure you never would.

And truly . . . how could you rest? If you were constantly trying to be better and better? When would you finally be the best? Could you be? No . . . no, you knew you couldn’t, but then who were you?

Who were you without . . . badminton?

That was the question on your mind as you flicked at your ramyeon with your chopsticks. You supposed like the mock orange blossoms, your coming-of-age escapades did not deliver the fruits of its promise. Becoming someone was all you had ever wanted out of life. You wanted glory. You wanted greatness. And yet . . . why did the thought of badminton slowly and slowly start to turn into this . . . dark thing? Why was it that when badminton was involved . . . bad things happened?

Now, you didn’t believe in signs and you surely wouldn’t start now . . . but it became evident that you had been made a fool of, wishing on a shooting star that was on its last breath. The scent of mock orange would drift in every time, reminding you that you would never reach that greatness again no matter how many times you tried. 

And that should’ve filled you with rage . . . jealousy . . . pain . . . but . . . you didn’t feel any of that. What you felt, at its core, was a gentle ache in your chest; the same kind of ache which came with nostalgia. 

You just couldn’t stop thinking of it. Actually . . . you hadn’t stopped thinking about that scent of mock orange since you saw Jimin earlier that night. He’d told you Taehyung had loved badminton the most . . . he told you he was a ghost of himself now because of what he lost. And then you began to think of what had happened to you . . . 

Those three years . . .

All you had ever thought about was getting back to the person you used to be. That was all you had cared about, and when you finally won that first game all those months ago . . . you had felt that same joy that you had always felt after a win. Except . . . this was different, you realized.

Remembering the win now, the image of you smashing the birdie down onto the court wasn’t what came to mind first. No, you remembered that day; you remembered the thrill of the win, but the image that came to mind first was Jungkook smiling down at you moments before you sprung into his arms.

Jungkook was what you remembered that day, not the look on the other team’s faces when you took home that winning title. And then you realized what you had been trying to ignore ever since you let your walls come down layer by layer: perhaps . . . perhaps there was more to life than badminton.

In the months you had let Jungkook in, you’d lived more than you had in your entire life. You’d laughed more, smiled more, felt more. You’d felt yourself be more. 

The scent of mock orange never visited you when he was around. It was like he was the real thing. You weren’t even sure if that made any sense. But . . . but . . . if you couldn’t smell those damned phony flowers, then perhaps Jungkook had taken their place. By chance . . . did he smell like an orange blossom? Without mocking, without malice, without trickery? Was he . . . real?

There was just something about the world that Jungkook had shown you that had a way of making everything just . . . mute. It was like before he’d shown you life through his eyes, everything had been loud, intense, brutal. And then . . . there he was, a bright smile on his face and the words ‘trust me’ leaving his lips as he held out his hand for you to take.

And you took it every time.

The scent of mock orange blossoms was left behind. And you began to wonder if just as you had outgrown your hatred for Jungkook . . . had you outgrown this visceral urge to hold a racket in your calloused hand?

Glancing down, you took in the image of your hand. The calluses were still there, the small cuts from accidental injuries, the bitten nails . . . they were all still there. Did they still fit around the base of a racket as they had three years ago?

You blinked, flexing your hand. Whatever, you decided. It would be tomorrow’s problem. (But we all know how good you were about . . . not . . . getting in over your head (so like, give yourself five minutes and you’d be thinking about it again).)

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.

Anyway.

Focus on the present.

Yes, that was the plan. You nodded at your thoughts as you blinked, forcing yourself back to the present.

The scent of mock orange blossoms still lingered in the air as you tried grounding yourself to reality. Ignoring them was the best you could do. Because right now, you were supposed to be present, aware, and solid. You were supposed to be Jungkook’s shoulder to lean on after what he had endured at the karaoke bar. You were supposed to know what to do . . . but you didn’t know anything. You just . . . you just wanted him to be alright . . . 

And all you could focus on was the fact that the two of you hadn’t spoken since you held him about—

You checked your phone.

—an hour and a half ago.

It had been quiet between the two of you ever since. It had been even quieter the second you stepped inside the nearest convenience store. (Who knew how long ago that was.)

The convenience store was perhaps too quiet now. The two of you had bought some instant ramyeon—one spicy, one mild and sat at the nearest tables outlooking the streets of Busan. Many people had walked back and forth, going about their night (well . . . now early morning), but not once had either of you decided to make little guesses about their lives as you had done many times before. No instead . . . Jungkook was silent. And you were too. 

But . . . you didn’t like the silence; not like . . . this. Slowly, with that thought plaguing your mind, you turned your head toward him.

Jungkook sat beside you, his head lowered slightly as he stared blankly out the window. He hadn’t touched his ramyeon once, which was evident as his chopsticks were all too clean without any stain or color. He just kept staring out the window, following those who walked by with his eyes all the while his tongue toyed with his lip ring. 

It was obvious why he was stuck in this limbo. Sure, of course it was all too obvious, but that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing why he was stuck like this wouldn’t do anything to . . . help.

And suddenly you were reminded of what Jimin had told you that night. Remember to live for yourself, too, he’d said before you left him. He’d told you it was impossible to live for two, but . . . why? Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you at least . . . help? You supposed the problem in that was the fact that you had no idea how to help, and that scared you more than you’d liked to admit.

You just . . . you just wanted him to be OK . . .

“You gonna eat that?” you heard yourself ask him before you knew what you were even saying.

Jungkook turned to you instantly with an almost shocked expression on his face as if he couldn’t remember where he was or who he was, but his eyes still shined with recognition as if he could still recognize you despite it all. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over your face, and then . . . then he slowly started to relax. His shoulders slumped slightly as the stiff muscles in his face loosened. And once he returned to the present, his eyes drifted from your questioning expression to the ramyeon in front of him . . . and then he was shoving a huge bite into his mouth all the while maintaining eye contact with you while he chewed.

You shot him a blank look, because you knew what he was doing—avoiding the inevitable by trying to make light of the situation. “I wasn’t going to force-feed it to you, you know?” you ended up mumbling as you continued to watch him chew, half making sure he ate all of it and half not sure where to rest your gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that then,” Jungkook muttered, his words muffled from the food in his mouth.

“Like what?” you questioned as you leaned closer to him, analyzing the crease between his furrowed brows.

His eyes shifted to the ground ever so slightly before he turned back to meet your gaze. “Like you pity me or something,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip into a pout as he averted his gaze to his bowl of ramyeon.

And you couldn’t help but let the corners of your mouth perk up into a small smile. He was still the boy you remembered when you were kids. He hadn’t changed too much. He was still . . . him. Only now, you had grown to appreciate how he was unlike in the past. Now . . . when he flashed you that pout, you wasted no time in waving him off with a small sigh. 

“Oh, Jungkookie,” you all but mused as you grabbed a napkin from the table, “sometimes it’s like you’re still that whiny little kid I grew up with.” You brought the napkin to his lips, gently dabbing. “You really haven’t changed at all, you know?”

With his eyes flicking from the napkin to your face, he timidly licked his lips and mumbled, “I was not whiny.”

You breathed a small, barely audible laugh. “Mmm, if it helps you sleep at night,” you hummed with a small shrug as your hand, now discarding the napkin, reached his face once again, except this time, you barely thought about your next move. Instead, you let your hand drift to his hair gently curling the long, dark strands behind his ear. 

And he just stared at you, his dark eyes warm and gentle as they always had been. His brows twitched as you alternated between playing with his earrings and toying with the longest strands of his hair. He almost seemed . . . at peace, and you wondered if this could be considered a moment of happiness?

Perhaps . . . 

It was moments like this that you wondered how the sick smell of mock orange blossoms had ever ruined your life. 

But like the poem described . . . the smell wasn’t something to be forgotten. It eventually seeped back in. And just as Jungkook had almost allowed himself to sink into your touch, his eyes turned back to the window where he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

It was almost soul-crushing how fast his face fell.

Jungkook took one last look at his reflection, shaking his head slightly as he averted his gaze to the table and clenched his jaw. "Fuck,” he whispered out, his voice hoarse, “this is so fucking annoying. Everything feels so off. I just . . . “ His words tangled around his tongue as he dropped his head to his hands. “Everyone always looks at me like I'm some fucking problem. Like if they get to my core, they can fix me. But I can't be fucking fixed. I fucked up. I ruined my best friend’s life. I don't deserve to be fixed."

And suddenly it was as if you were twelve years old again, seeing your mother cry for the first time and not knowing what to do or what to say. You had grown up that way—not being able to comfort. It had always been who you were. You’d never known what to do to . . . help. 

Yes, you could follow the directions of some online article and you could ask and ask and ask how to help him, but would it ever be enough? And what if he said he was fine when he was so clearly not? What then? How were you supposed to help then?

God, you wished you knew the answers. 

“You’re not broken, Koo,” you started with, your voice just as small as how you felt in that moment.

“What if I am?” he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head, and for another time that night, you faced that crushed look on his face. For another time that night, you saw the things he had been dealing with all on his own. You saw him. “What if I . . . ?”

And then you realized: you didn’t know how to comfort, but you did know how to bear things well. You knew how to crumble up the pain of not being good enough. You knew how to deal with a dream being crushed. You knew how to just . . . deal, and if Jungkook needed help, you could carry the load for him.

So, swallowing your own emotions bubbling up in your throat, you began slowly, "I know I can’t say . . . anything. I know that no matter what I do it's not gonna' make you feel better, because shit doesn't work that way. I'm not some fuckin' hero. I know that. You just need to know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm never leaving your side." Nodding your head, you could feel your eyes burning again. But you didn’t care. The world could see you cry for him and only him and you’d accept it with a heavy heart.

A beat of silence followed your confession.

The world exhaled.

You inhaled as you rested your hand on top of his moments before you began again, "You're—I care about you. . . and—and that means that no matter what time it is, if you feel like you're gonna do something to yourself, then you call me. We can go throw shit off a bridge or—or punch dummies. You need to scream? Then we can go scream until our lungs bleed, okay? Whatever. It doesn't matter. Just—" you squeezed his hand as your heart pulsed in pain in your chest— "You're not alone."

Though the expression on his face didn’t lift, Jungkook accepted your hand, taking it within his grasp to intertwine your fingers together with his. “It’s been months . . . and I still feel like this . . . “ he trailed off, gently shaking his head as he turned back to his reflection in the window.

Instantly, your free hand found his cheek, slowly turning his head so his eyes would only face yours. “I don’t think healing is . . . linear,” you admitted softly. “If I think about it . . . it took me years to be able to play again. Mental shit has to be like that too, right?”

His eyes fluttered shut under your touch. “I don’t know,” he softly sighed as his other hand reached to rest over the one you had caressing his cheek. “I’m just tired of feeling like this.” He swallowed thickly. “I just . . . it’s like . . . I watch everyone else live their lives while I endure mine. And—And I don't know what to do. Sometimes everything just gets so intense, and it just happens. It's like it's some fucked up kind of instinct. Trust me, I wish I could feel something other than this, but I don't feel anything. It's all fucking numb." He nearly dropped your hand, but you clung on tighter, refusing to let him slip through your fingers. "I don't fucking know what I feel. I just . . . I feel like a fucking ghost."

And for the second time that night, you watched the once never-bothered Jungkook reveal another layer of himself to you. 

I feel like a fucking ghost, rang in your ears again.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes tight and slowly . . . a single tear trickled from the corner of his eye down the side of his nose. 

I feel like a fucking ghost, once more, and you knew the words which would leave your lips before you even had the chance to think.

"Haunt me, then," you found yourself breathing out in a hushed whisper as your thumb caught his fallen tear, wiping it away with ease.

His eyes cracked open, a shocked expression crawling onto his face. "What?” he barely got out as he searched your eyes for anything that would tell him you hadn’t meant to say . . . that.

But you had.

Haunt me, you’d told him, and you knew you’d meant it. The words didn’t have to cross your mind for you to know what you spoke was the truth.

Haunt me.

Haunt me.

Haunt me.

Give it to me, and breathe.

That is what you had wanted to say. That is what you had meant. You could only hope he knew you were telling the truth.

Tilting your head to the side, you breathed out the air in your lungs. "I told you before, and I meant it,” you began in a gentle tone. “I'll carry the weight for you. All of the pain, the anger, the hatred . . . all of it . . . I will carry it all. Give it all to me, and I will find a way to deal with it." Squeezing his hand once again, you offered up a small smile. "You're not alone anymore, Kook. You do not have to deal with all your shit on your own. You've got me, and you can hate me, you can push me away, you can leave me stranded with no way home . . . but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

His brows twitched. “I can’t do that. You’ve got too much to think about.”

You shrugged with a roll of your eyes as you dropped your hand to your intertwined ones. “Like what? I’ve never thought a day in my life. Barely passed college with a 2.7,” you hummed, your voice a little more chipper now as you tried to keep his eyes on you and coax a smile out of him. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“The games,” he muttered with a small sniffle. “You’re shit at multitasking.”

That time, you did smile wider. There he was. “I can manage,” you mused as you leaned into him, nudging him with your elbow. “How about let’s go feed the fish by our hotel after practice tomorrow, hmm? To relax? Yeah?”

And then . . . you could have sworn he nodded. Maybe it was to himself or maybe it was to you, but you knew what it meant. You would accept a nod.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked a second later, gesturing to the half-eaten bowl of ramyeon in front of you.

And you knew he would be OK by your side. You would make sure of it. (You were the older one after all.)

So with a small smile still on your face, you detached your hands from his and reached for your bowl, scooting it toward him. Quietly, he took it from you and began to devour what you had left.

Yeah . . . he was still the same kid you knew growing up. And that . . . that was enough to make your heart feel warm.

It made you wonder if you could ever be . . . warm . . . like him. Unlike this cold, hollow shell you were so used to. Was that even written in your books? 

Wetting your lips, your eyes fell to your lap, only to be met with the image of Jungkook��s hand resting on your thigh, secured under the holes in your ripped jeans. It seemed without you noticing, Jungkook had absentmindedly reached for you, toying with the strings adorning the rips in your jeans, only to end up nestled underneath in an attempt to feel your skin against his.

It was sweet. Innocent. 

It made you feel warm, yet again, yes. But it also made you feel . . . fuck . . . what was that word?

And that was when you realized something . . .

“You’re wrong, you know?” you ended up muttering out before your brain could catch up with your impulse.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you. His eyes were still slightly puffy, causing your heart to swell in your chest.

How could he ever think he deserved this?

Wetting your lips, you confessed, “I’m a better person because of you. How could I ever be unhappy with that?”

Jungkook blinked, clearly shocked. Then, he began to toy with his lip ring before he sucked in a sharp inhale and nearly whispered, “All I want . . . is for you to be happy.”

And you couldn’t help but smile. It was warm. It was innocent. It was because of him. “Would you look at that?” you mused in a quiet voice. “Looks like we just came to an agreement.”

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as he nodded once before the two of you resumed your late-night slash early-morning meal. He finished your food for you, and you watched, making sure he ate it all, all the while, the words, I’m a better person because of you rang throughout the air.

I’m a better person because of you.

How could I ever be unhappy with that?

And you knew you meant every word.

The scent of mock orange blossoms couldn’t reach you now. 

Not here. 

Not with him.

When you were a kid, every Barbie doll your mother ever bought you would end up scalped and decapitated. Now . . . morbid . . . you knew. You weren’t exactly sure why you resorted to . . . that, but playing with dolls just always meant ripping their heads off. You supposed it was kind of symbolic now. 

Maybe you were jealous that their lives were perfect and yours was . . . meh. Or maybe you really just really hated dolls.

You supposed there had always been a certain sickness to you; a certain uneasiness that came with being a preteen girl. You were told sweet sixteen was when the claws came out, but you began to question if yours had grown in long before then. Maybe you had been born like . . . this or maybe everyone just felt this way and spent most of their lives hiding it, because if not . . . 

. . . it felt like life was just some sick joke that you hadn’t clued in on yet.

Perhaps that was why you had become so keen on poetry: it said what you feared only you felt. 

Because really, you used to use pages out of books to fasten a joint in a pinch, too, and now it physically hurt to imagine ever even tearing a page. 

But words felt more comforting now. Sure, a racket felt like it fit into you like a hook in an eye, but now . . . now it felt just a tad more awkward than it had in the past. Words . . . words could never disappoint you, you decided long ago when they had been all that you had had.

There’s something soft in me—

You remembered reading long ago.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.

And maybe it was silly. Maybe it was dramatic, but words made things feel better. It made the world less scary. It made looking at Jungkook and wondering what this feeling in your chest was . . . not so scary. It made things . . . better.

So, you’d read, and you’d overanalyze, and you’d spend your time too wrapped up in words because it made everything that much bearable. Because it made the fact that your claws didn’t come in at sixteen so much easier to swallow; it made the fact that there was nothing soft about you alright.

Because maybe there had been something soft about you long ago. Or maybe you had killed it; maybe you had taken the softness and traded it for survival, only to discover all the rot inside of you that you had been trying to ignore for years now. 

Had the fire gotten a hold of you even back then? 

Is that why you no longer feared it? Because there was nothing left to fear? Did all this rot mean you were no different from a hit deer off the highway? 

. . . 

Whatever. 

It didn’t mean much, right? 

There were no birds coming to feast on your rotting corpse like the deer you wondered if you resembled. Nothing had come to consume your body as the world had consumed your soul. You were just there . . . 

With a sigh, you clicked off your phone, disregarding the poem as you shoved it all away into the back of the pocket of your athletic shorts. And as you stood there, you slowly glanced up only to meet the image of Jungkook walking toward you, a half-smile on his tired face with a duffel bag over his shoulder and a racket in his hand. You hadn’t seen him since you woke up that morning, quickly dressed and told him you’d meet him at the center after your run. And there he was, his hair in a small ponytail with a grin on his face at the sight of you. (You tried to ignore the urge to meet him halfway. (Also ignoring this . . . weird feeling blooming in your chest the second you saw him.))

“Well, it seems the sun’s decided to come out after all,” were the first words out of his mouth as he drew closer. And only then did you realize the day was dreary, filled with dark clouds and humid spring air. 

Tearing your eyes from the clouds above, your gaze landed on Jungkook just as he stopped before you, setting his duffel bag on the pavement beside you. He wasted no time either, poking your abdomen with his racket. “Bad day already?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side in thought.

Sighing, you shook your head. “No, just . . . thinking.”

“Well, stop, it’s aging you,” he lightly scolded.

You squinted your eyes into a glare. “You’re on one today.”

And well . . . all he did was wink. Of course.

Now . . . you knew how this looked. Just last night you and him were up into the early morning nursing each other’s wounds and now it seemed like it hadn’t even happened, but there was a reason for that. The two of you knew each other. He appreciated that you didn’t make it a big thing. You were always going to be there for him; that much was obvious by now given your history with each other. But if there was one thing the two of you both hated, it was being treated as if you were as fragile as glass. So for now . . . last night was a little secret between the two of you, and right now . . . right now you both had to get your heads in the game for the finals tomorrow.

So there . . . that was that. At least that was how it was for you. You were sure it was the same for him, but it wasn’t like you could think about that right now either. Right now you had to think of the tournament as draining as it felt to even acknowledge it.

But just as you were about to move past it all and grab your own duffle bag from the ground, Jungkook halted you with a hand on your wrist. Your eyes immediately snapped to his.

“You sure you’re good?” he questioned once more, his eyes wider now, more concerned than before.

(There’s something soft in me—

But you couldn’t burden him now. Not after what he went through last night. Because you knew him, and you knew he’d do anything to make things right for you . . . even if it meant ignoring his own troubles. And well, despite what you liked to claim, you couldn’t bear to do that to him.

—we killed it and it’s rotting.)

So instead, you blurted out: “Just stressed, you know?”

His brows pinched together slightly, but he didn’t press it further. “Right . . . “

And that was that. You didn’t let another word pass between the two of you as you picked up both your duffel bag and his and began to walk toward the training center. Jungkook, of course, fought you the entire way, trying to grab the duffel bags from your hands, but you insisted, tsking at him as he tried to outsmart you (as if he ever could).

While he repeatedly tried to snatch at least one bag from your grasp, your eyes were training on the scene in front of you. And it was only when the two of you turned the corner, now facing the center head-on, that you realized maybe the dark clouds had been a sign telling you to turn back; to stay inside; to practice somewhere else. Jungkook, on the other hand, was preoccupied, as, in your shock, he managed to snatch both duffel bags from your grasp. And he was mighty proud of himself too until he heard what you had seen . . . and slowly the grin fell from his lips as he turned to face the scene.

Because before the two of you, crowding in front of the training center were reporters on top of reporters with their big flashy cameras and notepads, and . . . behind them, spray painted across the building was your name . . . with the words ‘is a traitor’ too big not to notice.

There’s something soft in me—

we killed it and it’s rotting.

It happened in slow motion. The reporters caught sight of the two of you, and that was it. They were racing toward you in seconds, all screaming this and that, trying to get a story, and all you could do was stare in a state of confusion and shock as if you were waiting for a car to pop out of nowhere and hit you.

Off the highway like another deer.

You’d never seen something like it. Sure, you’d seen this stuff in movies, but never in real life, never because of . . . you. There had been articles published when you fell out of the badminton scene three years ago, but never something like this. Never something like this. Fuck, even the interview you’d done as a team were never like . . . this.

Off the highway like another girl.

What was . . . this?

It was bad. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t hear anything. You could see Jungkook growing angry beside you, pushing the reporters back as he said . . . something . . . but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything.

You should have known better. You should've known there was a chance something bad would happen. Because like always, when you got that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, when the dark clouds came out and the air felt wet but chilly but humid . . . something bad always happened. But you hadn't thought that the world would be so cruel, especially the day before the end.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to—

You felt the world caving in on you. You felt small. Small and disgusting. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to run, but you couldn't. Your mind had been the only thing to stay alert. Just run, you thought. Run. Run. Fucking run.

But you couldn't. You wanted to but the camera kept flashing and the reporters kept yelling and yelling and yelling and all you could make out was that everyone hated you. Suddenly, it was three years ago and everyone was pretending to be nice to you, then bitching about you behind your back. Suddenly, you were falling. Your hip was hurting. You were screaming and nobody cared. Nobody cared. Nobody—and then you were pushing everyone away again. Suddenly, you were alone again. And then you felt it. You felt it all, and then . . . then you couldn't breathe.

I can't breathe. You tried gasping for air, but it never stuck in your lungs. I can't breathe. You could have sworn this was what drowning felt like as your breaths came out quicker and quicker. Oh, my God, I can't fucking breathe.

You needed air. You needed to run.

Your eyes darted to the training center, and you knew what you had to do. You forced your legs to move as you tried to make it to the center. You’d be inside in a minute; you just needed a second. One second and you could breathe again.

But before you could even really move to make it, a hand was on your shoulder, and it wasn’t who you thought it’d be. No, it wasn’t a comforting touch; it was the touch of a reporter trying to make you stay in place just for you to answer their question. There was no making it out of this.

Glancing up, your eyes met the reporter’s and then you finally heard the words you’d been drowning out all morning: “Are the bribing rumors true?”

All air escaped your lungs. Bribing? You? “What?” you weakly asked (you’d never sounded like this before in your life, and yet . . . ).

But before anything else could escalate, Jungkook was stepping in front of you. His body blocked yours from the reporters, his hand carefully resting on your hip as he tucked you behind him while he mumbled, “Don’t bother—”

“What—” you blurted out before you could stop yourself— “What rumors?” 

You just . . . you wanted to know. Bribing? All you’d ever done in your career was try to be the best. You’d put blood and tears and sweat and everything into badminton, and this . . . this was how it repaid you. You’d fucked up your leg for it; fucked up your life; fucked up everything just to hold a fucking racket in your hand and now they wanted to say that you bribed your way into . . . into what? Success? You wanted to know the truth. You wanted to know.

But no one bothered giving you an answer. It was just question after question, confusing you more and more, and all you could come to the conclusion was the fact that the whole world must have thought you were as horrible as a person as you feared you were.

So, the final person asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

And all you could fathom was: “I—” you swallowed hard— “I . . . don’t care.”

That was it.

I don’t care, you’d said even though you did, because you always had. You cared too much. Too fucking much. And you were too much. And this was too much. And just . . . just . . . 

You didn’t bother thinking further. Your mind went blank as you tore yourself from the scene. Dropping your racket to the ground, you took a step backward. 

. . . And then you were gone.

Run, you’d told yourself, and finally, you listened.

And as you ran, you realized, things were easy for you when you could ignore them. If you spent your time worrying about everyone else, then there would be no more time left to worry about yourself. You supposed that was an issue on its own, but that was how you survived. 

A burnt child loves the fire. Yes, and you did. You loved it because it meant you’d have one more reason to survive. Survive enough and you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath. Just keep surviving the fire. That . . . that was what you were good at.

But you didn’t know how to deal with . . . this.

This wasn’t a fire. Far from it. 

It was almost as if you were stuck at the bottom of a lake, your foot trapped under a rock, unable to get to the surface. And no matter how hard you fought to unsheath yourself, you stayed trapped at the bottom, water threatening to clog your air pipes.

And the thing they don’t tell you about drowning: it only takes forty seconds.

Forty seconds turned into minutes then an hour, and you began to wonder how long you had been left at the bottom of that lake. How long until the water finally reached your lungs?

It was about half an hour ago when you’d finally found the pond just outside the hotel your team was staying in, that you’d finally searched up whatever the fuck had gotten you in so much shit.

Yunis Doubles Player Accused of Bribing Referee to Make Nationals, was the headline. Apparently, an anonymous inside source had come forward and claimed that you’d not only bribed your way into winning each tournament for your team, but on top of that, you were also taking whatever drug to help with your fucked leg.

And get this . . . apparently it was because once you won finals, you’d go on to sign for Russia, leaving Korea behind, essentially making yourself a traitor. So there it was. In less than a day, you were a traitor, a drug abuser, and a cheat. Because apparently, that was true. 

Whatever . . .  it didn’t matter anyway. Even though it wasn’t true, the media had made it so, so it was by default. And as if badminton hadn’t already been feeling like a chore, your love for it lessened and lessened into . . . this hate.

That was what you felt: hate. Had you become hatred now?

Had you become a ghost, too? . . . Had you always been? . . . 

“Don’t do it. You’ve got so much to live for,” you heard a voice say in a joking manner behind you just as you tossed another rock into the large pond below your dangling feet. (The voice had startled you all the same, nearing skyrocketing the rock out of your grasp, but we don’t dwell on that.)

Still . . . 

. . . you didn’t jump. There was no need to. Startled or not, there was no need to fear. You knew that voice, and it only ever filled you with comfort, nothing else.

So instead of answering, you dropped your head in shame, eyes on the koi fish swimming idly through the water below you as your hands tightened around the edge of the rickety bridge. 

Jungkook had found you. Somehow he always managed to make his way back to you, no matter how many times you pushed him away.

(It used to be annoying. Now it was just . . . well . . . it was something else now. It had grown into something . . . more . . .)

His footsteps grew closer. He was behind you now. Close, yet still so very distant.

Silence for only a beat more.

And then, he spoke.

“I was trying to find an excuse to come find you,” he murmured, his words unexpecting of a response as he sat down beside you, dangling his feet over the edge of the bridge.

And you . . . you stayed still, peeking at him through the corner of your eye. Sure enough, he was real, and he was sitting there dressed in his athletic clothes, some of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, while he held in his hands two pieces of . . . bread (?). 

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Bread was your excuse?” you questioned, your voice quiet.

Jungkook glanced between you and the bread, then back at you until he settled on the bread, tapping a finger to the loaves. “Ah . . . right . . . well . . . buy one, get one free,” he curtly explained. His eyes drifted back to you, then, as he wet his lips and sighed. “You talked about wanting to feed the fish.” Add in a shrug. “Thought this might be where I’d find you . . . so—“ a clearing of his throat— “Just—Are you OK?”

And you couldn’t help it. You took him up on his offer, silently grabbing a loaf of bread from his hands and resting it on your lap. Your eyes followed it the entire way, watching as your hand began to rip a small piece from the corner. “I think,” you finally replied to his question just as you tossed the piece of bread into the water. “I can’t force people to believe me. So—” pausing for a second, you watched as two koi fought over the piece of bread— “whatever, right?”

Jungkook plucked a piece of the bread off, but instead of throwing it to the fish, he plopped it into his mouth, chewing in contemplation. “You were always the best player,” he mumbled through the mouthful. Plucking off another piece, he waved it in your direction, gesturing to you. “They can’t take that away.”

Maybe it was the sentiment or maybe it was how he’d begun to eat the bread he brought solely to feed the fish, but you couldn’t help but fight off a smile. Because when times were like this, you felt fine; you felt . . . almost good, but when you were out there neck-and-neck, trying to hit the birdie again and again, you felt . . . off.

It made you realize that one: badminton didn’t feel like it used to and two: you weren’t entirely sure that the accusation itself was the reason behind your anger. Because maybe it was easier to be angry or sad. It always had been. 

But as you ripped off another piece of bread to throw to the fish, it hit you. You weren’t exactly hard to figure out you’d like to think, so really, put two and two together and you get one burnt-out badminton player looking for an excuse to quit.

Fuck.

It really was that, wasn’t it?

You didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want to believe it either because badminton was your life. There was no without. Like a hook in an eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. Hook in eye. You couldn’t escape it. 

But now . . . after years and years of trying to get back to that same person you were before the accident, you’d ignored just how draining it had begun to feel to practice and practice and try and try and . . . try. You mistook it for physical fatigue; for healing from your injury. You didn’t once think that your disinterest may have been because you had grown further and further apart from a racket in your hand and the sound of the court squeaking under your shoes. And when that reporter asked you if you’d cheated to get back in the game . . . you’d taken that chance to run away; to ruin it for yourself once more . . . and this time not for the sake of self-sabotage but perhaps . . . conservation.

So you began to ask yourself the same question that had been haunting you for a while now: how well did badminton still fit into you? You’d thought about it last night. You thought about it a million times before, refusing to acknowledge it, and now . . .

Then you found yourself turning to Jungkook. “What—” you sucked in a quick breath— “What made you want to play badminton? . . . In the beginning . . . “

Setting the bread aside, he leaned forward, resting his forearm against the lower part of the railing. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled as he rested his cheek against his forearm. “It was just . . . easy for me. I liked being good at things.”

“But . . . “ (you had begun to toy with the bread instead of tossing it to the fish) “ . . . why did you love it?”

A few beats of silence.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Then, Jungkook spoke: “The people, I think,” he finally said in a calm, collected tone, adding in a shrug at the end of his sentence. “I never really cared about being someone special; I just when I played, I always played with friends. It was fun. I think when I look back on it, it wasn’t badminton that I loved, it was the people. My friends . . . coaches . . . “ his eyes flashed to meet yours, “. . . you.” And he maintained eye contact. “It was the only time I ever felt happy, and when I grew up . . . when badminton felt more like a game of loss . . . it lost its magic. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Everyone had grown up and I was still there, on that court. . . . It wasn’t fun anymore . . . “

Oh.

Because, truly, you’d felt the same. Well . . . perhaps a tad different. Badminton had been fun for you because you always won. It was the only time you felt . . . special, good . . . worth . . . something. And when you lost it all, you felt like nothing upon nothing upon shit. So when you finally gained it all back, it was almost as if with each win, that magic Jungkook spoke up washed away bit by bit. Winning wasn’t fun anymore; it was being with him that made it worth . . . something.

But could winning itself ever have the same effect as it did years ago? Would you ever crave it so violently again?

“Do you think it could ever be fun again?” you voiced your thoughts aloud, hesitant as if admitting this aloud was some kind of sin.

“Maybe,” Jungkook muttered with another shrug. His attention was drawn on the fish now, his round, brown eyes following them as they swam to and fro. “But—” he breathed in heavily— “if I had it my way . . . I’d go back home and help run my parents’ shop.” There was that smile creeping up on his face again at the mention of home. “And if I really had it my way, I’d be thirteen again and I’d never grow up. I’d be small and happy and I’d never have to leave home again. That is what I truly want; to be that kid again . . . but for right now . . . I think I’d settle with just going home, knowing my mom’s special dish is waiting for me.”

Home.

He spoke of it so fondly, and you began to wonder if you’d ever loved it as much as he did. Now, you knew you did. Your parents were good, kind people. They were good parents. You loved them, missed them, but home had never been something that you’d acknowledged if that made any sense. You were just always looking forward to the future and who you’d become. You supposed you never stopped to take in the lines drawn onto the bathroom wall labeling your height year after year. You supposed you never stopped to catch sight of the way your mom would shave off the skin of the apple because she knew you didn’t like getting it in your teeth. You supposed you never thought of home as home because you always knew it’d be there, and now . . . now it was far far away and you were so so small, no longer great and big, and looking forward to the future. 

It made you wonder if this feeling deep inside you had something to do with missing this home Jungkook spoke of. And then you began to agree that, yes, yes you would very much like to be small again, coming home from badminton practice to the smell of your mother’s cooking and your father’s tunes playing on the CD player.

Perhaps . . . perhaps you wished you were little again, too. And perhaps you wished you could start over, this time with badminton as more of a love than a state of survival . . . and maybe then you’d know more of this . . . home.

“Kook . . . “ you began, eyes darting from fish to fish as your thoughts raced, “if I admit something . . . do you promise not to judge?”

Jungkook hummed moments before he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “What’s on your mind, hmm?” he mused, nudging you with his elbow as if telling you to go on.

Another few beats of silence. (It was odd how it kept lurking over your shoulder like a vice.)

And then: wetting your lips, you swallowed the weird feeling in your throat, finding it hard to get these words out for some reason. And then . . . when you were sure the silence had begun to eat at your flesh, you opened your mouth to voice your thoughts. “What if . . . what if I don’t love badminton anymore?” you mumbled, your voice nearly inaudible as you heard your words echo in your head again and again. But just like Pandora’s box, once they were spoken, you couldn’t shove them back down. Your words just kept flowing. “I mean . . . I’m—I’m twenty-five years old. All I’ve ever known is badminton. I ruined my life for it. I wasted three years trying to get it back and . . . and . . . and what if I did it for nothing? I wasted my entire life trying to be the best at something that I don’t even like anymore. What am I supposed to do if—if I don’t want it anymore?”

There.

Right there.

There was the truth you’d been hiding from for so long, and it was laid out in front of you, staring back at you.

What if you had wasted your entire life trying to be the best at something you didn’t even like anymore?

It wasn’t even like you wanted an answer from him either. You just needed to say it. You just needed to admit that perhaps you and Jungkook were more similar than either of you had ever thought. 

And did that . . . did that give you relief? To be understood in this way?

“I just—“ you blurted out, still trapped inside your head— “It’s like you said. I just . . . maybe I just want to go home. I don’t . . . I don’t want to go to the Olympics or—or anything. I don’t want to be who I was. I just . . . I don’t know if I care to be . . . that anymore.”

A beat of—wait—no, unlike you thought, no silence entered your space. No, instead, Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, baby—” he sighed, his voice like honey moments before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek— “you haven’t changed one bit either. Don’t you know? Violet, roses are red, not blue.” Your eyes met. His filled with understanding, while yours stained in shock. And then . . . then he tapped his thumb against the corner of your mouth, and offered up a small smile. “Where’s your smile? Hmm?”

Instantly, you sucked in a sharp breath as your eyes fluttered ever so slightly, taken off guard by his words. You wet your lips, trying to form any kind of sentence, but nothing ever came. Until you realized something . . . this feeling . . . it wasn’t something you were used to . . . but it was something you’d heard of . . . and it was . . . soft.

You’d never held something like that. You’d never owned something like that either. You’d never been it. You’d always just been machine parts and badminton plays. Strategies upon strategies. Always thinking and thinking and thinking and never just . . . being . . . feeling . . .

Until . . . 

. . . until him.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

“I’m so scared,” you heard yourself whisper before you realized it was you who was speaking.

Jungkook furrowed his brows as his eyes trailed across your face before he wiped his thumb across your cheek, then dropped his hand to yours. Only then did you realize you had been crying. Not sobbing or anything close, but a few tears had slipped past, and there he was again wiping them away like it was normal; like it was OK.

“Why are you scared?” he questioned softly as he squeezed your hand.

“Because,” you muttered out with a confused shrug. Hell, you didn’t even really know. You just knew . . . you just knew that: “I’m only still here . . . on this team . . . because of you. I think . . . I think what I like about badminton is . . . you. You’ve made it worth something when it’d lost all meaning to me. And . . . and . . . I think what scares me the most is that . . . is that you’ve made me . . . soft . . . and I can’t tell if I hate that or if I . . . if I’m grateful.” Quickly, you wet your chapped lips. “I’ve had good things in my life. I’ve had success and victory and fame . . . but it all felt like it came with a price. You know? Win a competition and you feel great but what about the next one? It was always just a constant race . . . but being around you . . . it doesn’t feel like I have to win anything. I feel softer and—and it doesn’t even come with a catch. It’s free.” Your eyes searched his. “Am I even allowed to have something like that when I should be obsessing over winning this championship?”

Jungkook leaned closer, taking your hand into both of his as he held it close to his chest similar to how you’d hold a teddy when you were a child. And then . . . he spoke, and you couldn’t believe your ears, wondering if this was the same man you knew when you were young. “Have all of me,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours as if he wanted you to know he meant this within his soul. “Take my bones and build yourself a home. They’re worn, sure, but I like to think they’re pretty sturdy . . . so . . . take them.” His eyes searched yours deeper. “Take all of me if you have to. Take all of me . . . ”

Blinking slowly, you shot him a look, a small, shocked smile creeping onto your face as you let a sliver of a laugh out before you knew it. “That’s disgusting,” you scolded him, shaking your head at his words, but you couldn’t help but find some sentiment in them. Maybe it was the morbidity to you, but no one had ever said such things to you . . . and you found yourself holding these words close to your chest just as Jungkook held your hand close to his.

He smiled back, too. “Good. I knew it’d make you laugh,” he murmured softly, and you knew this, too. It was him after all. He’d do anything to get a laugh out of you, and you began to realize that it had always been that way. (Perhaps you should’ve spent your childhood laughing more than scowling at him.) But it seemed he didn’t mind as he began to rub his thumb back and forth against your knuckles, his smile slowly fading into a solemn expression. And then: “You asked me to haunt you, but you’re the one who haunts me.”

You swallowed hard.

You’re the one who haunts me.

Oh . . . 

And then you began to wonder: was Jimin right? He loved you, he had told you. And suddenly, you realized that if this were still true . . . it didn’t bother you. You’d accept it even. But what did that mean for you?

You swallowed hard once again.

“You said I make you feel real again,” he continued on, making you forget your own thoughts as you watched his head tilt to the side in thought, ever so slightly. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to haunt you. I don’t want to poison your softness. I want to make you keep feeling real and soft and . . . you. And . . . and well . . . you make me want to be real again. You–you make me want to be a person, to be something, to make something of the person I am. I don’t want to end up like your King Weir—”

“Lear,” you felt yourself whisper so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. All you could do was stare at him and stare and stare and . . . 

“I don’t want to be him,” Jungkook restated. A small pause followed as those warm brown eyes you’d come to be fond of searched yours like you were the only two people left on the planet. “I don’t want to be nothing . . . and you’ve reminded me of that.” Wetting his lips, he reached for your other hand, now holding both your hands in his, his thumbs running across your knuckles.  “So I was wondering—” he maintained eye contact, while he gave a quick squeeze to your hands— “if maybe instead . . . well . . . I want you to help me live . . . no haunting necessary.”

I want you to help me live.

It echoed in your ears.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to help me live.

I want you to—

Did he know that he’d given you a whole new reason to keep living? Did he know that when you thought of him, you realized you had another reason to live? Didn’t he realize that it was him? That caring for him had made you a better person?

But Jungkook took your silence as a sign of rejection, so before you could slap yourself up the side of the head, he nearly retreated, quickly muttering out an apology for being . . . weird. Only, this was now and not then, and you were you, and well, you quickly reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. His eyes followed your movements, clearly taken off guard, but you didn’t let him dwell on it too long.

“How about—” you began, running your thumb across the tattoos dotting his fingers— “let’s take care of each other?”

Jungkook blinked once. Then twice. Then . . . then his brows twitched in longing? Understanding? Or . . . oh what was that word?

Whatever.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was his answer. And you already knew it before you’d spoken those words. 

OK, he nodded. 

OK, he smiled. 

OK, your eyes seemed to glisten back.

OK.

There was a time in your life, where every night you’d have the same nightmare. Over and over again, you’d be trapped in this room with no windows, no doors, just darkness. And in the middle of the room would be you, or rather a version of you, strapped to a chair, with flames slowly licking up your legs, scorching your skin. But you wouldn’t feel any pain, because it wasn’t actually you. Sure, it looked like you, but . . . you were on the other side of the room, watching with wide eyes as you heard yourself scream and beg to be released from the shackles. 

The flames wouldn’t touch you there. They were around, yes. They were burning holes into your clothes, yes, but you couldn’t feel it. All you could do was sit and watch as this variant of yourself burned alive right before your eyes.

And as if watching yourself be scorched alive wasn’t bad enough, there would be this point in the dream where you, no, she, no . . . it . . . would speak to you. Through the flames, it would hiss and whisper that it was your fault. 

It was your fault, and you’d know what it meant. 

But, No! you’d scream back. Because, no, no, no, this couldn’t be your fault. You couldn’t have been the one to ruin yourself. That would just be so, so, so . . . well . . . it would be too much.

(You knew now that it was just one big accident. Sure, trying not to blame yourself for it now was hard, but you’d learned in the past few months. It hadn’t been your fault. It hadn’t been his either.)

But back then . . . back then the incident loomed over your shoulder like a ghost.

You were getting ahead of yourself again, but . . . but the dream, no . . . the nightmare always started and ended the same. You stuck in a burning room, left to watch yourself burn and burn and burn as you, she, it, whatever (!) screamed and screamed, its voice growing louder with each, it was your fault!

And with the last shift of blame, the fire would finally set in. The red, hot flames that had left blisters and boils on your skin would begin to itch, then sting, and then consume you until all you felt was pain, pain, pain.

Then it would be your screams which filled the room.

Only when the pain would begin to shift, your back ripping with agony as this pair of . . . wings (?) split from the wounds, would you think you’d been saved. Because just as those wings had appeared, on the other side of the room, so had a door. And perhaps, perhaps then you could escape the burning room; fly out of there and save yourself. 

That was always your first thought: survive, and you would always head for the door without a second thought. It was only when you’d hear the other you’s screams that this immense amount of guilt would hit you, because there you were, able to save yourself but not without leaving a piece of you behind to burn to ash. 

. . . You never turned around to give yourself one last glance either. Instead, you always counted to three before you stepped off from the ledge, trusting that what was behind the bright light coming from the door would surely save you. And every time as you realized you were falling and falling, the heat would leave your senses and all you’d be able to feel was wind in your hair and the smell of salt water. You were no longer in the burning room. You were free.

With the opening of your eyes, you would be in the sky, your wings carrying you. And for a moment, you would believe that you truly were free; free from the incident, free from your guilt, free from everything.

Until the wind no longer felt refreshing and the vague smell of burning wood could be sensed; until you finally glanced back at what you had left behind, only to realize the wings you had been gifted were not made of feathers and bone at all, but rather wax, and under the Sun’s embrace . . . they had begun to melt . . . 

You’d spare yourself the details of stating what happened next, but the story was simple. Think Icarus. Just like Icarus, every time, your wings would melt and you’d hit the sea below you, shortly drowning but never dying. No, every time you’d get a bit closer to death . . . but you’d wake up just before you succumbed to it.

And every time you’d wake in a fright, sweat coating your body as you panted and panted, trying to figure out if you could still feel the fire on your skin or the water in your lungs. And every time you’d wake wondering if that was why you craved the fire so viscerally; if that was why you felt like you were drowning from time to time.

But . . . that dream, that nightmare . . . well . . . you hadn’t had it for a couple weeks or maybe months (?) now. It used to be something that you just considered part of your routine; something that you just had to deal with. But ever since you and Jungkook had begun this little thing you guys had going on where you’d sleep next to each other almost every night, you hadn’t been having any dreams. 

You didn’t quite understand it. You just knew that the nightmares had stopped . . . and maybe you had him to thank for that (just a little bit).

Slowly, you brought yourself out of your mind, planting yourself in reality once again as you were reminded that you and Jungkook had gone back to his hotel room after you got in a few hours practice after well . . . after your little . . . mishap. You’d showered and washed your hair, brushed your teeth, and blah blah blah. You were already tucked into bed, waiting for Jungkook to finish up brushing his teeth so the two of you could watch something to fall asleep to. (He was slow . . . of course (brushing his teeth while listening to a playlist at max volume)). And you, you were beginning to doze off, lost in your mind as you thought of the peaceful sleep you had awaiting you (partially thanks to him yeah (!) you knew . . . whatever).

Still, you couldn’t help but roll over in bed, your eyes quickly catching a glimpse of him in the mirror just outside the bathroom. And well, you couldn’t help but laugh just a little as you watched him dance to the music playing from his phone, haphazardly brushing his teeth along to the beat. (You couldn’t wait until he hopped into bed next to you and you could finally get close enough to feel his heartbeat against your cheek (not that you would admit that out loud. . . right?)).

“I can see your asscrack,” you called out across the room, laughing slightly because duh you were lying but you couldn’t help but tease him. (Plus . . . maybe a part of you missed him being beside you (you wanted him to hurry up, could you blame yourself?!).)

“Nuh-uh—” he gurgled out through the copious amount of toothpaste in his mouth— “not falling for that again. You’re full of shit.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, falling back against the bed, the back of your head now laying in the center of the pillow. One, two, three, you counted the swirls in the ceiling. It was literally like watching paint dry having to entertain yourself until he was done. It was an odd thing, wasn’t it? Liking someone’s company that much?

God . . . what had you turned into?

“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” you heard Jungkook ask from beside you just as the bed dipped and he crawled under the covers, no shirt and only in his boxers (as usual).

Ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart, you turned to face him, your eyes immediately trailing across his features. “You tell me,” you hummed, quickly rolling onto your side so your entire body was facing him.

“Probably,” he mumbled as he settled into the bed, propping up the pillow to support his head. “Dunno though. I try not to look at you too much.”

Your jaw dropped. Then a scoff. And you didn’t waste any time, reaching forward to twist his nipple . . . hard.

Instantly, he caved in on himself, clutching his chest as he whined, “Ow. Not cool, baby.”

You threatened to do it again, your hand outstretched.

But he waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender. “OK. OK. I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he all but begged, twisting away from you.

Falling back against the bed once again, you avoided his eyes. “That’s what I thought,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you faked your displeasure with him. 

Jungkook only found this amusing, soothing a hand over his chest before he shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm thrown over your waist as he pulled you into him. It took him no time to bury his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose just under your sweet spot. “Mmm, don’t be mad,” he mumbled against your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your ear. “You really are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss to your cheek. Then a squeeze to your side as he brought you closer and closer and closer until you were sure the two of you were intertwined. “You always have been, you know?”

Slowly, as confusion and shock twisted onto your features, you turned your head so you were nose to nose. “Don’t be silly,” you whispered as one of your hands found its way into his long hair. “I know you were kidding, you don’t have to overkill it.”

Listen, listen, listen . . . you knew you weren’t god awful, but every girl feels like they’re not good enough. It’s built into us, so sometimes it comes as a shock when someone is so . . . so forward. It wasn’t like people just went around saying ‘oh, you’re the prettiest girl ever duh!’ like duh! Obviously! So . . . 

But Jungkook always managed to surprise you. Always.

And just as you were about to close your eyes, thinking this was over and the two of you were going to actually get some sleep, he surprised you once more. “You know . . . “ he began, his voice low and quiet, almost as if he were fighting with himself to say his next words . . . “I spent the entirety of the sixth grade learning every flower I could just so I’d have something to tease you about,.”

“What?” you all but snorted as you threw your leg over his hip. “That’s insane.”

“Well, I had to get your attention somehow,” he mused, while his hand had begun to trace letters or random doodles on your back.

Scrunching your brows together, you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so dense. Pretty, but—” he tapped a finger to your forehead— “hollow.”

Instantly, you shot him a look. “You wanna talk?”

He only laughed.

A beat of warm silence. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, toying with the piercing. He nipped at your thumb. Another beat. He pressed a kiss to your thumb. One more beat, then . . . 

“I had a crush on you, idiot,” he confessed against your thumb in the dead of night.

This time you actually did snort, moving your thumb to rest on his chin. “What? I was all braces and forehead acne,” you went on, remembering who you were and how you were and all the little things that you wished had been different about yourself back then. “A crush, JK? Be serious.”

“Hey, hey, I’m not a liar,” he quickly rushed over, humorously defending his honor. “I had a crush on you. Seriously. Why do you think I tried to impress you all the time.”

Your smile nearly faded. (And Jimin’s words revisited you (you pushed them away).)

He wasn’t kidding.

But . . . 

“Impress me? You spent our entire childhood showing off how much better you were at everything than I was,” you said, confusion and everything in between laced in your words. Because, truly, what? “That was like our . . . thing as much as it disgusts me to admit.”

His brows raised ever so slightly. “What?”

Oh no.

No, he wasn’t kidding. He actually did have a crush on you. But that meant . . . that meant the whole reason you had hated him growing up was over . . . nothing. He had never meant to start anything. He was just . . . he was trying to impress you and not . . . one-up you. 

He wanted you to like him back . . .

So then you had—oh, no!

“Wait,” you cut your own thoughts off with a gasp. “Oh my fucking god, are you serious? Kook, I thought you were just trying to be an asshole.”

Jungkook pulled back. “No, what the—” his words died on his tongue as it all dawned on him. “Is that why you thought I hated you?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Oh, shit . . . “

And then . . . as if this couldn’t get any more on-brand for the two of you, Jungkook had begun to laugh. Quietly at first, then his hand was slapping against his face as he cackled, his shoulders even so much as shaking. He was full-on laughing. Laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed, squeezing his shoulder

“Because! You hated my guts for like fifteen years and it’s all because you took my sixth-grade flirting as an insult!” he bursted out through small laughs. “You—” he embraced you, his hand cupping your cheek as his eyes searched yours— “are something else.”

“Well . . . it’s technically your fault,” you responded with a quick click of your tongue.

His brows twitched upward. “Oh, is it technically my fault?” he asked while trying to fight the half-grin tipping onto his lips.

“Obviously.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, thinking for only a second before: “At least you’re pretty.”

In response, your mouth fell open slightly. “I will bite the tip of your penis off.”

“Mmm, kinky,” he remarked as he nudged your nose with his.

Scrunching your nose, you tsked, “Ew.”

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook mockingly whined, pouting as much as he possibly could. “No cold shoulder. Gives me the chills.��

But you were having too much fun with this to give it up now. “You had a crush on me,” you all but gagged as you turned your nose up (once again ignoring Jimin’s words . . . ). “Disgusting.”

“Is it?” he questioned in amusement, moments before his lips were on your exposed jaw.

“Mmm.”

Jungkook gently bit your cheek. “I think you’re the one with the crush,” he mused, his lips trailing down to your neck again, this time hovering just over your sweet spot.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, trying your absolute hardest not to show how affected you were by just his lips grazing your skin. But one gentle kiss to your sweet spot, and you could feel your heart skyrocket to your throat as you all but choked in a breath. It was just that . . . he had this effect on you. (Fuck, did he ever . . . )

“Begging now, are you?” he remarked before leaving another kiss here and then there and the oh, you guessed it, just on the corner of your mouth but not on your lips, of course.

And all you could do was admit you were weak when it came to him, and just give in. Which was, of course, what you did as a soft groan escaped your lips and you turned your head to face him once again. “Would you get over your ego and kiss me?” you deadpanned, all but pouting at him.

That almost got him immediately. His eyes flicked to your lips, then your eyes, then to your lips once again before one of those cocky grins plastered across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice like silk.

That was the last response you received before his lips grazed yours. Gentle at first was his touch, like a feather on skin, but as he nudged your nose with his, he finally closed the space between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. You leaned closer, pleasantly sighing into the kiss as you nipped at his bottom lip. A grin tipped onto his face before he dipped in for more, running his tongue along the crease of your lips. You complied quickly, hands tangling in his long, dark hair as you pulled him closer and melded his tongue with yours. He inhaled sharply through his nose as his grip tightened on you instantly, his hand sliding up your thigh, squeezing your hip before it snuck under the hem of your shirt (or rather his old college badminton tee that he had grown out of by now (which meant it was yours by default . . . duh).

A soft mix between a gasp and a quiet moan escaped your lips when you felt the coolness of his hand graze the swell of your breast, palming it. He grinned into the kiss, circling his thumb around your nipple, knowing damn well that it would get to you and have your skin blazing in seconds. 

That was just the thing—he knew how your body worked. More . . . he knew how you worked and perhaps that was why he had figured out how to pleasure you.

Still, you tugged on his hair in annoyance, huffing slightly and pouting perhaps just a tad, which you knew he found endearing. That was the thing, too . . . you knew how he worked as well. He snickered against your lips, proving your thoughts to yourself just moments before he pulled you closer and began sucking on your bottom lip as his thumb pressed down on your puckered nipple, tweaking the bud. You hummed softly in response, grinding your underwear-clothed core against his muscular thigh.

He stilled under your touch for a mere second before his hands gripped your waist as he pulled you down onto his thigh, moving with you while you grinded against him. “Making a mess, pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips as he moved to lightly kiss your neck. His hand was at your shirt again in an instant, fisting it and pulling it up over your breasts.

“You’re such a guy,” you nearly moaned out, your hands now on his shoulders as his head dipped to your breasts, catching a nipple in his mouth all the while he flexed his thigh against your core. He didn’t stop there either. He softly hummed against your skin as he released your nipple long enough to kiss it just moments before taking it into his mouth again, swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking hard. And you couldn't help it, you jerked against him, throwing your head into the pillow as a loud moan sounded from the back of your throat.

“So you agree—” he mumbled as he still flicked his tongue over and over again over the abused bud— “you like that about me?”

Before you could even answer, his hand had gone from your waist and now tangled in your hair, holding the back of your neck. That was moments before his lips detached from your puckered bud and reattached to your lips. His other hand worked quickly, too, as he slid his thigh out from underneath you and swung your leg over his hip, his hardened length now pressed against your aching core.

“Maybe I do a little,” you whispered with a small grin playing on your puffy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.

He grinned back. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured back, kissing you quickly before you could respond.

And his comment was long forgotten as he grinded his bulge into your heat, stimulating both you and him. It was intoxicating. No, he . . . he was.

He was so intoxicating, you couldn’t help but whine out, “Take them off, please.” Your fingers were at his boxers, tracing the elastic band as you all but whimpered against his lips. You just wanted him, him, him. All of him.

“Eager?” he mused as his thumb dug into your hip. (You knew this was eating at him just as much as it was eating at you. It always did.)

“Please, Kookie. Can’t take it,” you whined further, all but straight-up riding him to scratch the ache inside you. “Need it so bad. Killin’ me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he didn’t waste another second either. “Love you like this.” His own whines filled the air as the two of you struggled to tear off his boxers, your underwear quickly following after as both the undergarments eventually became lost under the covers. But neither of you cared.

It was a quick descent after that. You couldn’t help but grind your core over his hard length, the sound of your wet arousal evident even over the hum of the air conditioner. The two of you never did this. You’d always done foreplay after foreplay after foreplay, finding it thrilling to tease each other, but right now . . . right now all you wanted was him inside you. You wanted him as close as possible, and it seemed he wanted the same, the both of you unable to think or do anything other than grind against each other. 

Only then when you couldn’t take the throb between your legs anymore did he press a single kiss to the corner of your mouth before you felt him slowly enter you, inch by inch sinking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth parted and your head tilted back while you basked in the fullness which came along with his cock sliding snugly against your tight walls. Your breath hitched in your throat just as you felt him bottom out, your core taking him all the way until the hilt.

The next second, you were wrapping your legs around him, locking them together in an attempt to get him even deeper. Your eyes fluttered open next, meeting his gaze instantly as he stared down at you with his brows pinched in pleasure and those big, round eyes of his blown out . . . but was this lust that he gazed at you with? His gaze appeared different, almost warmer, almost softer, almost too soft to touch . . . to have . . . to hold. He looked too pretty like this. Definitely too pretty for you to handle.

It didn’t help when the following words out of his mouth were: "You're always so fucking tight.”

And then he began to move, not breaking eye contact once. No, his eyes watched yours as his cock pumped in and out of your wet heat. His breath hit your face, and you could almost feel his heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours as the two of you stared into what you could only describe as each other’s souls.

It was odd, too, because while whatever this feeling was blooming in your chest scared you, you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t turn from him. You just wanted him, him, him. Always him. You feared that if you did turn away, when you glanced back he wouldn’t be there anymore. And that perhaps scared you more than anything: losing him.

But there he was. He was always right there . . . 

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his grasp on you tightened, his cock sinking deliciously deeper if it were even possible. The pressure in your lower stomach was becoming too much as it bloomed and bloomed, twisting and turning in a pleasurable ache. You bit your bottom lip, turning your head to the side as your breathing became more uneven by the second, but not once did you dare look away. No, you watched each and every twitch of his brow, every shaky breath, every flutter of his eyelashes, and you relished in it, soaking it all in. 

It became clear to you that you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

And it seemed neither could he . . . 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you rasped out, trying to swallow your spit.

Jungkook nudged your nose with his. "Like what?"

You swallowed, this time harder (Jimin’s words revisited you once again). “I can’t say . . . “

His brows twitched this time. “How could I not?”

How could I not? And you knew what he meant, just as he had known what was playing on your mind. How could I not?

And then he was kissing you again, taking you by utter surprise. Sure, the two of you had had sex over and over again and each time felt a little different from the other, but this . . . this was like the beginning yet the present all at once. It was like you could feel all of him in just this kiss; like you could see his past and he could see yours and neither of you had thought about running once. 

It was soft. So was his hand as he brushed through your hair as he kissed you, tracing your hairline, your cheek, your jaw, then your neck as if he were trying to map out your features. 

(You couldn’t help but melt under his touch.)

Why was his kiss always the softest thing you had ever known?

Then . . . amidst your soft moans and carnal sounds, he pulled back, his eyes finding yours again. He glanced between the two of you where your bodies met, brows rising in marvel as he released a small sigh before rolling his hips against yours again and again. And then . . . then, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together as his gaze met yours once again and he whispered so quietly, almost too quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if you hadn’t been so close, “I don’t even know where you end and I begin.”

And you knew instantly he didn’t just mean where your body met his. No, this was deeper, and you realized he could feel that this time was different, too.

Swallowing hard, you fluttered your eyes in almost a state of shock as you stayed silent. But you didn’t need to speak. No, you took his words, and you held them close, and then you were holding him. Take my bones and build yourself a home, he’d told you, but no, no, you wouldn’t put him through that. He could take yours. He could take all of you. You would give yourself to him.

Fuck, you would give all of yourself to him. Only him. Him, him, him.

“Wanna see your face, baby,” he murmured as he brushed your hair out of your flushed face. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My pretty girl.”

And you knew that was it.

With one final kiss, you let him know all this, allowing him to take the lead once more. Everything pulsed as he picked up a sensual pace, hitting your sweet spot over and over again as his thumb snuck between your legs, skillfully working against your swollen clit while you chased the coil. It tightened and tightened, rings of pleasure hissing in your ears. His thumb quickened its pace, and then the coil snapped, your release crashing over you. All you could do was surrender to it, tilting your head back into the pillow as your hips raised while your hands squeezed his toned arms. All the while, Jungkook continued the long drags of his cock against your walls, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Wanna stay like this,” he confessed, his thrusts growing slower and slower, unsteadier and unsteadier as he nearly whimpered into your neck. “Love this so fuckin’ much. Being with you—fuck. You make me feel so good, baby. So good.”

“I’d let you,” you mumbled against the shell of his ear, your voice a little too hoarse as you were still coming down from your high. “I’d let you do . . . all the time . . . I want—” you were delirious at this point and you knew it, too— “Want you always.”

Your words barely even registered in your brain as pleasure and that blooming feeling in your chest consumed you. It wasn’t long before you found yourself lifting his head so your lips could slot against his. And he graciously accepted your offer, consuming you just as the feeling had done.

The two of you wasted no time in escalating from gentle kissing, allowing you to further calm down from your high before your cunt was throbbing once more. And . . . before his cock had begun to feel too fucking hard inside you, nearly twitching for release as it begged for your addictive touch. 

You let yourself get wrapped up in him for a little longer, too, never wanting to stop. Your hands were on him again as you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled. This time a loud, deep groan came from his lips, and you knew you had him. He gave another groan of submission when you tugged again, his thrusts barely cohesive now. He was close, and you reveled in this, wishing to bring him to ecstasy. With that thought on your mind, you devilishly reached over his muscular ass, fingers quickly finding his perineum and pressing into it, massaging the sensitive spot.

He was sheathed deeper inside you before either of you could breathe, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to move positions. You just wanted to feel each other again and again and again, because for some reason . . . this time was different.

Different and yet all the same. That was how it had always been with Jungkook.

And you couldn’t quite put a word to the feeling, until . . . 

“Will you cum inside me?” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you omitted a soft moan under your breath. “Please. I need more.” Swallowing hard, you finally met his gaze, and instantly, you couldn’t look away. There was just . . . something . . . there. “I need you.” Your brows furrowed as you soaked in your own words while you searched his eyes. 

Slowly, with another roll of his hips, he sank lower, his abdomen grazing against yours so he could be close enough to brush his lips with yours but not that close to kiss you. But you . . . you couldn’t be without his touch, and found yourself tilting your head to press your lips against his, finally finding that something you had been searching for in his eyes. 

And then . . . then it hit you.

“I need you,” you heard yourself whisper before you knew the words had left your mouth. “I need you, Koo.”

I need you, you’d whispered, and you began to realize . . . you knew what you felt for him wasn’t what you’d feel for a friend. Because you did need him . . . in more ways than you’d like to admit.

And that scared the shit out of you.

taglist:

@hrts4kook , @taehyungs-chopsticks , @loomipee , @st3ft0n3s , @callmenada , @neg-l3ct , @dawn33 , @illegurlbangtan , @jeonsdetails , @rihabaxl , @yoongipost , @jjk1iscoming , @miumiugurl , @sadgirlroo , @lucwithbangtan , @iamsisuu , @shanelleeex , @beonim , @sherlynxx , @fairy1919 , @purplewhales , @bloopkook , @ggukcanim , @bloodline1632 , @jungkooksseuphoria , @tea4sykes , @mugiwaraelly , @darkuni63 , @jalexad , @lpgirl2324 , @fairy-jaykay , @h0tvillainap0logist , @stuffy16 , @keniicastillo , @yoongukie-ff , @seesawe , @chocolatesublimesoul , @yopjm , @jeonlovescoffee , @xmirvamx , @jk-190811 , @percyjacksonlovesannabethchase , @vminkookgf , @werxyz , @tornparts , @aprilspring , @kswr1d , @jimilter , @02010802 , @sunsetnamjin​ , @lonekittycat , @moonchild1 , @hanamgi , @yoongslast , @heronstairsxd @pointofviewyugyeom

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook #bts #bts au #bts smut #jungkook series #bts fic #bts x reader #kpop #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook x y/n #bts jungkook

[oceanwithouthermoon]

one of my favorite (/sarcastic but not really cuz its like funny idk) things in fandoms is when people make ocs or self inserts or 'x readers' being shipped with characters, but the oc/sona/reader is literally just another character from the source material.. its like youre shipping the characters but didnt want to admit it, so you made a kinsona and branded it as something else..

and its NEVER subtle, actually its super blatant every time and im always shocked when nobody points it out..

i have seen uncountable saiki k x readers where the description is like:

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts he cant read for the first time, and even though he doesnt trust her at first, she keeps proving that she is kind and has good intentions!" you mean nendo? reader is girl nendo?

"this time, he meets a girl whose thoughts honestly match up with her spoken words almost perfectly for the first time!" hairo. youre shipping saiki with girl hairo.

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts are too fast and jumbled to re-" ITS AKECHI, THATS AKECHI, ITS LITERALLY AKECHI.

"saiki meets someone whose just as immune to teruhashi as he is for the first and only tim-" this is hairo again, awe bae you secretly LOVE haisai ?!?

"saiki sees his old childhood friend for the first time in years after an incident caused them to be apart and then they fall in lov-" WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE THIS AND NOT CALL IT SAIKECHI.

its even funnier when they say its like that characters little sister, but the way they write it is still literally just the character, like their personality, dialogue, even their relationship, is the same..

not all of them fit this exactly, but the ones that take a boy character and turn them into a girl oc to ship them with a boy, it reminds of how in equestria girls they couldnt make applejack and rarity endgame so they gave them boyfriends who looked IDENTICAL to each other.. thats what youre creating, guys, youre creating heterosexual rarijack.

#these r all very specific examples because ive seen all of them #MAKE UR KINSONAS SHAMELESSLY IF UR GONNA DO THIS BRO OMG #STOP PRETENDING ITS LIKE AN ORIGINAL CHARACTER IF UR JUST GONNA COPY IT ALL #i love kinsonas i would love to see actual kinsonas even if u structure them as 'x oc/reader' #none of these words are in the bible #say this to any not chronically online person and watch them short circuit #saiki k x reader fics are almost always like 'and then y/n SHATTERS TERUHASHIS EGO AND HUMBLES HER SO GOOD' ur sick in the head #x readers where they want to be the only person he likes and hes an asshole to everyone else also suck but- #people thinking he genuinely hates his friends is a phenomenon not exclusive to x readers lol its just far too common #sorry that was a side note #theyre not all bad #i dont even think the ones im talking about in the post are really bad- its just kinda dumb and silly #do what u want queens #saiki k #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki kusuo #meows post

[callsignangel]

neteyam/lo'ak love triangle headcanons x reader

warnings: a bit angsty but also super fluffy requested by anon <3 ↳ "hiiii luv, I honestly wanna live out my dream vicariously though my oc, could I pretty please request love triangle headcanons between neteyam and lo'ak and the oc. like both brothers are infatuated by the oc and try to win her over (fav trope)"

i'm back with your regularly scheduled sully boy content. i changed it from being an oc fic to being a reader insert so everyone can read! i hope y'all enjoy these <3

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

you were a child of tonowari and ronal - beloved by your village and devoted to protecting and serving your people - but you despised the pressure to be the perfect child

the pressure made you act out sometimes, craving freedom from the perfect image that suffocated you. you made mistakes, tried not to be the disappointment. you were clever and quick on your feet to recover from your mistakes. you could throw a huge celebration to honor your people, and then burn the village down. it was like you were both… perfect but always two steps behind

you felt like no one understood you. no one really.. until these two omatikaya boys showed up on the foot of your village beach. they were respectful, grateful that your family allowed them to stay

neteyam, the awkward and charming one, eldest to toruk makto. a true warrior, doted on by his parents, the next olo'eyktan to the forest clan

lo’ak, the charismatic and humorous secondborn son. striving to be like his older brother, but can never escape trouble

and you, being a mix of both. maybe that’s why you were all so drawn to each other in the beginning

lo’ak would try to impress you by being a fast learner, which would always come back to bite him in the ass, like almost drowning because he was so determined to get your praise and really listened to you and what you were teaching him, and as he improved he catching your attention

but you and neteyam were not friends at first. always trying to prove who was the better fighter, bickering any time you spoke to eachother, always having to fight with him about leaving your skxawng brother and his friends for picking on his sister

and that drew you closer to lo’ak. you both understood eachother - the want for freedom, the feeling of never being good enough, always being at the wrong place at the wrong time. you cold confide in him, and he could confide in you. you finally had found someone who had your back

the more time you spent with lo’ak, the more your feelings grew for him. he defended you, wouldn’t hesitate to punch someone out for you, always made you laugh when you were sad or comforted you when you were hurt. he was always there, and he wouldn’t be leaving soon

and then the skypeople first attacked. you were being held hostage by the RDA as bait to get jake sully to come out to pay for how he wronged them

neteyam had come to save you, lo’ak, tsireya and tuk from the warship

and because you were so keen on never leaving lo’ak, you ran head first into the warship to help him find his friend spider

they were shooting at you, and as you were jumping off of the ship, neteyam had shielded you from the bullets

he had been shot, but it wasn’t fatal. just landed right in his arm

when you returned to the village, you stayed in their home to help tend to his wounds because you felt like it was your fault he had been wounded

you were changing neteyam’s bandages when you noticed how he looked at you. his cheeks rosy and his lips slightly parted and his breathing sped up

he thought you were so beautiful. he never truly knew why you were so against each other, but he would always admire you from afar. the girl who loved her island, the sea, her people, the animals. you were a natural born leader and he was so astonished by how similar the both of you were

you would be lying if you didn’t admit he had always been in the back of your mind

the passion in your fighting, the lingering touches, the lack of hesitation when it came to protecting each other in battle

he wanted you to be his tsahik one day. he thought you both would be great leaders together

and you best believe lo’ak definitely picked up on the way y’all were eyeing each other up

he felt so betrayed, and of course began resenting his brother for taking something else away from him

since then neteyam had been more chivalrous. always holding out his hand for you to hold on to when getting down or to help you get up from sitting, offering his shawl when it got too cold on your weekly walks on the beach

really wondered why he was never good enough for everyone. he thought he really had a chance at something with you

you avoided neteyam for a bit to try to escape your feelings, went to find lo’ak

eventually you found him by three brother rocks playing with payakan

you didn’t understand why neither of them wanted nothing to do with you - you had always been there to swim and play with them in the water and now they were recoiling away from you

“lo’ak, please tell me what’s wrong! i don’t understand!”

“just leave me alone!”

“no! not until you tell me what’s happened!”

“why don’t you run back to neteyam, huh? i’m sure he’ll help you understand,”

and there it was. inside you could deny your feelings all you want but you couldn’t lie to him and tell him there was nothing there.

“but i’m here with you. i have no need to go back,” you tried to tell him but he would just push you away more and tell you he wanted nothing to do with you

and of course, you were heartbroken. went back to the village, your grief instilling a strong will to be the perfect child and try to ignore lo’ak and all of the trouble he was getting into

you ended up spending more time with neteyam doing your duty to the village - they were his people now too and he needed to show his parents and yours what a great leader he would be

he stopped you on the beach one night as you were walking - just taking a small break from all of the pressure and the spotlight of being the perfect children

he confessed to you there, pouring his heart out to you entirely hoping you would accept him and his love and how he would take care of you and make sure you knew how loved you were

he was so vulnerable. but deep in your heart you knew you couldn’t do that to lo’ak

you grabbed both of his hands firmly, and gently placed your forehead against his.

eye closed, voice cracking - “i love you too. more than words can describe. but i cannot do this,”

“it’s lo’ak, isn’t it?”

you nodded softly, trying not to burst into tears

he told you he understood, but he didn’t. all he could do was let you go

so you ran to lo’ak, ready to confess your feelings for him and tell him how much you missed him

and that’s when you saw him with tsireya. giggling and holding hands by a fire on the beach

you ran as far as you could the other way, finally letting those tears flow

from the corner of his eye lo’ak could see you fleeing. it took every bone in his body to stop him from running after you

besides, he had tsireya now. in his mind, you broke his heart. with her he could repair it and be happy.

you could’ve run back to neteyam, but it was too fresh to try to mend now. he would go find someone else to try to forget you as well and now you were back to where you began

you had lost them both. the relationships you had with your two best friends were crumbling right in your hands and you felt as though you couldn’t fix it. and that destroyed you.

#neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fic #neteyam fluff #neteyam angst #lo'ak #lo'ak sully #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak fic #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fluff #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar imagine #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully imagine #jake sully fanfiction #reader insert #imani's works #neytiri #neytiri sully

[buggysangel17]

Three Peas In A Pod II

Summary: In which the two men find out about their children. Characters: Shanks x Buggy x F!Reading (she/her). OC Twins. (Rosa & Azul) Word Count: 1,590 Chapter Warnings:  Profanities. Slight Angst.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Send Me An Ask?

Chapter II: One After Another

“I should also mention that someone else has come back to the race.” Dracule Mihawk had continued almost three glasses in to his beer since his arrival.

Shanks had a single brow raised as he took another three poster from the man, curiosity got the best of him as he decided to check who it was before quipping the delayed information. All the bravado had left his lips as he caught sight of who exactly was plastered on the poster. A whooping hundred million that now rested on your shoulder.

You. You who had decided to stay in your father’s island to live the normal life, away from the thrills of the water and away from the chaos that came with becoming a pirate. He could still remember how he and Buggy had tried their best to convince you to join both of them or even either but you decided to stay with a sad smile on your face.

A part of him knew that leaving you all on your own was the biggest mistake he and Buggy could make, but he had to respect your wishes. Even with how Buggy had resented him for it, he had no other choice but to let you be. With a heavy heart and the love that never truly diminished, he hoped one day you would come back better than any of them could ever compare. It seems the time has come too.

“Should I be worried about you and your offspring?” Mihawk inquired as Shanks was still in disbelief with the sight of your poster.

Shanks didn’t think twice as he unrolled the two other poster and it was like looking at a fucking mirror. A spitting image of him, Rosa. You named her after the very first flower he and Buggy had given you, the very name you had told them you would give your child with them if ever the time comes.

Now it made a little more sense now. Why you wanted to stay. The life of a pirate wasn’t truly for your sake but your children. His eyes turned to the other poster, a boy with stark blue hair, it was Buggy through and through just without the red nose.

Memories of how Buggy had always dreamed of becoming a father to a son that he would teach anything and everything he knows. This was the life that you had chosen for the children he never knew he had.

“Does the world government know about them?” Shanks inquired, no longer in the mood for celebrations.

“Not yet from what I have gathered, but with the mess they’ve dealt with in a nearby ship, I’m certain they will find out about the three.”

That was all Shanks needed to know. He had his responsibilities, some of which he still wonders if he had made the right choice of taking. But this was above everything else was a responsibility that he needed to face head on, but not on his own, he needed Buggy along for this one.

“Did you happen to see our good friend Buggy causing havoc on your way here?” Shanks inquired grinning and hoping his new mission wasn’t as transparent with Mihawk.

“We may or we may not have crossed paths a few days ago.”

“Right, then we’ll be on our way then.”

~

“Something wrong, Mum?”

Even as you had tried your best to keep it to yourself, it has always been so easy for your twins to pick up on something wrong with you. In days that you would be lingering in the sadness of what could have been the life you had on the sea, they were there to comfort you, assure you in their own little way that they were here for you—creating a mess for themselves enough to distract you from your own thoughts.

But at this moment, as you were staring at the sea, the sudden change of the tides had you feeling that something was amidst and you were all too uncertain if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Something in the waters.” It was the only explanation that you could give.

It was not well known to the world that you had consumed one of, if not, the most sought after Devil Fruit in the world and it was the very reason your own father had thought best that you were under the protection of one Gol D. Roger instead of him, and it was the main reason as to why you had thought best to stay away from anything related to being a pirate when you found out about your pregnancy.

But now, as you felt the waters change, there was an uncertain presence that loomed and you were worried if it was a friend or a foe that would come and halt you and your children from your plan of action.

“Remember what I’ve thought you about Pirates that we may come across.” You reminded your children, turning to the two teenagers hoping that they would understand the worry that has now lingered in your body.

“Not everyone is a friend, if they have a weapon up, it’s time to step up.” The twins spoke in unison and you patted their head in appreciation.

“Very good.” You nodded turning back and was greeted with a ship, thankfully not a marine ship but an all too familiar ship that housed a man that you never thought you would see just yet. “I hope you two are ready for a fight.”

When the twins had caught sight of the approaching ship, both of them knew what was to come. Making their way down to the sleeping quarters to wake the rest of the crew up to prepare them for what was to come.

Pulling your dagger out, your eyes lingered onto the ship, waiting with bated breath as the crew were making a mad dash up to deck and ready for a fight. You hoped it would come to this but as the first shot was fired you had ordered your crew to attack right back.

“Hey shit heads this is our territory!”

The all too familiar voice of your former lover had you tense. It seems he hasn’t caught sight of you just yet. But your children, they knew exactly who the man was, what the man meant to you and what the man had meant to them even without knowing him personally.

“Dad?” The twins called out in unison to which had halted the clown from his monologue and their ship getting closer to their own.

“The fuck you two twerps talking about?” The clown questioned and only then did you make your way towards your children, hiding them behind you and making sure that Buggy had a perfect line of sight of where you were.

“We don’t want any trouble, Clown.” You spoke, making sure your voice wasn’t shaking for finally seeing him for the first time in almost two decades. “My children are not here to cause you and your crew any trouble.”

“Well if it isn’t Captain Yellow head herself. Long time no see, toots.”

It irked you to see the man held no familiarity with you like you had with him. Maybe it was because you had chosen to stay behind even when he had begged you to come with him or maybe it was the fact that when he had demanded you to choose between him or Shanks, you chose neither of them at the time only to hesitate in choosing Shanks when he had given you the choice to stay instead.

You left him in a very sour note and you truly couldn’t blame him if resentment was well written on his features upon seeing him now after all this years.

“We don’t want any trouble, Captain Buggy.” You began, ignoring your children’s protest for acting passive in such a situation of all times.

As the ship now came into full view, you were certain that the shock was now placed all too evident on the man’s face as his eyes were solely on your children whose more annoyed than anything else at the moment.

“Hey kid, how old are you?” Buggy questioned.

“That’s none of your business, nose face!” Azul snapped even before you could cover his mouth.

“Nose?” Buggy chuckled, but it was far from amusement as he had hopped his way onto your own ship with ease.

You backed away as he tried to approach you, Rosa moving forward and pointing her sword at the man that was left unfazed by her action.

“Go ahead, slice me, kid. Let’s see where it leads you, your Mama, and your brat of a brother.”

“Fuck off!” Azul spat running to block both you and your daughter.

It shook you to the core that Azul was a spitting image of Buggy. The man has also come to realize such fact as he held Azul’s face in his hand. Rosa held onto her sword tighter ready to attack should any harm come towards her brother.

“How old are they?” His attention turned towards you now, waiting for your answer.

“Fifteen.” You answered.

“So they’re the reason why?”

You nodded knowing very well what he means. You held onto your children’s hands, pulling them away from Buggy. Hoping he wouldn’t do anything drastic that would hurt any of them.

“I’m sorry, but it was the only way.”

“I will never forgive you for what you’ve taken from me.”

#buggy smut #buggy the clown smut #buggy d clown smut #shanks smut #akagami no shanks #shanks x you #shanks x y/n #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks one piece #shanks op #op shanks #one piece headcanons #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #op smut #x reader #one piece #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #op buggy #opla buggy #one piece buggy #one piece live action #buggy headcanons #one piece imagine #buggy imagine

[soft-mafia]

When We Were Young [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, fem y/n, oc insert, fluff, chloroforming, their convo is inspired by Everlark but really loosely

a/n: a flashback story of Buggy and Y/n when they were younger with Buggy still struggling to form his own crew.(I think that somebody already had this title for a Buggy fic but I can’t quite remember and I couldn’t find anything in the tags, so if someone already took that title let me know so I can change it😭)

Buggy was trapped on a ship. A real pirate ship, his head was being held hostage and he had no clue where the hell his body was. He might’ve gotten too confident when he snuck onto the ship unnoticed when the crew wasn’t looking— all he wanted to do was steal their treasure and get away! Was that so wrong?

As he sat there(well, his head at least) he truly thought he was done until the window beside him opened from the outside. His eyes widened, then he smiled widely when he saw Y/n, his current ally and a girl he was starting to get the hots for.

“Y/N, YOU CAME TO SAVE-” He screeched with joy, but was silenced by Y/n squeezing his cheeks shut.

“Shh!! Do you want me to get caught?! Where’s your body?” She whispered, letting her fingers loose a little so Buggy could answer. He frowned and glanced off, “I-I don’t know… I can’t feel my feet.” He said, his voice muffled.

Y/n sighed, then let him go and patted his head, “Ok. I’m gonna be good for it, I gotta put you to sleep so you’ll be quiet.” She whispered again, then reached into her back to grab something. Buggy raised a brow, squinting at Y/n, “Wait what do you mean, “put me to slee- Y/N NO-” the next thing he knew he had a cloth up to his face and he was out like a light.

When he woke up, he could feel his body, and his body parts instantly reconnected to each other. It looked like she laid everything out for him, they were back on his small boat parked out on a dock somewhere. Y/n was sitting on a bench across from his body.

“You ok?” She asked him as he finally awoke. Buggy groaned and held his head, “Yeah, yeah I’m good…” once he began to remember what happened, he then snapped at Y/n, “HEY!! You drugged me!!” He shouted.

“It was just chloroform! And I only did it since I knew you couldn’t be quiet for two seconds!” Y/n snapped back at him. Buggy growled and stood up, glaring down at Y/n as he continued to shout, “Why are you saying that like it’s normal?! Are you crazy?!”

Y/n growled and stood up as well, “If you don’t like how I do things then you’re free to go off on your own!! I agreed to an alliance, not a friendship.” Her words stung him, he knew she could be a bit cold at times but this was just hurtful, especially since she was looking this beautiful during the sunset.

Buggy grumbled and sat down on the opposite bench, “You’re the most confusing woman I’ve ever met.” He sighed. Though he hadn’t actually spoken to any girls ever since his old Captain Roger was executed, it was either the girls avoided him or he was too scared to actually go near any.

“I’m not confusing, just practical.” Y/n said, and Buggy couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Chloroforming me isn’t practical!” He growled as he looked up at her, he then sighed, “Look, the whole alliance thing kind of comes with friendship. And friends are supposed to be NICE to each other.” He snapped.

Y/n sat back down on her bench, “Friends are useless in pirating.”

Buggy chuckled lightly and looked back up at her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “Who the hell told you that? That’s a terrible way to view things.” He said through a grin, “You’re always straight to the point… you never tell me anything about yourself.” He looked down slightly sadly, was this really just a business deal to her? Did she not care about this alliance and planned to leave him once he got a sizable crew? He knew they weren’t anything serious, but Buggy thought they would’ve bonded by this point.

“Why should I?” Y/n asked, her words sounded testy but it was a genuine question, she really didn’t see the need for friendship in alliances at all. Buggy paused for a moment as he thought, then looked back up at her, “Well, friends are supposed to tell each other stuff about them. Y’know, like the deep stuff.”

Y/n giggled softly, she rarely smiled but whenever she would Buggy always made sure to treasure it. Maybe it was getting a bit too obsessed, but she didn’t have to know anything. “The deep stuff?” She mused, “Yeah, like what?”

“Umm…” Buggy looked out to the sea, sitting up straight as he thought, “Like, when’s your birthday?”

“Now you’re going too far.” Y/n said jokingly, making Buggy giggle a lot more than he should have. However his laugh always brought a smile to Y/n’s face. “October 8th, you?” She answered.

Buggy perked up a little too excitedly, “August!! Same day!!” He said as he instantly answered, “At least we have that in common.” He chuckled. After a while, Buggy asked something else, “Have you ever… been on a pirate crew?” Y/n paused again and looked away, then shrugged.

“Once, but I left. I didn’t like being told what to do.” She said, looking back at him. Maybe Buggy was a bit starved, but that was kind of hot. He laughed softly, looking down to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks, “Yeah… you don’t look like the type.”

Y/n looked back up at the sky, “Hey, it’s getting late. Do you wanna stop at a lodge or do you wanna set sail?”

Buggy stretched his arms up, then rested them behind his head as he stood, “With the day I had? I wanna get some rest…” he sighed, taking off his feet and tossing them onto the dock, separating his body until he was standing up straight again.

Y/n climbed up on the dock, “Your ability is pretty convenient huh?”

“Convenient but a pain in my ass…” Buggy sighed, “Do you think we’ll find a place to stay here?” He asked as they began walking into the town.

“We should.” She said, “We can look around and if we can’t find a place to sleep we’ll just head back to the boat.”

Buggy nodded and put his hands in his pockets, “Alright… just don’t chloroform me again.”

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #op buggy #buggy op #buggy headcanons #buggy imagines #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines

[sitp-recs]

Hello, do you know Drarry fics that contain Draco having a boyfriend or dating someone? I just look through the jealous!Harry and pining!Harry tag but not all of them that specific "the person I want is already with someone else :( " angst im looking for

Hi there! Jealous!Harry is such a juicy trope. I don’t often read them with other people in the same fic (I especially avoid OCs because I hate feeling conflicted between ships 🤣), but I think you might enjoy these:

Stay by @kbrick (M, 5k)

Life is all about what we do with the opportunities we're given - the ones we miss and the ones we refuse to let pass us by.

To know the pain of too much tenderness by @cibeewastaken (T, 6k)

Harry is in love with Draco, and Draco sometimes goes on dates with other people, but it’s not like Harry could be bothered by it when he never told Draco about his feeling, right? Right. So Harry isn’t that bothered by Draco’s dates, what bothers him is when one of those dates knocks Draco up and doesn’t want the baby.

Constellation Prize by @andithiel (E, 12k)

Harry’s been pining for his friend and Auror partner for almost a year. But despite what his friends say, he and Draco aren't an old married couple...Draco has a boyfriend, there's no way he'd ever be interested. Right?

Friends? Is That What We Are? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (E, 33k)

What the hell is Harry even supposed to do when he finally realises that he loves Draco? He's an idiot and it takes him a while but he gets there. They get there.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k) - Draco doesn’t date anyone else but Harry’s jealous of a specific person (more info in the tags) so I think this fits your ask!

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Left My Heart by emmagrant01 (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Level Two: Series One (E, 113k)

By Ashii Black (ashiiblack), blamebrampton, Catsintheattic, dustmouth, epithalamium, incandescent (lmeden), josephinestone (orphan_account), leveltwo, nerakrose, raitala, Romaine, Vaysh, Writcraft

Witches and wizards are disappearing in a seemingly random fashion. Coincidence? Abductions? But no one is claiming ransom. The Aurors are not even sure the disappearances are connected, then one of the missing turns up dead. Meanwhile, Auror Harry Potter is thrown into the infamous Sirius Black Muggle murder case from 25 years ago. Given a chance to clear his godfather's name for good, Harry is not above accepting even the help of magical specialist Draco Malfoy.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134k)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

Can't Sit Still by wilteddaisy (E, 193k)

Five years after the war, Harry finds himself drawn to Draco Malfoy by memories that aren't his own. Or, in which Harry hates his Auror partner, Draco flips houses, Pansy sleeps around, Hermione is a magical creatures’ justice warrior, Blaise is getting married, and Ron is just along for the ride.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #jealous Harry

[wolfofwritingstreet]

You said crows are closed but I’m willing to change your mind.

Crow is the captain of the ship that takes the crows to the ice court. Giving kaz orders and such.

AN: I am sosososososo excited for season two of Shadow and Bone, so here's to opening up the Crows again. Strayed a little away from the prompt, but I had an OC in my head I was basing this off of. So, please enjoy <3

TIDEMAKER, NOT TIDEMAKER

GN!READER X PLATONIC!CROWS

"And then twist, and pull." You commanded, grinning when Inej formed the perfect Sailors knot. "Perfect, Nej."

"Thank you for teaching me." You helped hoist her up, as her side was still stiff from where the gunshot had been.

"You are an excellent student, who listens to commands." You gave a pointed look to Jesper, who slowly lowered the cannonball he was holding.

"It rolled towards me, fate." He surrendered, whistling as he walked back towards Nina who was leaning against the bannister of your ship talking with Wylan.

Lord forbid you were talked into using your baby for one of Kaz's heists, though a Crow stays with the flock - or whatever it was Jesper said to boost morale after a particularly bad heist.

You may not belong to the Dregs, or the Dime Lions, or any gang. But, the idiots currently roaming around your ship were your closest friends... and you were promised a cut if you put your tide making skills to good use.

"Inej, keep practicing. I need to find Brekker - I haven't seem him in far too long, and last time I caught him eyeing up valuable items on my ship." Inej smiled softly, bidding you farewell with a nod as she went back to undoing the knot.

You two had both once belonged to the Menagerie; and whilst Inej learned to stitch herself up and join the Dregs, you had learnt how to tie knots and fled to the seas to become the infamous Pirate, who was a fond deliverer to Fifth Harbour.

Though the sea wasn't as free as it seemed, your debt to those in higher up places meant you always had to come back to Ketterdam. To interfere with them, would be the end of your sails.

"Kaz I don't think that's a good idea." You shot back into reality, blinking against the harsh sea breeze as you spotted Kaz taking the wheel of the ship.

"Brekker, get your slippery hands off my baby."

"No wonder she doesn't flirt back, she's in love with her ship." Nina teased, but you marched past her and up the short flight of stairs to glare at Brekker.

"You were heading the wrong way." Kaz answers your glare, and before he can even utter another word you have whipped your hands in an arch. The vein in your head throbbing, as you brought the ship to a complete stop. "Could you stop that, we are on a tight schedule."

"This is my ship Brekker, I know how to steer it."

"The map says your wrong." He released the wheel, clunking his cane down heavily. "I was fixing the mistake."

"If Matthias wasn't sleeping, I'd ask him to use all that Fjerdon muscle to haul you overboard."

"You are overreacting."

"Step away from the wheel." Your voice grew harsher, as the ship rocked dangerously. "I don't touch your cane, you don't touch my ship."

Kaz stared. You stared.

Five minutes later you were happily steering the ship, as Kaz sat on a crate beside you with the map across his knees. Kaz Brekker was many things, but he knew one thing.

As Inej had her claws, you had your ship. You two would both go down fighting if that was threatened, and Kaz knew better than to push those buttons.

"Slightly East." He ordered, and you moved the wheel with one hand, using the other to guide the waters behind you so that your travels were shortened.

"Has anyone got a bucket!" You grimaced as Wylan ran out frantically waving his hands, "I think Jesper is going to be sick, and he's threatening to do it over my plans if I don't find a bucket.

You sighed with a grin, letting the ship slow as you nudged a bucket towards Wylan with water from the sea. He stared at it transfixed, before snatching the bucket up and scurrying away causing Nina to let out a loud laugh.

You were the Captain of the ship, taking the Crows to the Ice Court, and not a single one was listening to the orders you had given out earlier.

This heist could only go well...

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

LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT, REQUEST.

#inej ghafa #inej x reader #inej ghafa x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #jesper x reader #jesper fahey x reader #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #nina zenik #mathias helvar

[snowgsf]

Jenna Ortega/Best friend

Sinopse: Jenna and reader have always been best friends, but the two girls have had a relationship in the past that didn't work out, so they decide to just be friends, but reader still has feelings for Jenna. Jenna was getting ready for a date and the reader was helping her choose her outfit.

Contains: jealousy, friendzone, in love with best friend. (???)

Author's notes: English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes, the Gif belongs to me and belongs to a fanfic of mine on Wattpad, it's not posted there yet, on my Wattpad profile there are fanfics, but it's in Portuguese, if if you are interested in reading just search for RASGAKU_ there that appears. I'm not shipping Jayla with Jenna, I just took her as an example of Oc.

I break into a smile when I see Jenna with Rex on her lap all bouncy, a smile playing on her lips, the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

- Good morning, Miss. - I play getting the girl's attention, it doesn't give 5 seconds for Rex to be on the floor and Jenna to hug me.

— You took a while, I need your help fast. — The shorter one pulls me through her house to her room, she places me sitting on her bed, my heart was beating fast in my chest. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack at any moment.

Jenna disappears from my vision, I throw myself on her bed and sigh, trying to dismiss the samba that was happening in my stomach.

- It's gonna take a while? I have to study, tomorrow I have pro- My voice dies in my throat, Jenna was in front of me.

The girl in front of me wore a black dress, it reached halfway down her thighs, she had light makeup, just highlighting her mouth, extremely tidy and lined hair.

— I don't know if I liked it, it was Naomi who chose it, I shouldn't trust her, she always likes to play "pranks".

I remain silent, she watched her body attentively, her curves present, marked, making her hotter than usual.

"Are you going to a party?" ’ I ask, finally looking up at her face.

Jenna's face drops, she didn't want to tell me, I could tell. But if Ortega wanted my help, she would have to tell me.

“I'm going on a date. - I stay silent, just staring at the girl in front of me.

- You look beautiful.

Jenna smiles, she drops a kiss on my cheek and bounces happily.

— It's a boy, his name is Noah, he's amazing, we've been talking for a while. “I'm glad to see Jenna outdoing me, I remember how she was. “He's kind, polite, a true gentleman. — I open a smile, the girl smiles at the four people in the world, I feel my light chest hurt, if I am forced to only have your friendship to keep her close, I will. - I think I'm falling in love.

It's been 7 months, three weeks, four days, and we're done. I will still get over it.

When you date someone, break up and decide to be friends, you never loved them, or you still love them.

This is my case, Jenna Ortega was the first everything in my life, from the most intense feelings to the most devastating feelings.

I chose to stay by her side, even as a friend, the pain of not having her as nothing is greater than having her as a friend.

I throw myself on the bed in my room, at that time Jenna was on her date.

- Please. "I whisper only to myself." “Don't fall in love with someone else.

#vada x reader #wednesday addams x reader #lorraine day x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter smut #jenna ortega smut #g!p jenna ortega

[blackbirdffxiv]

A lengthy ass-post about poly-shipping no one asked for

So I'm gonna go ahead and choose passive aggressive violence, in the form of an informative, lengthy as fuck post I think some folks need to read.

I won't be adding the post here, as I don't wish to direct potential harassment to the original poster (no matter how heinous I found a majority of the list), but if you're on twitter/"X", I'm sure you've seen a lengthy notepad list of RP "hot takes".

While I agreed with some of the points made, I feel it necessary to clarify some things, particularly about the points regarding polyamorous shipping.

If you don't want to read the blurb between here and the actual point list, just scroll down until you see green font.

Most know that I myself play a polyamorous character; I ship my character with other characters belonging to different players. I've been poly-ship for YEARS, so I feel I have some experience and can say some things about it.

Some points made in the "hot takes" list alluded to people using polyamorous shipping/multi-shipping as an excuse to just ERP and mess around with multiple people without consequence.

Sadly, yes, this does happen. It's unfortunate that selfish people only looking for specific things use it as an excuse for their behavior, but the only thing people can do is be aware of what to look out for when it comes to polyamorous shipping.

So rather than allow a negative light be painted on a valid means of shipping and roleplaying your characters in relationships, I think a quick lesson is needed.

Disclaimer: these are just my personal opinion on how I feel polyships should be handled, and some red flags I have seen during my time being a polyamorous OC player. By no means is this a rulebook, more like a guide so new and veteran roleplayers alike can be aware.

What a responsible poly-shipper will do:

Introduce you to their other partners - Communication is key in any relationship, this is not just for monogomous ships, but even moreso for polyamorous. A poly OC player will be open to introducing you to their other partners; while no one expects you to be best friends, it's good to be aware of just who else you'll possibly be regularly seeing around.

Share time and effort among your partners equally - A polycule relationship should be even across the board; one partner should not be treated better than the other. Treating one or more partners better than the other(s) is just a recipe for people getting hurt, both IC and OOC.

Be open and up front at the very beginning of IC interactions - A poly OC player will be up front and honest about the nature of their character if they have an interest in possibly shipping with you, or in case the possibility of it happening is there.

Encourage communication and prioritize problem-solving - This isn't just for poly ships, but ships in general. A good writing partner will encourage and WANT you to tell them about how you feel with the ship, especially if it's a problem with an easy solution.

Always make it known if they wish to bring another partner into the polycule & pose an introduction OOC - This is the most important part of being in a poly ship, making sure EVERYONE knows if there is someone new who will be joining the ship, and making introductions before a ship is made.

What a responsible poly ship player wouldn't/shouldn't do:

Hide the status of their ships - If your partner is hiding who they are shipping with from you, in my experience, this just means a person is going behind their partner's back (and is possibly cheating on them).

Brush off any possible issues you may be having with one of the partners in the ship - A responsible partner would aim to mediate the situation, and listen to all sides.

Discourage their poly partners from seeking other partners - Not every poly OC is monogomous with their poly partner, sometimes one poly OC will be shipped with another poly OC. Your partner would not expect you to drop your other ships to be with them while they continue their own, they should respect your decision to ship with your other partners.

Keep attempts to ship with other characters a secret - A responsible poly partner will make it known when they are attempting to or want to ship their OC with another as soon as intentions and wants are known. Not after a ship is already established.

Discourage those in the polycule ship from associating with each other - A partner in a healthy polycule would never discourage their partners from associating with each other; intentional separation more than likely is a means of hiding something, such as blatant favoritism, or even to keep ships a secret (in my experience).

Anyways I'll get off my soap box. I apologize for the lengthy post, but some things I've been seeing regarding this hot takes list were so blatantly heinous, I just felt like something should be said.

Have a good evening y'all; hug your pets, tell your friends you love them, and don't let jaded people online project their problems onto you.

Stay golden

#OOC #mun psa #I have chosen violence in the form of lengthy ass posts

[one-idea]

In honor of Valentine’s Day let’s talk about how our favs are celebrating.

Robin and Franky and spending a quiet day together. Robin is reading while Franky is working, but they are in each others space. Robin is seated near his work or if possible/comfortable resting against him (siting in his shoulder, leaning against him ect) occasionally while Franky is working he will ask Robin for a hand and several will sprout up and help him work. It’s peaceful. And they are just enjoying each other’s presence.

Chopper joins them at some point to read with Robin. Just enjoying the quiet.

Nami and Vivi are sending love letters to each other. Nami has attached a few maps she’s drawn so Vivi can see where they have been. Vivi has sent over Nami’s favorite thing (Berris) as well as an expensive necklace. (She knows her girlfriend’s tastes) they are the only couple who consistently remember and celebrate the holiday.

Usopp has written a letter to Kaya detailing to her his great adventure. He’s been meaning to send a letter recently. And if it just so happens to be on Valentine’s Day that is no one’s business but his own! (Nami told him her plans for Vivi and he recognizes a good idea when he hears one) Kaya loves it and wishes she had a secure way to send him letters back.

Zoro and luffy don’t celebrate. They aren’t the sort of people who need a special day to show their affection. They show their loyalty and devotion to one another daily. Why plan for a special day that holds no significance to either of them. Zoro trains like normal.

Luffy however has plans, while he might think it’s silly to set aside a special day just for romance, he will absolutely take any excuse to love on his Namaka. He’s running around the ship make sure he spends time with each of his Namaka. He plays games with Chopper and Usopp. He checks in and sits with Robin and Franky for a while. Franky tells him about the new invention he’s working on, Robin tells him about her new book. And while Luffy isn’t the best a focusing he tries his hardest, it is a ‘special day’ to celebrate his special people. He finds his way to Nami and sits with her as she finishes her next letter to Vivi (the valentines letter was sent days ago to arrive on time) he asks her to tell Vivi hi for him. He slips into the kitchen and sits with Sanji while he cooks (Sanji might slip his captain some snacks it is a ‘special day’ after all) he find Brook and sings some sea shanties with him. He spends some time sitting with Jimbei just enjoying each others company. Eventually he makes his way up to the crows nest with Zoro and spends the rest of the day with his first mate, helping him train or distracting him from training.

Sanji has a love hate relationship with the day. He loves the opportunity to show his devotion to his crewmates especially the beautiful ladies on the crew (and his captain) but he is also reminded that he is alone. He’s happy for his friends but also longs for the day he can have that happiness as well. It helps that Luffy spends some time with him in the kitchen, it’s hard to feel alone when your sunshine captain is sitting with you. Even harder when a delivery arrives from the Baratie with fresh ingredients and a note from the old geezer talk about special valentines meal (Zeff just wants his son to know he loves him and food has always been the way they communicated) Sanji knows one day he’ll find someone. For know he focus on his loved ones, make special heart themed meals all day and a special feast for that evening.

Brook walks the ship playing love songs on his violin. He finds his way to where Franky and Robin as relaxing, moving his way outside of Nami’s door to play for her as she writes, to the kitchen for Sanji to listen while he cooks. And finally he finds his way to the crows nest where captain and first mate have hidden away. After dinner he plays all night allowing his Namaka to dance and sing and remind him he isn’t alone any more.

In another part of the ocean

Mihawk has made his way to Shanks once again. He’s looking for a duel or so he claims. But Ben knows as he watch’s the two head off that he won’t be seeing his captain for a while, and that it’s been to long since Mihawk had come around. Maybe this time the captain will convince him to stay, or at least this time Mihawk won’t stay away as long.

(Buggy is currently wondering where his swordsman has gone. Crocodile his torn between denying that he and Mihawk actually work for the clown, and knowing that if he tells the clown where Mihawk went he will have a front row seat to the funniest melt down of all time)

On yet another boat.

Masked Deuce knows that Ace has no clue what day it is. His ex-captain is busy with plenty of duties as second commander, but that doesn’t stop Deuce from planning something small. He can’t go too big. Ace will feel bad if Deuce goes all out only for him to forget. But he wants to do something because Ace deserves to be loved.

So he gets some help from Thatch to make Ace’s favorite. With a few stings pulled and favors promised (and the Whitebeards being huge softies) Ace gets relieved of his evening duties. Deuce surprises him with a picnic under the stars. The two take the time to remince on their time together. Deuce is so grateful he met Ace, he changed his life. Ace is so grateful he has Deuce, no one besides his brothers loves him as much as his ex-first mate.

#one piece #zolu #acedeuce #frobin #namivivi #one piece zolu #usopp #kaya one piece #one piece brook #mishanks #black leg sanji

[factual-fantasy]

23 ASK! THANK YOU VER MUCH!! :DD🦆

No problem! And when it comes to showing your support? The absolute best way that will make me the most happy is comments.

It doesn't have to be a reblog or an ask like this one. Although it can be. It doesn't have to be a thought out comment complimenting a specific thing in the art piece.

Comments like "I love this!" or "💖💖💖!!" or things like "AKSKAJNCSDJNKVJN" or even "EATING THIS ART RN" are wonderful. You could leave the same generic comment on all of my artwork and flood my notifications, and I would still love and appreciate that more than getting fanart and ending up uncomfortable.

It doesn't have to be thought out, it doesn't have to be on every piece. But if you want more art from me? Remember that the #1 thing I look forward to when I post art, is reading the comments.

Now make no mistake! Foxy IS basically the big brother out of the 6. When it comes to his personality and his relations with the other animatronics.. he was always seen as the cool older brother that always knew what to do and how to cheer you up.

Foxy just gets picked on for being the "little brother" becuase he is shorter and significantly lighter than everyone else. So even little Chica was strong enough to pick him up and swing him around XDD

Also I have no idea how old the animatronics would be.. 💔 I just imagine that Foxy would be one of, if not the oldest!

(Post in question)

Well of course! Cici is indeed also the little creature of all time! The mic was just simply not offered to her- <XDD

@tallchest13-blog

AWWW!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭😭😭💖🥺💖😭😭

@neo-metalscottic

oooo!! :00 Noted! Thank you very much for the info!! :DD

:DDDD PAPYRUS BEST FRIEND!!

I have not seen the new chapter, no.. :(

@taizarack

aaaa I don't know! <:0 I've never played the games so I'm unfamiliar with those characters. Are they well known characters..? Are they evil? Are they friendly? I assume if they're not a threat my crew would be cordial with them..? <:D aaa idk! Sorry!-- (Though speaking of squid ink cookie I have drawn that one before..👀👀)

As for Papyrus, here is the initial post about him that I made.

Then at the bottom of this ask post there's a chunk of important Papyrus lore..

There's another chunk of very important Papyrus lore in this ask post..

There's a couple nuggets of good lore in this post as well..

Then there's this post I made about Frisk finding Papyrus :00

And a few Papyrus nuggets sprinkled in here! Not to mention I discuss more of his story further down in this post! This is all the info I could find on poor Papyrus, I hope this was helpful! :}

@lildiaperboyjake

XD I'm glad you like him! And I'm sure he wouldn't mind a hug! Unlike the canon version, my Funtime Freddy is actually safe to hug!.. For now-

@astahertheelf

:DD Thank you so much!! :}}

As for all the Bibi stuff. You can find everything about him or the rest of the fam under the "#bibi" tag or the "#factual fam" tag on my blog. There's also the "#my ocs" tag and the "#my original stuff" tag :0 though I don't think the latter has much attached to it-

I've been meaning to make a master post for all the Bibi/factual fam stuff but I don't have the headspace to do all that atm-

I thiiink you can eat them?? Probably yeah. I think the lore from the games is that they are literally, actually, living cookies. And they probably taste like the thing they're based on.

Soooo the only one that would taste good is Coconut XDD

XD She is very proud of him

@sparkdrawsstuff

Its all extremely vague, but I kiiind'a have an idea..??

Seafoam and Octo obviously met as little kids. They grew up side by side and when Foam wanted to get a ship and become a pirate? Octo followed him and became his first mate.

At somepoint after they picked up Ellie and Louis. Thiiinking that they knew Ellie before they got the ship and she joined them..? Not sure about Louis..

Now when it was just the four of them. They got caught in a great storm while out at sea. Blue Beauty saw this ship clearly struggling and in danger so she helped guide the ship to calmer waters. It was her help alone that prevented the ship from sinking. She probably secretly followed them around for a while before making herself more known and officially joining the crew.

Uhhhh Pinwheel, Coconut and Tuna were all troubled youths that were taken under Seafoam's/Octo's wing. Not really sure about Spider Crab..? But I'm thinking that he's the medic of the crew. Also not so sure about Cuddle or Urchin.. Though I'm thinking that this isn't Cuddles first rodeo. She could be an experienced pirate that somehow indebted herself to Seafoam..? Maybe once she paid her debt she stuck with the crew because they were neat? Though she seems like the crafty type.. She seems like she'd rather slip away undetected instead of staying to faithfully clear her debts.. Not sure about that one--

And Red is Seafoam's great nephew. He lost his mother/crew in some kind of tragedy which resulted in Seafoam taking him in.. Poor Red :((

XD I did something similar once-

The Afton's do exist. All of them. They are a core part of the AU. :00 Just like in canon! But as for their roles or where they are now or what happened to them... alas, I cannot reveal such things.. :(

As for the Sister Location AU tho--- I'm thinking that William Afton is alive and well and he runs the Circus.. 👀👀👀

Oh man, she dreams of doing so. But Sadly, she is much too large to give him a kiss :(

Unless.. 🤔 If Seafoam somehow grew or she shrank? hmm..

(Post in question)

Yeah, its was interesting.. but not for the reasons you'd think.

Papyrus recognized Seam and Jevil. He addressed them by name. He didn't approach them, seeing as Seam was very tense..

He said that he was happy to see them again. Explained how he worried about them, and was glad to see that they were both ok.

Seam and Jevil both looked like a deer caught in the headlights. If Jevil had the strength to do so, he might have just retreated with a mirror..

Sensing all this, Frisk tells the group Papyrus' story. Some of the group is skeptical, for the same reasons Seam was all that time ago.

But Frisk grantees the group that Papyrus is genuine. She says she has never met a kinder soul before. That no matter what timeline she may choose, genocide, pacifist, neutral.. Papyrus was always full of kindness to his very core. And that she believes his story 100%.

Grillby and River Person back this up. Saying that the Papyrus from their worlds was a very kind soul too..

Jevil is too exhausted to really process this much. But the horror of the situation settles on Seam. Realizing that Papyrus was actually a victim. They had the power to free him all those years ago. And they ran..

Its not addressed right away.. but eventually its brought up again. They both feel horrible for what they did. Leaving him to suffer alone for so many years..

But of course,, Papyrus's kindness never ends. It never broke or faltered after all this time. He forgives them. With all his soul he forgives them. He says he was never angry at them, he fully understands now why they left and he does not blame them. He's just glad to see that they're ok. And he's happy that he's not alone anymore. :}

@solst1ce-sketches

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD

@csdumpster

I'm not sure if he has Polar Madness.. correct me if I misunderstood, but Google seems to say that Polar Madness is mostly about being sick of the people around you. Being with the same people for months would drive anyone crazy and make them super irritable.

It also talks about developing sleep disorders due to the strange night and day cycle. It mentions anger and depression too..

I'm thinking that the main two issues, sleep and irritability towards coworkers, aren't a problem for Natquik. For 1 he doesn't have any coworkers- but also he's an Arctic fox! He grew up in the Arctic. These strange night and day cycles are nothing new to him, in fact he was designed to live with these cycles! So I think he's safe there.

Now the depression part.. due to the extreme loneliness he must have felt eventually.. that could be a problem. But hey at least my version of Natquik has Marsh and Jack to keep him company XD

..oh wait, the Everglades. I wonder if Natquick would develop some kind of.. Florida Madness trying to deal with those different night cycles and living with those two morons for weeks XDD

(Post in question)

OH YEAH!! I can totally see it! XDD

(Sorry for the late reply! I am unwell-😢)

Aww, 🥺Perhaps they do. They're all doomed 💖

(Sorry for the very late reply, things really got away from me-)

I'd like to imagine the 5 of us all sitting down and I spawn/draw in a bunch of food for everyone to try and pick their favorite.

Bibi picks chicken nuggets. Jangles picks bowtie pasta with cheese cubes and Miracle whip. Every time Cici tastes something new she claims its her favorite, so she hasn't really figured it out yet- maybe strawberries??

Gerald's favorite is celery. Mind you I did not draw any celery, and he has never tasted it before. But he has a very strong feeling that it is surly his favorite.

#my response #fnaf security breach #poppy playtime spoilers #octonauts #factual fam #deltarune #undertale #seam and jevil #papyrus #cookie run kngdom #cookie run #cookie run ocs #my ocs

[mrs-k0zume]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐠𝐨

“i love you all so very much. i won’t forget the time we had together”

@slayfics : the first person i saw on this app and my main inspiration for writing fanfiction. also the reason i started posting on this app in the first place <3

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐧, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@larz-barz : the first friend i’ve made on here. you’ve been with me since the beginning of muitsuri and to the end of mrs-k0zume. you’re so sweet and kind and you’re always there for anyone.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@kimetsu-chan : you’re literally the sweetest and i feel the most comfortable talking or venting to you because you always knew what to say without making me feeling like i’m just reaching out for attention. you’re a really good friend and i know others feel the same about you too. i swear i could see you as a mother figure.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝??) 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@thewinterpillarhashira : i really did miss you a lot when you left and the whole time i was hoping you were taking care. the amount of time you were gone did worry me though but i’m happy to see you post again. since january to april i’ve always been inspired to start drawing because of the amount of talent you hold. and i fr loved talking to you. reaching out for the first time felt like an instant click between us.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

@kiyokatokito & @ta-ni-ya : i honestly love the matching themes and how you two match. watching your friendship is like watching my favorite movie for the first time. and i love both of your oc x canon ships and i honestly don’t know how you both were able to make such beautiful oc’s.

- 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐄𝐯𝐚

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 :

@cloudymistedskies @colourstreakgryffin @kirorro @aceofstars0 @nimmie-nugget @tokito-dulya20 @snowmist-hashira @your-local-demon-slayer-nerd @boo-simplified @bloodfixnd @frostburn-shoto @loveemii @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira

you’re all so talented in your own ways. doesn’t matter if it’s art or a fanfic. it’s talent and i don’t want any of you to give up on your dreams no matter what anyone tells you. every single one of you are amazing and i wouldn’t have had the best time on here if it weren’t for all of you. please take care of yourselves and remember that you are so loved more than you think.

(if i forgot anyone please tell me. i added who popped up in my head)

#who knows if i’ll come back #who knows when #muitsuri talks #kenmas annoying ass wife talks #kenmas annoying ass wife left the chat

[afra-blueraz]

Happy Blog Anniversary

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳. I drew a tiny doodle because I'm already busy enough and didn't have enough time for a new artwork. I made my anniversary post as an appreciation post to my friends.

It's been a year since I create this blog and officially joined the fandom. Of course, I have been familiar with the fandom for more than a year, but one year ago on this day, I decided to create this blog and officially work in the fandom. Time really flies. I can't believe it's been a year. In this one year, many good and bad things happened to me in this fandom. I met many people and got to know different people. With all the good and bad things and with all the kind and mean people, this has been a wonderful year and I am so happy to celebrate this day with my friends.

@its-irsaa-fyp : My dear Irsa. My best friend and my life. I can't say how happy I am to meet you. I will never forget the day when I saw your comment that you said that Rukiyui is your favorite ship and it made me jump to your DM and chat with you. That day I realized how much we have similar opinions and interests. I will never forget that you always supported me when some people made me sad. And I will never forget how you made me not leave this fandom and love it more and more. And also how much we both admire Yui and she is our queen. I am happy that I met you and it was the best thing in my life. I love you 💘🥺❤️.

Admin Ava: Ava, my dear friend. I love you very much Thank you for always supporting me and supporting me in making a blog for DL fandom. You are so kind and I will never forget your love and support. I love you my dear friend 💘🥰.

Semra: Dear Semra, even though you left the fandom, I will never forget your support and kindness. I had the best role-play with your lovely OC. Yuu will forever remain in my heart and she will forever be Yui's best friend. The memories of you and your OC will always remain in my heart.

@shuyui-nether : My dear cousin and my dear sister. I'm sorry that I dragged you to diahell 😅. In real life you are the closest person to me and I am happy that you are with me in this fandom. I love you.

@seaoflove07 : Dear Christine, you were one of the first people who supported me and my blogs. You are very kind and I can't say how much I appreciate that whenever I was not feeling well, I talked to you and you gave me peace 😭🥺. I love you very much and I hope this friendship will grow.

@callmeklair: Well, I must say that wherever there is a Yui stan, that person will become my best friend 🤭😅. I don't know how this friendship started. I just remember that we talked and became best friends. Maybe Yui affects us so much that she makes us like each other quickly. I am very happy that I met you and we made a small friendship group with you and our friends 🥰💘. I hope this friendship will last forever.

@diabolik-art-blog : Moni, my energetic and funny girl. Thank you very much for always making me laugh and making me feel happy even in the worst situations. I admire your immense energy and your creativity in creating new stories. You make our friendship group happier and full of laughter, and I am very happy to have an energetic and kind friend like you 😘🥰💘.

@uusercatt367 : Well, here is one of my favorite artists. And as I said, wherever I see a Yui stan, that person is my friend. I also love your OCs and I admire your love for Yui. I hope we interact more and more in future 🥰💘.

Honorable mentions: @gagad @yuukanaazu @diakaoni @midnight-glasses @hoshikoyuuki @rukiyui-fanblog @nowothingistired @yuiistan @kashifah @hellcatinnc @anin13 @dialovers-lover-xoxo : Thank you all for your support. I hope we will interact more in the coming years.

#1 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone #admin talks #admin afra #admin afra talks #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fandom

[horrorslvts]

just my type | leo valdez part one

keywords : leo valdez, riordanverse, canon x oc

writer's note : uhh yall ate up the idea of a daughter of hermes oc x leo valdez so mommy will feed u my children... i present to you absolute chaos and comedic relief couple. enjoy.. ship is very inspired by 'just my type - the vamps'

the sound of metal hitting against metal reached the girl's ears, making her eyebrows stiffen a bit as she made her way onto the real crime scene; all those awful sounds came from argo II being made; and although silena de leon, daughter of hermes; beloved half-sister of luke castellan really respected the cause, the sound made her absolutely cringe.

the raven haired girl almost tripped over a few tools that had been abandoned in the middle of the way, making her cuss under her breath and look down at her sneakers to make sure they were not damaged by some stupid leftover hammer. with a little shake of the head silena finally approached the curly haired boy who was, apparently, putting some wooden planks on the side of the boat, and also spaced out enough to not realize she was making her way near. he stood on the third step of a high ladder. "hey bob the builder; don't you want to catch a break sometime?"

leo looked down at the -surprisingly- shorter girl, and flashed a little smile. he lifted his arm to wipe some dust away from his face and nose with his sleeve and shrugged a bit. "if you are asking me to-" he gently threw the hammer on his hand aside, letting it fall on some spare nails, and stepped down from the ladder he was on. "interrupted your sleep again? sorry, i'll make sure to delay an entire quest so you can get a few more hours of naps" leo said with a little chuckle and leaned with one arm on the boat, his hand running through his curls pushing them back making silena watch in awe.

now, silena and leo didn't know each other long. for what it's worth, silena met him and percy through annabeth who she has known forever; given that luke set them up to be friends when sil arrived at the camp for the first time; and they actually did. but gods, ever since meeting this dam son of hephaestus she had been losing her mind. whether it was the back and forth signs and jokes, or the absolute denial that either of them would ever see each other in any way above platonic; something made her heart skip a beat whenever she was close to the tanned boy, that's all she knew; should have seen her face when he first laughed at her spaniard accent; any other person would have taken a punch but he just got lucky with a push.

"yeah, that'd be so sweet of you!"

leo gave her a death stare with a chuckle, knowing damn well she wasn't anywhere near serious.

"so if it isn't that, why pay us a visit?"

silena slowly walked towards the rope ladder of the ship, tugging on it . "just curious to see how the ship is going. very good apparently." she pulled herself up the rope ladder which instantly caused a reaction by the other, making leo rush to bring her down in case she fell.

"whoa whoa you know that's not tied well yet right?!"

sil sat on one of the rope ladder's thin steps, only a couple feet above him and chuckled, swinging her feet to show her winged sneakers. "why do you always forget valdez?"

the curly haired sighed a bit. " if you get all tangled up in the ropes these aren't going to save you-." he looked at her from below with that signature troublemaking smile that brought an aching on her heart.

"i know, but you will."

the boy let his suspenders fall from each shoulder and climbed back up on his ladder, finally reaching her height and being almost face to face with the blue eyed girl; his breath was always cut short when the two were this close. it was funny how after so long of percy and annabeth being sappy now annabeth teased these two like her life depended on it.

"although you're not exactly knight in shining armor material.." silena reached to wipe his forehead from some mechanical oil. " more like greasy armor.."

"you know what's funny, sil?"

"hm?"

"your back is touching my fresh painted planks-."

sil finally realized why her shirt was sticking on her back for the past minute.

"VALDEZ-!"

#sheissoinlovewithhimipromise #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez imagines #leo valdez #percy jackson #pjo #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus

[sincerely-your-fo]

Howdy! Have a birthday coming up and want your family member to wish you a happy birthday?

What about a desire to receive a valentine's day confession from your crush or a romantic letter from your significant other to celebrate?

How about a simple slice of life letter from your best friend telling you what they've been up to and what fun things they'd like to do with you next time you see each other?

Want to read how proud and happy your parent is to call you their child?

Then you've come to the right place ♡

Electronic

● $3 USD per letter

● guaranteed 4 paragraphs minimum

● can easily be a birthday/holiday gift for a beloved mutual via you giving me the username of who you want me to send a letter to + their f/o's information :)!

● will always be sent via anon (if anon is allowed) with my handle @sincerely-your-fo attached in small letters at the bottom like so: @sincerely-your-fo

Physical

● $13 USD per letter

● guaranteed 3 paragraphs minimum ($5 per additonal paragraph)

● comes with the electronic copy sent to your askbox so you may have it there too (it will likewise bear the mark '@sincerely-your-fo' in the bottom corner)

●*can easily be a birthday/holiday gift for a beloved mutual via me sending the envelope containing the f/o envelope to you so you can then send it to your friend or you provide me with your friend's mailing information; whichever is more comfortable :)!

● will be sent in a second envelope to add protection to envelope containing letter

Customizable:

-wax color(s) & wax stamp

-envelope

Available upon request:

-flower petals

-perfume/cologne spritz

-star confetti

-washi tape

-miniature framed artwork

Additional notes:

-will do NSFW thirst writing for adult clients requesting a letter from a canonically adult character (ergo, a character that is NOT aged up by the client).

-I will need links to webpages / docs regarding the character I am writing for so please have that on hand or be ready to make one once I contact you :)!

- I have and will exercise the right to politely refuse a commission request if I am uncomfortable with the topic given to me to write or the character the client wants me to write for.

Important Qs & As

1. How to request a letter:

Please contact via sending an Ask and I will DM you.

2. How & when to pay for a letter:

Payment is required upfront and can be paid through PayPal or Zelle.

3. Which Fandoms do you write letters for?

I do not focus on Fandom but instead on individual case by cases instances when given a character to focus on; part of the process of writing the letter is me asking questions and getting webpages to refer to the character's personality.

4. Do you write for OCs?

Yes I absolutely do! Please be ready to answer lots of questions/have a doc on hand to describe your OC so I may be a good scribe for them :)

5. Do you have any references of already written works to browse?

Indeed I do! Please turn to this post to be able to view what I have done so far ♡

6. Do you ship internationally?

Yes I do! I am based in America (for now) and indeed am open to shipping physical letters internationally.

Please tell your friends / tell your mutuals ♡

#selfship community #self ship #selfship commissions #self ship commissions #self ship community #yumeship #writing community #writing commissions #x reader #x reader writer #please rb #signal boost #writing comms open #romantic f/o #platonic f/o #familial f/o #queerplatonic f/o #f/o letter #f/o community #f/o writing #selfship writing #self ship writing #canon x reader #canon x self insert #canon x sona

[miryum]

Dating Peter Pan Headcanons

When you first come to Neverland, Peter and the rest of the Lost Boys are apprehensive, to say the least

But, once you prove you can hear his pipe, they know you’re meant to stay 

After a week or two, they get used to you- involving you in games, activities, hunting, or whatever they do

Peter, however, is still wary. You stay out of his way and he stays out of yours

You mostly hang out with your friend, Ayden (an OC of mine! 😁)

You two (you and Ayden) would run through the forest, laughing and sparring. Making jabs at each other, you were always in fits of laughter during the bonfire

You first caught Peter’s eye when you were dancing with Ayden

You looked so free, moving with the music and dancing from boy to boy. You were being whipped from hand to hand, each boy shouting in excitement when you got to them

Peter weaves through the boy, playing his pipe, slowly making his way to you

You’re laughing with Ayden, teaching the boy a fun dance

“Y/n?” He cuts in and Ayden slips away 

“Yeah Pan?” 

“How are you doing?” He leads you away from the fire

You’re a little suspicious of his behavior and worry that he might kick you off of Neverland “I’m good…” You say, “You?” 

“I’m good. Your dancing is wonderful to watch.”

“Thank you.” You smile, knowing that this was the first time he had complimented you, “Have you ever danced with us before?” 

“I don’t dance.” Pan shakes his head, “I’m just the musician.” 

“You’re a very good musician,” You say, “But you should try dancing. It’s fun, especially with the right person.” 

“And who’s the right person?” Peter tilts his head to the side, smirking

“You’ll never know until you dance. Come on.” 

And so you take Pan’s hand and pull him towards the fire. He stumbles after you, holding back a chuckle

Dragging Pan around, you whirl around him, laughing and clapping along to the music

Pan has the faintest hint of a smile on his face, but he indulges you by twirling you around and guiding you through the dance moves

That night, Pan and you got considerably closer, and after that night, he took special interest in you

Pan would seek you out more, watching you carefully from across camp. He would supervise your trainings, personally giving you suggestions to improve your fighting skills. You would sometimes see him in the trees, analyzing your and Ayden’s fights

It wasn’t long before Pan challenged you to a sword fight and asked you out in the only way he knew how: trapping you up against a tree, knife to your throat, and kissing the life outta you

You quickly break from his hold, counter his attack, press him up a tree, and kiss him back

That was the moment you’re pretty sure he fell in love

But, like the “gentleman” he is, he asked you to be his girl first 

You said yes, obviously 🙄

And let the relationship begin *waves green starting flag crazily as if this is a car race*

Peter lets you, and only you, call him Peter. No one else

Has a ton of nicknames for you. Some include: Love, Darling, and some shortened form of your name

We all know that Peter would be super protective over you- like to a point where it could get a bit annoying

I do think that he would trust the Lost Boys more but NOT the new ones

He would make it adamantly clear that you two were together and he might pull them aside and threaten them if they looked at you for too long

One example of when he was overprotective is when you were taken by pirates

Oof.

Peter was pissed. 

He comes in with all of the Lost Boys. A full attack on this one pirate ship. 

The Lost Boys are very excited for a fight, but some of them are actually furious because they really cared for you 

Peter flies in with pixie dust and personally fights the Captain off with his dagger

You’re tied to the mast (cliche, I know) and were slowly sawing your way through the ropes with a nail you had pried from a floorboard

However, once you see Peter, your face lights up and you knew you were saved

Peter fights the Captain with such ferocity that you’re sure he loves you 

(And to be honest, Peter is super hot when fighting)

His face is tightened in a glare and his muscles are flexing as he lunged and dove at the Captain

Finally, all of the pirates are subdued and Peter beats the Captain 

The second Peter parries the Captain’s sword away, he runs towards you and breaks the ropes

Hugging you tightly, that’s the first time Peter tells you he loves you

And believe me, he tells you that a lot

Peter flies you back to Neverland and you two spend the night together

NOT LIKE THAT! Just cuddling and stuff, but since it’s an awesome segway, let’s talk about what Peter would be like in bed

This fic is already super long, but here we go:

Peter is a very passionate and rough lover

His sex drive is always on high, so he’s ready to f*ck anytime and anywhere

Let’s just say that was the first time you had sex in a forest.

The first time you and Peter “did it” he tried to take it slower and softer, but he could only hold off for so long

So when you asked him if the two of you could try a little rougher, he jumped at the chance

Literally. He made you a moaning mess in less than five minutes

Peter has very good stamina- he could go for hours if you let him 

Sometimes you do let him but other times you have to stop him because the Lost Boys are wondering where the two of you are

Even though he’s a rough lover, he does love you with all his heart and has a soft side

One of his favorite things is when you play with his hair. He loves it when he lays on you or his head is in your lap

He doesn’t show this side of him in public (not huge on PDA) but he does allow you to kiss him on the cheek or maybe a peck on the lips

Sometimes he likes to sit a little farther away from the bonfire and tries to catch your lips in between laughs

You and Peter don’t fight often 

You’re calmer and not as… deadly as Peter (though if you are as deadly as him, then you go girl. Be that power couple) but you can get emotional and fierce about certain topics, so when you do fight, it can get a little… loud

The Lost Boys learned never to interrupt your fights after both of you screamed at Ayden when he tried to help 

Fights usually end in either of two ways:

1. Angry sex.

2. You yelling a really good point for your argument, asking him why he couldn’t see it from your point of view, and then storming out

If it ended in angry sex, you two would probably make up during after-care or push the argument off until a later time

If it ended with you being right (which you were all the time), Peter would start to see where he went wrong and then go after you

You might end up at his Thinking Tree or with Ayden comforting you

Either way, both of you would apologize and everything would end up fine

You two balance each other in the best way and you bring out the best in Peter

You would never trade you life on Neverland for anything

You love Peter and he loves you back with his whole heart

#peter pan #ouat peter pan x reader #peter pan x reader #ouat peter pan #ouat #once upon a time #peter pan imagine #once upon a time peter pan #peter pan oneshot #neverland #Felix #Disney #Ayden #once upon a time peter pan x reader #onceuponatime #king of neverland #daggers #Sword Fight #sword #Strong Woman #ouat imagine #Headcanon #yay